Sovereign's Wake Page 16

  Zill, on the other hand, could only see profit. Zill wasn’t as preoccupied on the stock as he was with the people who were guarding it. He hadn’t seen anyone watching all these goods, save the doorman, and there were so many places to hide. He almost wanted to reach out and take something now, for there were so many trinkets and valuables that he could pocket in an instant. Against his better judgment, Zill decided not to. Not at this moment, he figured.

  Before long, Zill and Novas were led out of the inventory room into a narrow hallway with five doors that were two on each side and one at the end. They continued to follow the doorman to the end of the hall where they were shown inside. A blood red carpet with a black outline lay over the wooden panel floor led the way to a wide oak desk with a shiny polish. A balding man with wiry hair was craned over some documents on the desk, scribbling away with a quill. He was wearing a white shirt with a patterned green and gray vest. The man looked up from his documents, and his left eye seemed to expand as he looked through his monocle.

  “You two are Griff’s errand boys?” the man questioned as he leaned back in his chair and folded his arms.

  “And you are Varkas, I presume,” Novas said, stepping forward.

  “Yes, that’s me. And that’s Trademaster Varkas to you, boy,” he stated with a harrumph. “I see you’ve delivered me more stock for the market.”

  “I suppose that’s what it is. We’re also here for something else,” Novas elaborated.

  “Ah yes. What the letter entailed. Well, what can you do for me?” Varkas asked as he looked up from his papers and sat against the back of his chair, folding his hands together.

  “Anything,” the two said together.

  “You’re two of that type, you say?” Varkas replied with a nod.

  “I suppose we can test your mettle in inventory for a while. You’ll be sorting incoming goods and delivering purchases to our customers. If you don’t mess that up completely, I’ll have some different work for you. Here’s a floor plan. Take those crates and store them properly. I’ll have a clerk along soon to put you to other work,” Varkas said as he pulled out a stamped document with labels and diagrams describing a loose inventory system.

  Novas scanned the document and nodded to Varkas.

  “We can do that,” Novas replied with a nod, and the two picked up their crates and headed out the door, down the hallway, and into the storage room again.

  As Novas referenced the map again, he found his position off the border of the map and tried to locate the cache of clothing, which he planned they would store first. The map was not as mazelike as their journey through it appeared, and Novas had to assume the layout had been changed as goods came and went. Novas located the area designated for cloth goods, and he asked Zill to follow.

  As they delved into the maze of crates again, the map was only a rough guideline of the true layout. They found themselves having to make twice as many turns or coming to dead ends where there should be passages. As soon as they found themselves in an area with unloaded or opened crates with silks and leathers stacked or lying, Novas assumed he was in the right area and placed his crate on a low stack of boxes. Next, Novas had to find the area where the jewellery was stored, which appeared to be east of their location. With another delve through the maze, they wound up in the correct area before long, for they were surrounded by crates with contents that ranged from metals and shiny sands to containers of rings, brooches, and necklaces. The precious glitter seemed to sparkle in Zill’s eyes; he could not imagine the true worth of this place. He dragged his hand through the jingling pile like sand, and Novas gave him a quick rap on the hand and a disapproving look. Zill sighed and put his crate on top of one of the unopened ones.

  “I wonder where that clerk is?” Novas questioned aloud.

  “Nevermind the clerk. I wonder what time it is. I’m getting bored,” Zill yawned.

  He was right, Novas thought, what time was it? There didn’t seem to be any windows in the room, and the whole place had the dusky smell of stale wood and sawdust. A row of hanging braziers above seemed to be strung up on a line of rope extending from each end of the room. The smoke had to go somewhere, Novas mused. Novas looked down at the map and decided to make his way back to the trademaster’s entrance as it seemed to be a place for management. However, a familiar glint brought his eyes further down, and he came upon a familiar treasure. The Velya’s blue and gray crystal was partially buried with its jagged edges poking through the rest. Novas fished out the necklace and held it up. Zill smacked at Novas’ hand and laughed.

  “You don’t recognize this? It was Velya’s. Remember?” Novas inquired.

  “I suppose it is. What of it?” Zill mumbled as he inspected the necklace.

  There was a knot in Novas’ throat. Velya was probably stopped on the highway again, but she probably wasn’t so lucky that time. Novas looked down at the crates. Most of them had the Blackwoods logo burned into them. How much of the inventory here was stolen? Novas looked up at the massive pile of goods in a new light. Was this the monopoly that Griff informed them about? By the size of it, Novas could guess it to be. Suddenly, he didn’t feel so bad about lifting some for himself. He took the necklace and placed it inside his jerkin. Someday, he hoped he would see her again.

  “I guess it’s every man for himself then?” Zill assumed before Novas shrugged.

  “Let’s go,” Novas suggested.

  The pair made their way back to the entrance of the trade hallway. They weren’t loitering around for long, watching the coming and going of the stock workers with the tell-tale black, before an upright man with a slick comb over, a silk shirt, and a fine cloth pant led another man of distinct finery down the aisle near them.

