“The old man said the sapphire was in the possession of a pirate lord named Gendric the Black,” he said, turning his gaze back to Razja with a hint of amusement in his eyes. “He’s supposedly somewhere in this city, and we need to find him.”
Camdyn grunted. “It’s a big damn city. Where do we start?”
Jasper ran a hand through his hair. “Where does any adventurer go when he begins a quest?”
His companions gazed back at him with blank expressions, their brows furrowing in confusion.
“The fount of all knowledge, the repository for any city’s gossip,” Jasper explained, astounded by their density. “A tavern!”
THEY FOUND A SUITABLE establishment a few streets into the docks distract, an old structure with a thatch roof and a sign that read ‘The Laughing Lamprey’.
The tavern was empty at this early hour of the morning. There was a crackling fire in the hearth and a few snoring sailors who would probably gotten drunk the night before. A slender balding man stood behind the bar, methodically rubbing the polished wood with a dirty cloth. He reminded Jasper of a skeleton, his frame tall and bony. The man glanced up at them as they entered and frowned, his weathered features contorting in a look of mild annoyance.
"Ain't got anything to eat," he said as he continued to rub down the bar. "You might want to try the inn down the road. The Dancing Dolphin serves breakfast at this time of day."
Jasper strode up to the bar undeterred, and easy smile gracing his lips as he reached into her pocket and pulled out his purse. "Not hungry, good man," he said pulling out a fat silver coin and placing it on the bar before him. "We ate our fill on the ship."
Behind him, he could hear Camdyn groan. The mercenary had been too sick to eat while aboard the galley and was no doubt hungry now that they were on dry land.
Jasper ignored him. "We are newcomers to the city. Don't know our way right from left. We'd appreciate it if you can help point us in the right direction."
The bartender eyed the coin in front of him apprehensively as he chewed his lip. Finally, he reached a bony hand forward and snatched the coin away. "And what direction might you be wanting to go?"
"We're looking for somebody," Jasper replied, flashing his friendly grin. "A man who goes by the name Gendric the Black."
A glimmer of recognition flashed in the bartender's eyes, but his expression did not give away what he was thinking. He merely stood there for a moment, looking the three of them over as he palmed the silver coin. At long length he gave them a half shrug. "This ain't the sort of place that serves a man like that," he said. "Most of my patrons are honest folk, seamen and the like. They don't want nothing to do with pirates."
Jasper held up a reassuring hand. "I wouldn't presume that a good businessman such as yourself would have dealings with a man like that. Still, one does hear rumors – especially in a profession such as yours. Drunk sailors are not known for being tightlipped."
The bartender crossed his arms. "What are you on about?"
"As I said, I'm just looking to be pointed in the right direction."
Camdyn and Razja shifted behind him, causing the floorboards to creak. No doubt they were uncomfortable with the manner of his questioning. The most direct route is often the most effective, he thought to himself, keeping his eyes on the bartender.
The slender man continued chewing on his upper lip. Then, after a moment, he muttered a low curse. "Saying the wrong thing can get me killed, you fool."
Jasper reached into his pouch, pulled out another coin, and slid it across the bar toward him. "Unlike drunken sailors, I am known for being tightlipped."
Grunting in resignation, the bartender snatched up the second coin. "I don't know much, but I know a man who does."
The three of them leaned in, intent on his words.
He looked around, as if to make sure that they were alone, then lowered his voice to a whisper. “The King of Beggars.”
Jasper narrowed his eyes. “The King of Beggars,” he replied, voice thick with skepticism.
The bartender held up his hands. “I know how it sounds, but it’s true – gods mark me. The King of Beggars dwells near the Pantheon of the Gods near the cliffs. Every lowlife in the city pays him fealty, and he’s heard every secret that’s been whispered in Yral. If anyone knows the Black Pirate’s whereabouts, it’s him.”
Jasper exchanged glances with his companions, looking to them to see what they thought of all this. The consensus seemed to be that this was their best lead and that they should check it out.
