They reached Bellasa as planned. Under Lerran’s orders, the ship flagged passing ships and asked those who stopped if they had seen Renado or Vanci, or even any ships in plight. No one had; a few demanded coin for the inconvenience of being stopped, and a few asked for payment before telling Lerran that they had, in fact, no information for him at all. A ship of similar size delayed them almost half a day, insisting on dinner before any business speech. Some ships recognized the Eye of Gharo flag that whipped in the wind above their heads and sailed right by. They encountered a few sizeable galleys, crewed by white-skinned folk as frequently as dark.
They had even passed one Numa’nakres barge, two days before reaching the city. Lerran ordered a couple crew accompany him aboard, just to be safe—the massive ship had a massive crew. He ignored them all, walking past the fishers, a young girl who carried buckets for them, gardeners, soldiers , royal passengers, the lot. He spoke only to the Navigator, learned they knew nothing and paid them a decent fee for their delay.
In Bellasa port there lay a hundred ships, and not one of them was the Dispatch. Again, Lerran muttered beneath his breath, “Where are you, Ren?” They were given a location to dock by the harbour staff, a hundred men and women in blue uniforms. Once moored safely, Lerran handpicked a few men to come ashore with him. He’d been keeping track of which members of Storm were hard workers, and which were trustworthy. Of course, Captain Urro had his own suggestions, which Lerran heeded carefully.
Bellasa was full of three- and four-storey houses, with shops mixed amongst the residences, instead of clear districts. There was a small guardhouse on almost every corner and though peace-time had made the soldiers weak, their prevalence in the city kept crime scattered. Countless gangs and criminal cells roamed the alleys at night. Across the sea in Kedar, such factions were conjoined into strong ones, and they ruled by day. In Bellasa, King Ugala kept his city protected and pacified.
Above a cobbler’s shop, a small apartment was rented by the Gharo family. For visitors, it meant a safe haven to sleep in, on solid ground. It was also the home of their local ‘garrison’. It had been years since Lerran’s last visit, since before Renado was assigned to smuggling.
“It’s your boss,” he said, gruffly, when he knocked.
They opened the door at once, hands on weapons, but immediately hidden. Two men answered the door; a third lowered the crossbow he had grabbed. And then, there was laughter. A tiny man with onyx skin came wandering from around the corner. “Lerran!” he said. “I haven’t seen you in eons!”
“Tekla,” Lerran replied. “How has business been?”
“It’s been shit, of course,” Tekla replied. He poured two cups from a small black bottle without waiting for Lerran to give him a go-ahead. “Bell-assa,” he said, “Is a place for old men to sweat to death with beautiful women they can’t enslave. I want to go to Sheld again! I want to walk the streets with this green eye of mine worn proudly. Not beneath my waistcoat.”
A man as useless as Tekla wouldn’t get a station in Sheld. They put him over little and he did little to improve it. Lerran tried not to say so. He accepted the liquor without question, though. Tekla’s henchmen eyes Lerran’s, and the two groups sat down at opposite sides of a long magnolia table. Cluttered upon the table was a few books, two maps, a dozen assorted blades—knives, swords, claws, letter-opener—and a small pile one man was making of a powder to snort. Tekla gave that man a glare, and the drugs were removed delicately, without making an entrance to the man’s nasal cavity.
“So what brings you to my humble streets?” Tekla asked. He was a few years older than Lerran but only had one or two wrinkles above his short beard chops. “I hadn’t received word you would be coming.”
“Has Renado or Vanci contacted you?” Lerran asked, cutting to the point.
Tekla shrugged. “I’ve not heard from either of them, nor have any of our men spotted any of theirs. We haven’t seen another green eye in town since, oh… was it the 3rd Moon?”
One of his other men concurred.
“Curses,” Lerran said. He’d ask Captain Urro if it seemed like legitimate intel or not, after the Captain had spent his day asking around the harbour. “We’ll continue on to our next destination,” he told them. “But this visit shouldn’t be for naught. Is there anything your group needs while me and my crew are here?”
Tekla laughed. “Anything, really. Honestly, there’s an alliance afoot. Two gangs, the Red Bridges and the Water Gang, they’re in talks now. Can’t have them both gaining strength without us. If my boys and I had some more strength, we’d just eliminate everyone who showed up at their next talk.”
Lerran frowned. “How long has there been a stalemate in Bellasa?” he asked.
“Years,” one of the others replied. “Between the number of rival groups and the occasional guard bust…”
Tekla raised his hands. “Well, what can you do?”
“Join them,” Lerran said. “Don’t eliminate the two sides talking. Talk with them.”
Tekla laughed, then lifted a crooked finger and sipped his strong drink. He smiled, and said, “That’s the opposite of what I suggested. They’d have invited us if they thought we were worth inviting.”
Lerran shrugged. He’d already finished his glass. “We’ll come with. Show up with a strong group, armed, uniformed. We’ll prove that we should be at that table. Listen, Tekla, something has to change here. If that means accepting the terms and territories of a petty alliance, then do it. The guards are going to keep putting down a gang every time a new one pops up—an alliance might be able to change that!”
“Or, we show up with a bigger group and they don’t show because of it.”
“In which case,” Lerran said, “They know not to trouble the Gharo family. We own the Grey Sea, more or less.”
Tekla leaned back in his chair and folded his arms. “Their truce is to be struck on the 30th, boss. Are you and your crew going to sit around for practically two weeks?” The rest of Tekla’s gang—at least, those that were present—tried to act like he did. It was rather laudable.
“I’ve got a brother and an uncle to keep looking for,” Lerran said. “And there’s more places to hide in this big city than in Kedar.”
“But there’s more places to die there,” Tekla said. Then he laughed. “Fine, you want to make yourself part of my business… I hope you enjoy your stay. Maybe you’ll see why I’ve pulled most of my hair out at a shit position like this.”
Lerran helped himself to another drink from Tekla’s store. He took a sip, and gave the gangster a smirk. “Your hair’s missing because of age, Tekla.”