by Jon Bender
Outside, Benkt and the two soldiers were still waiting, the latter showing a patience that came with their profession and age. Benkt wore an annoyed look on his face that he failed to disguise. There would come a point when Keller was going to have to teach the priest respect for those who held authority over him.
“Are you ready to cross the river?” Benkt asked, only a hint of sarcasm evident in his tone.
“Yes,” he said, hoping the man did not cross the line before Keller could give that lesson.
“Will you be telling us what it is specifically we are to do?” Seldon said, his green eyes filled with curiosity. It was the first time either of the soldiers had spoken to him, the two men seemingly content to keep to themselves and do as instructed.
The question confused him. Prasil had said these men had volunteered. “Your lord did not inform you of my purpose?”
“No,” Taft added. “In fact, when we asked the men who were on guard when you arrived, they simply said he had sworn them and anyone else who was present to secrecy on threat of imprisonment.”
Keller thought it over and approved of the decision. He should have been more clandestine in coming to the city, but his own arrogance and anger at Yeriel had gotten the better of him. Prasil had taken it upon himself to handle the mistake, something Keller himself should have done. His esteem for the lord of Karadin only seemed to increase with each interaction, but even Prasil’s order had not stopped Raval from learning of the Pontiff’s death.
“You can’t mean that he had the audacity to order members of the brotherhood to silence. He has no power over what they do or say,” Benkt interrupted haughtily. Even though he was many inches shorter than the two soldiers, he still managed to look down his nose at them as he spoke.
“Enough,” Keller growled.
A man dressed in laborers’ clothing accompanied by a woman in a plain blue dress had overheard Benkt speaking and they both gave the group worried looks as they passed. It was not against the law to speak of the brotherhood, but it had become taboo in most cities. Many priests had come to suspect those who spoke of them without cause as possible dissenters and, as such, people had quickly learned never to do so. At least not where they could be overheard. A group of men dressed in common clothes and doing just that would draw attention he did not want.
Benkt gave him an impudent stare, but remained quiet as Taft continued. “I do not know that Lord Prasil commanded anything of the priests. Only that they will not speak of what transpired either.”
“Their silence is likely protecting you from the animosity of your brothers,” he said quietly to Benkt.
“I was only obeying the will of Or’Keer,” Benkt said, keeping his voice low and raising his chin slightly. “I have nothing to fear from them.”
Keller grunted a laugh at the young priest’s presumption. “You know as well as I that the Dark God cares nothing for the inner workings of the brotherhood. As long as the temples carry out his commands, they are left to manage themselves. He would not even notice should some of them decide to repay you for the death of their Pontiff; whether it was at his will or not.”
From the look on the priest’s face, Keller knew that he had finally gotten through to the man. If Benkt was already on bad terms, as the meeting with the former Pontiff had indicated, it would be nothing for the temples to dispose of a troublemaker.
“I see no reason to continue discussing this, Magus. It is in the past, and we are ready to take you across the river if you wish,” Benkt said with more civility, but Keller could tell that he was rattled. Perhaps he now understood that his association with a Chosen was likely protecting him.
Keller decided to drop the matter. He felt that the priest was properly cowed, at least for the moment. “You’re right. Or’Keer does not look kindly on servants who procrastinate at their tasks.”
Benkt turned and led the way back up the hill towards the center of the city, keeping himself a good distance ahead of them. “So, what are we to do once on the other side of the river?” Seldon asked, making sure to keep his voice low.
Keller looked at the soldier trying to understand why he was so curious. He had never known soldiers to be inquisitive. In his experience, they preferred to keep things as simple as possible. “There are a few taverns and inns that Lord Prasil mentioned. He says they are rough places the city guard rarely ventures into. He believes, and I agree, that they would be places to find those who are involved in dissention. Traitors and criminals often have much in common in wanting to avoid justice. If nothing else, we will gain a better understanding of the undercity and its workings to help us track them down.”
Seldon nodded, but it was Taft who spoke. “What taverns?”
“The Peddler and Tiny’s Tavern were the two he felt would be the best places to start,” Keller said.
“I know where Tiny’s is. It is a rough place believed to be a haunt for the thieves’ guild,” Taft said.
“I have dealt with thieves before. They are usually cowards who will give up any name to save their own skin,” Keller said, unable to hide his contempt. “Often they have information that proves useful and will offer it without much motivation.”
“Not the thieves of Karadin,” Seldon said. “When Or’Keer’s forces first took the city and began the purges, criminals were among the first to be taken for conversion.”
“A common practice,” Keller agreed. “It is best to convert the most troublesome first. It sets an example for the good, common people who may be thinking of resisting. It also removes the criminals who prey on them showing that Or’Keer cares about their wellbeing.”
“Yes, Magus, and from what my father has told me, it mostly worked to bring Karadin to the path,” Seldon said.
“Mostly?”
