Death's Reckoning (2 page)

Chapter Two

The city council room felt empty. It seemed no living soul had ever crossed its threshold. The U-shaped council table was unoccupied, collecting dust that two days of neglect allowed to form. The light was low save for two candles.

The only activity was the lone man scribbling away at a small desk, off to the side and near a cold wall. He wrote with furious alacrity. The candles wavered under his powerful strokes, his thick forearms more akin to a grappler’s than a scribe’s. Nothing caused him to pause in his work for more than a moment. His brow creased with concentration as he glanced over a bit of unexpected information, and then he was writing away again with speed and determination.

Once every so often a loud bang interrupted his thoughts, and the Guild man allowed himself a brief frown, but Muldor never stopped writing. There was too much to do, and the building repairs were none of his concern. He wasn’t a carpenter.

Two weeks hadn’t changed much. The work was complicated. The engineers and architects had assured him there was much deeper structural damage than they had thought. They sent him an estimate, a ridiculous amount that he had negotiated down to something reasonable and then paid it.

He made a note to see that The Guild would own one of the building companies before the end of the month. They could fold it into the business aspect of the shipping yards easy enough. That’s how it would be written down in the books. It was simple. However such an action was what had gotten them all in trouble in the first place. He was acting as Castellan had, but it was fleeting and faded away as the next item came to his attention.

It was a bill of sale for one of the stalls used by an ousted vendor. The marketplace was fast becoming for Merchant Guild members only, and almost all of the independent sellers were gone for good. Even after Castellan had been taken prisoner, his machinations were moving forward, left to grow in his wake. Muldor wasn’t sure how he felt about it, deep down, so he put it in the pile for an affiliate of The Guild to take care of.

A chill swept through the room, and Muldor felt the immediacy of his loneliness. The city council members had taken up temporary residence a few blocks away until the repairs were completed. It might’ve been a couple months, but Muldor didn’t care what they did.

Now that The Merchants Guild was a part of Sea Haven’s city council, there was more work than he knew what to do with. And it wouldn’t get any easier. The town reeled from not only the physical destruction of Janisberg Navy’s but also the recent political upheaval. The King’s regent was dead, murdered by one of Castellan’s associates, an assassin thug named Jerrod, and he had yet to be replaced. But into this vacuum of power came The Merchants Guild.

Muldor stopped writing for a moment and thought on that reality. It had cost many lives for The Merchants Guild to rise to power, and the conditions of Sea Haven were far from improved. The Guild man decided there was nothing for it. They had to plunge ahead regardless.

After all, they had a city to rebuild.

Most of the paperwork before him was orders for materials and contractors, most of them under the auspice of The Guild. That was good since much of the money paid would cycle back to Muldor. He would have to work closer with Cutter. The old curmudgeon and former administrator to the defunct Thieves Guild had taken over treasurer duties for The Merchants Guild under Muldor’s direction. The former treasurer had died during the riots.

Muldor wasn’t sure how to feel about that either, but again, nothing for it. There were few men he thought qualified for the job and even fewer he trusted. Not that he trusted Cutter either, but perhaps the old man could be controlled.

A loud boom sounded in the hallway, followed by shouts of consternation from the inept workers. Muldor heaved a mental sigh. No one knew how to do their jobs anymore. They weren’t trained right. He would have to talk to the supervisor, a man named Cummings. He was smart and shrewd, and Muldor might need to put him in his place on hiring practices. The clatter and noise continued for some time, and he almost put his quill down. But he didn’t. Work demanded attention.

Some interminable time later, a timid knock at the door roused his mind. He paused for a moment and thought it was only another bump from the workers. But it came again, louder, and the person knocking didn’t wait for a reply to open the door and peer in.

A voice called out. “Ahem, need anything else, Master Muldor?”

Muldor didn’t answer. This was important, a large bill of lading that wasn’t evening out.

“Sir, if I might inquire…”

“I heard you. No. That will be all. Good night.”

The young aide left without another word. Disrespect was a part of Muldor’s life but whatever. Let them disrespect him. He would do his job and let them do theirs. Ineptitude would be its own punishment. When they failed, they would get what they deserved.

There were several demands for payment and wrongful deaths grievances, among the pile of requests. He set them aside for the moment. He would have to talk to Cutter about them, and they would determine how serious the persons were about pushing for the coin. It was doubtful much would be made of most of them.

Of course, the wealthier merchant’s families who had suffered would be paid off, along with other prominent people in the city. The Guild had to keep those people happy. It was the way it was.

A sharp cramp developed in the fingers of Muldor’s right hand. Even it succumbed to the heavy workload of the day. Muldor paused and rolled his neck, feeling the bones pop. He had taken to sleeping in the building on most nights the past two weeks. Various scribes came and went. Most were less respectful than the previous one.

Another stack of paper completed, and the nag of exhaustion crept into his injuries. The wrenched neck and busted knee he’d suffered at the hands of Marko still lingered. Sleep was necessary, for they would be coming for him in the morning, so Muldor laid down on a small cot there in the room and went to sleep.

A loud knock sounded on the door, but Muldor was already awake and standing in the doorway, a stack of papers in his hand. The aide stood back, surprised, and looked him up and down.

“This way, sir.” He turned away and Muldor followed.

Outside the adjacent building was saved from any bombardment through an unknown miracle, Muldor felt a dark nagging prickle at his mind. He was Guild Master now, but in title only since he had no confidence in his political powers. There should be someone else with him, an aide, one of the Dock Masters. But he was alone.

Several people filled the first floor of the building, a simple secondary structure that the council used for storage. Packing material lined the walls and five tables arranged in a U-shape. Everyone was already seated when Muldor entered the room. They gave him the barest of notices as he took a spot on the nearest table edge, plopping his load of paper down.

