Monday, July 6, 2015

Hakaar - Chronicle 24.1 - Dowry's Gallows

"Is that how many you got with two silvers?" I asked Silah.

She nodded, still munching noisily on the … that.

I shuddered.

"No one knows what it is, do they?" I asked around the group.

Heads shook around, enjoying their meals. It was Bromm who eventually spoke.

"With enough spice and breading, that can be anything." He said plainly, picking his teeth with the remaining wooden skewer. "The key is to never ask."

I grimaced, then looked to the others who seemed perfectly happy with that ignorance.

What humans will eat! I thought, shuddering again.

I realized that the others were standing near a closed up cart that seemed to be the topic of conversation before we had joined them.

"What's this about?" I said, nodding toward the shuttered and locked cart.

"This is what I wanted to talk with Nida about." Sig said, looking at the cart with some concern. "Chances are, this might have something to do with those gallows."

I nodded, but felt lost. I had no idea what he was alluding to.

"So, who's cart is this?" I finally asked.

"Stella's father. And the person to be hanged is a female assassin." Sig spoke low, his expression slightly annoyed.

"Ah." I muttered, "Well, she'd like to meet at Mr. Fang's in the early evening. While she hides it well, she did seem a touch worried."

I glanced at Silah who didn't seem to be at all concerned about this conversation.

She also didn't seem to be concerned about the small wooden sticks. The had also disappeared into her mouth along with the breaded lumps she had devoured.

"Beidrick should be docking any moment." Bromm said, "We were just about to head that way when we saw you."

I nodded and fell in step as they turned to move further into Widdowborn then on to the warehouses Richter Holdings had signed into with Rusty Pete. Bromm took a moment to hand around pale yellow ribbons that we had to wear somewhere on our person as a matter of identification. I watched Silah fuss with the tattered fabric until it became a rustic looking bow on her wrist. It seemed to blend well with the purple dress with gold trim, but still wasn't pleased with the way it looked. She undid the bow and tied it again; repeating the process a handful of times before finally settling on the look with a bemused expression..

As we approached the entrance to the docks, a sturdy wooden fence stood between us and Beidrick's sails. Bromm rapped on the fence's only gate. There was a sign, well crafted, but crudely written with threats. A slat moved away from part of the gate, letting the guard stay safely behind. I stepped up to the fence and looked over, standing on my tip toes.

"Brute! Step back from the fence!" The man growled at me looking up from his hunched position looking through peep hole.

Sig looked at me with a furrowed brow and a slow shake of his head.

"We're here to inspect our cargo." Bromm spoke evenly, ignoring the man's annoyance.

The man's eyes roved over Bromm's figure and he saw the yellow ribbon. The slat slipped back into place and the heavy gate opened slowly, yet noiselessly. Beyond the gate, there was a stone ramp declining to a stone platform that was built out into the bay. Along the edges of the stone were wooden struts where the docks began. There were no long term slips here. The only slips I could see were across the bay near Pike's Tavern.

"No weapons!" The man barked, he looked intimidated by the amount of people standing just outside of his open defenses.

Bromm lifted his hands in annoyed disbelief.

"Who do you think is going to surrender their weapons? C'mon. We're wearing your yellow ribbons." Bromm's voice edged on dangerous.

"Then only two of you." The man's demand softened, though he still had a hard set edge to his eyes.

Bromm and Sig stepped forward.

"We'll be back." Sig said back to the group.

As they walked in I looked at the wary gaze of the guard.

"I don't have a weapon. Can I go in?" The man looked me up and down warily and barked a scoffing laugh as he roughly pushed the gate, sending it swinging shut.

There was a slight smile from Silah.

"And you say I'm the one looking for trouble." She said, her annoyance from earlier starting to fade.

I gave her an innocent shrug. Danin and Tagaern engaged in small talk for a bit while Floki tended to his wolf. The road that ran along the warehouses and docks wasn't busy itself, but the sounds of industry rang along with a few sturdy wooden transport wagons.

