Death's Reckoning (30 page)

“The gallows are waiting for you, you old bugger,” Lawson said and held back.

Muldor stared at Cutter and waited for the tension in the air to dissipate. It didn’t. Becket seemed to want to say something, but they both waited for Muldor to lead the way. Trying to read what Cutter was thinking was impossible, and all Muldor saw was an old man, annoyed and fidgety.

“Master Muldor, if you have something to say.”

“We need the documents, Cutter. You will give them to us. The Guild will run this city as it should. You can either join us or be pushed aside and destroyed like the others. Crocker is with us. So is Tomlinson. He will give us the marketplace. The docks are already ours. We will have the other’s heads. It’s your choice.”

Cutter scrunched his face up as if he had tasted something too sour to be edible. Stubborn but too old to put up much of a fight. At that moment Muldor was glad they decided to bring Lawson. The young man’s presence was palpable and strong. He had an energy about him that was infectious or intimidating, depending on what side you were on.

“Muldor, Muldor, I find it drawl indeed you would resort to these tactics. You bring your little doggies to come here and rough me up, is it? Not a proper job for a Guild Master. I am surprised you didn’t hire Jerrod. He’s better at intimidation.”

Muldor made a motion to Lawson. “If you would, Master Lawson.”

Lawson’s smile was sinister. “You bet.”

He pulled out a wad of cotton and a heavy bottle of pitch, used for starting fires, and he started forward to the closest stack of boxes. The crates around Cutter’s desk were dry as centuries old bone, brittle and cracking. Cutter went white. He stuttered and locked eyes with Muldor.

“You wouldn’t dare! We have items that have been—”

“As I said, the choice is yours. We have several more ‘thugs’ as you call them, waiting outside with more materials. If you wish to press the issue, I will demonstrate how serious my intentions are.”

Silence hung in the air. Muldor locked eyes with his counterpart. The old man stuttered and looked to the two Dock Masters but they only stared. Muldor stepped forward.

“I will burn it to the ground, Cutter. All of it. If you wish to burn with your precious collection, so much the better. Though I think the stink from your rotten corpse will stain the south east side of town. I’d rather avoid that if at all possible.”

Cutter fumed and sputtered. “I-I never expected this, Muldor. Not from you. I see you have learned well from your predecessor, and I hope you will follow in his footsteps all the way to prison.” He pointed a wrinkled finger at them and shook it. “It is nothing less than you deserve.”

“The documents. I’m afraid we are in a bit of a rush. A city to save and all that.”

Lawson knelt and began lighting the wad of stuffing. His flint striking steel the only sounds in the room save for Cutter’s heavy breathing. Muldor swore there was steam rising from the old man’s head. Smoke rose from the wadding, and the smell was odd, like wet dog.

“Fine, Muldor,” Cutter said, swallowing. “I will give you the paperwork you want. But there are some concessions. I expect these to be in writing as well. Things will never be the same between us.”

Muldor agreed to his terms, before even seeing them. It didn’t matter. What they needed now was more important than some future concession. Cutter wasn’t that creative anyway, so there was no need to worry.

Cutter showed them to a hidden space within the mountain of crates other goods that masked the real treasures in the room. Muldor marveled at the potential depth of the space. It was immense.

The old crotchety man knelt down and removed a case underneath a false crate top and handed it over to Muldor. “This is all you need,
Master
Muldor. Now leave me. And don’t forget you owe me. You will pay your comeuppance in due time, Guild Master.”

Cutter walked away, pushing his way passed Lawson and Becket, but the two men ignored him. They were too busy being curious about what Muldor held in his hands. He turned back to them.

“I suggest we retire to another location and see what it is we possess and how it may help us. But not here.”

“Good idea,” Becket said, and they left.

On the street, Muldor had never felt more paranoid in his life. Cutter might have been prepared for this contingency and had a trap set for them. There might’ve been men waiting for them to leave the back of the inn to throttle them. The council. Raul. That was the enemy. And perhaps Lord Cassius.

