Chapter 28

 

 

“Are you Rosengard or Wong?” asked William. The shop stood at a confluence of river channels, its open front facing the market street and its back against a pier. The building itself was sparse, little more than a wooden frame with clapboard walls and roof. Barrels lined the walls, and buckets sat on display tables, full of oysters soaking in salt water. The place smelled more like the sea than the sea did itself.

“Neither,” said the man as he stole a glance at the drones waiting outside. “I just mind the shop for them. Name’s Andy.” He was short and slight, with stray patches of beard. A knitted cap covered his head, and his teeth sported several gaps. He stared at William with gentle, frightened eyes.

“We’re looking for someone you might have sold to. Tall fellow, crooked teeth. A long beak-like nose.”

Andy nodded vehemently. “Yes, I remember selling several bags about three days ago to a man with a giant nose, like a bird’s. He even had tiny feathers stuck to his clothes. I found it a bit unusual, because I’d never met him before, and most of my customers are regulars, especially the ones who buy that much.”

William nodded. The oyster seller looked nervous. Like most merchants in the area, he was dirty and smelled of his wares. A bulky sweater covered his small frame despite the morning’s warmth. “How was he traveling?” asked William.

“By boat, my lord,” said Andy, looking back and forth between William and the others, casting an occasional glance at Clyde. “Moored it out back. He had a couple of men with him who loaded the bags, and another who did the rowing. The boat was full of barrels and crates, like they was buying for a crew going to sea.” He swallowed hard. “Am I in trouble, my lord?”

“Not at all,” said William. “You’ve been quite helpful.”

“Do you know where they went?” asked Rachel. “We need to find these men.”

Andy shook his head. “Haven’t seen him for days. I reckon they’re halfway to Ibyca by now.”

“We don’t think so,” said Jack. “We believe they’re hiding, waiting for a chance to leave the bay. Any idea where they might hide?”

“I don’t get out by boat much, sir. Haven’t had to since Missus Rosengard hired me.”

“So much for your hunch, Will,” said Jack. “Looks like a dead end.”

“Can I ask what this is all about?” asked the oyster seller.

William glanced at the others, weighing how much to say. “The men we’re looking for have kidnapped the duke.”

The man’s jaw dropped. “You don’t say! I knew those men looked like trouble, but I never would have guessed—are you sure they took the duke?”

“That, and other crimes,” said Rachel.

“There’s a reward for finding them,” said Melissa. “So if you happen to know where they might be hiding, you could be a rich man.”

“Oh, I know about the reward. Everyone does. Even so, I’d happily tell you if I knew, even without the money,” said Andy. “The duke’s a kind man, and he’s bought many a bag of oysters from me, gives me a generous tip every time. I wouldn’t want no harm to come to him.”

“Can you think of anyone who might know where we could find them?” asked Rachel.

Andy looked at her doubtfully. “I don’t want to get my friends in no trouble.”

“You wouldn’t be getting them in trouble,” said Maya quickly. “In fact, they might even share the reward with you.”

“Well,” said Andy with hesitation. “I suppose I could ask old Nick.”

“And where is he?” asked William.

The oyster seller gave him a puzzled look. “He’s right there, my lord,” he said, pointing to a decrepit man sitting motionless by a brazier in a darkened corner that no one had noticed. “Keeps me company most days now that he’s too old to fish. Hey Nick, come over and talk to these people. They won’t do you no harm.”

The old man rose slowly and limped his way toward them. “Strange days,” he muttered. “Dukes vanishing, people showing up with dragons and asking funny questions. I miss the old days.”

“Don’t make a fuss, Nick,” said Andy. “These people are here to find the duke. This is Lord William Whitehall—you’ve heard people talk about him. He’s the feller who discovered dragons and rebels and such. He’s asking about that man who bought several bags a couple of days ago.”

Nick spat on the floor. “Disgusting fellow. Didn’t like the look of him at all…not one bit. What’s he gone and done?”

“We believe he’s responsible for kidnapping the duke and stealing a large amount of money,” said William.

“And you want them both back, I suppose,” said Nick. “I don’t blame you—I would too. Ain’t had much money these past few years. Can’t row a boat no more, or haul in a net. I get by though.”

“You’ve done plenty of fishing in your time, then?” asked Melissa.

The old man squinted at her. “A great deal more than I care to remember, miss. Hard work, it was. No wonder my joints ache all the time.”

“You poor thing,” said Melissa, giving him a sympathetic look. “You must have sailed all over the bay. Do you know of any places these men might hide, along with a ship or two?”

