Vannerbehn's Luck Pt. 02

My weapons were returned. It took us nearly two weeks to bring the wagons back. They were heavily laden, and we didn't want to wear out the horses.

Pamna rode in my wagon, more often than not. She was fun to talk to, and I found myself liking her more and more. Every night but one, she joined me under the wagon.

After one strenuous bout, I took out the rabbit's foot, and kissed it. "This thing must really work." I said.

One day, we stopped next to a stream. After we watered the horses, an orgy of washing ensued. Clothing, bodies ... I went downstream a bit, to give the women some privacy. Pamna went with me, though, so I got to see her naked in the light of day. That was well worth the wait.

That night, I used my tongue to bring her to a climax. She cried out, loudly, as she reached her peak. That brought Fhaernala and Kima running, as if they thought that I was attacking her.

- "Pamna! Are you alright?" shouted Kima.

- "Better than alright ..." she murmured.

- "What happened?"

- "What happened? His tongue happened ..." said Pamna.

An embarrassed silence followed, which I enjoyed immensely. The redhead and the elf left without saying goodnight.

- "You did that deliberately." I whispered to Pamna.

- "What? Well, maybe ... a little."

We lay together again on the last night before we reached the city. I had just spent between her thighs, and brought her to orgasm with my fingers. We were lying close together. I was well aware, though, that this represented a milestone, of sorts.

- "Kelsen?"

- "Mmm?"

- "What do you think of me? Honestly - please."

A serious question deserves a serious answer. I raised myself on one elbow.

- "I like you, Pamna. I was grateful, at first, because you saved my life, and because you healed me. And I was very glad that you shared your body with me, that first night, under the wagon."

- "But?"

- "No buts. Every day that you've spent in my wagon - and every night - I've come to like you even more."

- "That's sweet."

- "You're good company, my lovely witch - and a good person. You're kind, and good-hearted, and beautiful ..."

- "Ah - you were doing so well. But I think you fibbed a little bit, at the end, there."

- "No, Pamna." I said. "You forget that I've seen you naked. And you've had the evidence, every night, of the effect you have on me."

"You shouldn't be so modest. Or insecure, if that's what this is. You have lovely dark hair, and your eyes are ... incredible. I fell in love with your nose the very first time I saw it."

"Other women may get noticed sooner, but -"

- "But I'm more of an acquired taste?"

- "You taste very good, as you well know."

The next day, as we drew closer to the city, Pamna patted my arm.

- "I'm glad we met." she said. "I enjoyed sleeping with you. I hope you don't mind if I think of you as a friend."

- "Please do." I said. I was delighted to hear her say that. She didn't seem to be the clingy type, and I hadn't expected her to demand any sort of commitment, but it was a pleasure to hear her put it so neatly.

- "After all, it's not that big a city. We'll probably run into each other again." she said.

- "I certainly hope so."

We entered by the South Gate, where Kima immediately identified herself to the Captain of the Guard. A short while later, we were provided with an escort. These were pirates in the service of Jerian the Old, who was probably the fourth most powerful of the Pirate Lords of Kumyr.

These Lords took it in turn to provide guards for the city gates, the docks, and especially the warehouses where goods were stored before they were sold off. Of course, each Lord also had spies on the docks and elsewhere, to make sure that they weren't being cheated of their rightful share. The Night Watch was set up much the same way.

Down on the docks, Kima tipped our escort generously. I approved wholeheartedly. There, a lieutenant took charge of us, and began inventorying our loot. His blue cloak identified him as a follower of Ledomir, the most powerful of the Pirate Lords - though Inavar the Wolf might disagree with that assessment.

- This is going to take a while." I said, to Kima. I told her what I intended to do, and she nodded.

- "All right. Don't be too long, though."

It had rained heavily, the previous day, which had swept much of the accumulated waste from the cobblestones. The unpaved streets, though, were churned mud, with horse and human shit mixed in.

Down on the docks, I found a mercenary I'd worked with once before, a stocky fellow named Braida. He'd obviously survived the pox as a child, but his face would always bear the scars. I didn't care about his looks, though; actually, the more fearsome the better.

He and a companion quickly accepted my offer, when I offered them two days' pay for what was likely to be less than a day's work.

