Galows Pole Page 4

  “These are indeed troubling times. But I have a proposal, one that includes the Guild and our industrious latitudes. As my close associate Lord Donello can tell you, the annual income is the equal sum of thrice the total of what the city takes in.”

  That was news to them and not quite true. It was more like ten times, but Castellan didn’t wish to give them the real total. However, they responded and looked interested. The Guild business, the real Guild business, that which was never discussed to outsiders, was a topic of much speculation.

  “Of course, if I were allowed, let’s say, a temporary position on the seat of this council, I would be more inclined to rectify the inequity of the taxes this city no longer has the ability to draw upon. So there it is, gentlemen, in no uncertain terms. The offer I represent with the full support of The Merchants Guild.”

  They liked the idea. As he led the discussion into the details, Castellan eyed Cassius. If he wasn’t mistaken, the fat man looked much happier than he had a moment ago, almost satisfied. It was worth the concession to have Castellan on the council, if the Guild were to pay taxes they had long been immune to. Perhaps Castellan was mortgaging their future, but ruling the city from behind the scenes would ensure nothing was left to chance.

  Castellan would tell them what they wanted hear, control whatever he wanted, and doctor the books to make it appear the Guild paid what they were supposed to. Meanwhile, the mercenaries would keep these fools in line with the transition. Afterwards they would no longer be needed.

  The plan was perfect.

  * * * * *

  All of a sudden the city of his birth was much smaller than he ever remembered. Giorgio no longer recognized it as the young thief trotted along, keeping to the dark corners of the street, out of sight of the ever preying eyes of the enemy, always on the lookout, always practicing as much vigilance and attention as possible.

  Giorgio missed having his dog nearby, but he didn’t want to risk having it seen with him. People knew the two of them by sight, and at the moment it was necessary to be faster and unseen. It shouldn’t have been that way. Damn them all.

  They could all be working the streets as usual, making a living as professional thieves, a proud existence for street folk. If it was gone for good, perhaps there was nothing to do but make life miserable for those responsible.

  The talk of the town was twofold, and Giorgio stayed abreast of the local gossip. There was talk of the hanging and how many people were getting upset at the wanton violence perpetuated against the common people. There were also strangers about, a great number of them.

  Sea Haven was a large enough city where hordes of new immigrants were nothing to get excited about, but this was different. Giorgio saw armored, dirty looking men by the score. They were sell swords, and they didn’t bother concealing what they were. They were brazen and loud, hundreds of them drank and yelled and started fights at all the local taverns.

  The police did nothing about them. Even if some were brought to the jail to sleep off a drunken carousel, they were released the next morning with not so much a fine to show for it.

  Giorgio saw a large group of the mercenaries in the market square. At least a dozen strong haggled with one of the merchants, a green grocer Giorgio knew and happened to like. The man looked frightened by the mercenaries.

  The young thief crept closer and kept his hood down over his eyes. He wished his dog was nearby. It could have ripped the men’s testicles while he hamstringed as many as possible.

  Kelvin, the merchant, was an independent, one of the few left after Castellan took over as guild master, and started giving them all protection from competition, protection from his goons, and all other types of kickbacks. Giorgio had a suspicion these men were not haranguing him by coincidence.

  They surrounded him and pointed to the item for sale, a box of broccoli and some heads of lettuce. Giorgio never pegged them as green eaters. He figured they ate raw meat off the bone or their own feces, like the pigs they were.

  One man, a thick-shouldered brute with a nasty scar on his right cheek, yelled at the merchant about his prices being too high. Kelvin sold at a reasonable price, but they weren’t going to pay it. Kelvin had no guards. Whoever thought it prudent to protect cabbage? So he tried to placate them.

  They didn’t listen. They poked and prodded at his wares and tossed things around. A few other vendors watched but did nothing to help him. Giorgio fumed. He had no love for the merchants, but this wasn’t called for. It was all Castellan’s doing. These men took their orders from him.

