Rise of a Merchant Prince (10 page)

“I expect. He mentioned someone named the Sagacious Man.”

“That's the Mockers, without a doubt. You can't do business in a city like Krondor without having to pay off someone.”

Roo climbed aboard his own wagon and said, “Damn me if I will.”

If Duncan had an answer, Roo didn't hear it as he untied the rope holding down the barrels and lowered the drop gate. A shout and men running down the street caused Roo to glance past the wagon to where members of the City Watch, wearing blue tunics and carrying large billy clubs, paused to see the merchant pointing at Roo.

Roo swore under his breath. The constable approached and said, “That gentleman tells me you was dueling in the street.”

Roo tossed a rope to Duncan. “Dueling? Me? Sorry, but he's mistaken. I'm just unloading wine for this inn.” He turned his chin toward the inn, as Duncan came down to help get the barrels off the top of the wagon.

“Well then,” said the constable, obviously unwilling to go searching for trouble when it was so abundant in Krondor, “just see it stays that way.” He motioned for his partner and they returned the way they came.

Duncan said, “Some things never change. Unless I miss my bet, those two will be back in whatever pastry shop they were in when the whistle blew.”

Roo laughed. They lowered the five barrels to the street, and Roo convinced the innkeeper to send a worker to help Duncan carry them inside, so Roo could protect the wagons while the wine was delivered. After the remaining cargo was secured, they took reins and moved on to the next tavern.

At sundown, they had sold close to a third of the wine Roo had purchased in Ravensburg. More, they had recouped almost all the gold Roo had spent. Roo calculated that he stood to triple his money if business the next day or so was as brisk as it had been so far.

“Where do we spend the night?” asked Duncan. “And when do we eat? I'm starving.”

Roo said, “Let us find an inn with a good-sized yard so we can guard this wine against our friends.”

Duncan nodded, knowing full well whom Roo meant. They were in an area of the city unknown to Duncan, who had been to Krondor a number of times over the years, and from the wares displayed in the
shop windows as they passed, not a terribly prosperous one. Roo said, “Let's go around the block and head back the way we came. I think we're leaving prosperity behind if we continue on this way.”

Duncan nodded and watched as Roo headed his team out into the traffic of the road. The street was full of travelers as those finished with the day's work headed home, or to a local tavern or shop. Some shops were being shuttered, while others were lighting lanterns, indicating their proprietors were staying open past dark for those customers who could only shop in the evening.

They moved slowly through the press and Roo turned right into another street, and Duncan followed. It took them almost an hour to find an inn with a stable area big enough to accommodate their wagons behind locked gates. Roo made arrangements with the stable boy, took his sample cask, and led Duncan inside.

The inn was known as the Seven Flowers, and it was a modest establishment, catering to merchants and workers equally. Roo found a table near the bar and indicated Duncan should take a seat. He spied an interesting-looking bar maid, a little long in the face but with an ample spread of bosom and hip, and he said, “When you have a minute, if you'd bring us both a tankard of ale and dinner.” He indicated the table where Duncan sat. The woman looked at the handsome Duncan and her smile betrayed her interest. Roo found his eyes fixed upon the woman's bosom where it strained against the fabric of her dress and said, “And if you're free at the end of the evening, join us.” He tried his best to look charming, and the remark got him a neutral expression and a
noncommittal noise. “Where's the owner?” asked Roo.

She indicated a heavyset man at the far end of the bar, and Roo made his way through a half-dozen customers and started his pitch. After providing samples of his wine and arguing price, Roo arrived at a price with the owner of the inn, including a night's lodging and food, and returned to the table.

The food was average but ample and after weeks on the trail tasted wonderful. The ale was also average, but cold and plentiful. After the meal, when business had thinned, Duncan started working his charms on the serving girl, a woman of middle years named Jean. Another barmaid, a thin young woman named Betsy, joined them and somehow ended up sitting in Roo's lap. Either Duncan was terribly funny in his storytelling or the ale gave everyone a more forgiving sense of humor. A couple of times the innkeeper had had to come over and order his barmaids back to work, but as the evening wore on, the two women had found their way back to Roo and Duncan's company.

