‘If I were in their position, I would hold up some place safe. Complete my mission, and when ready, move all the cargo at once. The only way they could move that many people,’ he said, placing his hand down on the bottom half of the city map, ‘is by ship, through the docks.’
The king stared at the map for what seemed like an age. He knew his theory was sound, but hoped that the king could see it too. Moving the victims they already had, through one of the city gates, would be far too much trouble. But if they planned even more kidnappings, there was no other way to get out of Eitane.
‘And your plan, Commander?’ The king began. ‘Your plan to catch these men, now that you know they need to use the docks for their escape, whenever that may be.’
‘With your permission, I will use some of my more trained men from the king’s Guard, and have them lead small groups of the City Guard. They will be assigned to the docks, and warehouse district. Once the kidnappers make their move, my men will be waiting.’
‘You believe that will be enough to stop these men?’ King Torren, asked.
‘Majesty, my men are trained to protect you from even the most deadly assassins, they can handle these kidnappers, whoever they might be.’
‘Very well, Thyle. For my people’s sake, I hope you and your men do not fail.’
Thyle was relieved. He trusted his men to do their job, and with the added help from the City Guard, he was assured of his plan’s success. He bowed to the king, and took his leave, there were plans to make and orders to send. This could all be over soon, he thought.
* * *
While Thyle’s mood was no different, a sense of relief, and maybe a little hope, was enough to prevent him from falling into madness at the thought of how many children were currently missing. He wrote to the Captain of the City Guard and had already sent his squire to fetch the knights he would assign to his new plan.
‘Commander,’ a young boy said, standing at the entrance of the Thyle’s office.
‘Yes?’
‘A message for you, sir.’ The boy said, walking towards the desk.
‘Excellent, news from the Captain I presume.’
The messenger hesitated for a moment and then presented the letter. ‘I’m afraid not, sir, it’s from Mrs Brandley.’
Thyle’s expression changed, ‘my mother? Is it that time already?’
He took the letter and opened it slowly, the messenger bowing and leaving the room without notice. He knew what it was, an invitation to the monthly dinner with his parents. The dinner that his mother had been using ever since he took his post as Commander. It was an attempt on his mother’s part, to find him a suitable wife. Just what I need. Now of all days.
Thyle had lost count of how many women his mother had invited to the dinners. It wasn’t just the women though, his mother invited their parents as well. It was customary to invite the parents to an introduction of what might be their daughter’s future husband. None of these women ever appealed to him though. They were boring, proper, the typical children of wealthy parents, it wasn’t what he wanted at all.
‘Gods, I need to stop indulging my parents like this. It’ll be my undoing.’ He said, reaching for his sword, and heading straight out of his office, letters in hand.
SIXTEEN
The table shook with the force of the monstrous hand slamming down upon it, but Vin stood fast. Again, the man slammed his fist into the wooden table, but he never flinched, to do so would be weakness, and Vin didn’t show weakness. The guild leader had informed the man that his package had yet to arrive from Falias, and that had caused great upheaval.
‘We pay you a great deal of money for your services, guild master.’ The man growled from the opposite side of the table.
‘You’re welcome to take your business elsewhere.’ Vin paused, staring directly into the man’s eyes. ‘But, as we both know, you won’t find my services elsewhere. Will you?’
The man released a sigh, and stood to his full, towering height. ‘I’ve flayed the flesh from men for far less than that, guild master, you would do well to watch your tone when addressing me. Now where are my supplies?’
‘The chemicals are en route. These kidnappings have made it extremely difficult to move anything in or out of the city. You’ll have what you paid for by tomorrow at the latest. I will send word to you.’
Seemingly satisfied, at least for the time being, Vin’s opponent retreated towards the door.
‘See that I do.’ He quickly vanished from the dark room, letting the door slam upon his exit.
‘Who was that?’
Vin pulled two goblets to him and poured some ale into both before turning towards the new voice in the room.
‘What have I told you about listening in on my conversations, Gareth?’
‘I always forget that one. But you know I’m a big fan of asking forgiveness, rather than permission.’ He smiled at Vin, who handed him one of the goblets filled with ale.
They both sat at the long wooden table, each surveying the room in a practised manner. No signs of life, just the familiar room, filled with wooden banquette tables, a large, unlit fire at the end of the room, and nothing more.
‘So?’
Vin sipped from his goblet, ‘just another happy customer.’
‘He seems familiar to me. Plain clothes, but they’re an unusual style, I’ve definitely seen them before.’ Gareth sipped his ale. ‘Where might I have seen them before?’ He asked, causally.
‘Let that be of no concern, I have far more important matters for you to deal with. Here,’ Vin slid a sheet of parchment across the table. ‘Take this letter to our friend at the East gate and escort our cargo to the usual spot.’
No further questions were asked, Gareth pocketed the letter and slipped away into the night.