This was the lifeblood of the city, even if the Princess and her ilk wouldn't admit to it. To emphasize the fact, I could see a large navy vessel in the works just over the fence further down. There was no doubts about the hardworking laboring sort that lived here. Pride in craftsmanship, from the fences, to the buildings themselves, they wore the mark of masterwork in both their structural integrity and polished simplicity.

It was some time before Bromm and Sig emerged from the gate, the scowling guard making a fuss at pushing it closed and latching it loudly. I grimaced at the display.

"Not a very trusting lot." I said aloud to Bromm.

"Aye. Beidrick got a similar reception," Bromm said with a smirk, "he's a little on edge right now."

"There's something we might want to investigate in order to keep our investment safe." Sig said as we moved down the road, "There are a number of boats pushed up along the cape. Beidrick thinks they might have ill intent. I just want to make sure it's not toward us and our cargo."

There were nods around.

The conversation lapsed as we moved on toward Mr. Fang's. Silah moved along on my side and I glanced at her. She wore a pensive expression. I know what she'd be doing to me right now, trying to pry around in my head, finding the petty concerns in the gaps and doing her best to squash them.

I moved closer and put my hand around her opposite shoulder. I could feel the deceptively soft skin under the airy purple fabric. The thought of her brought a smile to my face as I squeezed her gently and kept my hand there. She glanced at me, expressionless, but with a subtly raised eyebrow. I met her eyes, then looked forward with the smile still on my face.

We settled in at a table on the porch of Fang's. The sun had started to lengthen the shadows, but only slightly. The porch itself was still in full sunlight and I was roasting in the heat. There was a strange sight as guards moved through Six Crates and were walking the streets of Widdowborn which caught my eye as I had rarely, if ever, had seen guards move into this section.

"So, we wait here until… what?" Tagaern questioned.

"Until Nida comes." Sig responded, then continued, "If you'd like to do something else, the shops down that way have some fine goods to peruse."

He flagged his hand down Hawthorn Street.

"Do we know that guy?" Floki said, looking toward the food carts.

"Who?" Bromm said.

"The dwarven gentleman, there." Danin said narrowing his gaze on the figure coming toward us after following Floki's line of sight.

The dwarven man wore a expression of purpose and intensity, his eyes were on Bromm as he walked toward us. I rested my hand on Silah's knee, readying for action, as he crested the porch. The man had a something that looked like a coin in his hand which he pressed to the table with a loud clack.

"The hammer has fallen, take my banner to the bulwark to stop the tide of trespassers." The man's voice was intense and gruff, his gaze levelled at Bromm. Then recognition flitted away from his face, being replaced by a bewildered blankness.

"I… hello?" He stammered in a remarkably different tone.

I squinted at him, but his focus was still on Bromm. There was a beat while the man struggled to determine how he had gotten there. Bromm took that moment to suggested to the man on what to buy at the cart that he had just left.

"You came to ask for a suggestion." I piped in, seeing where Bromm was going with it.

"T-thank you for the suggestion." The man smiled while still wearing a furrowed brow.

He ducked a quick bow and made his way quickly from the porch.

"What did I just see there?" Tagaern looked around the table.

Bromm's eyes were on the coin the dwarf had laid on the table. It had a shape of a hammer, the symbol of Kols. Silah laid her hand on top of my hand on her knee and squeezed it painfully.

"The bulwark..." She said absently, her words coursing through my thoughts.

I had read about this in the book of the planes. I had heard about it from these men themselves. This bulwark, and the banner flying on it, was the standing barrier between The Veil, the realm of the gods, and our plane. If what was said was true, the weakness in Kols' had opened a breach in that protection. And, if what was said was true, then protecting this barrier is the very reason that Silah was created.

Silah was tense, I could feel through her hand, that her whole frame was vibrating.

