Once again, Shaddar is the first one awake in the meadhall. He enjoys the mental quiet, thinking about his plans and how they are progressing. What a grand game this is!
His thralls are taking their exorbitant amount of rest. It’s scandalous – if he can get by on four hours of sleep a night, then that should be enough for them! Of all of those in the building, Hawke is probably the most fatigued. He has been sleeping poorly, drinking like a fish, and thinking far too hard. The minion might burn himself up soon if Shaddar can’t find some way to settle his mind…
“Ah, well. One must work within the constraints of the sub-standard materials that one has,” he thinks with resignation.
At approximately the same time as the day before, Shaddar senses Widow Cottondur and her daughters approach the meadhall. But what is this? They seem to have been met by some others in the alley – a group of constables, in fact. Shaddar listens into their conversation via their thoughts to find out what might be learned.
“Widow Cottondur! Ladies! How are you?”
“Oh, we’re doing well. And how are you gentlemen?”
“Fine. Those are some lovely new wraps you’re wearing.”
“Oh, thank you – yes, they’re new.”
“Did you have any trouble with the riot yesterday?”
“No. We made it home long before it got underway. It was so scary, though!”
“Not to worry. Our brave heroes put them back in their place.”
“Yes, we heard. But that’s not the end of it is it? No, it never is! We live in the slums, you know? And that means the heroes will someday feel the need to sweep through our quarter of the city – looking for villains and making a fuss. Oh, why can’t everyone just be good, decent folk and get along?”
“It’s the nature of the villains that control the slums, Ma’am. I wish it were otherwise, but as a resident, perhaps you should start by trying to talk sense into those in your community that you suspect are of a villainous bent. Reform must begin from within.”
“Oh, posh! You don’t know what villains are like! It’s no good talking to them! Their nature is visible in their faces and there’s no changing it!”
Much laughter.
“Where are you lads headed so early in the morning?” This from one of the daughters.
“To talk with your employer as a matter of fact. You do still work for old Hawke?”
“Yes. Yes, we do… Well, come along girls, we mustn’t be late and these boys have business to do.”
“Why do you need to talk to Haw–“ one of the girls begins, but she is cut off by her mother who hisses sharply, “That’s none of our business!”
Shaddar sighs. His work is never-ending. But it is such enjoyable labor! He summons the minotaur from his slumber: “Toothsnatcher? More unwanted guests approach. Hopefully your skills will not be required, but I’d like to be prepared. Wait at the top of the stairs in case you are needed.”
Shaddar continues to monitor the group now coming up to the main door of the meadhall. Their conversation has dropped off sharply now that the authorities have stated their intent to question a friend.
Hawke is still asleep and they have to pound on the door several times before he awakens and moves sluggishly to let the women in. From his thoughts, it is clear that he suffering from the natural effects of his over-indulgence in spirits.
His thoughts are a bit disjointed from fatigue and the physical impact of his hangover: “What time is it? Oh my head!”
“Not so loud!” he yells. The knocking ceases.
“Whatever is the matter, Hawke?” the widow says with soft concern as he opens the door.
“Ah, widow, you’d not believe it. Pounding! All night: pounding!”
One of the constables leans into the conversation and asks, “Pounding? Who was pounding on what?”
Hawke’s thoughts come together with remarkable speed. “My head. Drank too much and my head was pounding all night. We’re not open yet, sir. Come back later.”
“Hawke, dear, it’s some constables who have come to talk with you – not customers,” the widow prompts.
“Ah,” Hawke says, his thoughts moving quite quickly now, “You’d best come inside then.”
“Sampling your own wares? Is that good for business?”
“New shipment. I had to see if it was up to my standards before I’d serve it, sir.”
Shaddar is impressed – the fellow has potential. Of course, most beings do perform best when their life is on the line. It tends to focus the attentions of even the dullest beast. Shaddar steps out into the second floor hall to see that Toothsnatcher is taking up the position he was ordered to.
The human’s voices can now be clearly heard floating up from the stairwell, augmenting Shaddar’s perception of the conversation.
“Now what’s this all about?” Hawke asks with a neutral tone.
“We’ve heard that you have some boarders in your rooms that we’d like to speak with.”
“Oh?” Hawke says, “Many of my boarders have recently moved out. Hard times, you know. Don’t know that they’re still here – whoever it is you’re looking for.”
“We’ve heard that these boarders are still here, have been living here for many years, too. Jorin and Bort?”
“Ah. Yes. Shall I go get them for you, then?”
“No! You’ll take more than an hour to navigate – feeling your way along! Send one of these young ladies to do it.”
“I’ll go! Jorin and Bort are funny!” one of the widow’s daughters pipes up.
Shaddar instructs Toothsnatcher to duck back into his room and out of sight while the girl climbs the stairs. He just shuts the door when she comes into sight and is a bit startled at his loathsome appearance.