“Ships aren’t built for hiding,” said Nick with a shake of his head. “Now, a rowboat—those you can hide easily. Done it a time or two myself when I needed to leave my boat for a while. Wouldn’t want no one stealing it.”

William suppressed a groan of frustration. “We’re not talking about hiding a boat. These men are trying to hide from us—at least thirty men, probably more. And we believe they have a ship or two, possibly three.”

The old man looked surprised. “Then why are you asking fishermen? It’s smugglers you want to talk to. Fishermen spend all their time on the open water looking for fish, no thought of hiding. Smugglers are the ones skulking about, trying not to be seen. That’s who you should talk to.”

William exchanged surprised glances with the others again. “Where do we find smugglers?” he asked.

Nick grinned, showing even more gaps than the oyster seller. “Well that’s the trick, isn’t it? They’re all hiding!” He cackled at his own joke as he shuffled back to his chair in the corner.

“Sorry about that,” said the Andy with an apologetic grin. “I was hoping he’d be more help. He means well, but—actually no, on second thought, he really doesn’t.”

“The old man’s right,” said Rachel as they left the shop. “Looking for smugglers is a good idea. I should have thought of it before.”

“But where do we find them?” asked Jack. “Like Nick says, they don’t exactly want to be found.”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” she said with a grin. “You live an honest life, so you don’t know how dishonest people do things. If you want to find a smuggler—or any criminal—you talk to a tavern keeper. No one knows the underside of a town like someone who deals with drunks all day.”

“Ah,” said Jack in surprise. “Like Dan Deacon back home…only I suppose there’s more criminals here. Not to mention taverns.”

“We’ll need to send the drones back to the duke’s manor first,” said Maya. “Otherwise no one will speak to us. Believe me, word gets around this town fast.”

“And we should split up, too,” said William. “We’ll cover all the taverns faster that way. Let’s meet back here when we’re done, and we can send Clyde to fetch the drones.”

“Charlie and I will look around the old district,” said Maya. “We know all the hidden alleys. Some of them have bad reputations, but Charlie will keep me safe.”

“I’ve spent a bit of time in the trade district,” said Jack. “Rachel and I can go there.”

“I’ll keep Jack safe,” said Rachel with a wink.

“That leaves you three with the market district, Will,” said Maya. “It runs along this bank for the next quarter mile or so, plus that little island right there.” She pointed upriver where a small bridge stretched across a narrow channel. “Keep your eyes open; it’s easy to miss the little side streets.”

“I’m worried Clyde will tip people off to who we are too,” said William to Melissa as the group went their separate ways.

“If he does, he can stay with Oz outside,” she answered. “Then again, people might be more inclined to open up to the Defender of Rebel Falls than a stranger. Let’s see what happens.”

“Does this look like a tavern?” he asked, looking up at the sign over the door depicting a frog and a turtle. “Or some sort of exotic food shop?”

Melissa laughed. “Will, you really need to leave Marshland once in a while. All the taverns in big cities use signs like this instead of written names because most of their customers can’t read. But you can tell your friends to meet you at the Frog and Turtle, and they’ll know which tavern to go to.”

“Why don’t they teach everyone to read?” asked Oz.

“That’s a good question,” said William. “But I don’t suppose that’s a tavern keeper’s problem to solve. Okay, let’s head in.” William pushed the door open and waited a moment for his eyes to adjust from the bright sunlight. Despite the early hour, all the tables were occupied by patrons in various stages of drunkenness, ranging from boisterous to comatose.

Melissa sniffed as she viewed the dingy surroundings. “Not exactly Dan’s place, is it?”

“No dogs allowed!” bellowed a voice from the back. “Get that mutt out of here!” A large red-faced man shook his fist as he approached.

“This is a dragon,” said William, taken aback.

The man stopped short, and a giant smile spread across his face. “Well, so it is. You must be that William Whitehall fellow people are carrying on about. In that case, welcome to the Toad and Tortoise.” He stuck out his hand for William to shake. “What will it be for you? My beer is plain enough, but I also carry wine fit for lords and ladies.”

“Thank you, but we’re only here for information,” said William. “We need—”

“We’re looking to import some goods from New Athens,” said Melissa, cutting him off. “And we don’t want to use the…traditional routes.”

William turned to Melissa with a surprised glare, but the tavern keeper gave her a knowing nod. “Import taxes are high. Lots of people are looking to save a little money,” he said. “They don’t usually turn to me, though. I’m a little too close to the authorities for people in that business to feel comfortable here. Now, if you’re looking to sell property that wasn’t purchased through…traditional routes…then this is the place for you.”

“Nothing like that,” said William. “Do you know who can help us?”