I needed help carrying my share of the treasure, and I didn't particularly want to be mugged while I had my hands full. News travels fast in Kumyr, and I had no way of knowing how long it would take for people who knew me to find out that I'd come by quite a bit of loot. There's no such thing as too careful, in the Pirate City.

The blue-cloaked lieutenant didn't quibble over magical items. Kima knew how the game worked, as she made him a gift of two of the gems, and turned over our four wagons and the horses to the warehouse crew. We were charged a tenth of our gain, which was about the best rate we could have gotten.

- "Okay with you, Kelsen?" said Kima.

- "You did well." I said. "And thanks for asking."

My share, after taxes, came to a little under 3,000 gold pieces, a handful of gems, a dagger and the throwing knives. And a red rabbit's foot.

Pamna gave me a kiss, and brushed her fingers across my crotch. Kima and Aressine said goodbye, and the big blonde fighter even wished me well. The other three ignored me.

- "Where to, boss?" asked Braida.

- "Do you know the Gale?"

- "In the Bottoms?" He made a face as he said it.

The best districts of the city were up on the Hill, or south of there. The docks were downhill, and so was the area known as the Bottoms - though it was on the opposite side of the Hill. The docks were heavily patrolled, to protect the valuable commodities in the warehouses and storerooms. Merchants came there to make deals, travelers came in by ship. It was one of the commercial hubs of the city.

Whereas nobody gave a damn about the Bottoms, except some of the folk who lived there. It was the poorest district, home to unskilled laborers, day laborers, and anyone else who was down on their luck. None of them mattered, as individuals. As their employers liked to say, 'There's always more where he came from'.

If you don't work, you don't get paid, so the sick also ended up in the Bottoms. The water was foul, and even the air was unhealthy. Illness stalked the district. Yet it was also the most overcrowded area of the city.

- "They breed like rabbits down there." said Braida.

- "Most o' the little fuckers don't know their Da's name." said his friend.

I had heard comments like that before. I never let on, but that was true of me, too. Yes, I grew up in the Bottoms.

There were said to be two ways out of the Bottoms: crime, and prostitution. The former was rampant, but it was very difficult for small-time hoods to move up the hill. It was different for whores, of course.

They had a saying, where I grew up: shit doesn't flow uphill.

The Gale was a hospice. Unlike most of the shabby, tumbledown buildings in the Bottoms, it was built of stone. Many people believed that it was named after severe storms, because it was solid enough to withstand them.

In fact, Gale was the name of the rich benefactor who had left enough money for it to be built in the first place. It was big, with space for perhaps 60 patients; of course, there were usually twice that many.

People were brought there to die. But sometimes they recovered - especially if they had help. And that's why I went there. My master (a story for another time) taught me three spells, but he also showed me how to convert them into healing spells.

As often as I could, I went to the Gale, and used my skills to help. Yes, there were always more sick than we could reach. I barely made a dent in the Gale's daily business. So why bother?

Well, I knew two little boys who still had a mother, because I'd stopped in one night. And I knew another boy - one of my best informants, as a matter of fact - who was still alive because of me. You can't save them all, obviously. But that doesn't mean that you shouldn't try to save the ones you can.

Braida was afraid to go inside. I couldn't blame him; there were sick people in there, and some of them could be infectious. I let the mercenaries wait for me outside.

Mehdawi looked tired, but he smiled when he saw me. He'd been a fixture at the Gale since I was a little kid. I had no memories of the place that didn't include him.

- "Kelsen. Good to see you, lad."

- "You need a rest." I said. "Sorry I've been away. A friend called in a favour."

- "One of your adventures?" said Mehdawi. "I trust that it went well."

- "No." I said. "But also yes."

Mehdawi looked confused, until I handed him a heavy sack with 500 gold coins. I told him what it was.

- "Bless you, my boy. That will keep us going for two months." He reached out to hug me. Mehdawi was a healer, with an endless supply of compassion. He was old before his time, and bowed down by the weight of his responsibilities, but he always had just that little bit more energy to deal with one more hopeless case before he went to his bed of straw - on the floor, next to his patients.

If the Gods really existed, Mehdawi would have been a saint, wielding a magical rod of healing. Instead, he toiled in obscurity. Only the sick and dying knew his name.

- "That's wonderful, Kelsen." he said. "But ... do you have a moment?"