SEVENTEEN
Men came and went, dropping off or picking up. Waggons unloaded by the workers, bribes exchanged, documents forged, a regular day with the regular clientele. But it was not the regular Gareth had come to the warehouse district for. Nor was it the reason he woke before dawn and with practised ease, entered the guild’s main warehouse undetected.
The previous day’s meeting between Vin and the unknown client had kept playing on his mind. No one spoke to Vin the way the man had, not spoke to him like that and lived anyway. It intrigued Gareth. But it was the familiarity of the client that had really set him thinking, the thought he knew him, or at least saw him prior to the guildhall.
He had woken from a dream that morning, the memory still fresh in his conscious mind. Well done, young thief. A clandestine meeting, a task from Vin to deliver documents weeks before. It had not been the same dark figure Gareth had over heard with Vin. The meeting in Falias had been something else, with a man far more calm and calculated than the hot-tempered client Vin had dealt with.
It wasn’t the voice, nor look of either man that Gareth saw familiarity in. It was the plain, but distinct garb they wore. A fabric he had never seen, a style unknown to him, and while minimalist, it was fine and elegant. He had travelled far and wide across Emeer on tasks for the guild, met people from every corner of his home land, he was certain these men were of a distant place.
Perhaps the tribes to the west, he thought while resting in his perch high above the warehouse floor.
Few travelled west, few but the heartiest of traders, men who could deal with what lay beyond. Tall tales were told of the wild lands across the great sea. A place of myth and legend, with untold riches for those brave enough to claim them. Sailors who survive the treacherous voyage across the great sea are greeted with sheer cliffs, too vast and high to scale. It’s said that secret paths known to few have been carved into the walls, themselves as dangerous to climb.
A broken landscape, with mountain ranges as far as the eye could see await the brave who climb. Stories have been told of men who ventured to those mountains and never returned. They say the Fomorians reside within the depths of the mountains, biding their time, and that on
e day, they will return to the shores of Emeer.
Gareth had no real idea of where these men hailed from, but where they came to Emeer from, wasn’t as important as why.
He had spent a great deal of his young life dealing with the underbelly of Eitane and beyond. From the traders who dealt in black market goods, to what he considered the bottom of the barrel; slave traders. It was not up to him to decide on the clients the guild took on, Vin had no qualms with taking coin from anyone who offered it. The services of the Thieves Guild were available to all, lord to slaver. Which end Vin’s current client lay on, he didn’t know, but he knew it wouldn’t be long before he did.
As Vin had instructed him, he’d gone to one of the usual city guards whose hands were greased on a regular basis. A guard who’s shift at the main gate, would allow precious cargo to pass by unchecked. For the right price.
Eitane’s constabulary were paid better than most, but the men who guard the city were only human. And that meant greed, debts to be paid, addictions to be satisfied, needs to be fulfilled. Vin liked to say every man had his price, and if his price couldn’t be paid, there were other courses of action that would see the same results.
The guild’s cargo had passed through unscathed, and he’d seen to it personally that it reached the warehouse. Given the urgency of the Thieves Guild leader’s request, Gareth thought the cargo would be long gone. He was pleasantly surprised to find it exactly where he’d left it the previous day, and from his perch, he watched, and waited.
* * *
Hours dragged by without mercy, dozens of people came and went, none his target, and boredom had long set in. The men who worked the distract had all began to leave for local taverns, or home for their midday meal. Gareth felt that tug of hunger, and as his mind wandered to the delights, he might procure close by, a sound barely audible grabbed his attention.
Hooded, but wearing the foreign garb, Gareth was sure he watched the guild’s client, or one of his kin, as they walked about on the floor below. He moved from holding area to holding area without so much as a glance about the room. It was clear that he had waited for the warehouse to empty out so he might find his cargo undisturbed.
The small crate that had been smuggled into the city bore a mark on its side, there would be no need for the man to seek assistance or look for shipping manifests. So he continued, carefully scanning every crate he passed for the strange symbol Gareth had not recognised when he’d brought the crate in the day before. It was just another reason he wished to know more about this particular client. He had seen many brands on packages and crates, a city’s seal, a craftsman’s mark, but the symbol on this crate was different.
An intricate design, a circle enclosing another, with four strange, but familiar images at each compass point. The four created a perimeter around a variation on the tree of life at its centre. He recognised the tree from the royal emblem and realised he’d never once wondered what it meant, what the tree of life signified, for the king’s family, or this mysterious foreigner. Something he would rectify at a later date, for the hooded figure had found his target.
Amusement flared in Gareth’s eyes, for he knew it had taken him and another guild member to carry the crate from the waggon to its current location. Not only did he wonder how the man was contemplating carrying it but also how he had ordered something without knowing its size and weight. Maybe Vin’s new clients aren’t as bright as they let on, he mused.
His amusement was short lived, however. The stranger, while taller than most, looked no stronger than any man who’d been occupying the building before. But with little effort, the hooded figure lifted the crate with both hands and made for the exit, his gait unchanged from when he’d entered.
That shirt hides more than it lets on, he thought, moving down to his own exit at the side of the building.