When the assassin turned his gaze back on the bartender, he asked, “Where can we find this Pantheon of the Gods?”
TOGETHER, THEY BRAVED the winding streets of Yral, passing jumbled neighborhoods of ramshackle buildings and makeshift street markets burgeoning with people. Like the other free cities, Yral contained people from every part of the world. Dark skinned folk from Kaarna mingled with the fair skinned people of Thay, their manner of dress as different as their pigmentation. Jasper also saw dwarves from the Ruby Isles, as well as islanders from the southern seas and even a few elves from the far east. It was good to be in another cosmopolitan city again, especially after spending so much time trekking through the rural north. Even though it had been years since he had been in the city before, small part of him felt like he had come home.
Following the bartender's directions, they made their way to the westernmost cliffs, where the buildings were slightly more well-kept than those by the docks. The streets were cleaner, and those walking on them wore finer clothes.
Jasper took that as a good sign. Any successful beggar knew that he would have more luck bothering people who had coin to spare.
It wasn't long before they came upon the Pantheon of the Gods, and enormous building of marble slabs and thick fluted columns. In addition to pilgrims and the priests, the courtyard was lined with filthy beggars of every shape and size. They rattled their cups and groped at the passersby, pleading for money for every excuse imaginable.
"This must be the place," Camdyn said as he munched on a piece of flatbread he had purchased from a street vendor. "Though, I'm not really sure how we’re supposed tell one of these miserable sods from the next. How are we supposed to know which one is the Beggar King?"
Jasper smirked. "I have a feeling that any one of them would be willing to part with the information for a few coppers."
Camdyn gestured at the courtyard before them. "You're the one with the bottomless purse. Be my guest."
Sure enough, the first beggar they approached was more than willing to cooperate. The young man was covered from head to toe in soot and grime-covered rags, but he quickly accepted the coins he was offered and pointed a grubby finger to the far side of the courtyard. There, sheltered between two large buildings was a shadowed alley crowded with people.
Jasper smiled smugly to himself as he led the other two to the alley, where a half-dozen beggars blocked their path. He opened his mouth to tell them to move, when he noticed something strange about them. These men looked to be well-fed, and did not have the downtrodden appearance of many of the other vagrants he had seen. They looked at them with hard eyes and clutched at weapons that were obviously hidden beneath their clothes.
Guards, Jasper realized, holding his hands out to either side of him to show he was not a threat. Makes sense. What king would not have guards to watch his back?
“We have come to speak with the King of Beggars,” he said, offering each of them a friendly smile.
One of the guards scowled at him from beneath a thick, single brow that hung over both of his eyes. “And what makes you think we know anything about that?”
Jasper sighed. He didn’t have the patience for this sort of game. Nevertheless, he knew how the game was supposed to be played. “Rest assured, I am no city watchman. Merely a concerned citizen looking for information.” He hefted his coin purse, letting it clink loudly before them. “Does your king accept tribute?”
This seemed to
pique their interest. The lead guard grinned, revealing a mouth full of rotten teeth. “Aye. That he does.”
Jasper thumbed out a few more coppers to the guards, then shoved his way past them. None of them tried to stop them as they entered the shadowed alley.
Within moments, they seemed to enter an entirely different world. The alleyway opened up into a wide pavilion beset on all sides by the towering stone backs of ancient buildings. The pavilion was filled with tents and shacks built from scrap pieces of metal and wood. Men and women lounged about, sipping wine and eating food like any noble living on the cliffs high above them. Even so, most everyone wore the dirt-stained rags of beggars, their appearance belying the extravagant way they seemed to live. A man sat apart from the rest on a raised dais of crumbling stone. He was heavyset and bearded, and wore a cheap crown of bronze fitted with broken bits of glass.
The king and his court, Jasper thought with a wry smile. These sods probably collect ‘taxes’ from the other beggars in the city and live in opulence... of a fashion.