The pairing was obvious: Duncan had captured the attention of both women, but Jean, the more attractive of the two, had staked her claim early on, while Betsy was content to spend her time with Roo's hand fondling her. Roo didn't know if the girl really liked him or expected recompense, but he didn't care. The soft heat of flesh under cloth had him aroused, and after a while he said, “Let's go upstairs.”

The girl said nothing but rose and took his hand and led him upstairs. In his drunken state he didn't remember hearing Duncan and Jean entering the room with them, but soon he was lost in the feel,
smell, taste, and heat of being with a woman.

He was vaguely aware of Duncan and Jean on the pallet next to the one he shared with Betsy, but he ignored them. He had been with whores in camp less than a hand's breadth from other soldiers, so he thought nothing of it.

He got out of his clothing and got Betsy out of hers in quick order, and was lost in passion when a shout came from outside followed by the sound of cracking wood. He almost didn't notice it at first, but another crack followed, and suddenly, before thought was his, he was on his feet, pulling his sword from the scabbard, yelling, “Duncan!”

Naked, Roo raced down the stairs and into the common room. Deserted and dark, the room was an obstacle course as Roo tried to get to the inn's courtyard door without laming himself on a chair or table. Duncan's oaths from behind told Roo he wasn't alone in his drunken difficulties.

Roo found the door, pulled it open, and hurried toward the stable where his horses were being cared for and his wagons were housed. His feet encountered wetness as his nose greeted him with a familiar aroma: wine.

He entered the dark barn cautiously, his intoxication gone with the rush of battle readiness. Duncan overtook him and Roo gripped his cousin by the arm, signaling in the dark to move to the side of the barn aisle. Something was wrong and Roo couldn't put his finger on what that was until he saw the first horse. The animal lay on the ground, blood pooling from its neck. Quickly he took an inventory and found all four of his horses had been killed, their necks cut in exactly the right place to bleed them as
fast as possible.

“Oh, damn!” said Duncan, and Roo hurried to find the stableboy lying in his own blood.

They dashed to the wagons and found that every barrel had been stove in or had the bung pulled, so that wine flooded the courtyard. The cracking of wood that Roo had heard had been someone using a large hammer on the spokes of the wheels, so that the wagons were now useless without expensive repair.

The innkeeper came hurrying across the courtyard when he saw the two naked men holding their swords.

“What's afoot?” he asked, halting, as if afraid to approach these two strange apparitions any more closely. From his nightshirt it was clear he had turned in.

“Someone's killed your stableboy and my horses, and ruined my wagons and cargo,” said Roo.

Abruptly a scream cut the night and Roo was running past the innkeeper before Duncan could react. Roo almost flew through the door to the inn, banging against a table, and took the stairs two at a time. He reached the room he and Duncan shared and took a half-step in, his sword leveled.

He faltered as Duncan came running up the stairs. Duncan looked over the shoulder of his shorter cousin and again he said, “Damn.”

Jean and Betsy lay nude upon the two palettes, their vacant gaze telling both men they were dead before the men could see the dark spreading stains flowing from where their throats had been cut. Whoever had come through the window had taken the two women from behind, killing them quickly and pulling them back on the mats. Roo was suddenly
aware he was standing in something sticky and warm and realized the women had probably come to the door after the men had raced out, only to die before they realized someone had entered the room from the window.

Then Roo realized his clothing was strewn around the room. He quickly searched, and as the innkeeper arrived, Roo looked at Duncan and said, “They took the gold.”

Duncan seemed almost to go limp as he leaned against the door jam. “Damn,” he said for a third time.

The constable of the City Watch was obviously anxious to be done with his investigation. He looked at the dead horses and the dead stableboy, and went into the inn to inspect the dead barmaids, and then asked Roo and Duncan a few questions. It was also obvious that he knew the Mockers were involved and this would be reported in as an “unsolved crime.” Unless someone was caught in the act, finding criminals and proving guilt was a rare event in a city the size of the capital of the Western Realm. As the constable left he instructed them to report anything they discovered that might help solve the crime to the office of the City Watch, at the palace.