“Well, my friend Baldwyn—he runs a little tavern called the Goose and Gopher—he’s always going on about this smuggler or that. Doesn’t name names, mind you, but he brags about the deals he gets on wine. Sold me a few barrels himself, though the price could have been better.”

“Where is this place?” asked William.

“It’s upriver, a little past the bridge. Just look for the sign with the—”

“A goose and a gopher?” asked William.

“Oh, you’ve been there?” asked the man with a look of surprise.

William searched his face for any trace of humor and found none. “Just a lucky guess,” he said. “Thank you for your help.”

The tavern keeper gave him a friendly wave as he turned back to his duties. “Any time, my lord, any time.”

“Why did you do that?” asked William as they emerged into the sunlight. “You interrupted when I started asking him questions.”

Melissa rolled her eyes. “You were about to ask him if he knew any smugglers. He said the Goose and Gopher was upstream, right?”

“Of course I was about to ask him about smugglers. That’s what we’re doing.”

She stopped and turned him by the shoulders to face her. “Will, my sweet, daft husband—you can’t blurt it out like that. He’ll think you’re investigating them, like the Guard.”

“But that’s exactly what we’re doing.”

“Yes, but you can’t let them know, or they won’t say a word. The last thing they want is to get someone in trouble. Think about it from his perspective. Someone—a smuggler or a thief—offers a tavern keeper a fee to find him customers. The tavern keeper listens to his own customers, and when he spots someone who needs the services of a thief or a smuggler, he arranges a meeting and collects his fee. What good does it do him if the smuggler or thief winds up in prison?”

William pondered this for a moment as they walked. He turned to Oz who followed a few paces behind. “Did you have any idea Melissa is an expert in the ways of criminals?” he asked. “Almost makes me wonder if she was a part-time smuggler herself.”

“Oh, shut up,” she said with a grin before Oz could answer. “I would never do it part-time. Look, I didn’t know a thing about smuggling before today. But I figured it out based on what Rachel told us. Will, everyone acts on their own self-interest. But you always assume your interests are the same as everyone else’s. Not everyone is as kind, or honorable—or judgmental as you.”

“Uh, thanks—I think.”

“Don’t worry. You’ll get the hang of it. It’s like with Earl Forrester—I knew what he was looking for, so I knew how to deal with him.”

“And what exactly did Forrester want?”

Melissa gave him a look of incredulity. “You still haven’t caught on? He wants to tell people the great William Whitehall is a proud patron of Kolmo’s artists. With your endorsement, they stand to sell a lot more, because everyone wants to be like you, and that means more tax income for him.”

William shook his head. “It’s so convoluted, so much to keep track of.”

“It’s simple enough when you look at it one person at a time. Does that look like a gopher to you?”

William inspected the sign over the door. “I’ve never seen a gopher up close. And I couldn’t swear that’s a goose, either.”

“They need to hire better sign painters,” she said. “I could do a better job with my left hand—and possibly my left foot. Okay, let’s go in. But let me do the talking this time. At least to begin with.”

Oz ran up to intervene. “Uh, sir? Should I announce you? I’m still not sure when I should.”

“Not this time,” said William. “If there’s any rebels in here, I don’t want them knowing it’s me.”

Melissa laughed. “Because the green dragon doesn’t give it away? You’re right though—we don’t want to be too obvious.”

Eyes fell on them the moment they opened the door. The light was just as dim as the Toad and Tortoise, but the patrons were fewer and quieter. Most sat in shadowed corners, alone or in pairs, and did little talking above hushed whispers. The bartender said nothing, but remained behind his bar, staring at them as he polished a mug.

“Friendly place,” whispered Melissa.

“Do you still want to do the talking?” he whispered back.

“Maybe not,” she answered.

He nodded and approached the bartender. “Are you Baldwyn?” he asked the man.

The man scowled at him. “What’s it to you?”

“My name is Will—”

“I know who you are,” the man shot back. “I asked what’s it to you?”

William breathed deeply to calm himself. “I’m looking for some help. A friend told me to speak to you.”

The man looked at him doubtfully. “What sort of help?”

William glanced at Melissa for a second, then turned back to the bartender. “I’m looking to import some goods, and I’m told you know people who do that sort of work.”

“We’re adults here,” growled the man. “We call it smuggling, and we don’t beat around the bush. Yes, I’m Baldwyn, but you’ll have to wait. It’s a busy day for people looking for smugglers. Come back tomorrow.” Baldwyn sneered at William and turned his back.

“That was a bust,” said William as he returned to Melissa and Oz.

