Gunpowder

1. GUNPOWDER
   

G.H. GUZIK

ISBN - English EPUB edition:

978-83-65070-05-0

Copyright © 2014 by G.H. GUZIK

Executive Producer:

MAGDA STEEL

Edited and corrected by:

Małgorzata Guzik

Nikodem Szadkowski

Agnieszka Guzik

Magda Steel

Cover design and artwork
by:

Magda Steel

DISCLAIMERS:

The contents of this book are not to be copied, published or
used commercially either as a whole or in any part, without a clear
written consent of the author. The same applies to any public
reading of this book or distribution of any audio–visual recording
of its contents.

This book is a work of fiction and as
such was not created with any intent to offend or ridicule any
existing cultures, beliefs or religions. All the opinions and
character attitudes depicted in this book are not necessarily those
of the author and should not be used in any way to justify, support
or encourage acts of violence, abuse or discrimination against
anyone.

G.H.
GUZIK

GUNPOWDER

To my one and
only Magda

Also, to a certain tea
trader,

who has foretold this book being published

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS:

Above all I wish to thank my relentless editorial team
consisting of my dear friend Nikodem Szadkowski, my two sisters
Gosia and Agnieszka, and my beloved partner Magda, who is also the
aesthetic brains of this endeavour.

My special thanks go also to my two friends: Ania Spakowska
and Karolina Eliacik, who supported me with insightful comments
about my work.

Having said all of the above I must stress that any mistakes
and errors that can be found in this edition are mine and mine
alone.

Finally, I want to express my special gratitude to Ewa Stala
who has made all of this possible by supporting us in every way
imaginable.

F
og hovered over the docks. A big sloop
flying the flag of Port Sud, the second largest town of the Trade
Guild Federation, was approaching the waterfront. The sleepy
supervisor of the harbour’s side pier came out reluctantly of the
wooden shack, which served as a shelter from wind, rain and cold.
Moist morning air, which still smelled of the ending summer, but
also already carried a cooler autumn note, sobered him from the
remains of sleepiness and burst into his lungs as a result of a
massive yawn. The ship passed the breakwater head and glided slowly
along the pier, at which only a lone flat bottom barge used for
coastal shipping had been moored. Two seamen jumped from the deck
and the third one threw them mooring ropes. Men skilfully slowed
the ship down and tied the ropes to the marina posts. The pier
supervisor trudged towards them one step at a time until he reached
a position parallel to the ship’s bridge. Sailors greeted him with
silent nods. The port official pulled a small plate and a piece of
chalk from under his robes. He looked at the side of the ship and
noted down its name crookedly painted on the side of the vessel -
the “Underwater Goat”. He smiled to himself, grabbed his hips, and
shouted loudly to the helmsman.

- Ahoy there,
on the bridge. Who is in command of this fine vessel?

- Ahoy there,
on the quay. I am the helmsman, captain and owner. Captain Janus
Janus from Port Sud. First time in Haaven.

- In this
case, I will be forced to collect all dues in cash and on the spot
then. I can accept bills of payment only after a dozen visits. What
purpose of the visit should I put down?

- Profits, ha,
ha, ha...

- And more
specifically?

- Wine for
sale. Ten dozen barrels of Bogony red and nearly two dozen of the
finest pink Zirro.

- Enough for
now. I am obliged to warn you that the quarantine period for the
freight is twelve hours, during which the captain is required to be
on the vessel or assign in his absence an officer accredited to
host inspections and pay the customs duties. In case there is no
customs control during the quarantine period, a duty of one silver
piece per barrel must be paid to me before unloading the goods, and
for now I only need to charge the mooring fare. Sloops are due half
a gold piece for the first week, one for the rest of the first
month, and three more for staying over for the winter.

- Well then,
it seems mooring here is half free. In Port Sud one needs to cough
up nearly twice as much. Wait a minute. I'll come down to you and
pay you the amount due.

- And another
thing... - Pier supervisor turned more to the seamen than to the
captain walking towards the gangplank. - In Haaven pouring any
impurities into harbour docks is banned, thus if need arises, use
the public latrines, because if I catch anyone with his ass hanging
overboard, I will impose such a fine on this vessel that mooring
here will become the dearest of experiences.

- Now, do not
scare us so... there, six silver pieces, and the seventh for you
for your trouble.

- What trouble
would this be, again?

