Passages (Alternate Worlds Book 1)
Page 32
The man chuckled. ‘That’s a tall order. This city is a lot bigger than your little town.’
Andrew’s eyes darted to the counter, where a leather book was sitting. ‘No doubt you keep a record of it all though. That’s the official policy.’ His spidery fingers slid towards it.
The man swiped up the book, setting it on the shelf with narrowed eyes. ‘Yes, but I’m afraid that it’s confidential information. You might be the overseer of your little mud-hole, but not here. I can’t just go flashing that book to anyone.’
Andrew’s eyebrows came down slightly. ‘Actually, you can show it to other officers. That’s also official policy. But tell me your estimation—has crime gotten worse or better?’
A skinny, sleek dog wormed its way through the open door and whined. Victoria glanced down at it with a gentle smile, shocked by how thin the creature was, as if it had never been fed in its life. The dog slunk behind the counter to the police chief.
The man smiled nastily. ‘Better. Always been good here. We know how to keep our citizens happy. People aren’t so miserable here. Don’t have aggravating little swots poking into all their business, thinking they know everything.’
Andrew’s expression did not change, but Victoria felt the atmosphere grow colder, as if the deep freeze had already started.
The police chief leant in closer. ‘Now why don’t you just take your little alien pet and swan off? Go see the sights, enjoy everything our peaceful city has to offer.’
Andrew gave a tight nod and spun on his heel. He stopped in the doorway, almost causing Victoria to bump into him and cast a look down at the dog. ‘Good hunting,’ he said with a spiteful smile. The man’s withering look ushered them out of the office.
Victoria let out a deep breath once they were out on the street. ‘Well, that went good!’
Andrew looked back at the building, more pleased than she expected. ‘Gabbins is a liar.’
‘Oh?’ Victoria nodded. ‘Yeah, I kinda guessed that. But you don’t really know.’
He stared at her. ‘Of course I do. I’ll explain. When he stuck out his hand I noticed his fingers, which were a lovely red colour. They had red ink on them from writing in the log book. You should know by now that we only use red ink for problems, bad ones. The pen was lying on the table and the ink was still wet but the book, as you saw, was shut, so it’d been closed in a hurry, most likely when we first walked in, before the ink could fully dry, so something has happened very recently. Now, that’s understandable with this crowd, but, considering Gabbins is in charge of illegal substance control, we can assume he’s had a lot of extra work lately. Also, there was simply the way he stood, stiff. Avoided eye contact, swallows were exaggerated, all your basic dead giveaways for a liar. Point proven by a wanted poster on the wall with a description that mentioned a crazed fellow with yellow eyes.’
‘Great! That doesn’t help us though, and what was that about hunting?’
‘Gabbins is also a poacher, and is most likely paid off by the other poachers in the area. That type of dog is for hunting. It’s starved like that so it will seek and chase prey. The only kind of prey that that type of dog is bred for is florixes, which are extremely rare in these parts. If his dog was just a normal pet it wouldn’t be so thin. No-one has a nice dog like that and starves it, not unless you’re completely cruel, which, as many faults as Gabbins has, he’s not cruel.’
A cold breeze started to blow, taking a good portion of the dying leaves off of a tree nearby. Victoria watched them go, feeling a pang of sadness. The warmth of summer was already leaving. From what she’d been told, by the end of the week it could be snowing. It just didn’t seem possible. The people round her didn’t seem to mind; they were still buying vegetables and thin woven garments.
‘Fantastic. So what now?’ Victoria asked him.
He paused thoughtfully. ‘We need to split up. You head down to the docks and talk to the sailors from the southern villages, see what they know about the spores. I’ve got my own lead to investigate.’
Victoria sighed. ‘Can’t I just come with you? I’ll get lost!’
He shook his head. ‘No, now get going, and try to blend in! We’ll meet back here in an hour.’
Victoria was already getting pushed about by the crowd. ‘Fine! But you owe me lunch when we get back! I expect to see some of this festival!’
He waved her off and was gone, lost in the mass of bodies.
Victoria grumbled, squared her shoulders and peered through the massive crowd. She noticed the huge masts from the sailing vessels, rocking back and forth through the treeline and set off at a march.
There were so many colours and excitement happening round her Victoria didn’t know where her eyes should look first. Streamers and bands and clothing and food were all packed into every available corner and side-street. People were playing games, trading merchandise and swapping stories. She desperately wanted to stop and absorb it all.
Few people glanced her way and Victoria only got to pause a few times on her way down to the docks as people offered her free samples and colourful ribbons, just teasing her with what she was missing.
The docks were their own section of the city, and if Victoria had been any farther away, she would have had to take a cab to reach them, yet with a city so exciting, she wanted nothing more than to walk.
The harbour was much more impressive than Miol Mor’s. Huge vessels that looked capable of being out on the ocean for months at a time swayed gently in the water. A great breaker wall kept the tossing ocean waves from pounding into the docks and ships. Gulls circled overhead and sailors trudged here and there, carrying nets and sorting supplies.
She didn’t know where to start. There were several different types of ships, but Victoria didn’t know which ones were from the south. She was just about to ask someone when she noticed several dark-skinned men working round a wide, black, wicked-looking ship. She smiled, recalling from long ago what Andrew had mentioned about the south. These men had to be from there, and if not, they could certainly point her in the right direction.
A few of them were sitting round and eating. She approached cautiously, remembering Andrew’s instructions to blend in. She had no idea how to do that.
‘Ahoy!’ She grinned, wondering if that was correct. That was what sailors said, right?
‘Greetings,’ one man said, nodding, long dreadlocks swinging.
Victoria sidled up, fighting down her awkwardness and introduced herself. ‘How has your summer been treating you?’
The man nodded serenely. ‘The ocean has been bountiful this season.’
Victoria bit her lip. ‘Well, that’s good. How about the land? You do much gathering on the land down south? I’m curious because I’ve heard some things from trappers who’ve headed down there. They’ve said that the land seems sick.’
The man grunted. ‘Another one of you asking about it? A blonde girl was just down here with that skinny man asking the same question. I can do you one better than what I told them though. I think Droogen is back.’
The man barked a word towards the ship and Victoria watched in amazement as a tall man picked himself up and swaggered down the gangplank to them, munching on a piece of meat. She realised with a jolt he was a Blaiden and blinked in surprise.
The man informed Droogen about Victoria’s inquiries.
Droogen turned to her. ‘My old pack has never been one to treat the forest well, because of their addictions,’ he began. ‘They’ve survived so long by living off of other tribes like leeches and cannot think of living without clouding their minds. They destroy the forest with little thought. I left before the sky’s plague came to them, but I heard of it. It fell down from the stars and addicted them almost immediately. I don’t know how it got into the water supply. For all I know, my old pack dumped it there as a way to help the forest become like them. What they’ve done has destroyed the south’s mangrove forests and many of the tribes down there are now addicted.’
Victoria leant forward, fascinated. ‘Do you know where it’s coming from?’
Droogen shook his head. ‘I do not know its source, but I can guess. I would say that something that important would come from the Guardian’s Mountain. You can see it from here. That is where all their most sacred sites are.’
Victoria stored the information mentally. ‘Thank you, you’ve been really helpful! And it was a pleasure meeting a Blaiden like you.’
He smiled tightly, ‘My people are not evil, child. They are simply too dependent and confused. Their addiction pulls them down. Please do not hate them. Pity them.’
He left her without another word. The man with the dreadlocks hopped up from his seat. ‘Well, if you don’t be needing anything else, I think I’ll re-join the festivities.’
She shook his large hand. ‘Thanks so much for your help. I appreciate it!’
She watched the man go back up the hill towards the city, very much wanting to follow, but there were still plenty more boats and trappers to talk with and her hour was not yet up.
With a sigh, Victoria moved on to the next boat that looked promising, pushing the smell of food and celebration from her mind.
* * * * *
Being famous did have its downsides, one of the most mentionable being the lost ability to go undercover. When people recognised your face it was difficult getting anything real done. Fortunately for Andrew, as famous as he was among the upper class citizens, whom had access and interest in daily news and papers, the more questionable of classes were still completely ignorant about him, which was all that truly counted at the moment.
With a little work on his appearance he fit right in, and it didn’t take him long to find out where they were spending their festival, by a broken down tavern near the shipping wharves.
He had run into two rather grimy, thin men, obviously addicted to every type of vice the world had to offer, and in no time had managed to infiltrate their group and become their new best mate. He sat between them now in the dim tavern, nursing a mug of ale he had no intention of drinking judging the state the mug was in. They’d shared a few crude jokes, he’d bought them a round and figured it was about time to get what he’d come for.
‘Tell me,’ he said languidly. ‘I’ve been here a day and seen everything new and exciting that is to be seen, and I’m still bored out of my mind. Honestly, the rubbish these people come up with! Have you two bumped into anything more interesting than new embroidery patterns?’
One of the men laughed and spat on the floor. ‘I can think of one thing that’s a guaranteed good time.’
Andrew snarled in disgust. ‘Don’t recommend me to where the prostitutes are. They’re as boring as the rest.’
The men grinned and shared a conspiratorial glance. ‘No, this is something much more…stimulating.’
Andrew turned to face them fully. ‘Oh? What?’ He adopted his best intrigued look.
‘You ever heard of Yellow Bird?’
Andrew pulled an innocent face. ‘No, can’t say that I have.’ He leant in closer, flashing an excited smile. ‘What’s Yellow Bird?’
The men smirked, unable to contain their excitement. ‘It’s this new drug that’s all the rage. Popular among the savages but sailors and trappers are starting to bring it in from their expeditions. It’s the most fantastic thing you’ve ever experienced.’
Andrew stared at them in awe. ‘Where can I get my hands on some of this? I don’t know any trappers.’
The men looked a little disappointed. ‘It isn’t cheap. Costs you dearly, but it’s worth every piece you spend on it.’
Andrew waved the idea away, as a gambler would make a bet. ‘Money isn’t a problem for me right now. Can you tell me who to get in contact with?’
One of the men laughed darkly. ‘Of course we can. You’re gonna love this!’
When Andrew heard what they had to say, he already knew the answer.
* * * * *
Victoria met back up with Andrew in an hour as agreed. She was surprised by his appearance but didn’t question it as he led her back to the inn for lunch. They found Tollin telling a group of people a wild story but managed to drag him away from his audience for a quick word. Victoria tucked into her food as Andrew talked, but he refused anything, mentioning that the kitchen was probably a horror show all in itself.
‘The spores are being used here,’ Andrew announced. ‘They’re calling it Yellow Bird and among the more seedy citizens it seems to be very popular—and desired. But from what I’ve found out it’s turning into a thriving business and it’s expensive. It sounds like it’s been around for several years now, but it’s only just now growing in popularity and availability. No doubt more than one dealer is out there in the crowds; this is the perfect spot to make a profit.’
Tollin nodded. ‘We know it has to be a limited supply, as long as the Denizens don’t keep sending it up. The shrooms can’t grow here, it’s too cold. The drug won’t last that long if it’s as popular as you say. If people keep using it up then there won’t be any left. That could be a problem, especially if they start attacking the Blaiden for more of them, or, even worse, realise they’re coming from Scrabia. If we could find the main source of the spores then we could stop the problem fairly quickly.’
Victoria swallowed a piece of greasy meat. ‘I heard a rumour that it might be stored on the Guardian’s Mountain, which is on Blaiden land. It’s visible from here. I bet the stream originates from there.’
Andrew thought that over. ‘I’ve seen it. Probably only a couple hours ride to get there, but it’s in such dangerous territory it’s hardly feasible.’
Tollin leant over and plucked a vegetable from Victoria’s plate. ‘So what’s your strategy from here?’ He looked up at Andrew with his dark, probing eyes.
Andrew shook his head curtly. ‘No plan. Like you said, it’s a limited supply. There’s no point getting involved.’
Tollin’s eyes sparkled. ‘Right.’ He paused for a moment in thought, then smacked the table loudly. ‘Well, I’ll be off! You know, we’re here at the festival; places to go, people to meet! Not something I want to miss!’
Victoria lurched off of her stool. ‘I’ll come with you!’
Andrew grabbed her arm and pulled her back down with a glower. Tollin gave them both a lopsided grin and was gone, greeting people noisily on his way out.
Victoria cast Andrew a sour look. ‘I’m not going to see one bit of this festival if you keep me all tied up!’
Andrew scanned the crowd, not listening. ‘We’ve got things to do.’
She crossed her arms. ‘Yeah? Like what? You said we weren’t going after the spores.’
He turned back to her. ‘I lied. I didn’t want Tollin getting involved. Those men I met, I’ve made an appointment with them to take me to the main spore dealer tonight. Once we get there we’ll summon the police and we’ll have this wrapped up.’
She let out a breath. ‘Nothing about that sounds safe. Or wise.’
Andrew gave her one of his rare, genuine grins. ‘I know, isn’t it marvellous?’
Chapter Thirty-Two
Andrew allowed Victoria a few hours to enjoy the festivities before she again had to meet him upstairs in his room. It was late but the crowds outside were still in full swing. Victoria was stuffed on strange foods, covered in strange scents and had more streamers and scarves tied to her than she knew what to do with. Andrew had given her a decent amount of money to spend and she’d managed to buy several small trinkets from the different villages as well as a new wool skirt. While she still felt there was much more to see, she didn’t feel too badly about leaving the party to rendezvous with him again.
When she entered his room, she found him pacing fanatically—another one of his odd habits—hands pressed as if in prayer to his lips. He didn’t show any sign of acknowledgement when she entered. Part of her hesitated when she saw him. Perhaps it was too much excitement for him. Andrew’s attacks were completely random when they hit, bu
t they did seem to become more frequent when he was excited and this drug bust of his might be enough to push him over the edge.
She knocked on the door to get his attention and he pulled up short to stare at her.
‘What are you wearing?’ he demanded.
Victoria glanced down at herself. She was wearing a dark green skirt and a light blue top that was embroidered with colourful flowers and vines; it was her favourite out of all she owned. ‘What’s wrong with it? I think it’s nice!’
Andrew was already shaking his head. ‘No. You can’t wear that.’
Victoria was frustrated. Andrew controlled everything about his life. What time he went to bed, got up, how he got dressed, ate and a million other small things that drove everyone mad but almost sent him into a catatonic state without. Now, however, he seemed to be branching from his habit on controlling his own life, to controlling hers’.
‘Why can’t I wear it?’ she cried.
Andrew sucked in a deep, barely patient breath. He spoke slowly, like he was explaining something to a child, which he probably figured he was. ‘We are going to the questionable part of town—that’s putting it lightly. The idea is to fit in once we’re there and if you go trotting in there wearing something like that you’re going to blatantly stand out. No woman where we’re going would ever be caught wearing that.’
She fumed, frustrated. ‘Well, what do I do?’
He waved his hand, distracted. ‘Show some more skin. Actually, a lot more.’
She put her hands on her hips. ‘If you’re just saying that so you can get a nice look—’
He flopped down on his bed, palms over eyes and groaned. ‘Oh, please don’t insult me. I couldn’t care less about what you look like under all of that fabric. This is purely essential to our operation.’ He sat up and gave his hand another small wave. ‘Now hurry up. We’re wasting time.’