“I heard everything,” Shaddar says in a low, confidential whisper, “I’ve already sent someone to collect Jorin and Bort for you. I’m sure they are on their way.”
The girl looks confused and asks, “Who are you?”
Shaddar acts disappointed as he replies, “You do not recognize my illusion? Well. It’s early days still, I suppose. I’m the foreman for the construction team from the GSR Day-Laborers – but you have clearly not seen any of our advertisements around town, have you?” The girl shakes her head with a raised eyebrow.
“A pity,” Shaddar says, then continues with animation, “You seem so surprised! Has Hawke told you nothing about the re-modeling he has commissioned?”
“No. Not a word.”
“Oh, yes! Quite the project! Total re-modeling of the second and third floors – it’s really quite dangerous with all of the tools, sharp glass, and bits of lumber lying around. That is why I sent a worker up to get the men you need. I dare not run the risk that such a lovely creature as yourself might slip and hurt herself.”
The girl simpers a bit at the praise, “Thank you, sir! Very kind of you!”
“By the way, did you get the gifts?”
The young woman claps her hands lightly. “Was that you?”
“Yes. Just in case you or your family had to put up with any loud construction noises or other discomforts during our work here. And the extra sawdust – tut! We know it is extra work for you and try to make everyone who hears of us feel glad to see us. Times are changing and so are styles – the architecture of this building must be updated to the new standards set forth by the Lords of the city.”
“I haven’t heard about that,” the young lady says with her head tilted, “Didn’t realize that the Lords of the city cared that much about the border zone.”
“Oh, yes. How the city looks is of great importance to them, you know.”
“I hope that you come and remodel our building soon – it’s ever so dull!” She leans in a bit closer to whisper, “And for your sake, I hope the man who selected your working costume gets the sack – that face looks frightening.” She spins on one heel to head back downstairs.
Shaddar takes a moment to calm his anger at the primate’s insult of his glorious facial features, then spins on his own heel to take the stairs two at a time in his haste to reach the room of Jorin and Bort.
Shaddar bursts into Jorin and Bort’s apartment. Both of them sit up in bed with yelps of alarm as the door hits the wall with a bang. Shaddar puts his hands on his hips and says with anger evident in his voice, “If you say anything…”
“So early… Oi! Can’t you knock, Boss?” Jorin complains as he pulls the blanket up to his chin.
“Say anything what? To who?” Bort mumbles with a tinge of worry.
“If you say anything incriminating… you will be the ones to suffer for it.”
“What are you talking about?” Jorin asks.
“Who would we talk to, Boss?” Bort adds.
“The constables, of course,” Shaddar says with the air of surprise that the men could be so thick.
“What constables?” Jorin leaps from his bed and looks around the room in alarm, as if a constable might be hiding behind the door.
“They are downstairs as we speak. Asking for the both of you.”
“Oh, no,” Bort huffs, “Not again.”
Shaddar narrows his eyes. “You will say nothing of the lumpys and palehairs.”
“All right,” Bort says slowly, “Anything else?”
Jorin is rushing about the room, trying to find a robe. He seems to be in a near panic as he responds, “Say nothing? What then? Pretend we’re mute? Ha! That won’t fool ‘em! Constables are too sharp for that – once they’ve heard you say your can’t speak, then they know it’s a falsehood!”
Shaddar waves one hand as he instructs them, “I’m afraid you will need to lie about your involvement in the Guild of Swashbuckling Rogues. But don’t be too fantastic with it. A bit of truth is far more effective than such a bold lie, Jorin! Should they ask to come upstairs, tell them that we are re-modeling – which is true.” He turns to Bort, “Tell them that you are the local tenant in charge of the contractor-client liaisons, should it come up. And add that many of the previous tenants moved out to avoid the mess, but you are loyal to your landlord, Hawke. Understand?”
Jorin thinks on this for a moment, biting the edge of his thumb, then says, “Yeah. Yeah, alright.” Bort nods as well.
“Get going, then,” Shaddar says with a hint of irritation.
Shaddar shakes his head wearily as the two human’s hurry out of the room to answer the summons of the constables downstairs. Neither one is wearing anything more than boxers and a loose, threadbare robe. It is unlikely that they will impress the authorities with their slovenly hygiene.
Shaddar follows the men down to the second floor and then stops to eavesdrop on the conversation at the top of the stairs. He mentally tells the minotaur to step back into the hallway with him, just in case sterner methods are required.
“Ah, there you are,” a constable says. “Come and have a sit down and chat with us a moment, lads.” Shaddar focuses on his thoughts and learns that the constables think that Jorin and Bort might be the ringleaders of new guild. It might be them, since they have been known to wear a similar outfit as that reportedly worn by muggers and other miscreants belonging to the new so-called guild. They don’t have any proof, but are out following up on every possible lead they have.
