Everyone else had gone home by the time Garon and Ulrick finished locking up the warehouse.
“See you tomorrow!” Ulrick called to Garon, heading in the direction Garon normally would’ve gone.
Tonight, Garon was going to the dockmaster’s to meet with the scarred man, whose name he still didn’t know. When he turned to go the other way, he saw one of the warehouse workers was still there, leaning against the building and smoking. He didn’t acknowledge Garon’s quick wave.
Instead of being insulted by the other man’s ignoring him, Garon was glad he wasn’t friendly. He didn’t want to be asked where he was going. Ulrick didn’t know about the meeting, and neither did anyone else. The news of Garon’s heroism had spread through the gambling house of its own accord. Drinks had been purchased for him, and he still had a little bit of a headache as a memento. And a nickname: Hero. As nicknames went, it wasn’t a bad one, even if it wasn’t quite meant sincerely.
Tan’s warehouse was near the end of a long string of box-shaped buildings crowded near to the docks. The dockmaster’s hut stood at the other end. Garon steered wide to avoid a crew still unloading. There’s nothing more annoying than someone getting in your way while you’re carrying something heavy who isn’t even working. With the sun already below the horizon he knew the crew would be in an extra hurry. Once he’d passed them, he cut between two close-spaced buildings to get back near the water’s edge to the dockmaster’s. The alleyway was dirty in a way that made him feel like he was wading through rat’s nests.
The Dockmaster worked in a three-walled hut split in half along its breadth by a table. The master stood behind the table amid shelves of papers, ink and stamps, and the bosses who came for their papers crowded the other side, shouting out their needs in a disordered fashion. It was the end of the work day, and everyone wanted their business done so they could go home. Garon hung outside, seeing no reason to get in on that mess. He was just here to meet someone, after all. Somehow all the men inside sorted out their business quickly and it was less than five minutes later that the crowd dissipated, leaving only the scarred man, standing quietly before the table. Garon hadn’t even realized he was there.
“...matter of the tax.” the man was saying. Now that the jumble of voices was gone, Garon could make him out clearly.
“Ah,” the dockmaster answered. “The usual arrangement for his Lordship?”
“I trust rates have not gone up?” the scarred man scratched at his face.
“Not for his Lordship.” The dockmaster pulled a paper from one of the many stacks behind him and laid it out on the table. His pen flew across it, and he lunged for a stamp and applied it with flourish. He picked the paper up and blew on it to dry the ink while he held out his other hand to the scarred man, who filled it with a small stack of gold. The dockmaster looked over the stack and handed the scarred man the paper. Then he did something Garon had not seen him do in the whole time he had been watching the dockmaster’s interactions with deck and dock bosses. Instead of placing the coins in one of the two lockboxes on his desk, he dropped them into his own pocket.
Garon quickly ducked back outside around the corner of the building. He knew he had just seen something he was not meant to. It would not be good to be caught watching. He leaned against the side of the shack and looked out over the water, hoping he looked like he’d been waiting here a long time. He was almost certain he’d just seen the scarred man dodge taxes on Lord Useph’s behalf. It had suddenly become a lot less appealing to wait and meet the man now, but it would probably cause more trouble if he didn’t.
It wasn’t a long time at all, just a few moments, and the scarred man came around the corner of the shack. Spotting Garon, he approached him with a nod.
“I hope you have not been waiting long.”
Garon shrugged. “I don’t mind. Good evening.”
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“Good evening.” The scarred man studied Garon with unnerving intensity in his eyes. “I have your reward, but there is one other thing I’d like to say to you.”
“Oh,” Garon said. “All right.”
“I know you are in Tan’s crew,” the man said. “He is a fair boss, and perhaps you are content there. But if you hope to afford the high-stakes tables, you’ll need a more lucrative career. I can offer you one.”
Garon was angry. He didn’t want anything to do with this criminal. But better not be completely rude and tell him so. “I like Tan. He’s an honest man.”
“Indeed.” The scarred man smiled tightly. “I had thought I recognized you from Lord Useph’s boat. Perhaps I was mistaken. In any case, the offer stands. Letters addressed simply to N left with the dockmaster will find me, if you change your mind.”
Garon nodded.
“Ah, your reward.” The man pulled a large round bronze coin from his pocket. It had a hole through the middle and was strung on a chain. It wasn’t any kind of coin Garon knew. “Wear this, and you’ll find safety in many places in the city where others would be in danger. With this, I extend to you a little of the protection you offered me last night. May it be helpful to you.”
“What is it?” Garon asked.
“Simply a token,” the other said. “It shows you are under my protection.”
Garon wasn’t sure he wanted it, but it seemed impossible to refuse. He took the chain and hung it over his neck. “Thank you.”
The man reached out and tucked the coin into Garon’s shirt.
“It should be worn hidden,” he said. “You will know when to bring it out.”
Garon had no idea what he meant by that. The coin was cold against his skin, but it soon warmed. Before long, he forgot he was even wearing it.
There was a letter from Mala waiting for Garon with the lady of his boarding house when he woke up the next morning.
“Very fine paper,” she commented as she handed it over to him “And take a look at that excellent handwriting!”
Garon allowed that the paper and handwriting was indeed very fine. He remembered two summers ago when Mala had devoted a great deal of time to perfecting her penmanship. It had seemed a ridiculous waste of time then, but now he supposed it was fitting that the Lady of the Desert could write beautifully.
He settled at the breakfast table with his hot mulled cider and slitted the letter open with his knife. It had Lord Useph’s red seal pressed into the back. The paper snapped smartly as he opened it. It was, as Mala had promised, an invitation.
Dearest Brother,
My Lord has finally decided it is time to move on from Laed and return to our home. I am eager to meet my new subjects as their Lady! Of course, I will miss all the wonderful places and people of the capital.
In honor of our departure, the King himself is holding a ball. The Queen, having learned my brother is in the city, insisted that he honor us all with his presence. Knowing me, she insists that her life would be richer for knowing him as well.
You know, Garon, that this is because she has never met you. She has only me to go on.
Enclosed is the invitation for the ball itself. You must present it at the gate of the palace to gain entry, but I hope that you will accompany my Lord and myself.
Come over before you go to the ball! We’ll need at least three hours to dress you properly. DO NOT just show up at the palace dressed as a dock rat.
I hope that you will grace us all with your presence.
Your adoring sister,
Lady Mala of the Desert
Garon stared at the letter, flicking at the corner with one fingernail. It was a dizzying missive, flitting from excess formality to scolding, but in a way it was reassuring, because dizzying was exactly how he would always have described his sister. Mala was still Mala.
As promised, a card was tucked in the envelope. The invitation. It was lettered with glittering ink that must have been infused with gold dust. The date listed was only two away. Just as well to get it over with; that was better than worrying about it for a long time. The party would be over and done with soon, and Mala would be gone, and then he could stop worrying about the criminal connections of Useph and the scarred man. His sister would be out of reach, overseeing her own castle like she’d always dreamed of doing. It was a reality Garon still couldn’t believe even Mala had been capable of bringing into being.