“To survive the purges, the assassins’ guild absorbed the thieves to gain control of the information they dealt in. With their web of informants, the assassins were able to remove many people who would turn them in to the temples,” Taft explained. Keller could hear a thread of anger in the man’s voice. “Many survived the purges, and the two guilds have remained as one since.”
Keller furrowed his forehead in irritation. All assassins’ guilds were to be eradicated, if they even existed, when a city was brought to the path. It seemed that Yeriel’s death was far more deserving than he had originally thought. “If they were absorbed, why say this tavern is one of their havens?”
“Over the years, the two… skill sets have blurred. Many of their members fulfill both roles now, though they have refrained from taking too many contracts. It has made tracking them down harder, and much more dangerous,” Taft said.
“What has Lord Prasil done to rectify this?” he asked.
“What he can, Magus,” Seldon said. “The guild is very secretive, and people are too afraid to come forward. Most of their members are skilled with blades, and more than one person cooperating with the temple has been found poisoned.”
Hearing the two men talk about the state of the thieves’ guild confirmed that the city was further from the path than Keller originally thought. It explained why the seeds of rebellion had sprouted so easily. “We will just have to be careful when asking questions. I do not wish to get entangled with them and be forced to worry about a knife in my back. It will take too much of our concentration away from the true threat.”
“Then we will need a story to disguise our intentions,” Benkt said. He had slowed his pace allowing to them to catch up. This time he remembered to keep his voice down so that the people they passed would only catch pieces of the conversation. “The people of Karadin keep mostly to their own and are suspicious of outsiders. They will notice someone not from their part of the city. Even merchants who come here know to stay in certain areas. Many have gone missing because they wandered where they weren’t wanted.”
Keller thought over how he would approach such a group. “I assume that stolen items are easily recognizable and would not be sold within the city?
They would be taken elsewhere.”
“I suppose it’s possible, Magus,” Taft said, sounding unsure of his answer. “Nobles and merchants have reported missing jewelry or other valuables, providing descriptions of what was taken, but most never resurface. We always assumed they were being melted down to be sold for their raw materials.”
“That would reduce what they’re worth,” Keller said, his plan quickly forming. “The guild could be transporting them elsewhere to be sold in other cities. We could assume the role of another city’s guild looking to sell.” It’s what he would do if he were a thief wanting to reduce the chances of being caught.
“We have no proof that is what they do, and saying we are there to sell stolen merchandise from another city could raise suspicion,” Benkt hissed.
“If any of you have another idea for why we are walking into a tavern and asking questions about the thieves’ guild, I’m listening.” When the three men remained quiet, he continued on. “We are all from Etear’a. Taft and Seldon will be our strong arms, here to protect me and the merchandise. Benkt will be there to negotiate price. Remember to use only our names and not titles. Is there a chance you will be recognized?” he asked Taft.
The soldier thought it over for a moment and shook his head. “No. I was only there once escorting tax collectors on their rounds. That was near a year ago.”
“Good. It won’t work if they know you are a part of the city guard.”
Benkt looked over his shoulder at him. “I know nothing about barter.”
“You will have time to learn. Today we are only trying to make contact with the guild and I will do most of the talking,” he said. Benkt let out an exaggerated sigh and looked back ahead of them.
They remained silent the rest of the walk as Benkt led them assuredly through the streets. Twenty minutes later they were standing before a bridge supporting heavy foot and cart traffic, its width enough for four carts to cross abreast, and its length spanning three-hundred feet to the other side over swift moving, brown water. The impressive grey structure seeming to be made from one piece of stone increasing its strength, a feat that could only have been performed by many earth mages casting for months to meld it seamlessly together. On either side of the bridge stood ten soldiers checking carts or speaking with merchants. The bank of the river was far below, walls of stone nearly fifty feet high keeping the earth from collapsing into the water. Parts of those walls had obviously belonged to houses or other buildings at one point. Both sides of the river looked a patchwork of different colors, like a child had stacked random blocks of different sizes together to create it. If one looked closely enough, they could still make out windows and door frames that had been sealed with newer stones.
On the other side of the bridge, Keller could already tell the difference of the buildings compared to the finely crafted houses and shops behind him. Unlike those of the northern city, those in the south looked to be of far lesser quality. None were uniform in size or shape, and many appeared to have cracks or split mortar in their walls. He had never seen such stark contrast between the wealthy and the poor, but understood why the city would have developed in this way. Karadin itself was not the barrier separating the western kingdoms from the rest, the river was. He could imagine invading armies coming from the south over eons of men’s history, the defenders forced to abandon the southern half of the city to aggressors and retreating to defend the bridges. It made sense that those with riches would choose to be on the safer side. Most without the means would have no choice but to remain in the southern city. It would have become a sort of tradition as generation after generation were born with little exchange between classes.
It was this type of disparity that reminded him of his own poverty-stricken childhood. Seeing an entire population left to fend for themselves because they were poor, served only to revive his anger at the unfairness of it all. Why did the temples still allow this? Why did Or’Keer not command it be changed once on the path? He knew the answer. It was not his god’s fault or even the priests who served him. It was the inherent flaw of all men to subjugate others so that they themselves may rise. It would take time, maybe generations, for this flaw to be removed. That was why Or’Keer’s plan for the prosperity of all men was so important. Why Keller performed horrible acts against those who wanted to keep things the way they were. The traitors he now hunted were no different. Those among them with wealth or station would fear the coming changes. It would not be hard for them to convince others of lesser means to be complicit in their own subjugation. It was why Keller served Or’Keer without question. So that one day, all people would know happiness under his guidance. Today, the next step on the path was to find the traitors and remove them.
The others noticed he had stopped, looking back at him as carts and people passed them by. Moving forward to catch up, he looked out over the curving river, only able to see one of the two other bridges that spanned the divide. Reaching his group, they began moving again and soon he was standing on the other side. The atmosphere was noticeably different from the northern city, the press of unwashed bodies and smell of fish assaulting his senses. The road following the river on this side was littered with men and women holding rods over the side. From the few catches that lay next to them, he guessed that this was how many fed themselves. With so many people, it was not surprising that the supply of food from the dirty river was strained. The change in wealth was obvious from the haggard look of the people, many wearing worn clothing and some without shoes. There were beggars on every corner, each with a wooden or clay bowl held before them as they asked anyone who passed before them for money or food. Seeing the downtrodden reminded Keller that he had not seen any in the northern half of the city. Most disturbing of all was the lack of reaction from his companions. The three men seemed accustomed to the state of these people.
Benkt saw him looking at their surroundings as they moved through the narrow street, and misinterpreted the disgust on his face. “Thankfully, begging is not allowed across the river. The Pontiff had the city guard remove any they found before his failure.”
Keller tore his eyes away from his surroundings to look at the man. “You think it is their fault they cannot find work to care for themselves?” he asked, making an effort to keep his voice neutral.
“Yes,” Benkt said flatly. “Work will be found for them at any temple if they ask.”
“What type of work?”
“There are logging camps and quarries that are in constant need of labor. There are also many farms that require more hands. Criminals are sent to these places, but often they are not enough to meet demands,” Benkt said, sounding proud of the solution the temples offered. “There is nothing else we can do if they choose to remain as they are.”
Keller took a closer look at those struggling to survive. Most were very old, very young, or seemed to be suffering from a variety of ailments. Keller knew that such hard labor for little pay would likely kill most of them. He also knew that healing did not come easily to Or’Keer’s priests as the followers of other gods. They reserved it only for those important or wealthy enough to warrant it. He had once asked the Pontiff of Etear’a why this was so, not daring to put such a question to Or’Keer himself during one of the rare times he was summoned. The Pontiff had explained that the power Or’Keer granted them was still limited. Not enough people yet worshipped the Dark God to allow for the healing of all. The answer had confused him with the knowledge that three kingdoms were now fully on the path to prosperity. But the Pontiff had been sure in his answer and that had been enough for Keller at the time.
“How much further to the tavern?” he asked, no longer wanting to think on the subject. As much as he wanted to help these people, he had to trust in Or’Keer’s plan.
“Not far,” Taft said.
The veteran soldier took the lead and guided them onto another street worse than the last. Rubbish littered both sides with people sitting amongst it. The smell of something rotting filled the ai
r, and Keller was convinced that it emanated from a dead body hidden among the refuse. Taft turned again down an alley that connected to another and soon opened up into a large courtyard lined with small shops. It was the only clean space he had seen since crossing the bridge. Off to the side two men, both looking well fed and in good health, dutifully swept the paving stones with straw brooms. The largest building sitting between the bakery and butcher’s shop had a sign hanging over it on which was painted a small man standing behind a bar almost taller than him, a bottle in his hand and a grin on his face.
Keller gave a questioning look to Taft who shrugged. “Tiny employs people to keep the place clean, but I don’t know how he keeps the beggars and vagrants away.”
There were other people present, mostly hard looking men and women, scattered across the courtyard on benches or standing in small groups, their well-maintained clothes making them stand out from what had been seen so far. All locked eyes on them the moment they stepped out from the alley, and Keller felt the back of his neck begin to itch under the scrutiny. Even being one of Or’Keer’s Chosen did not help him shake the feeling of being vulnerable. From the stiffened postures of his companions, he could tell they felt it too. It was a sensation that he had not experienced in many years. If he was searching for a threat, this certainly felt like the right place.
Moving across the courtyard, they walked into the tavern and found a small room before the open common area. Two large men stood before them with heavy cudgels in their hands. Behind a small counter to the side stood another brawny man who bore a long, vertical scar where is left eye had once been. The man looked them up and down with his good eye, his stare snagging on their weapons.
“If you want to go in, you have to leave those here,” he said, nodding at the blades.