- Turning a
blind eye or, indeed, turning both your eyes away, as the boys will
piss from the ship’s side. I give you the captain's word that
nothing else will find its way overboard. - He winked slyly to the
official and slapped him on the shoulder. The expression on the
supervisor’s face evidently pointed to his contempt for the dirty
crew as well as the provincial and moronically named ship along
with her captain, but that did not stop him from accepting the
extra coin. There, just another young trader, with a mediocre ship
who though himself to be the greatest seafarer of all times, only
because he was able to tell the bow from the stern. Meanwhile, the
newly arrived started walking toward the port, looking curiously
from left to right, and leaving the ship at the mercy of a big,
bald thug, who claimed to be the bosun. The captain passed the
supervisor’s shack and having slightly lifted his hat to greet a
lady of easy virtue, who watched the mooring sailing-ship with mild
interest, went past the waterfront, between the trading rooms and
commercial buildings still closed at this time of the morning.

When the
captain disappeared from the sight of the watching officer, he
stopped looking around, and replaced a tentative step with the
determined walk of a man who knows where he is going. The sudden
epiphany in terms of his knowledge of the whereabouts would have
undoubtedly surprised a passing bystander, and therefore the man
made sure that no one witnessed his metamorphosis. He turned
several times into the side streets, making sure he was not being
followed, until he stopped in front of the door of an inconspicuous
pub, the walls of which were still covered with impurities
indicating that the time of morning cleaning had not yet come. The
man entered without hesitation, not paying any attention to a drunk
kneeling in the gutter and adding his small contribution to the
filthiness of the building.

- Who goes
there at this time? Closed till noon. - The voice coming from
behind the bar was hoarse and unpleasant. Somewhere behind the veil
of neutral words a threat was hidden. - I have not yet washed the
bar of the gore of those who did not want to get out last
night.

- Is this how
you greet your friends?... And associates?

The innkeeper
took a closer look at the man’s face, which brought a wry smile to
his own. His eyes lit up when he recognized his guest and the
cloudy, doughy mug beamed a wide smile.

- Kris, my
friend... long time no see, buddy, long time no see... How long has
it been? A year? Two?

- Three -
replied the stranger laconically, shaking his hand somewhat
involuntarily as it was trapped in both great palms of the
host.

- Sit down,
make yourself comfortable. I'll set you a table in a separate room,
and give you breakfast. I need to clean up here a little, and when
my Anne comes down to sit behind the bar, I will come to you. We
shall talk.

- So be it. -
Kristoff slapped innkeeper on the chubby cheek and gave him one of
his sly smiles. He followed the host to a secluded chamber in the
back. He sat heavily behind the table and having taken off his
gloves, he gently peeled the fake moustache and beard off his face.
Captain’s bushy sideburns turned out to be natural. The man rubbed
vigorously at his chin and scratched under his nose. He barely
finished this peculiar morning routine, when a platter of marinated
mussels and eels arrived on the table together with a pint of beer,
and before they have been emptied, a steaming bowl of fish stewed
in a thick, fat coconut milk, seasoned with garlic and generously
sprayed with lemon was placed in front of the guest. To finish the
breakfast, the innkeeper himself appeared with two pints of foamy
beer and took a seat opposite Kristoff, who was just wiping his
fatty mouth with the tablecloth.

- To be
honest, I was not expecting you. In Haaven you are not welcome, and
it was only springtime when the arrest warrants with your face on
them hung in the harbour. Dead or alive they said. You pissed off
some very important people here.

- Fortunately,
they did not yet realise that my “Thunder Led” may look almost like
any ship. I entered the harbour as Janus Janus, the captain of the
“Underwater Goat”. A huge sloop.

- Good,
because they are looking for a small frigate...

- I had to
sail here, because I have a hold full of nearly one hundred and
fifty double-decked barrels of wine stuffed with zemna flowers. So
it was easiest to reach Haaven and dump this worry on your
shoulders. Buy this wine of me, or find me a tradesman I can trust,
and I'll be shoving off soon. You could also get me a freight order
of some kind so I wouldn’t have to sail with an empty hold.

- You must
have gone completely crazy from too much sun and sea water. What
will I do with such a load of wine?... Not to mention the zemna.
After all, it’s illegal here.

- It is
illegal everywhere. If it were legal, I wouldn’t have to hide it in
double-decked barrels. Just find someone who will take it to
Daelwynn or straight up north, to the Kaesary.

- And how am I
supposed to suddenly get you a caravan heading to the Kaesary?

- You can
always try to pull it out of this fat ass of yours... Think about
it. This is the only place I could think of I could safely sell my
cargo and I even can’t stay here, as I am wanted by the Guild’s
guards, so I don’t think I should moor in the harbour for a long
time. You have to figure something out, because if they catch me, I
have to warn you that they will come here for you fifteen minutes
later.