Each of the three great trade cities specialized in different goods. Situated in the middle of the heartlands, Correntry served as the trade hub for many of the farming villages in the area, in addition to anchoring the Flax and Lumber Roads. Farther north, amongst the rocky hills of the region known as the frontier, Alvanny collected the stone, gems, and ores mined throughout the rugged northern reaches of the Realm. As the coastal trade city, Emeston was just as defined by its location. First and foremost, it dominated the fishing trade.
Westerlen, one of the bastion cities, had a similar claim to the trade, but its close proximity to the dangerous islands of the Tidal Wastes made it a poor candidate for a bustling trading hub. As such, over three-quarters of the fishing villages that dotted the Realm’s western and southern coastline would haul their catches to Emeston for preservation and shipping inland.
Emeston’s docks, grown over decades to facilitate the seafood market, were its most famous feature, as over a mile of coastline had been progressively converted to host hundreds of ships, complete with drydocks serviced by a small army of shipwrights. Along the docks were a seemingly endless series of pubs, brothels, and inns of vastly varying quality–all dedicated to serving the unending stream of fishermen and sailors that moved through Emeston’s famed harbor.
Every street that arched out from the waterfront boasted dozens of fishmongers, fish carts, fish stalls, fish smokers, and magically maintained ice houses (for preserving fish). The result was an almost physical odor of fish and salt and rotting seaweed and fish and sweat and smoke and fish.
“I. Hate. The. Docks.” Allana held her nose as she spoke, giving her voice a high nasal tone.
“Really?” Tenebres asked with a grin. “I don’t think you’ve told me that before. Go on.”
Allana glared around her hand at the younger boy. In the weeks since they killed Algus, Tenebres had become Geoffrey’s student just as much as Allana, and the pair spent most of their days practically joined at the hip. For a while, that had meant training together, as well as helping Geoffrey root out nests of minor monsters that they could handle. And of course, laughing the evenings away in each other’s pleasant company and cheap ale.
For lack of anywhere else to stay, Tenebres had even started consistently sleeping in the little apartment Geoffrey helped Allana afford. He may have just made due with a bedroll on the floor next to her bed, but it was still a step up from his first sleeping arrangements in the city. The thought of the crowded, reeking taproom where an innkeeper had charged a few rings a night to allow people to sleep on the floor still sticky with spilled ale made Tenebres shudder.
Of late, however, their focus had begun to shift. Geoffrey was sure that Algus was not the only servitor in the city to boast the gift of flesh, and was convinced that finding another was key to tracking down their real target. Until they could find and kill the outsider actually bestowing the necromantic gifts, they would only continue to spread. Despite his best efforts, however, Geoffrey was unable to track down any likely candidates through his usual connections.
“Fortunately,” he had told them, “there are places two street youths can go that a man like me cannot.”
And so the two assassins-in-training found themselves crawling, day by day, through the reeking expanse of Emeston’s docks, listening for any word that might lead them to their quarry. In this, Tenebres had proven the more successful of the pair, his charm boon making it easier to talk his way past the natural suspicion of the various fishmongers.
“Let’s try this one,” Tenebres suggested, pointing his chin to one relatively unpopulated stall.
“Do we have to?” Allana complained. “It stinks even worse than the others.”
The merchant’s stall did, indeed, seem behind on its maintenance, likely contributing to its shortage of customers. Tenebres had only a fleeting familiarity with artifice, but it was clear the man’s chilltop needed to be fixed up. The piled ice on the engraved piece of slate was half melted, leaving a puddle on the ground and making the already ugly fish he was selling soggy and even more unappealing.
“Exactly.” Tenebres didn’t explain any further. He confidently strode up the stall, making a show of looking over the gross, poorly trimmed fish, until the fishmonger approached him.
“Looking for a fine fish for the night, young master?” the hawker asked, his voice far more desperate than most of the loud, demanding traders that lined the street.
“Perhaps…” Tenebres mused. While he resented the gift that had been forced on him, he couldn’t deny the usefulness of the charm boon it provided. Charm governed charisma and social awareness, and Tenebres found himself subconsciously adjusting his accent and lowering his voice as he spoke to the man. “No better way to a lady’s heart than a well-cooked meal, aye?”
The man huffed a rough laugh, and his eyes briefly shot to Allana, looming several paces away, behind the smaller boy. “And quite a lady she is! I’ve no doubt you could make her something impressive indeed with one o’these fine fish! Just five rings a piece!”
