Death's Reckoning (34 page)

* * * * *

They found the man named Drake. It took three days to locate the mercenary general, very fast to Muldor’s eyes, and another day and a half to convince him to meet in Sea Haven under the cover of stealth and secrecy.

The Guild Master missed his office. The derelict building lacked a cozy atmosphere, Styles and Walter—another runner promoted to co-conspirator—and they made sure no break-ins occurred. It would have been unheard only weeks ago, but since he was no longer using it day-to-day, and common thievery was rising, it was better safe than sorry.

People asked about him all over the docks, and this only helped their cause. It gave notice to the enemy that Muldor was both valuable and well-liked by the common people. It would give him and his side leverage when they came at last to meet with Cassius and the rest of the council.

They had Tomlinson on their side, and once they demonstrated the power of the market and what it meant to the city’s income, they would be in a position to demand whatever they wanted. The Guild would reign supreme; or at least run their business as they saw fit.

While he waited with Becket and a few of his assistants in an old boarding home near the northern part of the city, Muldor began to understand the inciting allure of power. They could’ve taken over the city if they wanted. They controlled the port, the influx of wealth and goods that everyone in town relied upon, where almost ninety percent of the population got its money, either by direct or indirect means. Thus they had the greatest influence over the government.

If The Guild imposed an embargo, the city of Sea Haven was finished. The entire continent relied on them. The king would be furious, other cities would send envoys and then armies to force them to open, but in the meantime the city would fall into ruin. It was all in Muldor’s hands.

Incredible. Perhaps Castellan felt this way or even realized the simple yet powerful influence wielded Maybe that was where he went wrong, maybe the full implications had eluded him. Muldor was less ambitious but it trickled into his mind, the sheer weight of responsibility gaping before him. He could swing the balance of the future one way or another.

It was all up to him.

“What’s taking so long?” Becket said his pacing making Muldor nervous and anxious. The man, intelligent and accomplished though he was, was still inexperienced in these matters. Muldor wondered how long until he turned into Crocker, the miserable old miser, bent on making others miserable.

“Calm yourself, Master Becket,” Muldor said. “Dock Master Lawson will bring him here. They must take their time so as to belie suspicion from our enemies, and we must be patient.”

Becket sighed but settled down.

Time passed. It seemed an eternity, but perhaps an hour later, a knock came at the door, followed by a long pause then another two knocks. They changed signals every two days, and this particular sequence was the current, correct one. One of Becket’s aides went to the door and in walked three people.

One was Gunnar Lawson, and the young Dock Master was full of piss and vinegar. He smiled at Muldor and nodded to Becket. His vibrant yet dark seeded energy was palpable. Lawson turned and indicated the other two men.

“I brought him, Muldor; wasn’t that hard to find.”

“For someone with money, I am very easy to find,” Drake said. He was a man of medium height and solid build, with a black goatee and short hair heading to gray. His manner was professional as he waved to the tall, husky man wearing armor. “This is Migel, he travels with me.”

Muldor didn’t waste time because they didn’t have any. He indicated that everyone should sit, and they huddled around a dusky desk and pulled some chairs off the wall.

“We need two things from you, Master Drake,” he said. “First, is your presence in front of the ruling council of this city, to testify against one of its members, the City Watch Commander, a man named Raul. Second, we need an assurance of threat from you.”

Drake inclined his head in confusion. “Care to explain what that means? An assurance of threat?”

“Yes, a show of force but not a literal one. This city was capacitated with and almost overrun with mercenaries not too long ago. There were thousands present, as you well know. You were one of the few commanders working in direct association with the former Guild Master, Castellan du Sol. The after effect of this occupation is one of omnipresent fear. People still believe the threat of invasion looms.”

“How much time is there? If you wish to rehire a band of mercenaries of that number, I will need a month, maybe more.”

“As I said, this is not a literal threat. I need only that your presence makes the testimony we need to condemn an enemy to us and to act as a deterrent.”

“You want me to lie.”

“Indeed. But it is a safe assumption that the full show of force will not be needed. We require only the appearance of force to persuade the council to honor our demands. That should be sufficient.”

“Pardon me, but you don’t sound all that certain of your plan.”

Muldor’s smile was grim. “To achieve success one must often take risks. I’m sure a man like you understands this.”

“Well said.”

They spoke of other details, but Drake was game. The man liked it; Muldor could tell. Swaying political powers has become a bit of a hobby for the mercenary. He wondered what this man’s background was, what the course of his life had been to bring him to this point. But those questions would remain unanswered for the time being. They had others things to do.

Their first stop was the police precinct. Muldor had no clear idea where the Sea Haven police stood. There were rumors of course, that they stood with council because their house and the council chambers shared the same block, but there were conflicting reports that Cubbins was missing amid others things.

Muldor felt misgivings about going there considering the strong rebuff from Cubbins before, but he realized what they had to do. The fact of the matter was, they had to have police backing to go after Raul. The City Watch worked hand-in-hand with the police, and the police captain would be forced to listen to reason once Drake testified. Then they would march on city hall and force Cassius to drop the charges against Muldor and put the proper people to blame. It was simple.

Muldor kept his disguise on tight and felt the eyes of every single person on the street as their group headed towards the administration section of town. The police house was busy. Several officers dragged in thieves, men and women in chains. Since the Thieves Guild was defunct, the practice of stealing was outlawed in any and all quarters of town, and many were paying the price.

The Guild Master eyed a few them and recognized some faces. He was certain Anders was safe, still recovering from his grievous wound, and that Delora stayed close to his side. But, there she was! He cursed to himself watching her strung together with a few others of their band, an unwitting victim to the new police crackdown on thievery.