  “You two come with me,” the leading man commanded with a come hither motion of his fingers.

  Novas and Zill fell into position behind the last man and followed them into the maze.

  “I assure you, Lord Venather, that we have reserved our finest stock for the pleasure of your choice. We have recently received a sea vessel full of the most extravagant shawls and garments that would be perfect for your displays,” the clerk pandered with some flamboyant hand gestures as he continued to lead them towards the stock.

  “I do not doubt it. Our trade agreement has both our businesses becoming quite prosperous. You have an outlet to hock your misappropriated goods without suspicion, and I can turn a larger profit by cutting out the tailor,” the lord mused.

  “Yes. Quite,” the clerk agreed with a nod.

  Novas and Zill followed the two businessmen to the section of fine clothing and stood by idly as Lord Venather sorted through multiple crates and selected choice items, and the clerk added in some liberal advice on the purchases.

  “Ah. These are exactly what I’ve been looking for. These are all the rage in the summer season,” Venather praised as he held up an orange and gold fabric and tried to shine it in the light.

  Before long, the lord had composed a large stack of finery, and the two stock boys followed the clerk back to his office found in the hallway and then were sent to fetch a larger crate to store the purchases. Novas tried his best not to smirk; he’d never thought he’d be undertaking this kind of work. The crate was only a few aisles over, and Zill and Novas had to both carry it because of its length. They brought it to where Venather’s fabrics lay, placed them inside, and then hurried back to the clerk’s office. Novas and Zill waited outside the door for their business to conclude but were unable to keep from overhearing the talk inside.

  “That will be half now and half when the stock is sold,” the clerk explained.

  “Same as always if I recall,” Venather replied as he tossed the purse against the clerk’s table, and the chiming jingle of coin echoed outside the door.

  “Same as always,” the clerk imitated, and Novas could hear the smug grin from the manner of their speech.

  As Venather left the room, the two stood at attention to give the impression that they we
re not listening in on the conversation. The clerk followed Venather out and turned to the two men.

  “Follow Lord Venather and make sure his goods get delivered safety. After that, you’re free to wander off for the day. If you expect to be paid, be back here before morning’s end tomorrow,” the clerk demanded with a terse voice and the wave of his hand.

  Novas and Zill nodded, hauled the crate up to carrying height, and followed the lord out of the service entrance. They emerged under an archway of leaves and flowers that was located directly behind a florist’s booth. From the street, the wooden door looked just like the support for the booth itself. Novas was right about the Blackwoods hiding in plain sight, and with these shady deals in the dark dungeon, he chuckled at his accuracy.

  Venather’s booth was one of the farthest north and closest to the gate to the Upper Quarter. Such a prime location brought him a lot of business from the wealthy customers, and many of the vendors in proximity were of higher quality when Novas looked around. The booths were made of a brighter, cleaner wood or constructed entirely out of metal. Their signage was designed to be visually appealing and eye-catching, and the merchants often employed pretty women or handsome men to hand out samples or demonstrate examples. Lord Venather’s shop was not unordinary in this manner, for it contained two hanging racks and three retractable drawers for display as well as a drawstring overhang to allow sunlight to expose the colour of his garments or to protect from drizzle.

  “Place the crate down over here,” Venather asked them.

  Next to the stand, Zill and Novas unloaded the crates and cracked open the lid for Venather.

  “Thank you for your service. If we meet again, I will recommend your work to the clerk,” Venather told them, reaching into his pocket and tossing them one tetra each.

  Novas and Zill nodded, thanked him, and then headed into the core of the Trade District.

  “This spy work isn’t all bad, right Novas?” Zill teased as he flipped the tetra around in the air and in his hand.

  “Not at all. Today was not a bad day. However, if that market is as busy as I think it is, we’ll be put to more work before long,” Novas explained.

  “Aw. Don’t be so grim, chum. I’m famished. Let’s go get some bread and brew,” Zill cheered as they made their way through the crowd back towards the Lower District.

  In the benefit of helping of more needy folk, Novas had tried to purchase as much as he could from the lowly vendors outside the Trade District. Novas and Zill scanned the streetside vendors until they were completely out of town where they had found a vendor of a baker who hailed from a nearby village. They glimpsed an enormous wheel of bread baked with cheese and herbs, and the two pointed to it so that baker could take it off the rack.

  “Ah! The Giant’s Bunion. This is a fine and popular piece, and this is one of my best yet,” the baker boasted as he raised a hand in the air.

  The two did not need much convincing, for they were starved and felt deserving that night. After a quick exchange of coin, they ventured back inside the city gates and brought the loaf back to a table at the Salty Dog where they had Tummas serve up some of the coolest draughts from the dark basement. Novas was not much of a drinker, but he found the flavour of the ale to go well with the saltiness of the bread. Before long, only crumbs of the loaf and three large pitchers remained empty on the table. The two were stuffed and merry, but soon were becoming tired from their day of sleuthing and labour. They left the table feeling triumphant but not before a thunderous belching contest.

