by Logan Jacobs
I dumped the tobacco from my pipe, stuffed it in my pocket, and quickly walked down the road after the wagon.
“Watch it!” a dwarf grunted as I accidentally shoulder checked him.
I didn’t respond, since the wagon had just turned the corner. Instead, I sprinted across the street and caught the tail end of the cart turn the corner past Hebal’s place.
They weren’t going too fast, but I had to speed walk to keep an eye on where the wagon went. A few moments of tailing, and then the wagon took another turn. I figured it was headed right toward the dwarven meat market, and my stomach rumbled a bit at the thought. I continued to stroll behind the cart, and as we got closer to the market, my nose began to twitch as I smelled a strange combination of raw venison and the dwarves’ natural spices.
I stayed back just before the entrance and watched the cart squeeze down the road between the meat vendor stalls. Then I followed the wake the wagon created within the crowd and stared at some meat laid out on ice to blend in.
At the same time, I tried to get a better look at the wagon itself. I couldn’t tell if it was empty inside or not because there was a canvas tarp stretched tightly over the arched frame. I did see “Anything ya need,” was painted blue along the rear door of the wagon, though.
Lame slogan.
I continued to watch as the wagon slowly turned right into an alley at the edge of the market, and it nearly toppled a vendor’s stand.
“Ya fuckin’ orc cock!” the vendor spat at the driver. “Ya better be payin’ to fix ma stand!”
“Save it for your motha,” the driver dismissed the vendor.
“How bout’ I kill yours instead!” the vendor shouted and started to climb aboard the wagon.
“Get off if ya don’ want Hebal payin’ ya a visit.” The driver pushed the vendor off the wagon easily.
“Hebal?” the vendor squeaked as he raised his hands.
“That’s what I thought, sausage maker,” the driver grunted, and then he turned back to face forward and flicked his reins.
Hebal’s name drop was the confirmation I needed.
I moved to the last stall, the one the wagon nearly brought down, and then tried to see where the cart went down the alley.
“That driver was a cunt, eh?” I pointed at the damage to the meat vendor and then pretended to look over the selection of sausages.
“Aye!” The dwarf spat behind his shoulder toward the alley and cursed in his native tongue, and as he was busy complaining to the neighboring vendor, I slipped off to the side and hid at the corner of the building the alley ran along.
The alley was stuffed between two large unmarked, boring, and probably abandoned brick buildings. The one I peeked my head around was wide, long, and the back door touched the edge of the meat market. The other building next to it wasn’t as long but looked identical to the other. I couldn’t tell what either of the buildings were.
The wagon was parked in the center of the alley with the canvas sheet loosened along the edges. I could hear multiple dwarf’s voices and some racket, too, so I moved forward a bit to ensure I was standing in the shadow of a wooden support beam holding up a wall.
Then I sucked in my gut and cursed myself a bit for having an extra dinner last night.
Suddenly, a metal door slid open from the building I leaned against. This would be an awful place to have to receive or pick up big deliveries since the alley was so thin, but I could see why it was a great place to store the barrels.
I darted across the alley, crouched behind a stack of three wooden crates that had a better angle on the door, and continued to watch. The back of the wagon was only a hundred feet away, and I was fast enough and small enough to jump in the back, so I decided it would be pretty nifty to get into the back of the cart when it was all loaded up. Then I could get a grand ‘ol tour of Hebal’s distribution route, take a wee bit of mental notes, and return to Wade with all the dirty details.
So, I waited.
I was good at waiting. Unless it was for lunch, of course, and my stomach was starting to rumble a bit more urgently.
I didn’t have to wait for too much longer, though. Only a few minutes passed until I saw a dwarf peek his head out from the sliding door, and he didn’t even bother looking at the crates where I hid.
“We don’ get paid enough for this shit,” the driver groaned to the dwarf who came to help him load the whiskey.
“Do ya even know what’s in ‘ere?” the other dwarf asked.
“I don’ fuckin’ know,” the driver burped. “I just do whatever Hebal wants.”
“Well, whatever he has us movin’ inside these barrels smells delicious, don’ it?” The other dwarf sniffed the air. “Ma mouth is waterin’.”
“I wish I could smell what your smellin’, lad,” the driver said as he pinched the brim of his nose. “I’ve had a few too many brawls in my day. My nose don’ work no more.”
“Shit, how do ya live life without smellin’?” the other dwarf grunted as they both hoisted another barrel inside of the wagon.
“It ain’t too bad, and it has some benefits like … ” the driver began, but his voice trailed off as they walked back into the warehouse.
I wondered if Hebal had picked this driver on purpose. If so, that was smart since he couldn’t rat if he didn’t know what exactly he was delivering throughout the district.
I watched them finish loading the barrels and waited behind the crates like a beast in the middle of a hunt. Then the other dwarf disappeared into the warehouse and shut the metal sliding door, while the driver walked around to the front of the wagon.
I needed to move now.
So, I pushed off the stack of wooden crates to chase after the wagon, but as I did, the boxes fell in the same direction I stepped in.