She glared at her captors, but there was nothing anyone could do. Muldor hoped Cutter would fulfill his promise to resurrect the guild and get these people out of their predicament. At the moment, it wasn’t Muldor’s concern. He moved his group forward but let Becket speak for them.

The Dock Master approached the desk sergeant and then returned a few moments later.

“Dillon won’t see us because he’s busy. There was some tragedy they’re dealing with now. He wouldn’t go into specifics. But we might be done here. I don’t know what else we can do.”

Muldor pushed him aside. “This way, gentlemen. We will not be denied.”

He walked straight for the cell areas that led to the upstairs offices, and the rest followed him. Lawson’s fiery temper energized him. Becket’s reluctance was a dull drag on his heels. Drake came behind them with Migel at his side.

The desk sergeant yelled something to them as they reached the door, but Muldor wasn’t listening. There was no time to be bothered with trifles.

The cells were crowded with prisoners, thieves, murderers, and thugs alike. Several officers watched them walk down the aisle, but they had their own issues to deal with, including fighting with some irate inmates that were yelling and stamping their feet in protest. The air was charged with anger and hate.

They reached the office floor without being accosted. They found Dillon standing in the hallway with a notebook in his hands. His tall figure dominated the cramped area. Muldor didn’t realize how large the man was. He was a good deal bigger than most of the officers on the force, and they tended to be hearty men. He looked at them askance and lowered his carriage.

“What are you doing here? This is a restricted area. Get out of here.”

Dillon didn’t threaten to call for guards, and Muldor thought that spoke well of his confidence and bravery. He didn’t fear facing five men on his own. Muldor stopped a few paces away and pulled his hood down. Dillon looked surprised for a moment then relaxed.

“Guild Master Muldor. What is it? We’re busy here.”

“I can imagine. If you would, Lieutenant Dillon, we have need of an official seal from this department; an arrest warrant.”

Dillon’s face scrunched. His light brown beard masked most of his features, but there was genuine confusion in his voice. “The captain isn’t here. I’ll have to speak with him about this.”

“By your charter you have the authority to bring charges against individuals, in lieu of your superior’s absence. Please, this is of the utmost importance.”

Dillon considered, looking at the others in their party. “What is all this, Muldor?”

Muldor explained the situation—with the exception of telling him the city council’s real motivation to replace him as Guild Master—that some of the Dock Masters were facing charges of embezzlement, and if the city were to recover, they had to suffer. When he explained about Raul Parkins and the City Watch, Drake was their prime witness, Dillon became more animated.

“I knew that son of a bitch Parkins was no good. Told the captain that. He’s too ambitious, always looking out for himself and wants to take about some of the precinct’s budget. He wants money for the watch. They don’t need it.
We
do. Look at this place. We’ve been trying to build another jail for years, but they won’t give us the funds. Muldor, if I sign the arrest warrant, will you help us?”

“I believe that is a wonderful idea, Lieutenant Dillon. The Guild will push for not only a renovation of the existing police house but an additional building and jail facility. Is this acceptable?”

Dillon grinned like a wolf.

Muldor knew he played a dangerous game, promising things that weren’t guaranteed, but there was no choice. Now Dillon and Cutter were two men he had now made his alliances with and asked for favors. Someday the price would need to be paid.

They went to Cubbins’ office, and Muldor had the documents already prepared. They only needed the official stamp pushed into wax to make it ready for the city council. Drake signed as a witness and so did Becket, Lawson, and Muldor. They would have Crocker do his signature later when all of them went back to the docks and completed their planning.

When they left the station, Muldor was filled with a sense of confidence not felt for a while. They had the arrest warrants for both Dock Masters Dollenger, Maggur, and for Raul. And they had Dillon’s assurance when the time came, the police would be there with them, ready to put the men in irons.

But something nagged at Muldor deep down in his mind, a terrible, persistent foreboding. He put it out of his mind as they reached Becket’s office. There was time to kill. “I think we should separate,” Becket said, pacing back and forth in front of his desk. “For now, I mean.”

Lawson eyed him. “You’re not backing out of this, Becket. I will hunt you down and drag you back here to finish what we’ve started.”

“No, you fool. For the night, I mean. Too many people saw us today. We weren’t planning to talk to the council for two days hence anyway, so why not? Let’s spend a day apart and let it cool down.”

“I think that would be a splendid idea,” Muldor said before Lawson could say something he might’ve regretted. As they were saying their goodbyes and planning out the next day’s criteria, an urgent knock came at the door. It was not the standard for that day, only a repetitive pounding, so everyone tensed.

Becket froze while Lawson put a hand towards his inner shirt. Drake and Migel looked at each other, and then to Muldor who frowned and went to the door, unafraid.

One of Crocker’s runners stood outside, ready to pound the door again before Muldor stepped up to him. The man looked startled and reared his hand back.

“Oh, Master Muldor, just the man I was looking for. Here, this is from Master Crocker.”

He left before anyone could say anything to him. They all stared at Muldor as he opened the note and read it. After a few seconds he turned to them.

“He wishes to meet with me alone.”

“What’s this?” Becket said and came out from behind his desk. “Why does he want to meet with you?”

“Did it say why, Muldor?” Lawson said. His voice was quieted, even fearful.

Muldor raised a placating hand. “Gentlemen, please. There is no need to be worried as Master Crocker needs to sign these documents, so this will provide us with the opportunity to take care of this detail. Now, I leave our guests in your hands. I will send word as soon as possible.”