He stopped before the dais and made a show of bowing his head in feigned deference before the fat man. “Good morning, your grace.”
The Beggar King took a drink from a wine goblet then turned his watery eyes on the newcomers. “What’s this? Visitors?”
Camdyn and Razja stepped up beside him and bowed their heads as well.
“We are but humble supplicants looking for information.” Using such a respectful tone with the wretch made Jasper want to spit, but he forced it in an effort to win the man over. “We have been told that you know things that most in the city do not.”
The Beggar King scoffed. “Humble supplicants, you say? Heh – dressed in your finery, I’d guess that you’re only humble when you need to be. As for the information you seek... I never give anything away for free.”
Jasper ground his teeth. “Name your price, your grace, and you shall have it.”
“I own these streets,” he replied, gesturing grandly with a pudgy hand. “The pirate lords squabble over politics and the like, but the dregs of society – the whores and the beggars – are all mine. Me and mine live better than half the nobility, so a few coppers do not interest me.” His beady eyes lingered on Razja for a moment, and then a lascivious smile curled his lips. He pointed at her. “Though, a pretty thing like that does interest me. If you hand her over to me, I’d be very willing to share my secrets with you.”
Several of his toadies laughed.
Jasper’s expression darkened and Camdyn reached for his sword. More than a dozen of the shabbily-dressed men nearby reached for their weapons as well.
“Look around you!” The Beggar King declared with a chuckle as he motioned at the scene around them. “You’re surrounded by my people – completely outnumbered. You draw your steel, and you won’t be leaving here alive.”
I tried playing nice, Jasper thought, his anger getting the best of him. Now, it’s time to do things my way.
In the blink of an eye, he drew a knife from a sheath hidden in one of his sleeves and strode up to the fat man on his decrepit throne. Before the Beggar King could so much as cry out, Jasper was pressing the razor steel against his neck, right up against the artery just beneath his jaw.
“Hold!” the Beggar King squealed, motioning frantically for his men to stand down. “Please, don’t!”
“You feel that?” Jasper asked, his voice a dangerous whisper. “One nick with this blade and I’ll open your carotid artery. You’ll be unconscious immediately and bleed out in a minute or two. Now, I don’t want to kill you, but rest assured that I will if you don’t cooperate. Tell us what we want to know.”
“You’ll never escape,” the fat man wheezed. “My men will kill you all...”
“We’re professionals,” Jasper replied, pressing the edge of the knife harder against his flesh. “We’ll cut through your men like fishermen gutting fish. When the rest see you and your guards fall, do you honestly think they’ll stand up to us, or do you think they’ll tuck tail and run?”
A pause. The Beggar King blinked against the sweat dripping into his eyes. Eventually, he let out a long, resigned breath. “What do you want to know?”
Chapter Seven
“Alright. I’ll sneak in, kill the pirate, and then sneak back out with the sapphire. You two, wait here for me to return.”
Camdyn and Razja looked at each other, their discontent made plain by their frowns.
“And what happens if you get caught?” Razja posed the question, turning her dark eyes back on him.
Jasper laughed scornfully. “My dear, I wouldn’t worry about that. This is what I do. Infiltrations and assassinations are my specialty.”
Razja did not look placated. She crossed her arms and furrowed her brow at him. “Forgive me if I don’t sound reassured, assassin, but you’re not the only one in this party. Our fates are intertwined – all of us – and I don’t ever recall electing you as our leader.”
The rebuke rankled Jasper, but he did not let it show. He smirked and glanced at Camdyn, whose face looked to have been carved from stone. “And what say you, mercenary?”
“I agree with Razja,” he replied after a moment of thought. “You’re good, Jasper, but I wouldn’t bet my life on your abilities. If you are killed or captured in there, our chances of recovering the Tear will be that much smaller. Whatever we do, we need to do it together.”
Razja nodded in satisfaction, as if the matter had been decided.
