Gadra was playing her lute again, plucked strings that echoed through the halls of the Lerran Estate. Yesterday, one of the wealthy families had come to visit, interrupting Gadra’s attempts at practice. Lerran had met with the lord of that house to discuss his concerns about the water shortages. It had been close to two months since it had rained in Sheld, and many gardens were failing. Tassina had been working overtime trying to help her plants. Thankfully, the Shalan River kept running strong. Lerran agreed to give the visiting lord a larger ration from the river. It wasn’t a long term solution—the Shalan handled sewage too, though not upstream where the aqueducts began. Sheld thrived on its rain cisterns though, and they were almost dried up. The strings that Gadra played sounded as beautiful as distant raindrops, but they were not.
Lerran grew more frustrated as she continued. It hadn’t rained since Mount Lukar had erupted in northeast Radregar. He was dried out and thirsty. He stood up from his desk and stretched. His joints cracked.
It was a short walk to the Emerald Eye, down the stairs and through the scalding courtyard. If he’d been feeling more determined he might have done some training first—he sparred every other day—but he was worn out. He was stepping up to the tavern’s threshold when one of the guards called to him.
“Lerran sir,” the man called, jogging up in chain mail and a layer of sweat. “A ship just moored in the harbour, slavers.”
“Slavers?” Lerran asked. Is it Ra’las? Did Vaenuth fail? Lerran had not given her the information with the desire for Ra’las’s death—he had never met or done business with the man before—but a failed attempt against a powerful slaver’s life could have repercussions unseen.
The guard bobbed his head. “Messenger said to inform you that Brek himself has come from Bellasa and expects the hospitality he was promised.”
Lerran blinked. “Oh,” he said, “Not what I expected at all. Very well then, lead the way.”
With three guards, Lerran made his way out of the estate and down the streets and stairs of the city. There were no town criers berating his reputation—the Grey Brethren kept to their own chapel now. Nor were there an abundance of city guards. While theft and lesser crime flourished in the city after the loss of the Lord Employers, no organized crime had infringed on Lerran’s territories. And even the petty crime benefited him.
Brek’s Brothers had a small fleet of course, but only one ship had voyaged to Sheld’s harbours. It was the Tear Collector, a two-decked caravel with black sails and a number of heavily armed warriors standing sentry near its rails. As Lerran watched the ship swaying in the tide, he climbed down the steps into the wide, dark harbour. A boardwalk was lowered from the Collector’s deck to the old wooden wharf, and the first slaver came marching down.
Brek himself came stomping down the plank with big leather boots and a wide grey cape. His balding head was a little burned by the sun, but Brek had a complexion to resist such damage. He scratched his beard as he waited for another few of his henchmen to descend.
“Welcome, Captain Brek,” Lerran said, stepping up. He gave Brek his hand in greeting, and said, “Welcome to Sheld.”
“Lerran,” the slaver said with a grin. “When you first offered your Family’s hospitality, it was your father’s responsibility. Now ‘tis yours.”
“A lot has changed.”
Brek guffawed and rested his hand on his hilt. “That’s an understatement. Now you rule your Family and Sheld. An ambitious man, I say. All’s well, I like an ambitious man.” They started walking along the deck, while most of Brek’s men stayed aboard the ship. “You’ll uphold the bargain? You’ll cover my travel expense?”
“Of course,” Lerran said. “And we’ll put you up in the finest tavern in town.”
“As long as there’s women. Make sure there’s some fine slave girls for me,” Brek said, with a grin. Most clean men would have been uncomfortable looking the slaver in the eye when he smiled like that, but Lerran was the king of crime and he only smirked and shrugged.
“Then not the Emerald Eye or the Rogue River,” Lerran said. The finest brothel in town was Lady Onna’s House, but the whores were employees not slaves. “I’ll choose you a good place, and we’ll cover the expenses. Just try not to hurt anyone too seriously…”
Brek chuckled. “I’ll behave, as your guest at least. You’re going to have me wishing my hearth and home, aren’t you?”
They kept walking. “Dinner at my estate?” Lerran asked. Brek nodded.
It was an interesting dinner indeed. Lerran sat at the head of the table, with Tass at his side. Brek and two of his mercenaries sat opposite, while Gadra and Antha sat to Lerran’s right and Yarua and Eseveer to the left. The fact that there were more women at the table than men did not go unnoticed by Brek; thankfully Lerran’s siblings had been around lewd men for most of their life and only smiled or joked in witty rejection whenever the slaver made advances on them. Isar, standing guard nearby, showed his distaste with a frown. Tass didn’t show any disapproval until, over their second-course stew, Brek began discussing business—he wanted to sell some of the slaves in his hold while he was in Sheld. When he began to mention the details, Tass put down her spoon, and Antha lowered her head. Yarua seemed only more interested and asked Brek a couple questions until Lerran put them both to silence. He told Brek he’d be happy to do business after the dinner was done.
They struck a few bargains concerning the business later. Only Yarua and Gadra stuck around after the dinner—Gadra because she cared about the Family above all, Yarua because she was a supporter of the slave trade in their Family. Gadra procured some documents from Eseveer and both Lerran and Brek signed them. It was a simple trade of coin for property; Lerran’s slavery overseers would find a way to turn a profit from the deal easily enough—Brek was an experienced slaver after all and his captives would be worth it.
“Good doing business with you,” he told Lerran, with a smile. “I was doubtful of your offers in Bellasa, that night. But our alliance there has thrived, we’ve even infiltrated the staff of a few lords now.”
“I’m surprised the spies haven’t visited,” Lerran replied.
Yarua smirked. “Maybe they have.”
Brek took a drink. “The fine lass is right. They wouldn’t moor in your port and demand hospitality.”
“Fine lass am I?” Yarua asked, with a wink. “You’re a half-bald pirate, so I’m not certain if I trust your judgment.”
“My judgment is just fine. As are other parts of me,” the slaver drawled. He gave her a wink. Yarua took a drink, as did Lerran, but Brek spoke up again. “Honestly now, will you join me for a drink and see what happens?”
Yarua put down her half-finished mug. She pursed her lips. Brek was not an ugly man, but he was a dangerous one. That said, Yarua was nearly as much to reckon with as Antha, and she was a far sight crazier. “Let’s,” she said, after a moment. She stood up. Lerran took a drink of his rum in disgust. He would be happier when Brek left.