“There is a safe house,” Muldor said. “The thieves have set up places for us, several in fact. Let us go there.”

Becket and Lawson were about to argue his directive, but he wouldn’t have it, ushering them towards the closest spot that only thieves knew about. A place Anders had shown him near the marketplace, about half way to Cutter’s den. It was a boarded up house, a derelict even vagrants never visited. People thought it haunted.

“Muldor, I don’t think this place will work.”

“Master Becket, welcome to the fight. This is the way things work. We are bandits, crooks, thieves. This is our place, this broken down house, where we can make plans to take control of this city through our organization. This information in our possession is valuable to our enemies. We must protect it and ourselves. You are rogue, as much as I. This is our path.”

They acquiesced. Lawson seemed excited. Muldor grabbed one of the boards and pushed forward, then down, and then jerked it up. The collection of boards swung out, and they entered the derelict building. It was dark and Muldor felt afraid to light a torch, lest someone spy them, but there was no choice.

They read the documents, ones he had signed and verified himself some months ago. Documents that went through the docks everyday but were specific to the lost goods and weapons Janisberg claimed Sea Haven had stolen from them. Their dates were correct, signed, and stamped by the specific Dock Masters whose docks and piers were used to transport the goods into and out of the city.

Becket looked them over. “They’ll have to be doctored. Some names omitted.”

“Agreed,” Muldor said.

It was all they needed. The issue remained, though, that all of them were culpable. Muldor looked over the details and saw that in fact Dollenger and Maggur had the heaviest amount of blame. More total goods were smuggled and stolen out of their piers, plus being the senior Dock Master of each respective dock, Maggur in the South, Dollenger in the West, it made sense for them to take the majority of the blame.

“It will mean a promotion for both of you,” Muldor said, and they stood straighter.

“That’s not why we’re doing this,” Lawson said. “I wanna see this thing stopped. They had no right to put us, the whole Guild, into this kinda position. It ain’t right. Now I wanna stomp ‘em hard for this.”

“A commendable attitude, Master Lawson. But as the sole remaining Dock Master in the chain of command in the Southern Docks, you must take over senior position no matter who fills Maggur’s place. And you, Becket, it must be you. Crocker, bless him, does not possess the right personality though he possesses a more senior experience. You must run the Western Docks.”

They conceded his point. But there was disagreement on their next set of plans, getting this information to the city council.

“I say we walk right through the front door, all of us, Crocker included,” Lawson said, as Muldor expected. “It’ll be a show of strength. Let’s do it.”

“Your courage is impressive, Master Lawson, but I fear Raul may already have some inkling to our plans. Our agreement with Cutter did not include a vow of secrecy. No doubt he is funneling this information to the appropriate persons.”

Becket cursed and sighed, “I never thought of that. Of course he would do that. Someone might have been watching us all this time. He has people everywhere.”

“And now you understand my desire to enter this domicile. I am a wanted man. Now you two are as well. They will kill us if they can, or I would think they might attempt to buy us off as individuals, a devious tactic that could divide us against each other.”

Becket held his hands up. “Wait, Muldor. That won’t happen. You can trust us. We’re with you now, and they can’t make me turn on you now.”

“Same here,” Lawson said and puffed his chest. “They can’t buy me off with anything. To hell with them.”

“Much appreciated,” Muldor said. “But we are all human. If they can’t catch us or kill us, they might try to bribe us. What I’m saying is to be aware of the potential threat going forward.”

“Who do you mean?” Becket said. “Be specific. Are you talking about the Town Watch? City council guards? Who would they send against us?”

Muldor wondered the same thing. “I’m not certain. I believe the City Watch, and police may only be working as spies for the time being. They may have employed outside assassins to do the blood work.”

The two of tensed, and Muldor decided to not soften the blow. “Consider yourselves targets, gentlemen. This is the future of our organization. If your life is worth the sanctity of The Guild, then feel no fear as we make a final push to the finish.”