Almost all of them were regulars. Captain Cubbins looked a little tired to Muldor’s eyes. Tall and strong, his youthful face looked annoyed as if he wanted to be somewhere else. Raul Parkins was the commander of the City Watch, a short, shifty looking man with balding hair. He gave Muldor a small nod that wasn’t returned. Muldor didn’t trust him.

Lord Damour was the stooge of the bunch, a member of the royal family and for Muldor’s money, the man holding them back from getting a real regent from the king, to replace Lord Falston, murdered by Castellan’s man Jerrod. If Damour was here, that was enough for the throne, but in reality it wasn’t. The city needed someone with real political power.

The closest thing they had was Lord Cassius, a smallish, older man near fifty with graying hair on his temples and a clean shaven face. He was busy answering questions from everyone else, most of them about the fallout from Janisberg’s naval attack. It was an ongoing discussion that wasn’t going away any time soon.

Two members were absent. Lord Peterson, commander of the Royal Guard, was killed by Jerrod or one of his goons. Muldor hadn’t quite seen which. The head of the city’s commerce department, Stewart, was also killed during the riots by a random looter. Their replacements were younger men Muldor knew little of.

“It isn’t getting any easier to recruit people for the Watch,” Raul said to Cassius. “We lost seventeen men during the riots, the first night, then twenty more the next day during the canon nonsense. The Watch has no incentive to join. We need a stipend, a regular one.”

Cassius looked bored. “Oh, stop your pestering, Raul. There are more important matters to discuss.” The Acting Lord Governor glanced around and saw Muldor. Several emotions lighted his pleasant features. It went from surprise, to caution, to faux satisfaction. “Ah, Guild Master Muldor. Nice of you to join us.”

Cassius glanced around at the others, and soon the individual conversations quieted down. Muldor noticed then Ambassador Grayme Lautner sat with several aides behind and to the side of him. There were also a dozen soldiers wearing the sky blue uniforms common to the Janisberg army. They stood with a casual yet ready stance. Several other men, Janisberg officials Muldor estimated, sat on Lautner’s side of the table.

All eyes were on Muldor, and he felt like an interloper to a shady card game, like he had caught them all with their hands in a money jar. Grayme Lautner was a forty-something man with tanned skin, graying hair, a sharp nose, and intelligent eyes. The ambassador regarded Muldor with a suspicious gaze.

“I would like to open this meeting with a request,” Muldor said. He eyed the soldiers for a moment and steadied his vision back to Grayme Lautner. “I would ask that these guards leave the room. This is not a military tribunal. We should be free to discuss these matters without interference or implied intimidation.”

Grayme frowned, but he kept his voice neutral. “Interference. Their presence is to allow for these proceedings to be above board. These meetings will be conducted to the
letter of the law
, by all parties involved. I have made myself clear on this. There will be no more discussion on the matter. These men insure our safety.”

“Your safety is it?” Muldor said. “Or that of your purse?”

“Now, Master Muldor,” Cassius said, but Muldor ignored him.

“You should be frightened for both. This city is not kind to strangers, to their bodies, or their money bags. But I am surprised a man of your reputation requires an armed guard to be here. I find that suspect. Perhaps this is some ploy to force us into a decision we would not make if such a contingency were not in the room.”

Grayme Lautner sat forward. “You speak with a boldness not warranted in this situation. Your organization is guilty of embezzlement, bribery, murder, intimidation, money laundering, and a host of other charges this committee will uncover and prosecute to the fullest extent of my power.”

“You have no such power.”

“You forget your city surrendered,” Lautner said, and for the first time let his cool, professional demeanor slip. “Your city council made the arrangements for it. These men here, your peers, are required to adhere to any and all mandates therein. You are not in a position to make demands even if The Merchants Guild is now an official branch of the city’s government.” He sat back with an air of arrogant satisfaction.

“Please, please gentlemen,” Cassius said and raised his hands, making a placating gesture. “This is a time and place of peace making. That is my intention.” He made a point to look at Lautner. “And it is the intention of the ruling City Council of Sea Haven. This is an inquiry only. Set to determine—”

“To determine the extent of which this city and operating factions within have done harm to Janisberg of which I represent,” Lautner said, and there was a shifting of the rest of the Sea Haven council. Muldor looked at them. They were nervous, a bit stunned, and restless in equal measure. Lautner turned to Muldor and fixed him with a hard glare. “And thus, all of us here shall be responsible for the dispensation of all
liable
parties.”

Cassius, to his credit, leaned forward refusing to be intimidated by Lautner’s bold predictions. He kept his voice steady and patient. “Need I remind you, Ambassador Lautner, that this remains our city, and our auspices will be maintained to what is right by us. Although your city may have been wronged, it is not up to you alone to dictate terms.”

“Need I remind
you,
Lord Cassius, that this city and its military force were defeated and given terms of surrender, terms to which this council agreed two weeks ago.”

“Those terms did not include an occupying military force,” Cassius said in his patient, even fatherly voice. It was hard not to be swayed by his calm demeanor.

Lautner scoffed. “An occupying military force? Come now. These men behind me represent a cadre of bodyguards, nothing more.”

“Then there is no reason for them not to wait outside while we conduct this meeting,” Muldor said. “They are not needed.” He sat back and rubbed the fingers of his right hand together. “Unless of course you fear for your life among us miscreants and thugs. I must say, I don’t blame you. ‘Murder’ Haven people are so frightening.”

This last part prompted a round of chuckles from the council and even a smile of amusement from the guards and Lautner’s retainers.

The Ambassador didn’t change the expression of his face one iota. Instead, he took it in stride, staring at Muldor with an impassive gaze that would look proper on a corpse. The ambassador seemed to be considering. His mind churned yet showed nothing on his features. He was like a cunning tiger, biding his time to pounce.