“Shit, shit.” I rolled to my right, but the crate on top of the stack was still headed right for me. I stuck my foot in the air, caught the falling box, and balanced it with my toes. The crate was empty, so I pushed my foot out and sent the box crashing into the brick wall of the building.
For once in my life, my big feet saved me.
Then I stood, saw the wagon had started to move down the alley, and ran full speed after it. My lungs burned and ached within my chest.
I had to cut down on the smoking.
Even with my wheezing lungs, I gained on the wagon much quicker than I thought I would and reached for the back door so I could hop on in. Then I pulled myself up and into the mouth of the wagon and sat on top of a barrel.
I was in.
I did it.
I breathed deeply, caught my wind, wiped some sweat that beaded along my forehead, and took a look around the inside of the carriage.
There were four barrels lined up against the sides with two on the furthest wall. I moved deeper into the wagon and maneuvered myself against the back wall behind the last two barrels.
I could see the driver’s legs through the opened ledge that connected the front seat to the rest of the cart. He wouldn’t see me at all until his last few stops, but I’d get the gist of their process before that.
My size always came in handy in times like this.
As I sat with the barrels, I could smell the sweet, yet hay-like scent from the whiskey that surrounded me, and I realized I was sitting in the most illegal wagon in all the realm. If this dwarf got pulled over by an elven guard, or if he wrecked with me inside, I was surely fucked. So, I prayed to the Ancients that would not be the case and took a puff of my pipe.
Then I realized the smoke would probably give me away, so I put the ash out on the bottom of the floorboards but gasped when a bit of hay there caught on fire.
I stomped my foot a few times on the flame to get the embers out, and then I clenched my jaw and listened for the driver. The wagon kept rolling down the cobblestone streets without him shouting an alarm or looking back in here, so I let out a long breath of relief.
We drove for a few minutes until I felt the wagon pull to the side of the r
oad, and I made sure I was hidden behind the furthest barrel from the entrance.
Then I heard the dwarf grunt and drop to the side of the wagon, and another scenario I didn’t want to explore rushed into my mind.
What if he unloaded them all here?
I hadn’t thought this through enough.
But it was too late.
“Delivery!” the dwarf screamed out and knocked on a wooden door to my left.
I couldn’t really see where we were since the canvas was strapped pretty snug along the sides, so I’d have to rely mostly on my ears. I was impressed they were doing this in broad daylight. For some reason, I thought they’d be sneaking around at night. They could probably do that too, but I bet the elves would be more curious.
But the more I thought about it, the more it made sense.
If the driver was as clueless and noseless as he said he was, he really wouldn’t give off any sense he was doing something wrong if the elves questioned him. Plus, all deliveries usually happened during the workday anyway.
They had to blend in, so daytime deliveries made a bit of sense. Then again, it wasn’t like they could just wait around for the night elves to get their way. When people wanted booze, they wanted it immediately.
“We could easily do this,” I mumbled to myself, and my heart quickened when the wooden latch of the wagon screeched open.
The driver’s red face appeared as he reached inside and tugged on the barrel closest to him.
“Delivery!” the dwarf yelled out again as he successfully pulled a barrel out and rested it on his shoulder. “Oi, this is heavy.”
Then I heard the door the dwarf knocked on creak open.
“Aye, happy day, lad!” a voice full of joy came from the door, and with heavy steps, moved to greet the driver. “I’ve been waitin’ for ya like a wee puppy waitin’ for their owner to return.”
“Oh, well, uh … ” the driver trailed off, probably unsure of how to respond to such a happy dwarf.
I was confused too, but I was sure the answer could be found in the whiskey.
“Follow me, follow me.” The joyful dwarf stomped away, and the driver followed.
I made my way back up to the rear door of the wagon to see if I could spot where we were. Then I peeked out and squinted from the light that invaded my eyes. Once my vision adjusted, I saw we were at a dwarven community hall.
The building looked similar to the Miners’ Union Hall, but this building wasn’t as worn down. The structure was made of white stone and iron with a black tiled roof. We were in the back, next to the wooden door I’d heard open, and it had “Hall 004” painted across it.
These halls were mainly used to hold town meetings, specialty events, and celebrations. The perfect place to serve up some whiskey. There were hundreds of halls like that throughout the entire realm. But specific community halls like this one were more popular with the dwarves.
I heard the familiar dwarf voices return, so I took my old position at the rear of the wagon.
“See ya next week!” the joyful dwarf shouted, and I pictured him waving happily at the confused driver.
“Ya bet,” the driver said plainly, returned to his seat on the wagon, and off we went to stop number two.
This stop was just like the previous one, and so was the next one. It seemed Hebal had struck a district-wide deal with the community halls.
The plan was simple and easy. I loved simple and easy.
I thought to myself this could be how we used Skam or someone like him in the Halfling District and the Dwarf District. As I started to formulate some ideas to bring to Wade, the wagon pulled over to the next stop.
I waited for the driver to do his thing so I could make my escape. I’d seen and gathered enough intel on how the dwarves distributed our whiskey. Once the driver was escorted inside by the hall advisor with the barrel, I hopped out of the wagon.
Then I darted away without being seen.