They both agreed, but Muldor saw fear and hesitation in Becket’s eyes and that made Muldor worry.

* * * * *

“It will be drawn to its master,” Unri said, sounding very sure of himself. “We will use it as a beacon as a lighthouse draws ships to port.”

Unri sounded so sincere, so strong, Cubbins didn’t want to curtail his momentum. But his confidence did not bleed over to Cubbins. The idea that he and his men were coming closer to being face to face with something far beyond their ability was becoming more apparent. The city was being eaten away like barnacle on the bottom of a boat, scrapped off by this creature assaulting them.

“Lead the way,” he said, and Unri looked pleased. That much could’ve been read on his taciturn features. Cubbins liked the man, but he was too stern. Maybe they would take him for a drink or two after this was over, assuming they lived through it.

Unri said something to his brother Yuri, and then he in turn pointed to the three cousins. They dragged their spectral cargo along the street, and the supernatural prisoner wailed in protest. They still had the tent thing over its writhing form, and it was helpless to resist.

Jenkins stayed close to his captain, and the young man stared at the apparition with his eyes wide. “By the gods, Captain. I’ve never seen anything like this. I remember when my father used to talk about zombies and ghosts… I never believed. Everyone thought he was crazy, died in Sea Haven Asylum after all.”

“Calm down, Jenkins,” Cubbins said. The younger officer always spouted out nonsense when he got nervous, and while Cubbins couldn’t blame him, they needed to stay sharp.

“Sorry, captain. But have you ever seen anything like this? This is insane. I mean, what happens when we find this guy? What do we do then?”

“Officer Jenkins, shut up!” Cubbins regretted his tone and volume as soon as he opened his mouth, but the weeks of frustration boiled out. Jenkins looked taken aback but nodded and shut his mouth.

More embarrassment clouded his thoughts as the regular citizenry watched their strange procession stroll by. Some of the people gasped; others screamed in fright, but all stared. Those that were brave enough to watch where they were, huddled together in tight groups. They whispered in hushed tones and pointed. Their curiosity overrode their fear.

Cubbins didn’t blame them as the captured ghost was quite a sight to see. The cousins had modified the enclosure, and now Beni, Yoseph, and Karl held onto chains that connected the magical tent top where the specter could not escape, latching another set of chains to the ghost’s ‘wrists.’

Cubbins had trouble determining the difference between each man, being so alike. Yoseph was the tallest and strongest. He had the air of the leader among them. His beard had streaks of gray, which led Cubbins to believe their culture demanded not only respect for elders but also for the elder to take control when necessary. That irked the captain because in truth, he thought Karl was the brightest of the three, for the man had a succinct gleam of intelligence in his eyes and radiated confidence. Beni was quiet and nondescript, doing whatever the others did without remark.

Cubbins still didn’t understand the ability to capture a ghost with mundane contrivances, but then they couldn’t have been mundane. Unri had said something about binding the soul of the ghost to the chains. The cuffs were made to contain the otherworld.

The ghost tugged and strained its limbs, pulling at the bonds, but nothing mattered. It wailed in agony, begging for release, but the five men didn’t listen. Cubbins was impressed with their discipline. It was hard not to listen. He thought about setting it free many times, for the sole reason of not hearing the horrifying. He also felt a great deal of pity for the creature.

“Kinda like a weather vane, eh, captain?” Jenkins gave a nervous chuckle. “Point it in the right direction and have at it, I suppose. Pretty smart.”

Cubbins sped up to walk closer to Unri and his brother Yuri as they conversed.

“Perhaps someone could explain how this thing works,” he said and nodded to the chained apparition.

Unri stopped mid-sentence and glanced at Cubbins over his shoulder. “Yes. Understood. Please to forgive. We do for so long, I forget how must look to others. The Evil One binds a spirit, some free entity used for his purpose, to his being. We know not the method but controls minions this way. Now we have release one, we can use it to be close to him. Unbound from him, it has no strength to resist.”