It took all of Tenebres’s self control to not goggle at the price. This close to the docks, five bronze rings would be enough to get a fresh, whole catch, no more than an hour out of the water. The man’s soggy filets were scarce worth a single ring, if that.
Unfortunately, saying such a thing would be a sure way to forfeit any chance Tenebres had at getting information out of the man, so he contained his first reaction, and instead mused quietly, as if to himself, “Quite the high price… I am in a rush, however…”
The fishmonger’s eyes glittered at the possible sale. “A demanding lass, is she?” He asked with a leer at Allana. “I’ll tell you what, young master, I can go as low as four rings, to save you the trouble.”
“Well, she certainly doesn’t enjoy the docks!” Tenebres replied with a laugh. “But no, I want to make my way uptown before the wardens get here, you know?”
“Wardens?” the fishmonger asked, leaning over the chilltop to strain towards the teenager. Clearly, like any peddler worth the name, the man was inveterate gossip. Just what Tenebres had hoped for.
“Why do you think the wardens would be crawling about this close to the docks?” he whispered in a gruff tone, scratching nervously at the stubble on his chin.
“Oh, I have little enough idea,” Tenebres replied with a shrug. “But I saw them going stall by stall on Salt and Sand,” he named the next two streets over, “so I rushed over here to try to make my purchases before they make it this far down.”
“Damned gray cloaks, harassing honest men…” the hawker growled. Warden inspections were uncommon, but were likely to cost him the last couple hours of business before sundown–in addition to whatever contraband he no doubt had hidden behind his stall.
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“I’ll admit to some curiosity…” Tenebres mused again, still speaking as if he was thinking out loud. When the man didn’t follow up on the obvious hint, he looked up and added, “Were my curiosity sated, I might find myself a tad bit more hungry.”
The fishmonger’s eyes narrowed–but he clearly still bought Tenebres’s story. “Well, there has been a bit of gossip. But the idea of losing so much fish doesn’t exactly make me talkative, aye?”
Tenebres resisted the urge to roll his eyes. The man had the subtlety of a boar in rut. He reached into his vest, where a hidden pocket held a small portion of the allowance Geoffrey had offered them to help in buying any information. He pressed a scepter down–fully twice the man’s asking price, if not more–but kept one finger on the silver coin as he looked up at the man expectedly.
The fishmonger’s eyes shot up and down the road, ensuring their privacy, and he leaned ever closer to Tenebres. His breath stank of old fish and bad beer, and Tenebres abruptly found himself agreeing with Allana’s estimation of the docks. “I hear tell a coupl’a days back, one of the boats came in with one of those fishmen. Y’know, a real outsider. But the next day, the carcass goes missing. Were I a gambling man, I might think they were looking for it.”
Tenebres’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully. “What pier was the ship docked at?”
The fishmonger growled, and his eyes looked down meaningfully at the coin Tenebres still held a finger over. He clearly wasn’t buying Tenebres’s interest as incidental anymore.
The slender wraith added a second coin to the pile, this time making no effort to hide the roll of his eyes. Reluctantly, Tenebres lifted his fingers from the coins.
The fishmonger grunted, and the two silver coins seemed to disappear. “Coral street, pier two.”
“My thanks.” Tenebres turned to leave without another word.
“Your fish, young master?” the man called after him.
“Throw them in the sewer, save anyone from the danger of eating them!”
Allana watched Tenebres saunter back over to her with a grin, waving over his shoulder in farewell. “Well, that seemed to go well.”
He shrugged. “We’ve got a lead, at least. Be happy I didn’t decide to buy you dinner, too.”
Allana wrinkled her face, and the two turned towards the Coral Street pier.
#
“There they are…” Tenebres muttered, watching a table of boisterous sailors from across the busy taproom.
“Do you think you sound intelligent when you state the obvious?” Allana asked, her voice dripping with sarcasm.
“Shut up,” Tenebres grumbled back.
After half a dozen careful conversations, several veiled threats backed by Allana’s reputation, and nearly a full mantle in bribes, the pair had found out that the ship that had brought in the outsider corpse, the Wicked Flit, had abruptly left port only a couple days before, manned only by a skeleton crew. They were unable to learn much more–the Flit’s captain had, for whatever reason, gone to great lengths to keep his goings on secret. Fortunately, his abrupt departure had left behind a small number of his usual crew who had proven significantly less tight-lipped. Tenebres guessed it only was thanks to the talkative sailors that they had heard anything at all.