An hour later, after casting three healing spells, I left the Gale. Braida and his friend were relieved to hear that we were going uphill.

First stop: a tailor, where I bought three new sets of clothes. Then a weaponsmith, to purchase another rapier.

Second stop: my old room. I paid what I owed, collected a few belongings, and left. A few streets away, I acquired a new room, depositing a month's rent in advance. I stashed some clothing and the new rapier there. After that, a gun shop, for a little more powder and ball.

We dropped in at my second room, where I also paid a month's rent in advance.

The next stop was a dress shop, owned by Gartnait's last girlfriend. I suspected he was planning on leaving her, but she didn't necessarily know that. I told her that he was dead, and left her 200 gold pieces.

Between these stops, I ran into several of my usual informants and watchers. I gave them money. Why not? When I'm flush, they should benefit. How can anyone expect loyalty, if they don't share their good fortune?

I stopped in to see Mennegon, a reputable money changer. I know - it sounds like an oxymoron. He turned 1,050 gold pieces into two notes of exchange for five hundred each. Easier to carry, and impossible to steal.

At that point, I no longer needed the mercenaries, so I paid them - more than we'd agreed on. Braida was very appreciative.

- "Glad to help out, Kelsen." he said. "You ever strike it rich again - you know where to find me."

After that, I retraced my steps, and rented a third room. Again, I paid a month's rent and left some clothing there. A thief can never have too many bolt holes. I never liked to be too predictable, either.

Finally, I stopped in at the most expensive public baths. I treated myself to a luxurious soak and a rubdown.

Clean, relaxed, and dressed in new clothes, I made my way to the Bell and Candle. It's a dark, dingy tavern - the kind of place where you'd expect to see thieves and members of the criminal underworld congregating in the corners, whispering and plotting.

In fact, the clientele are mostly apprentices and journeymen craftsmen. They like the Bell and Candle because the beer is good, and cheap. Unfortunately, it's located a little too close to the tannery; when the wind shifts in the wrong direction, you get a reminder.

I have nothing against good beer at a reasonable price, but the main reason I like the Bell and Candle is because my girlfriend works there. That, and the fact that she and the other barmaids provide excellent information for someone in my line of work.

Some members of the underworld think that bartenders are the best source of information, and should be cultivated as such. That's not always, true, though. Some bartenders are arrogant, or prickly. I don't want to have to stroke an informant's ego every time I want to hear the news.

Some have an exaggerated sense of their own importance. I also don't want to pay every time I collect a bit of information. Some bartenders also expect favors in return. Worse yet, many of them are too busy, or too distracted to pick up any really useful intelligence. They're watching their staff, to make sure they aren't being cheated, or keeping an eye on the drunken customer who's most likely to start a fight, or break something.

Barmaids, on the other hand ... they hear more, because people don't think they're listening, or figure they won't understand. Also, customers are always trying to impress barmaids - especially the pretty ones - so they talk far too much for their own good.

I've learned more from barmaids and serving wenches than I ever got from bartenders - and had more fun doing so. You can spend money on a serving girl, but she'll also appreciate some genuine attention.

Malena and the tavern she worked in were a perfect fit. She wasn't the prettiest girl, at first sight. Her hair was an undistinguished light brown, she had a cleft chin, and her nose ... well, let's just say that her nose wouldn't have been out of place on a burly dockworker - one who'd been in a lot of fights. She also wore frumpy, bulky clothing that concealed everything.

It took me half a dozen visits to the Bell and Candle (I was seeing one of the other barmaids, from time to time) before I realized how special Malena was. Her eyes were lovely, but it was her smile which worked magic on all of her customers.

She had a kind word and a smile for everyone. She knew all of their names, and seemed genuinely pleased to see them. Apprentices aren't big tippers, at the best of times. Malena wasn't just cadging tips. She was that rare creature: a genuinely nice person.

Three months later, she let me take her to dinner on her night off. And a month after that, I finally got Malena back to my room, where I discovered that all that bulky clothing concealed an absolutely superb body.

Malena smiled as I came in. I kissed her on the cheek, and she placed her free hand over mine. "I've missed you." she said. "And I was ... beginning to worry."

She was accustomed to my irregular coming and going, but three weeks was a bit long.

