The Beginnings Omnibus: Beginnings 1, 2, 3 & Legend of Ashenclaw novella (Realm of Ashenclaw Beginnings Saga) (4 page)

She recognized Rose and her eyes widened yet again.

“What the—?! Where did you go, child!?” Marielle asked in shock, with a perplexed look upon her face.

“I was… I don’t really know!” Rose answered honestly. “I felt like I was not here. In reality. I was in another world altogether. And something or someone was chasing me!”

“You must have been dreaming child,” Marielle declared, but in an unconvincing manner, as if she herself did not believe it either.

“No,” Rose stated firmly. “Not a dream. It was real, and if not, then I am under the effects of something,” she continued, running a hand through her auburn hair, which was damp with sweat.

“We will discover the truth soon enough,” the half-elf sated, pulling Rose in and hugging her tightly. “Try to go about your chores for now. I have to meet with… someone.”

Rose shuddered as she had a feeling of what that meeting was about. She ran off to do as her Madam had asked, all the while trying to understand what exactly had just transpired.

Ganthorpe waited patiently at his glass-topped table, sipping a glass of wine despite the early hour. The sun shone brightly through the many windows, casting much light into the room. As of late he almost always dined in this room—a smallish one located at the rear of the main hall and out of earshot of the rest of the dining room—and asked for it specifically. It was why he chose the Steel Dragon to conduct his meetings.

A moment later, he saw the woman appear from around the corner. She was shown and then escorted to his table, her dark hair bobbing up and down with each step she took. As she neared, her green eyes fell over him, seeming to look him over until he locked his own blue orbs with hers. She was dressed in a finely made, but rather short, gown of the finest and thinnest fabrics Ganthorpe had ever seen. The dress was a deep green that accentuated her eyes and the fabric hung loosely on her shapely figure.

“Can we speak freely?” she whispered to him, after she sat comfortably in her chair, noticing that the tables on either side of them were occupied. She held herself with a confidence that few owned.

“They are with me,” he winked back at her, keeping his voice low. “So, if you can speak freely in front of me, then you can in front of them, too,” he added in a derisive sort of way. She gave him a sharp look, followed by another filled with annoyance at that last comment.

“My apologies,” Ganthorpe grumbled, curbing his sarcasm.

“This is obviously about our girl,” Marielle stated more than asked, shaking her long, dark hair and crossing her legs beneath the table. Ganthorpe could not help but admire the woman’s shapely limbs beneath the clear glass of the table top as the skirt parted very high on her thigh, revealing much to him. He was not sure if she was flirting with him. He rubbed his goatee nervously. Perhaps it was the wine, he thought, admiring her beauty nonetheless.

Ganthorpe waved a hand to the servant, who immediately placed a plate of fried duck eggs and bread, as well as a mix of fresh berries, in front of the woman. Her eyes never left Ganthorpe’s own as she placed a berry into her mouth and chewed it, smacking her wet lips. Marielle smiled at Ganthorpe’s wandering eyes and flushed face, obviously amused at the thought that she was in charge of the conversation at this time. She broke the stare and glanced at the men seated at the tables around them, noting that they kept an eye on her and Ganthorpe, sneaking furtive glances their way on occasion.

“Our conversation falls on many ears,” she whispered to him, sipping a small mug of water.

“They are all faithful servants and would die for me if necessary,” he reassured her, reiterating their fealty to him. “Do not concern yourself with them.” He returned to sipping his own goblet of wine and took a tear on a small piece of bread, waiting for the questions that he was sure would come. But none followed as Marielle daintily arranged herself and began to eat her eggs and bread with a sure hunger, looking up in between bites and waiting for him to continue his explanation.

“I need something from you,” he began anew after a moment of silence. She looked at him quizzically and swallowed the last of her bread, dabbing gently at the corners of her mouth with a napkin.

“What is this about, Ganthorpe? I thought this meeting had something to do with Rose?” she asked blatantly.

“It is… I mean, it does,” he corrected, still smiling and holding her gaze. “But first, I must take you to see something, once you are done your meal of course.” Marielle surveyed the room and observed that the men at the other tables were still eyeing them.

“Are you in some kind of trouble?” she asked him in a hushed and somewhat concerned tone.

He held back a laugh. “Not in the slightest,” he replied, attempting to stifle his amusement so as not to disrespect her. “As a matter of fact, things could not be better. I told you these men work for me. Come with me, I will enlighten you further. Shall we?”

He stood and bade her to follow him, gesturing with a hand toward the other men around them. They all stood and followed the two of them out of the Steel Dragon and into the streets of the Entertainment District. Most of them went their own separate ways, but two particular men shadowed them at a safe distance as Ganthorpe and Marielle proceeded into the main courtyard of Oakhaven. They continued along, passing through the Manufacturing District and finally into the Warehousing District along the docks that bordered the River Divide and the shores of the North Gulf.

“Where are you taking me?” she asked, clearly uncertain as to what this could possibly have to do with Rose.