  Muldor had told them Castellan was planning something, and that mercenaries were a part of it. It was becoming more and more obvious what it was, and martial law was a frightening prospect.

  The mercenaries were dangerous looking men, with scabby fingers, dirty faces, and well-oiled weapons with plenty of notches marring the blades. Giorgio knew good fighters when he saw them, and these men looked fit and tough.

  Fingering a knife or two under his cloak, he watched as Kelvin stood up for himself. The men continued to intimidate him into complying with their demanded price. Good on Kelvin for telling those bastards where to stick it.

  One of them didn’t like it and shoved the merchant backwards. Kelvin tried to interpose himself in between the mercenaries and his goods, and he almost fell on his rump. Some shouted from the other vendors, and Giorgio was glad to see some of them come to Kelvin’s aid. They shouted at the foreign scum and barred their way. One of them came with guards and a fracas was fast developing.

  Giorgio smiled. Implosion. Maybe that was how they could win. Hold out until the guild merchants destroyed themselves.

  A few police buffoons took notice. Giorgio kept moving around, never staying in one place for more than a moment. Instead, he kept his focus on the altercation, but his peripherals were never without notice as well. It was important practice, even though the tiniest bit of exhaustion began to creep into his limbs.

  The young man wanted to rest, but this was too fun to watch. But then the fun was over as the police broke up the two groups and each went on their way, all the while cursing and throwing obscene gestures at one another.

  Giorgio moved on, mulling over what it all meant. Of course Castellan had plans, everyone knew that, anyone with half a brain. The guild controlled the docks, the shipping yards, the betting tents were shut down, Castellan had killed the Lord Governor and gotten his seat on the city council. There was nothing more to conquer.

  He held back by the side of the market area. Hanging under the eve of one of the large buildings that encircled the square, he thought of getting himself something to eat. Rubbing his washboard stomach felt strange. There was nowhere to go for food anymore because the taverns were filled with mercenaries and agents of Jerrod.

  The stubble on his beard itched. However, besides these minor day to day details, he felt sharper than ever. He was on the top of his game, for they all got to practice all day, every day. That was worth something. If they ever got him, it wouldn’t be because of lassitude.

  The crowd was thick, and Giorgio decided to work it for a little extra coin, if not for the practice. He bumped into one man, a heavy-set fop and picked his pocket. The man turned and gave him a look.

  “Uh, many apologies, sir,” Giorgio said and stepped away, bobbing his head down and sounding contrite.

  The man scowled but said nothing.

  The coin purse only contained coppers, and Giorgio tossed it away in the closest alley. It wasn’t worth the extra weight. Perhaps some poor beggar would find it and eat for the night.

  After picking a few more purses and some apples to eat, it was time to go back to Madam Dreary’s for the evening. Marston was there, standing by a window in one of the back rooms. Many of the thieves stayed there most evenings.

  “It isn’t safe here, Gi,” Marston said the moment Giorgio entered. The Elite gave Giorgio a look that showed frustration.

  “Then leave.”

  Marston frowned
and turned back to the window.

  Giorgio looked around the room. Most of the furniture was as it had been left the night before. The bed was still made, the wine left on the table unused.

  “I never believed it before,” Marston said at the window. “What you said before, about what would happen to our Guild. But you were right.”

  Giorgio went to the window but saw nothing important. It was a view of the buildings across the way; a few people walked about. Nothing more. He grunted and moved away.

  “We have that man from Janisberg here,” Marston said. “We can use him. It’s about time we got a break. This wasn’t supposed to happen. More of us are taking dock assignments. I don’t blame them. They have to eat, right? This whole thing’s falling apart.”

  Giorgio stared at him. “I’m getting a drink.”