- "Long story, dear - which I'll be happy to tell you all about while I treat you to the best meal you've ever had."

- "You don't have to spend money on me, Kelsen."

- "I most certainly do. If I can't spend on it on you, what good is it? How long do I have to wait before I can take you out?"

- "I'm sorry - Jenelle is sick -"

- "You mean Jenelle is pregnant."

- "Well, yes." she said. "I have to cover for her. Until closing."

- "Tomorrow? Supper?" I asked.

She smiled again. "That would be wonderful."

Just as I was about to go, she said: "Oh - that Bance Rayner fellow was in here. He asked if I'd seen you today. I said I hadn't. I hope that's alright."

- "You did right. Thanks for telling me. Did he say anything else, do you recall?"

- "He did, now that I think about it. He asked if I was working late."

- "You're beautiful. And very smart." I kissed her on the cheek again.

Bance Rayner was a thief, but primarily a mugger. We had never worked together, but knew each other by sight. Obviously, he'd found out that the Bell and Candle was one of my haunts - and he knew about Malena.

There were a few innocent reasons why he might be looking for me. But they were all highly unlikely. When in doubt, start with the worst case scenario: he'd somehow heard about the treasure. Just because I hadn't seen him following me didn't mean that he wasn't there.

I had a quiet word with the bartender, who happened to be Malena's uncle. I slid him a purse of coins. "Ten for you," I told him, "as long as Malena doesn't have to work tomorrow night. The rest is for her." Her uncle was a good man. He'd keep it safe for her.

- "I'm going upstairs for a bit." I told him.

- "Suit yourself."

I went up the narrow, rickety stairs, and into Malena's little room. I was out the window, crouching on the ledge, a moment later. Malena's bedroom overlooked the alley behind the tavern. I listened intently for a few moments. Then I hung from her windowsill by my fingertips, and dropped into the alley.

I hit the ground, rolled, and came to my feet with a pistol in my hand.

Nobody came at me.

I snuck through the backstreets and alleys. What may seem like paranoia is often simple good sense. While I moved along, I tried to think like Bance Rayner. He knew my movements, and my habits. Had he guessed where I would go tonight?

It was a good ten-minute walk to the Dolphin - fifteen if you're being careful, which I was. The Dolphin was a decent tavern, warm and friendly, though a bit over-priced. I put up with the inflated prices because my other girlfriend Aliona worked there.

Yes, I have more than one girlfriend. I will readily admit that I like Malena best, but she works such long hours ... but I wasn't thinking about that just now. I was trying to put myself in Bance Rayner's boots, and think as he would.

He knew far too much about me. When would he strike? On the way in? No, better on the way out, when I'd had a few drinks, slowing my reactions. I'd have a girl on my arm, too. That was how I'd have done it.

Patience is a trait shared by muggers and burglars - the good ones, anyway.

Bance would want to see me enter the Dolphin. There were two places he could be: already inside, or across the street, in a concealed location from which he could watch the entrance. I chose the second option.

I stayed close to the shop fronts, hugging the shadows, across from the Dolphin. Luck was with me: Polenek the boot maker was still in. I entered his shop.

- "I'm closed!" he bellowed, from the back room.

- "Even for regular customers?" I said.

Polenek peeked his head out. "Who is that? Master Kelsen? What brings you here, so late? You need new boots at this hour?"

I pulled out my purse, and started stacking coins on his workbench. "I need a pair as good as the last ones you made me."

- "Good work takes time." said Polenek. His eyes never left the growing tower of coins.

- "I'm in no hurry. Just here to place my order."

- "A week, then. Five days, if you insist."

- "A week will be fine. I wouldn't rush a true craftsman." I said. "Would you mind if I used your side door, Master Polenek?"

- "The side door? It just leads into that alley, where all the reprobates relieve themselves."

I simply smiled, and nodded.

"If you must." he said. "Come back in a week, and your boots will be ready."

- "Always a pleasure, Master Polenek." I said.

I was very careful with his back door. To my intense relief, it didn't creak. The little room I stood in was dark, so no light would shine out. I opened the door a crack, and squinted out into the alley.

Ah. My luck tonight was excellent. There were two shadowy figures at the end of the alley, just a few feet from the street. From there, they could easily watch the entrance to the tavern, without being seen.