"It does resonate as magical. Illusion magic specifically." Sig explained after weaving his hands around. "I couldn't tell what it would look like without the magic. Like the book that Raenir had, it may reveal it's true nature on that plane."

Bromm's eyes were glued to the coin, I couldn't read what he was thinking but his wariness was palpable. He rested his hands on the table while the murmurs of speculation slowly subsided. After a moment, he snatched it up looked at the symbols briefly and stowed it.

Strangely, I felt excitement trickle over me. I had been reading and learning about the planes for part of the last month, yet I had never been there myself. These men seemed to care little for the discovery, but the anticipation of going through an Ether Tree was thrilling. The thought that I would find such a thing exciting was a bit bewildering.

Nothing else was said about the coin, but I could imagine it both burning a hole in Bromm's pocket as well as putting Silah increasingly on edge as we sat there, doing nothing to fulfill the demands of Kols. I grimaced at the thought. There were easily hours left in the day.

Tagaern took me up on my suggestion of the sunburned chicken, but after he had been sated, we all sat around, waiting and watching for evening. The sun was sinking, but, considering the delivery of the coin, it seemed that time had slowed even further.

A troupe of smallish people, about half my height and dressed in bright colors, meandered through the streets with various small ponies pulling child sized wagons. At first, I thought this was part of the show, but then realized that this was their normal traveling arrangement. It was fascinating to watch them move into the busy mouth of Hawthorne Street and pull into a half circle.

While I was looking on at the little gathering as they produced musical instruments, Nida stepped up and announced her presence.

"Sig! It's good to see you!" She said, dabbing at the sheen on her forehead, "I see you got my message?"

Sig nodded with a smile.

"Good to see you, Nida." He said calmly still smiling.

I turned at the sound of her voice She looked to me with a smile that didn't touch her worried eyes. The sweat seemed to be as much about anxiety as it was about the now ebbing heat.

"May I?" Nida said, pointing to a thin space at the full table.

"Sure." Sig tried to make more room at the already overwhelmed table.

She grabbed an empty chair from a table next to us and squeezed in close. She seemed to be attempting to duck in among the group. Whatever had her in a rush earlier was now bearing down on her with some force.

As she settled in, pleasantries were exchanged as she did her best to attend to personal matters first. Bromm played along with the small talk at first, but then spoke frankly to her about what was going on.

"You doubtless saw the gallows?" Nida asked, speaking low to only those at the table.

The lot of us nodded. I grimaced, remembering Floki's comment earlier and Silah looked sidelong at me with a knowing smirk.

"There's trouble brewing there and it's getting close to home." Nida paused with a grimace, shaping words without saying them, and then continued, "And I need to get a package out of Dowry with all due haste."

Bromm furrowed his brow and glanced at Sig, who was still focused on Nida.

"This cargo, would it put us at risk?" Sig asked.

She grimaced and nodded.

"We have some ideas, but our opportunity to, uh, ship is shrinking by the moment." She said cautiously.

This obfuscation wasn't working out so well. Bromm was rolling his eyes before long.

"Why not just talk about it like it is?" He said, getting annoyed.

Nida looked anxious and her eyes darted off in the distance.

"I am being followed. I am also at risk." She said with her lips unmoving, turning white with the effort.

"Then how about we get to a place where we can talk more freely about … it?" Bromm said frankly.

She sighed heavily and stood, moving into Mr. Fang's.

"I'll keep an eye out." I flagged to Bromm as he went in with Floki, Danin, and Sig. Tagaern stuck outside with Silah and myself.

I ran my hand over my forehead and through my hair then grimaced at both Silah and Tagaern.

"Now I get why things didn't feel right around here." I said aloud, knocking on the table.

I gazed around the streets to pick out the soldiers, some in regular clothes, some meandering. You could tell because of how clean they were, which was a strange sign to consider, but it also was made more obvious by the locals keeping their distance from them. Some looked our direction, seeing Nida with us earlier would likely put us under scrutiny. I sighed with the thought.