  Jon was right where any sane man would be in a whorehouse, on his back being waited on by two beautiful girls. The ambiance was soothing, no doubt very much so to someone who had escaped death only days before. Had Giorgio not been so wound up, he would have enjoyed it as well. As it was there was business to attend to. He made a curt bow to the girls, remembering it was in their best interest to keep things civil with Madam Dreary’s stable, and nodded to Jon. “Ladies, if you’ll give me a moment with Master Jon.”

  One of them looked disappointed, but they both left. Jon yawned and opened one eye to regard Giorgio with a grin. “Hello there my friend, my fine fellow. How goes it?”

  Giorgio gave a grunt and looked around. “I guess you’re feeling better. Where’s Muldor?”

  Jon stretched, reaching up over his head and curling his bare toes. In fact, he wore only a thin robe. He closed his eyes again and laid back. “Muldor left, wasn’t here long. Said something about something important to take care of. Might be back.”

  Giorgio scoffed. “Might? Better get his ass back here fast.”

  Jon sat up, concerned. “Why? What’s happened?”

  Giorgio stared at him. “What’s happened? Haven’t you been paying attention? I need him here because we have things to talk about, to plan. It’s hard walking about in the city for us. Muldor should be here.”

  Jon sighed and laid back down. “I suppose you are right, but it looks to me you need a moment’s rest. Take some time to celebrate. I am. I almost died. Now I am enjoying my situation to the utmost. You should do the same. It will calm your frayed nerves.”

  Part of Giorgio’s tormented mind knew it to be true, but he didn’t want to listen. “I’m not resting until this thing is finished.”

  Giorgio paced around the room, swatting at the gossamer curtains that separated the room into compartments. There was no window. He thought of Marston and considered bringing the man there, so they could wait together but decided against it.

  Part of him wanted to be alone but also wanted people to listen. He felt lost. He ignored Jon’s feeble attempt at congenial conversation. The young man had nothing to give him. After perhaps an hour, Muldor returned to the whorehouse, and Giorgio was still pacing about the room.

  Muldor was wet and gave Giorgio a sidelong glance before going off to one of the comfortable couches to take off his thick grey cloak and sandals. He took a towel off the end of the couch and wiped his head dry. Giorgio stood closer, and the two of them looked at each other.

  “Our allies may be in short supply,” Muldor said and cleaned his ears.

  Giorgio tensed. “What did you find out?”

  Muldor told them in no uncertain terms that both the police—which they knew already—and the city watch were under direct command of Castellan and the merchants’ guild.

  Giorgio scoffed. “City watch are nothin’ but wannabe farmers and hunters.”

  “True, but they have sufficient numbers and their own weapons. It represents one more force to array against us should they chose. A loose affiliation, but Raul can only join in with Castellan, for he is not in a position to fight him.”

  “I’ve heard Cubbins has been arrested. Is that true?”

  “It is. Police Captain Cubbins was taken into custody yesterday morning. Castellan is not happy with his dereliction of duty due to the escape of our good friend here. Lieutenant Dillon has assumed command of the police force, but in effect it is Jerrod that coordinates them.”

  “And his assassins as well. What about the merchant’s thugs?”

  “There is his man Marko that runs the so called ‘toughs.’ I believe the man to be smarter than appearances suggest, but he reports to Jerrod, along with the City Watch liaison.”

  Jon looked with interest at both of them. Giorgio didn’t feel much better.

  “It gets worse,” Muldor said. “I had hoped to recruit Nikoli Peterson to our cause as he is the commander of the Royal Guard. It is no secret the man has never liked Castellan, and the death of Lord Falston has pushed this dislike into a firm hatred, but I’ve learned their group will make no move against him until the king appoints a new regent here to represent the crown. That may take weeks.”

  Giorgio clenched his hands. “And what do we do in the meantime? We can’t live like this. More of my men are abandoning The Thieves Guild and becoming dock workers. They fear reprisals from the police if they thieve on their own. Rogues are prosecuted. We can’t last weeks, Muldor. Peterson needs to be convinced.”

  Muldor’s face was inscrutable. “I see no way to accomplish this.”