Gareth’s target was child’s play to follow. Even with him showing no sign of strain while carrying the crate, he could hardly break into a sprint or move fast enough through winding streets to lose a thief of Gareth’s skill. And so it went, street after street, until they neared the thoroughfare that would take them over the River Bán and through the gate to the Market Square.
Crowds filled the main street, carts laden with goods fresh off the boats, ready to be sold at Eitane’s thriving market. In some respects, it made it easier to tail the foreigner. Gareth could slip in between the traders and shoppers on their way across the river, no need for subterfuge or distractions. But the closer they got to the bridge, the tighter the groups became, people were funnelled into the narrow entrance before the crossing.
The gate system was designed with sieges in mind, if an enemy were to break through the walls in one section of the city, they would have to funnel their forces through these choke points before moving into the next. A clever system for sure, but at mid day, the market crowds were making Gareth’s life just that much more difficult.
He picked up his pace, ensuring the distance between himself and his target was minimal. With this many people around, he would be just another hungry customer trying to get through to the square for food. It served him well, not ten paces behind his target, they crossed the bridge and entered the square, no one the wiser.
Gareth wondered if perhaps the cargo was being sold off to a trader in the market, a quick exchange to turn a profit. But before he could allow the thought to fully bloom, he turned a corner in pursuit, to discover his target had vanished.
He swore beneath his breath and cursed the gods for allowing him to be so foolish in thinking this man was easy prey. He charged forward along the lines of stalls and shops to the only turn his target could have taken off the main square.
Nothing. A short alleyway, a dead end with a wall no one could have scaled carrying a crate that size. Two doors opened onto it, but each was sealed shut, and were only access to the shops at either side. No where for the man to have gone, bar melting into the shadows.
EIGHTEEN
Selene tore off another chunk of Molly’s soda bread and lathered it with salted butter. It was the only good thing she had going for her that morning, given the events of the previous day. She had made no plans for the day, since she walked out on everyone the night before, lying to them, even to Gareth.
‘What’s on your mind, dear, you've not said a word all morning,’ Molly asked, getting no acknowledgement. ‘If you eat anymore of that bread, I'll need to roll you out of that door.’
That was enough to elicit a response from Selene. ‘Are you trying to say I’m fat?’ She asked, sarcastic as always.
‘Of course not, but all that bread and butter will get you halfway there.’ Molly said, poking her in the ribs.
‘I’m just worried about the children that have gone missing. There’s been no news at all, and the others and I have been searching all week.’
‘Have faith, sweetie, the gods won’t allow any harm to come to those children, I'm sure of it.’
She looked at Molly, unsure whether she believed in her own words. ‘I’d rather rely on us to find them, then wait for the gods to intervene, Molly.’
‘That’s my girl.’ A voice from behind them.
Molly and Selene both spun to see Gareth standing in the kitchen, helping himself to some bacon sitting on the counter.
‘Blast it, boy, what have I told you about knocking?’ Molly said, walking over and removing the plate of bacon from his hands.
Selene laughed a little and gestured for him to take a seat in front of her. If he wanted to continue eating, it would need to be at the table, Molly had strict rules when it came to meals. Molly placed the bacon on the table once he’d sat down, along with half a dozen sausages that were left, and heated the pan to make more eggs. As much as she hated Gareth just walking into the house, she would never see him go without.
‘Thanks, Mol, you’re a star.’ He said, tearing off bread to add to his already heaped plate of meat.
‘You know it’s polite to knock before entering som
eones house, right?’ Molly said, cracking eggs into the pan.
‘Ah, we’re past that point, aren’t we? It’s not like I’m a stranger. We’re practically family.’ He mumbled, mouth stuffed with sausage.
The eggs sizzled in the pan, drowning out whatever Molly’s reply had been. But this was all banter, a little fun between them. Molly saw Gareth like a son, and always commented on how nice he was, or how she liked the way he looked out for Selene. She always reminded Selene not to tell Gareth that, ‘don’t want to inflate that ego of his.’
‘Has there been any news?’ Selene asked, wanting to get straight to it.
Gareth shook his head and made room on his plate for the eggs Molly was scraping from the pan.
‘There has to be something, it’s becoming far too long, gods knows what they’re doing to those children.’ She said, head in hands.
‘It’ll be fine, they obviously want them for something, I doubt they’d harm them.’ Gareth said, attempting to reassure her. He continued, ‘we’re meeting up with the others soon, going to resume the search. We’ll work faster, and get through more of the warehouse district today, don’t worry.’
‘I guess you better eat up, then. I want to get started right away.’
* * *
The weather hadn’t returned to the warmth she’d experienced that day on the rooftops overlooking the parade, Selene could feel that the cold was there to stay, and was thankful again for her long leather coat. Pulling the coat closer to her, she was reminded of Gareth’s birthday. With the events of the past week, she’d completely forgotten to see about organising a party for him, although if Robert wasn’t home soon, there would be no celebrations of any kind. There’s still time, I have over a week before his birthday, she thought.
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