There was smoke rising over Sheld, more than normal, but not much more. Signs of debris scattered the harbour, an overturned wagon on one of the docks. The sun hadn’t reached the horizon yet so they not see much. The Vanci Dispatch docked on their own, without aid from the normal harbour workers. “Damage from the storm?” Vanci asked.
“Asar, Omma, Karsef,” Renado called from the helm down across the deck. “Dockside, now!”
The hurricane had certainly hit Sheld recently, Ren decided as he marched down the plank to the old wooden wharf. Loose nets were scattered in front of the nearby warehouse and the tavern was boarded up with dark wooden shutters. “If the hurricane was this severe,” Ren said quietly, “How did we survive? Whoever we saw on the Isle of Dusk must have saved us.”
“Let’s get back to the estate,” Vanci said, quietly. Omma had begun heaving their supplies and chests onto the deck of the ship. “Leave that for now.”
It was a long walk through the streets and stairs of the port to their home. There had clearly been a storm through the streets—scattered debris and an increase in the homeless populace. Ren supressed the temptation to stop at the Seastar Tavern and look for Johanna. Their relationship was a simple one, for Ren was absent for months at a time. But he wanted this weapons deal for Yigal in Kedar to be over and done with, so he followed Vanci up the hill and therein spotted a strange soldier in a silver robe. Mercenaries?
The sun began to rise, casting gold rays across the previously dull, cloudy sky. Vanci, Ren, and the sailors did not notice anything more until they reached the streets leading to Gharo’s estate. Upon turning onto the street from the road leading out of Sheld, they stopped. Barricades made of overturned tables and wardrobes and outdoor benches blocked the way to the estate at the very end of the block, far ahead. More of such mercenaries patrolled the barricades and could be seen on some of the balconies in that vicinity.
“Son of the sea,” Ren muttered. “What’s going on?”
“Some kind of attack…” Asar whispered and cursed beneath his breath. They started to walk down the street but Vanci stopped them.
“Let us divide,” Vanci said. “Ren, take Asar and approach from the south. I’ll approach from the north with the other two. We can meet back here after, when we know something of what is going on here.”
It took Ren and Asar nearly half an hour to get to any position that gave them a worthwhile vantage of what was going on. Soon, they realized the barricades blocked each street around the entire outer wall of the estate. From a building down the street, an inn, Asar leaned out the window and reported that there was a small area between the barricades and the walls. It was a siege. The Family of Gharo was under siege.
Shouting echoed off the stone walls and rock streets of Sheld, shouting and a few clangs of metal. It was likely Vanci, so Ren and Asar fell back. They eventually reconnected with the Brother of Gharo in the streets near the harbour, out of sight of whatever enemy now inhabited their city. “I’ve ordered the Dispatch down the coast. To stay safe until we have a plan.”
“Good idea,” Ren admitted. They leaned in an alleyway behind the harbour warehouse, with their guards near the opening to the street.
Vanci bit his lip. He kept his hand on his sword pommel. “But what next?”
“Let’s sneak in,” Ren said. He bobbed his head. “There has to be a way past the barricades and that’s the only way to get the true story of what is going on here. They’ll need our help to survive this.”
“I think we should aim for Worker’s Rise. The unguarded side can be climbed” Vanci said. He scratched his scalp through his curly grey hair and looked up the cliffs of Sheld toward the dome, half obscured by black smoke. “The Family doesn’t have the power to deal with an attack on Sheld of this size. If we become indebted to a Lord Employer, so be it, that’s the only sure way to survive this.”
“The Lord Employers?” Ren asked, incredulous. “Their unlikely to risk themselves for Father when he’s made their lives torturous. And who’s to say that Worker’s Rise hasn’t already fallen?”
“Best find out,” Vanci said.
“… from Father or my brother or one of the guard captains,” Ren said.
Vanci put up his hands. “You want to sneak onto the estate? Go by yourself. Let me know what you learn.”
“Stubborn,” Ren began, then dropped his voice to a whisper. He strode away. “… stubborn old man.”
He barely got down the street on his own before pausing in front of the Seastar Tavern. In the very least, he’d get some impression of what was going on. He opened the front door, and the noise of card players and men competing to hold their liquor poured through the suddenly open dam. One of the barmaids, Hethel, came striding over, her hand on her voluptuous hip. She was skinny, with little bosom, but had always seemed pretty to Ren nonetheless.
“Can I get you a seat?” she asked.
“The bar will be fine,” