“Many thanks, my lords,” Turi said with a smile and turned to other horses, probably also customers of the same bar.
“Decades ago, it wasn’t like this. Now there are more thieves, although they seem to be well organized,” Mérdmerén said. He opened the door of the bar, and they both went into that rundown dive that smelled of sweat and beer. The sailor made a face and pinched his nose.
“In Moragald’Burg, they’d have cut that boy’s hand off for stealing and his tongue, too, for backchat. Bloody ragamuffin, son of a fucking mermaid. He robbed us under our noses. And then he had the cheek to give the pouch back,” the sailor mumbled, still annoyed at the boy’s skill and their over-confidence.
“It’s a strategy and the best way to convince us that we’re better off paying for his services. This way, he earns money without getting into trouble.”
The sailor calmed down as soon as he realized the attention they were attracting among the other customers. Men with rotting teeth were giving them sideways looks, perhaps mercenaries. With their armor and noblemen’s clothes, Mérdmerén and Ságamas were out of place among the regulars of the area.
“May the bitches eat me up and the rabble murder me! It’s you!” The innkeeper, a tall, fat man, could not say anything more as Mérdmerén flew at him and covered his mouth with one hand. He whispered something in his ear, and the man understood.
“Arbitrator!” he cried, his arms spread wide. The customers stopped paying attention. The name was unfamiliar. The innkeeper looked around to be sure of himself and bent toward Mérdmerén.
“What are you doing here?” he whispered. “Do you know how much money the government’s offering for your head? You’re lucky you left decades ago and plenty of people won’t know you, but there are still some who’ll remember you. Who’s this?” he asked, looking at the sailor distrustfully.
The old man shifted uncomfortably.
“Ságamas, a sailor from Moragald’Burg. He’s come to reclaim his ship from where it’s been impounded or get a new one.”
The owner of the bar went on staring at him shamelessly.
“Chauncy, I need a room.”
The giant could not keep back a nervous laugh. “Mate, do you know what’ll happen to me if they find out I’m hiding a deserter?”
Mérdmerén took out a pouch of money and jingled it before Chauncy’s hungry eyes. “I need you. You’re the only person I can trust.”
The man breathed in resignedly. “All right then, come with me.” He straightened up and took on a jovial air. “My good friends, Arbitrator and Ságamas! Come with me, your rooms are over here. Thank you for reserving in advance and trusting my inn. You’ll enjoy every kind of amenity: girls, boys, drink. Ask for whatever you fancy, and I’ll procure it for you. You know what they say: if you don’t find it in Háztatlon, it doesn’t exist.”
Chauncy left the counter in charge of a boy, led the travelers to the second floor, and down a long corridor with different doors on either side.
“I’ve only got one room left, mates. These are strange times in Háztatlon. Fortune comes and goes, that’s how it’s always been, but things have changed. I don’t know. Everything’s different now,” Chauncy said with a mysterious air. Mérdmerén and Ságamas noticed his embarrassment but preferred not to ask questions. Chauncy was already doing enough for them.
“Come to my bedroom tomorrow. I want to know what the hell you’re planning, Mérdmerén. We’re friends, but you’re a deserter, and if they find me with you, or find I’m lodging you, they’ll cut my balls off and leave me to bleed to death. Remember, get your business done as fast as you can,” he warned him, turning abruptly. “And please, no strange surprises in my inn. If I tell you to leave because things have got complicated for me or my business, you leave. Understood?”
It seemed to Ságamas that a person’s true character was revealed in moments of crisis and that too often, he had seen strong men bend under the pressure of terror.
“We understand.”
Chauncy handed them the key and went back downstairs, grumbling and glancing back at them over his shoulder.
“Can we trust him? Is he really your friend?” Ságamas asked uneasily.
“Yes. It’s a long story. Come on, we’d better get inside.”
“This place gives me the creeps,” the sailor said.
***
The room was very simple, as befitted the bar and the neighborhood they were in. Mérdmerén opened the windows to look out at his birthplace.
He felt overwhelmed by nostalgia and not having his wife, his daughter. He missed them so much, particularly now that he was back in the place where he had started a family. It had taken many years for him to be offered a second chance, and he was not going to waste it.
“Chauncy was a poor kid,” Mérdmerén began, without taking his eyes off the city. “His parents were in jail for extortion, so he was left alone and thrown out into the street. I found him on a street corner. He was cleaning leather shoes for bread and coins.
“There are times when you don’t need to know anything about a man to know he’s made of solid principles, that he’s worth something and deserves to find a way out of poverty. I saw that in Chauncy, and the first thing I did was offer him a job on my estate.
“He turned out to be an excellent worker. Chauncy was always reserved, a man who thinks before he speaks, and I respected him for that. When we were talking, he told me his dream was to have his own tavern, a simple inn that offered accommodation, food, and beer.
“I lent him the money he needed. Bit by bit, he returned all of it. I didn’t frequent the tavern, because I was a noble in those days and it was a risk for me to come into this area. Chauncy used to repeat that he was in my debt for life and I could ask him for anything.
“Now, we’re here. I guess he thought I’d died. He must have felt he was freed from the debt. Some things change a man: debts are one of those things, another is love. They can turn your life upside-down.”
Mérdmerén swallowed. He seemed to be weighing the words that were on the tip of his tongue. “When you’re declared a deserter, Ságamas, you lose everything, so it seems that whatever was once yours was never anything of the sort. They took everything away from me, even my family, and without any proof. The city expelled me.”
Mérdmerén sighed and turned to look at the sailor, who was deeply absorbed in the story.
Mérdmerén smiled. His eyes were bright and he felt that the moment of truth had finally come, that he had to give himself up to whatever fate might have in store for him: adversity, happiness, misfortune, or death. He was ready to act on behalf of what was right for the common good.
The virtuous messenger, he said to himself. He touched the talisman the witch had given him that would protect him from the evils of the world. Ehréledán.
He did not know why the Némaldines were after him, but he was sure it had something to do with the fate he had taken on himself. At that moment, he understood what he must do. He must delay his revenge and do the right thing. In other words, inform the government about the spread of evil. But how was he going to do it?
Going to the palace, standing there in front of the soldiers, and telling them he wanted to speak to the king was out of the question. That would guarantee a ride to the dungeon and then public decapitation. He sighed.
He had to overcome many obstacles, and they had only just arrived. He became aware of movement in the street. Swift shadows. He moved away from the window and flattened himself against the wall.
“Ságamas!” he hissed. He jabbed one finger at the window.
“Sons of the whoreson mermaids!” muttered the sailor as he crouched on the floor. “How did they find us?”
From the street through the open window, they could hear the voice of a hooded man who was interrogating Turi at that very moment. The boy swore he knew nothing, and the man went on his way.
“He’s one of the murderers!” Ságamas cried.
M�
�rdmerén remembered the talisman. He touched it, his heart thumping fast.
“No!” he said, suddenly realizing. “They don’t know how to find me. D’you think with that sense of smell of theirs, they won’t have sniffed us out? They’re prowling around here because they know that coming to Háztatlon is part of my destiny.”
“How’s that possible?”
“Don’t know. Perhaps they twisted it out of someone, but who?” Mérdmerén tossed his head. “We have to inform the king as soon as possible. Maybe Chauncy could help us.”
The sailor turned red with rage. “For goodness’ sake, boss, that friend of yours doesn’t seem too happy about your coming here. I don’t think we ought to tell him anything about our plans unless you want him to turn you in. The money’s very tempting, think about it. So far, nobody’s recognized you.”
“You two are in trouble,” said someone behind them. The two men spun around, Mérdmerén clutching Stern’s dagger and Ságamas pointing his spear. Turi was standing in the middle of the room without their having heard him come in. On his face was a grin, amused, and roguish.
“Hey! How’re things?”
“What are you doing here, you son of the bastard mermaids?” the sailor roared. He was so startled that he could have killed the boy.
Mérdmerén relaxed and tapped his companion’s shoulder. Ságamas gave way and lowered his spear. The lad had not flinched for a moment and was waiting for them, leaning comfortably against the wall with one foot crossed over the other.
“You’re in trouble, my friends,” Turi repeated in a singsong, almost mocking voice.
“What do you mean?” Mérdmerén did not want to reveal any more information than necessary.
“Don’t play dumb, Mérdmerén. That man in the hood was asking after two fugitives. The description fits you two. He offered me a fair amount. And, by the way, with that hood covering him and his accent… he was scary,” the lad said in a deliberately theatrical voice.
The deserter and the sailor exchanged questioning looks. Ságamas became as inflamed as a wick brought to a flame. “We ought to kill him, Mérdmerén. He knows too much!”
“Eh? What? Now hang on!”
“Let’s see, let’s see,” Mérdmerén put in. “Turi, how did you know what room we were in? And how did you come in?”
The lad smiled nervously. “I told you, they call me Crafty. I’m very cunning, and I can climb up the walls.”
“Don’t you believe it! He’s a professional thief; that’s what he is! He’ll betray us, you’ll see. He’s been spying on us. He knows our plans!” Ságamas was aiming his spear at Turi again and moving toward the boy, threatening his stomach.
“Now, just a minute! I’m the boss, and we’re not going to kill anybody here. Listen to me!” Mérdmerén shouted in the sailor’s face. The old man seemed to wake from his raging fit and took on a hangdog look.
“Sorry.” He dropped his spear on the floor where it clattered and sat down on one of the beds with his head in his hands.
The lad blinked several times. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you, but I knew you were here.”
“How?”
“Simple: I saw you at the window.”
“You little swine. Tell me what you want.”
The young man paled at the sight of Mérdmerén’s venomous face. “I came to warn you that the hooded man’s at the bar asking about you. If Chauncy’s a friend, as you say, he won’t betray you. But, for money, that fat slob would do anything. So I was coming to carry out the services you paid me for, but now I think I can offer you more,” the lad said, half-brazen and half-afraid.
“Your services?” Mérdmerén repeated mockingly. He was furious, still grasping the dagger. “But what on earth are you talking about?”
“I can get you an audience with the king,” he said, with no trace of either trickery or doubt.
“I don’t want an audience with the King,” urged Mérdmerén.
“Of course you do. I’ve been listening to you both. You’re louder than boars. If you wished to keep that a secret, you should have kept silent. But you both can’t stop talking about this mission of yours. Now, to business.”
Mérdmerén was stunned. “You’re serious?”
Ságamas eyeballed the spear. “This boy needs to die, Mérdmerén. I do not know how he knows so much, but he will be our undoing, boss.”
“Will you stop threatening the boy?” said Mérdmerén. “I’m the boss. Shut up. To warn the king we must meet with him, it is true.”
“He’s trying to swindle us!” yelled the sailor.
“I’m a man of my word,” said the boy.
“You barely have hairs on your chest!” yelled the sailor.
“Suit yourself. Goodbye then.”
“Wait! For the love of the Gods, Ságamas, stop talking for once. Tell me more about how you could make this work,” urged Mérdmerén. He had a hunch. This boy was trustworthy and quick of mind. If the boy had wanted to, they would be without coins already. No, he doesn’t want to steal from us. He’s too smart for that. His interests are deeper.
“Sure. You know how it is: I know someone who knows someone who can arrange the meeting. Plus, there’s this enormous bounty on your head. It’ll cost you higher than the bounty’s price. These people don’t work for less than five hundred crowns.”
“WHAT!” yelled Ságamas, stomping the ground with his wooden leg. Mérdmerén kept his cool.
“We have the money. What else do you need?”
“My commission.”
“Your commission isn’t included in the five hundred?” Mérdmerén howled.
“No, boss—I mean, Mérdmerén. I don’t work for free. I might be a thief, but I’m a professional one, and I’m true to my word.”
“You’re a cynic. And don’t call me boss, we still haven’t come to an agreement. What’s to guarantee that you won’t betray me when the next man offers to pay you more for my head?”
“My word, boss. I’m a man of honor.”
Mérdmerén pondered for a moment. “And your commission, how much is it?”
“A hundred crowns.”
“I’ll give it to you when it’s over.”
“Impossible, boss. It has to be in advance. The five hundred too; my friends don’t work without cash in hand. Let’s see, you need an audience with the king—you know that’s not easy. But I’ll manage it for you for a price.”
“Tomorrow,” Mérdmerén said, holding back his amusement. Six hundred crowns and change was all they had left beside a handful he had hidden in his armor in case they were robbed. Then, they would have to sell their armor and weapons, which would gain them no more than a couple of further days’ accommodation and food. After that, they would have to think of something else.
“Tomorrow? Boss, getting together with my contacts’ll take me a whole day. Then I’ll have to wait and see whether the Faceless Baron gives his permission.”
“The Faceless Baron? Who in the realm of Gods is that?”
“Boss,” Turi said, snorting at being obliged to explain. “We’re a professional organization of thieves, and there’s a leader who is named the Faceless Baron, the same way the empire has a king. The Baron gives the orders, and his subordinates follow them. He rules the underworld of the Empire where thieves and the majority of unwanted and poor and disgraced people find a home in the secrecy of our organization. The Faceless Baron will need to authorize your little adventure. Of course, there must be something in it for him; otherwise, he won’t bother.”
“The whoreson bastards!”
“If you really want this adventure, you go through me. I’m your point of contact with our organization. If you try to reach him on your own, you might lose your life. It always has to be through a third person. That’s how it works. Those are our safety measures.”
Mérdmerén could not believe what he was hearing. “You’re telling me that I’ll have to depend on a band of petty thieves? I’ve heard of the Dunge
on of Thieves. It’s all a sham!”
“We are not petty but professionals. We are not a sham. Most people like you, who were once noblemen, think our organization a myth. But I tell you, we are the underworld literally under the city of Háztatlon that undermines the king’s operations. We are the opposers. We are the unnamed blessed. The Faceless Baron has a hand in everything. If he wants something, all he has to do is ask, and he will get it. Thus, if he approves of your audience with the king, you’ll have it.”
“Do I have any other option?” Mérdmerén asked ironically. He felt cornered.
“Of course,” the lad replied. He smiled broadly. “But you run a very high risk if you trust others. Chauncy’ll betray you, for sure. I know him very well.”
Mérdmerén was silent. With Ságamas’ distrust and the lad’s words, doubt had taken its toll on him. The little thief raised his fist solemnly to his chest.
“Turi will deliver what he’s promised. The sooner you decide, the better. Let me remind you that you have a man in a hood following you. He was carrying a medal with a raven. If he’s from the Brotherhood of the Ravens, he won’t be alone. Now I come to think about it, the Baron isn’t going to like the fact that those swine are in the neighborhood and worse that you, a man wanting his favor, is being chased by them. Your demands will cost you very dearly,” said Turi smiling.
“If you keep your mouth shut, he needn’t find out,” said Mérdmerén trying to outsmart the boy.
Turi grinned cynically. “The Faceless Baron has eyes and ears on every corner. How do you think I know about your little mission? Who else knows? Your enemies?” asked Turi with a smirk.
Mérdmerén breathed out heavily and picked up his satchel. “Two bags with two hundred and fifty crowns,” he said, throwing him a couple of pouches. “Plus your hundred crowns commission,” he said, reaching into his trousers. “Ságamas, give him the crowns.”
“By the bastard mermaids!” yelled the sailor.
“We’re officially broke,” said Mérdmerén.
He held up the open palms of his hands in resignation. Turi smiled and threw him a crown. “Here you are, for your dinner. I’m leaving now to do my part. I’d advise you not to move from here.”
Shepherd’s Awakening (Books 1-3) Page 55