I’m surrounded by idiots, Jasper thought heatedly without betraying his emotions. The Blade of Valæcia works alone. That is the only way to get things done. Out loud, he replied with a sneer, “Then what do you propose?”
They stood at the edge of a large terrace overlooking the Vveshi Bay and the eastern quarters of Yral. To their left, on the very edge of the city’s limits rested a small cove, an isolated bay within a bay that sheltered a cluster of stone buildings and docks. This was where the Beggar King had sent them – to the home of Gendric the Black and his lackeys.
Camdyn eyed the scene for a long moment, stroking his beard with thick fingers and carefully studying the jagged cove. “A place like that is probably crawling with guards,” he mused. “Infiltration will probably still be our best bet.”
Stating the obvious seems to be one of your talents, you great oaf.
“I agree,” Razja replied, “but it is too dangerous for Jasper to go in alone. We need to think of a way for all three of us to break in and find the Tear – we only need kill the pirate if there is no other way.”
Jasper threw up his hands in exasperation. “Must the two of you always make things so difficult?”
Razja sniffed. “You have been outvoted, Jasper Aurelio. A man from the Free Cities like yourself should respect a democracy.”
Jasper glowered at her, but did not respond.
“This bloke does not know that we are coming for him,” Camdyn said, seemingly oblivious to the argument between the other two. “That should make it easy, right? We just need to take a rowboat up to their docks, pretend that we are merchants or some such, then pull our steel as soon as we are inside.”
Razja seemed to consider the suggestion. “That could work,” she replied thoughtfully.
“Or it could get us all killed,” Jasper responded angrily. “Why don’t we just ask him nicely for the giant magical sapphire? I’m sure the backstabbing pirate will be more than willing to part ways with it.”
Both the mage and the mercenary gave him flat looks.
Finally, Jasper relented. “Fine,” he said, rubbing his temples in vexation. “Have it your way... we go in together. But let’s come up with a decent plan so that we don’t end up with our heads on spikes.”
WATER LAPPED AGAINST their boat as they rowed slowly toward the pirate’s cove. It was nearly midday and the sun was high overhead, causing the blue ocean waters to glitter like a million floating gems.
Jasper and Camdyn hid their weapons beneath rolls of cloth they h
ad purchased from a trader on the docks. It was part of their plan to get close to the entrance of the compound without arousing any suspicion. Razja sat on the prow of their little rowboat while the other two worked the oars. She was to play the merchant in this ruse, duping the guards into letting them inside so that they could search for the Tear.
It’s a fool plan, Jasper thought as he methodically pulled on his oar. These two are going to get me killed. If things go south, I may need to take matters into my own hands.
A lookout watched from the end of a pier as they approached. He was a lanky man who had the look of Kaarna about him, though his skin was far duskier than Rajza’s. He wore baggy pantaloons and an open leather jerkin with no shirt underneath, and had a notched cutlass hanging from his belt. He did not raise the alarm nor reach for his weapon, but he did stare at them unblinkingly with his hard black eyes.
When the bottom of their boat scraped against sand, Jasper and Camdyn leapt into the shallow water and pulled the rest of the vessel ashore.
They were instantly met by a party of four barefoot men with swords.
“What business do you have ‘ere?” one of the pirates asked roughly, a faint whistle coming from a gap in his teeth.
Razja stepped forward and addressed the men, her accent much thicker than usual. “I am Sharaa al’Shiir, seller of silks and pearls. I have come to do business with the lord of this bay.”
The men eyed each other and began chuckling amongst themselves. “Seller of silks and pearls, you say?” the gap-toothed man asked. “I’d say you came to the wrong place, m’lady. Ain’t no use for such things ‘ere.”
Jasper inched closer to where his blades were hidden. He did not like the way these pirates were looking at them.
Razja was not fazed. “Perhaps the lord does not want my wares, but he may want the information I bear. I have exchanged goods with every other pirate lord in this city, and have gained valuable insight into their organizations. What I know could help give an edge to the man called Gendric the Black.”
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