  “Then why the hell did you come here for? Why don’t you abandon us too and go back to your master?” Fire gripped his mind as a realization struck. “You’re probably still working for him, is that it? Huh? Still working for your old pal?”

  Jon stood and went to him. “Hold on, Giorgio. Muldor’s trying to help us. You have to see that. Look, you’re tired. Why don’t you sit down for a bit and rest, you—”

  Giorgio glared at him. “You don’t know a thing about this town. You weren’t born here, and I’ve lived every second of my life here. My men are hurting. What are you two doing about it? Castellan is taking over. The city will be his to do with as he pleases. Where are your people, Muldor? Your stable of informants? They know so much, yet they do nothing. What are you doing to help?”

  Jon shook his head but had nothing to add.

  Muldor sat there like paint drying on the wall. Giorgio snarled and collapsed to the couch, his face in his hands, and the frustration too much for the moment.

  Then Muldor did something that surprised him. He came over and laid a comforting hand on his shoulder. “We are doing all we can to fight them and will not give up. I promise to see this through to the end.”

  Giorgio couldn’t help but give a soft pat on the proffered hand. “Sorry.”

  Muldor sighed and stepped back. “No worries, old friend. But the unfortunate reality that faces us is simple. We lack sufficient resources to do anything to stop the machinations against us. Your brave thieves have fought hard, and there are many that appreciate it, but your few cannot over turn the mass of forces we must overcome.”

  “Zandor will come back,” Jon said. “I think I know him now. He’s a good man and very good at what he does. Janisberg will help.”

  Giorgio looked up at them as if his emotional outburst had drained away the last reserves of energy.

  “I fail to see how an army on our shores will help us, if indeed that is what Zandor will bring,” Muldor said. “I do not like the idea of my city being bombarded with canon or burned to the ground. Seems like an overreaction to me. There must be an alternative, some other way to remove Castellan from his position.”

  “He just became his position,” Giorgio said, a little life returning to his body. “And won’t give it up, even with a regent coming to replace Falston. Jerrod will kill whoever they send before they reach Sea Haven.”

  Muldor considered, his mind no doubt turning. Giorgio could see it in his eyes. The stoic man never moved much, even when his voice became animated, but you could see the gears turning. He breathed deep and looked at Giorgio, almost
smiling.

  “It is very simple. His physical superiority is untenable. I believe he has made a grave mistake, however. From what I can gather, there is no warrant issued for my arrest, and those that know of my involvement in the escape of our good friend Jon here has been taken care of.”

  Giorgio made a line across his throat with his finger. “Taken care of?”

  Muldor smiled. “No, I believe not. But they have been instructed, under severest penalty not to reveal what I did. Cubbins has been arrested to serve as an example. Castellan is embarrassed by what he thinks is my betrayal.”

  “So how can we use that?”

  “Political pressure. Castellan got to his position from his strong arm tactics. No doubt many of the city council have either been paid off or intimidated. Falston’s assassination will have far reaching consequences, for good and ill of Castellan. But I will speak with my contacts on this and see who, Peterson in particular, can be swayed to our side.”

  “What about the king?” Jon said. “If he knows about the situation, perhaps he’ll send a representative sooner.”

  “No, we will never get an audience. They will not listen to me or you or anyone. But we shall rouse the people as well, for they are unhappy and in time enough seeds of rebellion can be planted to raise our own army from the streets of Sea Haven.”

  “What can you do with the rest of the merchants?” Jon said. “Will they listen to you, Muldor?”

  “I believe they will, or at least I will do my best convince them. This is his mistake. Castellan underestimates my impact on the others. I will use this leverage to take away his strength and perhaps take away what he has dangled before the council.”

  Giorgio felt confused, but Jon seemed warm to the topic as he kept nodding. The foreigner walked looking around the room and rubbing his face.

  “It’s all like a house of cards,” Jon said. “It’s based on bluff because they have nothing.”