All in all, the search took several hours, and it was long past dark by the time they made their way to the Salted Strand, a pub that catered to sailors on dockleave. A hot day of frustrating conversations and the worst of the waterfront’s smells and residents had left the two irritated, and the Strand was not exactly a relaxing place to end the day. It was grimy and dangerous, even by the standards of Lowrun, but the Violet Edge’s reputation had carried even to the docks, and a few pointed stares were sufficient to get Allana and Tenebres a corner table, looking out at the busy taproom, and at the half dozen drunken sailors busy telling a boisterous story to any who would listen.
“So now what?” Tenebres asked. “I think we need a little more than whatever nonsense they’re spinning for the rest of the damned pub.”
“Hmm? Your genius plan didn’t extend this far?” Allana hummed in mock surprise.
Tenebres rolled his eyes. “Do I need to remind you I’m not exactly a master at hunting for a human needle in a giant, fetid haystack?”
“But you are a master of wordplay, that was quite the metaphor.”
“We need to wrap this up,” Tenebres huffed, “you’re just being mean now.”
Allana showed her teeth in a tight grin.
“Okay, so clearly you have an idea. Please tell me it’s better than starting a fight on three-to-one odds?”
“It’d be worse than that. If we started something, the rest of the room would be on us like that.” Allana snapped to emphasize her point. “No, no, we need something more… subtle.”
“You know, it’s odd, but for an assassin with the gifts of stealth and poison, ‘subtle’ isn’t the first word I’d use to describe you,” Tenebres taunted, nudging her knee under the table with his own.
Allana bared her teeth again, acknowledging the taunt, and stood up with a wink.
Tenebres couldn’t help but watch as the girl swayed across the taproom to the bar. He just hoped his eyes wouldn’t actually fall out of his head. Every step she took showed off the taut muscle of her legs, and the skintight leather of her short pants. Each was accompanied by a pleasant jingle from the numerous charms and bracelets she wore on her ankles and wrists alike–accessories which never seemed to make a sound when she needed them quiet, oddly enough.
His were far from the only eyes to watch her progress. Allana was attractive even at her most professional, but for whatever reason, her stride at that moment seemed all but designed to draw the eye to her smooth legs, the curves of her hips, her bouncing-
Tenebres tore his gaze away from her and took a hasty swallow of lukewarm beer to distract himself, wincing as the taste reminded him exactly why he had been avoiding doing so.
Across the room, Allana had reached the bar and bent forward, leaning on her folded arms while she talked with one of the serving girls. She was a pretty blonde, her pale skin showing more heartland ancestry than coastal, and her constant work through the busy pub had flushed her cheeks prettily. He couldn’t hear what Allana said to her over the next few minutes, but as he watched the way the barmaid grinned and even laughed at the Apprentice assassin, Tenebres found himself wondering if Allana might be more sun-leaning than he had thought.
She had made jokes about despising men plenty, but given the attention and even the flirtations she offered Tenebres, he hadn’t thought… Still, there was no real denying that she was hitting on the serving girl. And quite successfully, from the look of things.
After several minutes, Allana finally stood up, and if Tenebres hadn’t been watching so closely, he doubted that he would’ve seen the small bottle she slipped to the girl, leaving her with a recognizable look of hopeful longing as Allana stalked away.
“What exactly did you just do?” he asked the moment Allana sat down.
She shrugged her shoulders carelessly. “I think I got a date.”
Tenebres gritted his teeth. “Besides that?”
Allana arched an eyebrow, clearly taking note of his tone. “I slipped her a bottle of nightstalk, and she’s going to slip some of it into our loud friends’ drinks for the next few rounds.”
“So you’re going to… kill them?” Tenebres snorted. “I see what you mean by subtle.”
Allana rolled her eyes. “I’m not going to kill them, Seo.”
She still often insisted on using his false name, claiming a preference for it despite the way she had teased him for coming up with it in the first place.
“Besides,” she had once told him when he questioned it, “Tenebres is a mouthful.”
“Nightstalk is a stamina poison,” Allana explained quietly, leaning closer to keep their conversation private. “In the tiny little doses Mari there is going to give to them, it’s going to tire them out rapidly. All but one of them, that is.”
Tenebres raised his eyebrows, impressed. “So when one lingers around after his friends go to an early rest…”
“We’ll have a perfect chance to get him alone and ask some questions.”
Tenebres nodded, then watched as the blonde girl, Mari, carried the next round of drinks out to the table. “So… small doses. How long exactly is that going to take?”
“Not too long, I hope.” Allana winked at Tenebres. “I’m ready to get to the other part of my deal with Mari.”