The smugglers spent the time at the Public House of Kedar, for two days. The Public House was the only inn, more or less, in the city, a bustling business with a hundred guards, a hundred rooms, and one of the largest common rooms that Renado had ever seen. No smaller taverns could keep their doors open in a town with no law, none could afford to keep any sort of decent calm within their doors. Each faction in the city had its own establishments of course, but the Public House was the only one of its kind.
Vanci did his best to spread word of their prize, without attracting any group powerful enough to steal them directly. Of course, the Dispatch, which was still anchored out in the harbour, was under orders not to come ashore no matter what happened. The only way for anyone to obtain its cargo was to board it or to convince Vanci or Renado to go and fetch the ship back to port.
Renado spent his time getting a feel for the layout of Kedar. He helped his uncle in the inn a little, but he didn’t like sitting around that much. The city seemed to be divided into quarters. The largest was marked at gates and street entrances by a checkered pattern of black and blue paint, and patrolled heavily by soldiers of that Tower. The Wide Tower, to his surprise, was not the headquarters of a faction at all. It was an enormous housing building, with its various floors controlled by competing factions and criminal gangs. He managed to get inside for a while, but was only approached by drug dealers and drug-addled prostitutes. The other significant factions was the Mining Group, which was based outside the city in the rocky island countryside; Havard’s Brothers, a religious group that believed its leader was some spiritual guide; and the Saltwater Army, an antique military group that had declined steadily since, according to their recruitment officers, the days of the Noress Empire.
It was one of Havard’s Brothers, over a stout beer, that told Renado about Yigal the Arms Dealer. The drunkard explained, “There was another man, Karo, who worked for the Black and Blue. He was… well, he was a gambler and debtor. The Tower of Black and Blue owned him, you see.”
“And Yigal… he killed him?” Renado asked.
“They had always been enemies, and Yigal needed money soon, for some reason,” the man explained to the son of Gharo. “Karo caught Yigal stealing coin from him, Yigal poked him full of sword holes, and the Black and Blue put him in a cage over the North gate, as far from the sea as they could. It’s a superstition in the isles, you see. On Kedar at least. The sea can lend its strength to the dying. So maybe hanging him in the north gate did help, I don’t know. Dead is dead.”
Renado had seen thralls before, dead men working for the Sorcerer of Noress, but he didn’t bother filling the man with further confusion. Most times, when a group of people followed a “spiritual guide”, that guide had some knowledge of magic; maybe Havard was a mage, or maybe he was a clever crook.
When Renado got back to the Public House that day, Vanci was looking for him. “Welcome back, Ren. I’ve a meeting with a potential buyer, but you’re not going to like it.”
“The Tower of Black and Blue?” Renado asked. He sat across a table from his uncle and waved a finger to a barmaid for a drink.
Vanci had a balding head with an enormous widow’s peak and a small brown moustache on his caramel skin. “None other. They are sending a merchant over to represent them within the hour. We’ll know him by his cape.”
Renado sighed. “They have their hands in everything in Kedar it seems. I thought this was a city of no law, not a city of their law.” He proceeded to recount the Havard Brother’s story to his uncle, then asked, “I think we ought to see what the merchant has to say. But we need to be careful…”
“Agreed,” Vanci said, with a grimace.
The waitress brought Renado an ale and the two smugglers shared their drinks in silence for a while. The room was patrolled by guards, which made Renado instinctively uncomfortable, though it made sense in a place like Kedar. When he had been exploring the city, he had seen bodies down an alley, lovemaking on a porch, and a gang selling slaves in the a town circle. But the Public House was kept under a careful scrutiny to maintain its lack of bias from the city’s warring groups.
Vanci agreed to allow Renado the final say in their approaching negotiation, as he had successfully done for past deals.
When at last their contact arrived, he entered with three guards and two slaves. The slaves wore only trousers and carried a chest between them on long iron rods. They were branded on their necks and back and covered in their owner’s dark patterned ink.
“I see by the green eye that you are the men of Gharo, from Sheld?” the merchant asked, as he approached.
Vanci and Renado stood up to greet their guest with folded hands in front of their chest. It was a customary greeting across the Grey Sea, and the merchant politely returned it. Together they all sat.
“I trust your journey was smooth,” the merchant said. “I am Laran.”
“Renado, son of Gharo,” Ren said. “And this is my Uncle Vanci.”
“Good to meet you both,” Laran said. “I apologize for the complications upon your arrival here. Kedar is known to be a… chaotic city at best, but we at the Tower of Black and Blue seek to tame it.”
“As all of the city’s factions would suggest,” Renado replied.
Laran shrugged. He wore a silk robe that left a square swath of his hairy chest bare, and moved easily when he did. “So it would seem to an outsider. Should we order some drinks?”
“If you’d like,” Vanci said. He beckoned another barmaid, and soon after they were all sipping alcohol. “Now, on with business.”
“I’ll make this easy,” Laran said. “Yigal was a ruffian, a brigand, and a turncoat. He cost my employers a fair bit of coin, coin he could not repay. We see his goods as our goods. But we will only offer what we gained from him as recompense for the arms you have smuggled here. You agreed with him on five hundred crowns. Two hundred fifty will be a sufficient amount for such… tainted goods.”
Renado laughed. “Two hundred… We sailed across the Grey with all that iron and bronze. You may see a sample of the goods if you’d like, but full price is a guarantee.”
“I could sweeten the deal with a few of my own coins. Perhaps three hundred?” Laran asked.
“Another hundred crowns and I could consider a deal,” Renado said. “Vanci, would we even turn a profit then?”
Vanci didn’t have to play along. It was a genuine concern. “We might… This whole job has gone to shit.” They grimaced, and looked back at Laran who called one of his guards closer and whispered in his ear. Vanci gave Ren a raised eyebrow as they waited for the exchange to finish.
“I cannot do it,” Laran said. “Three hundred twenty five is my highest offer, though I can throw in a slave as well.”
Vanci shook his head. “The Eye of Gharo has no use for slaves. They are not trustworthy enough. We reward our own, but we don’t put more than the green eye upon them.”
“Sell the slave then,” Laran said. “You can get a good enough deal for one here in Kedar in quicker time than selling a load of stolen armaments. And you’ll certainly break even with your expenses.”
Renado grimaced. No good trade required subsequent trades, but no matter his decision they’d be returning to his father with less than expected, and Renado’s stint on the Dispatch was likely to drag on another five years… “I’ll accept the deal. Your slave had best fetch a good price.”
“Come with me then, and you may choose one,” Laran said. He instructed the guard to add another pouch to the chest of coins, which Vanci and Omma from the Dispatch carried to safety right away.
Soon enough they had chosen a small muscular man from a building adjacent to the Tower of Black and Blue. One of the mercenary soldiers washed the patterned ink from him and Omma marched the slave away. Renado and the merchant shook hands on the deal and Vanci took the merchant and a wagon to procure the arms from the anchored Dispatch, while Renado and Omma went to the slave market.
It took them a long time to clear the paperwork and wait in line for their slave to go up on the scaffolds for the crowd of bidders to analyze, but eventually their turn came. The slave sold for thirty-five crowns, bringing the total earnings of their deal past three hundred fifty as Renado had hoped. The buyer was a Miner, who gave them the coin in an elaborate silver box that might sell for a few more crowns if needed. And at last, their business in Kedar was done.
It felt good to be back aboard the Vanci Dispatch, even if Ren wasn’t the Captain. He let his uncle give orders and before long the smugglers were setting out, sailing northward once more.
Renado did the math, on a small piece of parchment on the table on the ship’s lower deck. They had made seventy-two percent of their original plan. Though it was a fair sight better than half price, Ren wondered what his father would say.