“Will, who’s that in the corner over there?” asked Melissa. “No, don’t turn around yet. The bartender glanced over there twice while you were talking to him.”

“He did? I never noticed.”

Melissa nodded. “Whoever he is, I think he’s staring at us. Pretend you’re looking around the room, but stop at that corner.”

William did as instructed, sweeping his gaze around the room until he reached the corner. Sure enough, a cloaked figure sat in the shadow, only a nose showing in the dim light.

Not just any nose. His hand went to his sword and drew it out as he strode toward the man. “Oz, cover the door,” he yelled. “Clyde, follow me.”

The man in the corner jumped to his feet, the cloak falling from his head, exposing the unmistakable face.

“Sit down, Bird,” yelled William. “You and I are going to have a chat.”

Bird didn’t answer. He feinted left as William approached, then jumped over one table and careened into another, sprawling to the floor. William dove for him, the cloak slipping between his fingers as Bird jumped and sprinted for the door. William leapt to his feet just as Bird reached the door, where Oz stood blocking it. Bird’s fist flashed out, and Melissa screamed as Oz staggered backward into the street, out of William’s sight. William ran through the door to follow Bird, narrowly avoiding Oz, barely catching a glimpse of the rebel’s cloak as he bolted into a narrow lane. By the time William reached the corner, Bird had vanished.

Cursing under his breath, he returned to the doorway to find Oz kneeling, his back toward him. Melissa stood at his side, her face contorted in fear. “Don’t worry,” he told Melissa. “He’ll be fine. A punch like that shouldn’t do more than wind him. Come on, Oz. Let’s get you to your feet.” He walked around to face him, then froze.

Oz was clutching his chest, blood oozing between his fingers in pulses and flowing down his shirt.

William hesitated only a second. His first thought was to not add to Oz’s fear by showing his own, so he calmed himself as much as possible. “Melissa—help me lie him down,” he said quietly. She took his cue, erasing the worry from her own face as they each took a shoulder and gently coaxed Oz onto his back. William reached into his jacket and slid out his handkerchief and pressed it against the wound to staunch the flow of blood.

“Shouldn’t we elevate the wound?” Melissa whispered. “I think I read that somewhere.”

“No, we need to apply pressure and stop the bleeding,” he whispered back. “At least, I’m pretty sure that’s what we need to do.”

“What we need is Maya,” said Melissa, her voice quavering. She removed her cloak and rolled it into a pillow, slipping it gently under Oz’s head.

William looked around. “Where’s Clyde?”

“He flew away when you went chasing that man.”

William swore to himself. What a time for Clyde to wander away. And he couldn’t go looking for him either—not with Oz bleeding so badly. “You’ll be okay, Oz,” he said, turning his attention back to the wounded butler.

Oz stared back at him, his face pallid and eyes filled with fear. “I’m sorry I let him get away, sir,” he whispered in a hoarse voice. Small pink bubbles formed at the corners of his lips.

“Shh. Don’t talk right now,” said William. “I’m going to press on the wound a little harder to stop the bleeding. This might hurt, okay?” Oz nodded, then groaned as William applied the pressure, but the blood continued to pulse through the handkerchief. “I need another handkerchief—anything,” he said to Melissa. She frantically searched her pockets, finding nothing.

Without warning, Oz’s hand clamped onto William’s. “Will,” said Oz. “Are we friends?” His voiced rasped through the foam that filled his throat.

William looked at Oz, startled. “Of course we are. Why are you—”

Oz’s hand gripped tighter. “We weren’t always, though. Were we?”

“Not always, no,” said William after a moment’s hesitation.

“I did some pretty rotten things to you.”

“Don’t worry about that right now, Oz. We need to get you patched up. Maya must be around here somewhere.” He craned his neck and scanned the street, looking across the river as well, hoping to catch a glimpse of her.

Oz squeezed his hand again, even tighter than before. “Am I a good person, Will?”

“Yes, of course you are,” he said. He had to find a way to occupy Oz, to keep his mind from the path it was on. But what?

“Are you sure?” Oz’s eyes pleaded with him, his hand wrapped around William’s, the blood still oozing in a faint but steady beat.

William held his gaze for a long moment. If Oz didn’t relax, he wouldn’t survive long enough for Maya to treat him. He had to reassure him. “Yes—you are,” he said solemnly. “The Oz that I know today is a good man.”

“Thank you, Will.” Oz shuddered and lowered his head. “Thank you for helping me become a better man. Please…tell people I did something good for once. They’ll believe you.” He coughed twice, blood spraying from his lips, then fell silent. William glanced down at the wound, and their hands interwoven on top of it. The pulsing had ceased.