  “I’ll meet you here… at shunn’s firsht light,” Novas mumbled as they passed his room door, almost tripping when he couldn’t grab the door frame. “Don’t be lateh.”

  “Okeh buddeh!” Zill exclaimed a pitch or two too loud with a slap to Novas’ back, and continued to stumble the rest of the way down the hallway to the next flight of stairs.

  A door opened up down the hallway from Novas, and a bearded head poked out and stared down the hallway. Berault let out a loud guffaw as Novas fiddled with getting the lock unlatched before nearly falling into the room. The revolution was not all blood and tears.

  Chapter Twenty

  The next day, the rain finally came. Amidst the thunder, flashing, the varying downpour and drizzle, the shower brought a cool and quieting peace over the kingdom. From the diminished frenzy of the Amatharsan streets, to the veiled existence of the surrounding woodland, bowed heads and downcast eyes looked out onto the watery scene from window frames, entranceways, and the holes of tree hollows. However, it would not be the Blackwoods who disturbed the calm that day. In fact, it would be entirely the opposite.

  “Novas has brought us some critical information in the short time he has been dispatched to infiltrate the Blackwoods. He has already defined three key Blackwoods collaborators and their places of operations. The two within the Amatharsan city limits are too exposed and well-guarded to dismantle in plain sight, but there is one, here, that lies vulnerable to our efforts,” Garreth explained as he tapped on the map, pointing to a patch of woods northeast of the city.

  At noon that day, Berault, Eyrn, Tummas, and some other collaborators gathered around a round table hidden in the back corner in the Salty Dog and observed the map and location of Garreth’s target. With their lips pursed and faces set, only some of them nodded in agreement.

  “We know that a taskmaster by the name of Griff runs the camp full of highwaymen located somewhere in this patch of wood. Aside from the burglary and murders they commit on the travelling folk of our kingdom, they provide the Blackwoods with their spoils in return for continued support and amnesty from the Queen’s Aegis. It is our duty as reformers of the Crown Aegis to protect the people and to cast down these wicked men. Something must be done,” Garreth told the group with his balled fists upon the table.

  “I agree with Garreth. This pursuit is in line with the goals of our organization. But what shall be done?” Berault asked as he looked around the round at those who had gathered.

  “I’ve been told Griff’s a wily, mean bastard who lives up to his reputation for running such a place. I have been training a special team over the days in the courtyard for an opportunity like this. They are most skilled and do not lack cunning. I have been waiting for this rain, so we can find this nefarious outpost and burn it to the ground without the entire forest along with it,” Garreth explained.

  Many a grin burst out among the conspirators as the plan was hatched, and the details seemed to please them all.

  “Then, it shall be done. Garreth, prepare your team. I want this done today,” Berault ordered with a firm tone of his voice and placed a fist hard on the table. “Meeting adjourned.”

  The men chanted in unison as they left their chairs. Some wandered into the depths of the bar while others made their way out onto the hazy streets. Garreth ventured to his room where he collected his hood, his blade, his bow, his quiver, some cloth scraps, and tinder. He walked down into the bar and requested four empty bottles from Tummas, who was too happy to help in any way that he could.

  The hunter paced onto the streets and flipped his hood to keep from soaking his head in the gentle drizzle. He made his way to the courtyard and found it less populated than usual due to the weather. Beside the armory, his band of men and women loitered. As they stood in wait, they leaned on their bows and palmed their blades. Behn, Mont’s younger brother, stood tallest among them. Behn shared his brother’s height and stature and had a head of bristly, dark hair and longer stubble around his tombstone-like chin. Garreth had only ever seen his face set to a serious scowl since he had first met him in the courtyard days before. Garreth approached them, and they all stood at attention at his coming.

  “Comrades,” Garreth greeted with a stiff salute of his closed fist.

  “Garreth,” they all replied in turn, returning his gesture.

  “Today is the day that all our practice and labours will come to fruition. Each of you came to me with a desire to see justice done upon
those who have wronged you. And each of you has shown the strength and determination to become what was asked of you. I have trained you in order so that your vengeance may be fulfilled. We have been given a task to take justice into our own hands and expunge the wickedness that has plagued this land. It is the same wickedness that has taken from you and has brought us all together in unity. Together, we will see this cause through. Gather your things. We leave immediately,” Garreth spoke to them.

  His crew began to shoulder their gear, and Garreth walked into the smithy.

  “Hi there,” Kayten greeted as she looked up from an anvil. “What’s the matter?”

  “I need some oil. Something that catches fire easily,” Garreth explained.

  “Well now. We have some diluted oils that we’ve been using to polish here. They should burn just as well as any other,” Kayten said as she made her way into the storage. “How much do you need?”

  “These four bottles should do the trick,” Garreth requested.

  A moment later, Kayten strode back to the entrance of the smithy with the necks of the four bottles between her fingers and passed them to Garreth.