Once Jorin and Bort come into view most of them think the same thing: “Oh, Mist no! There’s no way these two ragamuffins are rogue villains!”
As the sounds of chairs scraping and rustles of movement go on, Shaddar gives Toothsnatcher further instructions, “Go down to the first landing, but stay out of sight of the hall. On my command, charge into the midst of the constables and kill them all as fast as you can.” The thrall moves silently into position, treading each step with care least his bulk make a sound.
“Of course, constable,” Bort says calmly.
“Yeah, why not?” Jorin says nervously, “I mean, we are law-abiding types with nothing to hide. That’s why we came down right away when we heard you wanted to see us.”
“Sure you are. Don’t we see you at the constabulary, what? Three? Four times a week, Jorin?” one of the constables not doing most of the questioning says rudely.
“We’ve heard some rumors, boys,” the first constable says, “And everyone down at the constabulary knows that Jorin and Bort trade in rumors. Seeing how this is so, we thought we’d come down and ask what you knew about it.”
“Rumors?” Jorin asks.
Bort plays dumb, “I have heard a juicy rumor, sir. There’s a new flavor of meat pie soon to be on the menu at all the Snicklicatessen street vendor carts next week. Exciting, ain’t it?”
“Nah! Tell us what you’ve heard about this… new guild.”
“A new guild,” Bort asks with confusion, “But that makes no sense!”
Jorin picks up on this line right away and adds, “It sure doesn’t! Why there’s hardly enough work to go around for the guilds we already have! More competition would be pointless!”
Bort chuckles a bit, “Yeah, don’t we have enough guilds in this town?”
Dead silence on the part of the constables. Their thoughts show that they don’t believe the robe-wearing fools. In fact, Shaddar realizes that this very trait is how the two outcasts have managed to survive so far: they say so many outlandish things that eventually the constables tire of them and throw them out.
“So you haven’t heard anything about this new gang of rogues? Is that what you’re telling me?”
“No,” Bort says, “I mean, every once in a while we hear rumors that a villain has gone mad and must be brought down by the heroes, but I haven’t heard anything like that for months. You, Jorin?”
“No! No, I’ve never heard of the Guild of Swashbuckling Rogues. Sorry.”
“Idiot!” Shaddar thinks with barely controlled fury, his tentacles jerking madly.
“That’s interesting, Jorin,” the constable says smoothly, “since I don’t recall mentioning that name to you.”
“Oh. Well. I must have heard it somewhere, then,” Jorin says unconvincingly.
The constable pounces on this statement, “So you were lying before? You have heard rumors about the new guild? Or are you lying now? Which is it? I’m confused.”
Jorin is rendered speechless by this train of logic. Shaddar clenches both fists tightly in anger.
Bort comes to his friends rescue; desperate to salvage the conversation and shift suspicion somewhere else.
“It’s true, sir!” Bort moans fearfully, “Some men met us in the alley! They told us who they were, but swore they would kill us if we breathed a word of it! We’ve been so afraid!”
“Really? What did they look like, these men?”
“They wore… They wore…” Jorin begins.
“Yes?”
Bort finishes for his stumbling friend, “Masks! They wore masks! I’ve never seen anything like the creatures the masks depicted, either.”
Jorin picks up the thread with obvious gratitude, “Yes, but I don’t think it was a mask myself, Bort. No, it had to have been some kind of illusion, because no mask could look as real as their faces did.”
“That’s true. That’s true. You may be right, Jorin.”
The constable concludes that they are telling the truth at last. What they are saying right now is actually based on the truth, making their tale much more believable. Shaddar loosens his fists, thinking that they just might pull out of the mammoth blunder that Jorin has caused.
The constable is mentally reviewing some of the descriptions they have collected, most of them line up neatly with what the men are telling him. “Threats? Strange and ugly faces? Yes. Jorin and Bort have run into these rogues as well, but they themselves are hopelessly incompetent and not a part of the problem, I’m sure.”
“If you lads should hear any further news about this matter, let us know right away. You are right to fear these rogues – they have committed many crimes…”
Bort asks with true confusion, “Crimes? What crimes?”
The constable lays it out like a hammer stroke, “Murder-Most-Foul!”
Jorin and Bort both gasp.
Jorin sputters, “But that was the Guild of Villains that done that!”
“So. You’ve heard that rumor too, have you? We’re still investigating all of the incidents. But the death tally is anywhere from 6 to 30 at this point. Chief Constable Snook is on the case and he’ll soon get his man, don’t fear that! I’d keep a sharp eye out and keep indoors until we bring these rogues in…”
Sounds of chairs moving and the constables standing up.
“We may be back later with more questions,” the constable says with disdain, "After you’re dressed, perchance?”
Chapter 1 < Chapter 27 Chapter 29 >
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