"Now I like Dowry even less." I grumbled, "I see the guards following Nida. I'm going to to go in and let the others know."

I pushed away from the table and Silah moved to join me. I put a hand on her shoulder.

It's best if you stay here and keep an eye out. I said to her in thought. I'll let you know what they plan to do.

She looked up with a slight scowl.

"Please?" I pleaded quietly to her.

The scowl softened and she settled back into the seat. Just as I left I heard her strike up a conversation with Tagaern to pass the time. He looked a little uncomfortable at first, but she immediately put him at ease gracing him with a few well placed compliments.

I moved into Mr. Fang's and saw the others standing at the rough countertop. Mr. Fang himself was there, with a plain wooden box sitting on the counter. Nida was talking animatedly to Sig and Bromm, but I could see fear in her eyes.

I moved in to listen which prompted Nida to stop, she looked at me, then at the rest of the establishment, then continued.

"My father has written her off. He wants nothing to do with her. To your point, Bromm, she's become too great a liability." Nida wet her lips and mixture of sadness and fear fluttered through her expression briefly before she regained control of herself again.

"What you're asking is damning for us, too. If it doesn't work out, we become marked as fugitives." Bromm said frankly. "I don't feel you're being honest with me. I understand Stella is trying to fight for a cause, but where are you in all of this? You're far too complicit to be a bystander."

With those words, I watched Nida glance at Mr. Fangs who nodded subtly. The exchange prodded at my curiosity.

Moral support? I thought to myself.

"I am a warrior, too." She said evenly, "It would explain the bruises I've had to lie about, Sig. But it was as much for your protection as it was mine."

Sig nodded, he may have already connected the two, but his face was as placid as ever. Bromm still had a hard set gaze, piercing through Nida's practiced, cool exterior.

"Tell us that you need this, and we'll help. I'm not doing this for Stella, I'd be doing this for you, because you're a friend of Sig's." Bromm said sternly.

"I'm Stella's last chance to get out. We set this aside, just in case something like this were to happen." She tapped the top of the wooden box. "It's yours if you take this on."

"That's not what I'm asking." Bromm said, his voice was lined with the passion that had gripped him since he had pledged himself to Kols. "I need you to tell us that you need help."

Her eyes glossed slightly at his challenged. The words caught in her throat and she looked angry, whether it was at herself, the situation, or at Bromm. She closed her eyes and a single tear fell.

"I need your help. I need you to help me save my friend." She said, her eyes still closed. She exhaled with the effort. Her lips looked chapped, like the effort had taken all of the moisture out of her.

"Consider it done." Bromm said.

She opened her eyes and looked at him and squinted.

"I understand that you're looking for a favor. And I will do everything in my power…" Nida spoke, but Bromm cut her off gently.

"No, I'm not looking for good grace from you, lass. I am helping a friend in need." Bromm said, looking her in the eye then softened slightly with a subtle smile.

I could see that Bromm had gotten what he wanted from her, the truth. Perhaps she had been so business-like in her exchange that the humanity of the situations was getting lost in the details. I nodded to myself. Danin and Bromm stood and began to move toward the door.

"I've seen the guards who're following you." I said, "We should take precautions when we leave."

Nida was dabbing at her eyes. The emotion that flushed her face was beginning to subside. She seemed embarrassed by the display, but recovered quickly.

"How do you want the package delivered?" Nida said, lapsing back to speaking in code.

"We'll talk about it and see what we can figure out. I'll let you know what we come up with." Sig said quietly putting a hand on Nida's shoulder and giving it a reassuring squeeze as he stood to follow Bromm.

She nodded slowly, looking wooden, hollow. The effort and weight she had been bearing brought again to the surface.

"I'm not going anywhere, you know." Nida said with some distance in her voice. "I...  I have no where else to be."