“Bear with me,” Ganthorpe answered. “All will become clear and you are in no danger, I assure you, so please relax and enjoy the sights of this lovely daybreak.”

On they went, a quiet concern still etched on her face, until finally they stopped in front of a building on the main throughway in the Warehousing District. Several men were working there and Ganthorpe caught their eye. Then they entered the building. Crates, cartons, boxes and barrels littered the floor of the warehouse, forming a maze of a walkway.

On they went, Marielle following blindly behind him, not uttering a word. If she was frightened, one would never know it.

They walked past an empty room, moving down and through to another one where huddled workers nodded to Ganthorpe once more, a clear and wordless salute. He continued into an office, approaching a bookcase at the rear of the room. He looked at Marielle and winked. He reached above him and pulled forward a book that appeared to be anchored to the bookcase—a lever, she realized with a slightly startled look.

“Who is this man of mystery who enters my brothel almost nightly and that I seemingly know nothing about?” she asked as she heard the clear sound of gears moving from behind the bookcase. The wall seemed to rotate ever so slightly. “I knew Ganthorpe to be connected in the Commons, but I had no idea that he had this kind of influence here,” she said in mock surprise. “You must be quite high up on the food chain of Oakhaven’s underbelly,” she remarked, watching the wall come to a stop. It had shifted, moving outward on the left and inward on the right, as if rotating on a pin at the center. It was not unlike a door—albeit a rather large one— pivoting and opening just enough for a person to fit through, one at a time.

“Come,” he instructed, choosing not to make mention on her commentary. She nodded and they advanced down a set of steps into a basement that was lit intermittently with lanterns and a few torches mounted on brackets upon the walls. “Where is the natural light stemming from? And is that the taste and smell of salt in the air too?”

“Aye. We are quite near the docks along the North Gulf.”

Inside the vast space were many people milling about, talking quietly to each other. “As a matter of fact, we are directly under the warehouse in a clandestine office that I like to show only to the most trust-worthy of clientele.”

“These men and women come from all walks of life—street thugs, beggars, footpads and,” he gestured toward a few dressed in the highest quality of clothing anyone had ever seen, “officials from Oakhaven that are under my employ.”

Ganthorpe allowed her to take it all in for a moment, dusting off his clothing, and then he marched down a hall and into another office. It was extremely well furnished and lit by some kind of magical light source on the supremely well-crafted desk and chair.

“To what end is all of this? And why am I here?”

“Sit, please” he offered, as he took a seat behind his desk, gesturing for her to take a seat in one of the pair of cushioned chairs facing directly across from him.

“What exactly is this all about, Ganthorpe?” she asked again, truly puzzled and a bit out of sorts. “And…
who
are you, really?”

“First things first. I have organized, and now command, a guild of thieves here in Oakhaven,” he began to explain. “Most of it is not coincidental, but rather it is planned.”

“So, you control all of the pickpockets, cutpurses and killers in the city?” she asked incredulously, standing and pacing about the room. “You? Ganthorpe Randolph?”

“Not all of them… yet. And not the killers, no. I abhor violence, but excuse it if necessity dictates, and cannot stay my own hand if and when that necessity rears its ugly head,” he added. “I am entitled to a percentage of anything taken or pilfered in this city, you understand?”

“How can you despise that which you instigate?” she asked judgmentally.

“Instigate?” he asked, almost sounding insulted by her perception of all he had accomplished. This was not a thing he had taken lightly and he needed her to understand it. “Thievery is a skill, my dear. It requires many talents and skills which most people do not possess. And yes, it may occasionally require the capacity to silence a tongue if necessary, but as I have said already, it is truly a last resort,” he added in a slightly intimidating tone. “And that is few and far between. My people are trained not to be seen. They are the shadows in the streets that creep along the walls and are as quiet as the night breeze.  As I have said and will continue to say, I do not employ murderers. These folks are merely thieves and rogues, possessed of fine talents.”

“Some enjoy bleeding the silly merchants,” called a chilling and high pitched voice from the shadows. Marielle flinched at that and it seemed to Ganthorpe as if her heart had skipped a beat. It was a woman’s voice that penetrated the darkness and caused Marielle to hug herself as goose pimples covered her bare arms. Out of the shadows stepped a fit woman in tight black leather with blue eyes that were as cold as ice and raven black hair the same color of her leather garments that fell past her shoulders. “Only the ones that deserve it, though,” she added through a forced smile as she moved to stand behind Ganthorpe. Marielle looked as uncomfortable as he’d ever seen her as she locked eyes with the woman.

“You are not helping, Saphirra,” Ganthorpe admonished openly to the woman. Silence followed for a bit again before he spoke. “Marielle, I have a purpose for Rose.”

“And?” Marielle asked, waiting to hear his proposal. She sat and crossed her legs once more, feigning an air of indifference before this obviously callous woman that Ganthorpe almost believed, had not noticed her initial reaction. It was a very convincing front, nonetheless. Still, he had to respect her efforts and truly did so.

“I am willing to purchase Rose from you,” he stated. “She has certain…
qualities
…that I find useful.”