The innkeeper was devastated by the death of his three employees and voiced his fear that he was somehow slated to join them. He ordered Roo and Duncan out of his inn at first light and then barricaded himself in his room.

As the dawn came, Roo and Duncan walked out of the courtyard of the Inn of the Seven Flowers. The early morning press of business hadn't begun, but
already workers were moving toward their places of employment. As they entered the street, Duncan asked, “What now?”

Roo said, “I don't know—” He inhaled as he spied a familiar figure across the street. Lounging against the wall of the building opposite them was the thin man from the day before. Roo crossed the street, almost knocking down a hurrying workman, and as he reached the man, he heard him say, “Quietly now, stranger, else my friends will have to shoot you.”

Duncan overtook Roo in time to hear the remark and spun around, looking for the bowman. On the rooftop above, a bowman had an arrow drawn hard against his cheek, aimed in their direction. The thin man said, “I expect you now understand just the sort of troubles we can protect you from, don't you?”

“If I thought I stood a chance of not getting my cousin shot in the bargain,” said Roo, his anger barely held in check, “I'd cut your liver out right now.”

“Like to see you try,” said the thin man. “You caught me by surprise yesterday, but it would never happen again.” He then smiled, and there was nothing friendly in the expression. “Besides, there's nothing personal in this, lad. It's only business. Next time you seek to do business in Krondor, let those who can help you . . . help you.”

“Why did you kill the boy and the girls?” asked Roo.

“Kill? Me? I don't know what you're talking about,” said the man. “Ask anyone and they'll tell you that Sam Tannerson was playing pokiir at Mama Jamila's in the Poor Quarter all night long. Did someone go and get themselves killed?” He made a
signal and moved away, saying, “When you're ready to try doing business again, ask around. Sam Tannerson isn't hard to find. And he's always willing to help.” He quickly moved off into the press of traffic and vanished from sight.

After a moment Roo asked again, “Why did they kill the girls and the stableboy?”

Duncan said, “My guess is that if you're too stubborn to pay them, they're making sure everyone else knows the price of doing business with you.”

Roo said, “I've only felt more helpless once in my life, and that was when they were about to hang me.”

Duncan had heard the story of how Roo and his friend Erik had been reprieved from the gallows after a mock hanging. “Well, you may not be dead, as they say, but what will we do?”

Roo said, “Start over. What else is there to do?” Then he added, “But first we head for the palace, and the office of the City Watch.”

“What for?”

“To tell them we know the name of the man who was behind this, Sam Tannerson.”

“Do you think that's his real name?”

“Probably not,” said Roo as he turned in the direction of the palace. “But it's the one he uses, and it will do.”

Duncan shrugged. “I don't know what good it'll do, but as I have no better idea, why not?” He fell in beside his cousin and they began walking toward the Prince of Krondor's palace.

Erik looked out over the yard where the levies hurried through their drills. He remembered with some guilty pleasure the near fit Alfred, the corporal
from Darkmoor, had thrown when informed he was now reduced to the rank of private in the Prince's new army. The third time Erik had deposited him on his ear on the parade ground had convinced him to shut up and do as he was told. Erik suspected he would turn out to be a better than average soldier if he could learn to control his temper.

“What do you think?” asked Robert de Loungville from behind.

Without turning to look, Erik said, “I'd know better what to think if I knew what exactly you, the Duke, the Prince, and everyone else you meet with every night have in mind.”

“You've been down there. You know what's coming,” said de Loungville without emotion.

“I think we've got a few men here who might do well enough,” answered Erik. “These are all seasoned soldiers, but some of them are worthless.”

“Why?” asked Robert.

Erik turned and looked at the man to whom he reported. “Some of them are barracks rats, fit for nothing much more than light garrison duty and three meals a day. I guess their lords decided it was cheaper to let us feed them. Others are too . . .” He struggled for a concept. “I don't know, it's like a horse that's been trained to do one thing, then you want to train him to do another. You've first got to break him of the old habits.”