Once I got my bearings, I started the walk back toward the Entertainment District with my head full of what I’d just witnessed.
As I walked, I thought about how we could distribute in the Halfling District, and with that, a familiar face popped into my mind.
“Selius,” I muttered to myself as I changed direction, started to walk toward the Halfling District, and thought of the young Thief’s Guild intern.
Was he still alive?
If he was alive, I was sure he was panicked by the recent developments over the past few weeks, and I knew he’d be interested to hear what I had to say.
Chapter 9
With how much time I spent near the theatre and Cimarra, one would think I would stop in to see a show now and then.
But, the reality was, I had no time.
Cimarra and I talked about this during our trip to get the grain earlier that day, and she asked if I would come and watch her tonight. I’d be a fool if I told her no, so I decided to make some time after I prepped our new batch.
I poured our new grain into the tub and added the water needed for the grains to germinate. Once that was done, I walked out of the stables and made sure the catering wagon was nice and hidden on the side.
I told Marver we needed to borrow the cart for a bit, and he didn’t question it.
Then I walked over toward the theatre’s entrance to get my ticket. I knew I could sneak in for free, but I wanted to support the theatre.
“I need one more coin, Wade.” The theatre attendant reached for my hand before I walked in.
Apparently everyone in the theatre knew me, thanks to Cimarra.
“Hmph, okay … ” I dug in my pocket for another coin and slid it across the ticket counter. After I grabbed my paper ticket and handed it to the door clerk, I walked into the lobby of the colossal and ancient building. Then I noticed the paint on the walls was chipped, just like the pillars outside.
Did the count ever do maintenance?
I pushed open the double wooden doors that led to the seating area and was instantly reminded of the first time I ever came.
I remembered I’d seen Cimarra along with a few of the other acts outside, but as soon as I laid eyes on the dancer, I knew I needed to know what this theatre was all about. Since that day, she had this powerful effect on me that I had to battle away now and then. If I didn’t, Cimarra could make me do anything she wanted me to. The way she moved, smelled, talked, even breathed made me want more of her.
I smirked at the memory, glared down at the theatre’s circular sand stage that looked more like a pit, and saw it was illuminated by a fixture of brightly-colored lanterns amplified from somewhere behind me. There was probably some magic involved to create that kind of effect, but I noticed one of the lights flickered on and off rapidly as if it were broken.
Weak magic?
Then I looked up and observed the gorgeous domed ceiling, the multi-colored banners that featured embroidered magical creatures, and the garlands of flowers wrapped around the structural pillars. But the once fresh and bright flowers now looked dry and forgotten.
I slid into the aisle seat on the closest row to the door so I could get a bird’s eye view this time around. I tried to get comfortable on the fucking stone seats, but it was nearly impossible. I finally found a smooth patch and scooted into it since no one was next to me anyway.
There were only a handful of people in the seats around the entire theatre. The count had to of been worried, and I figured that’s why the maintenance went down the tubes, too.
The lamps that encircled the entire building were suddenly snuffed out, and the multi-colored stage lights flickered off then on again when the count rushed onto the stage with his cane in hand.
Then in a less than smooth motion, the host jumped onto the sand and raised his hands out by his sides expectant of applause. A few people did, and another person sneezed from the dust kicked up into the air from the count’s stunt.
The egg-shaped man was dressed in a blue velvet jacket with golden buttons and black velvet pants
with bright blue oxfords. The count then bowed and reached for a giant voice amplifying cone that swung down from the ceiling.
“Welcome to the greatest show in all the realm!” he declared as he twirled in a half circle. “I’m Count Kieran, and I’ll be your host for the evening. Hang on tight, for the show I have for you will surely … ”
The cone must’ve been enhanced with some faulty magic as well since his voice became muddled. He punched the top of the cone a few times, and with a loud ring that echoed throughout the dome, it was back to full power.
“Surely blow your mind!” the strange man finally finished his overdramatic introduction before he brought on the first act. “All the way from the lands of the Far East, we have a real, and dangerous, sword swallower!”
The count twirled to the back of the sand pit and gestured toward a tall and lanky, tanned skinned man who donned golden rings all around his body.
Where were the mermaids? Where was the powerful magic? What the hell had happened in the few weeks since I’d last been here?
Some music began to play from the drummer and harpist who were hidden behind the sand pit. Then the count left the stage to make room for his first performer.
The sword swallower’s face was painted with white and red dots, and his eyes seemed to be extra big and expressive for dramatic effect.
He revealed a curved sword he’d held behind his back and threw it high up in the air. He watched as the sword finished its twirling trajectory and began to fall right at him. Right before the tip of the sword pierced into the man, he moved with the music and dodged the blade with a backflip.
The few of us in the stands clapped, but I wasn’t nearly as impressed as I’d been with the mermaids.
Sword swallowers performed on the street corners these days and were nothing I hadn’t seen before.
Although, there was one street performer whose sword accidentally pierced an elven guard. There were debates if it really was an accident or not, but either way, I’d pay to see that again.
I quickly lost interest in the show that played out in front of me, but my interest grew as to why the theatre’s quality had dropped so much.