Sig held out his hand to her and she moved in close and embraced him. I turned to the side, trying to not be obvious as I observed her melt into him.

Mr. Fang's gaze caught my eye. He gave me a grin with a shake of his head, then looked down at the counter. While Nida and Sig moved out to the porch, I moved back to talk with Mr. Fang as he removed the wooden box and stowed it on hidden shelves below.

"You fellows are an interesting lot." He said, running his hands along the rough counter. "I can't say I've ever seen the likes of you in this place. The Widdowborn, sure, they have a semblance of family, but bad blood and distrust prevails. I'm not sure if you're calculated or simply young and foolish."

I smiled at him.

"Whatever you want to think. But I have a feeling you know exactly which it is." I said sitting at the counter.

"What can I help you with?" He asked, seeing that I was there for more than conversation.

"Two orders of those potatoes. We've got a big table out there." I said.

"For what I saw just there with your friends, I'll throw in another for free." He leaned forward and pointed at me with a stubby finger.

He gathered the food, moving around his kitchen expertly then returned with three baskets.

"Here it is. Four copper." He announced as he came back.

I put a silver on the counter.

"If you keep overpaying, what's the point of offering you free food?" He said, sounding mildly annoyed.

I shrugged as his accusation, but didn't pick up the coin. He humphed quietly and picked up the coin and moved to drop it into a cash box.

I remained sitting, not wanting to move just yet. I was now noticing how polished the seeming rough counter was. Years of food, hands, and grease had polished the protruding grains to a rounded and smoothed texture. The deeper grains remained untouched giving the appearance of being rough. I ran my hand along it, thinking about how old this place was and how much of that polish came from Mr. Fang's absentminded caressing.

He saw my interest in the counter as I leaned close to see it from a different angle. He watched with a quiet smile on his face.

"How long have you been here?" I asked.

"A very long time, it seems. I haven't taken the time to count the years." He said with a satisfied smile. "You don't need to count when you're happy with what you do."

I nodded, then knocked on the solid wood.

"When I first got here, my first week's rent tapped me out and I still didn't have a counter that I could work on. I needed something sturdy that could take a beating." He said, running his hands along the grain. "This is ironwood."

I nodded. I hadn't heard of ironwood, but it looked very strong.

"It was left over from one of the larger ships built in the drydock down the way. Very expensive stuff. The discard was sitting at the shipyard as I went looking. There was a man there who I had seen eat at my cart on occasion. I asked him what the piece would cost, knowing I didn't have any coin left.

"The man, almost a boy, was just finishing an apprenticeship and practicing on this slab of wood. I still remember him squinting at me and he says, ‘What've you got?' And I shrugged, not a thing I could give him. So, I say, ‘How about friendship?' And the boy gives me a long, calculated look and says ‘Deal!'. It wasn't his to offer, of course, but we both hauled it under the cover of darkness back here and bolted it into place that night."

He found some of the old rusted bolt heads that had been polished smooth and chipped at the layers of age that covered them with a nail.

"The boy's name was, Pete." He looked at me for a moment seeming to gauge my reaction. "And, while times have changed since then, I still remember that day as vividly as any. If I ever leave, which I'd be hard pressed to do, I'm taking this counter. I'll hang it on a wall just as it is. I would even go so far as to be buried with it."

I nodded, but I couldn't quite grasp his reasoning. He saw my confusion.

"It's a symbol, nothing more." He ran his hand along falling again into deep thought.

"Thank you ... Mr. Fang." I said, stumbling over his self-given name.

I picked up the baskets and stopped.

"That doesn't work for me." I said sternly, "What is your real name? Do others call you by your real name?"

The half-orc smiled.

"Maybe later. Go. Save the world." He said as he flagged me along.

I nodded with a smile and turned to walk out. As I pushed on the door I shuddered, suddenly haunted by his words.

(Get to know Akeron.)

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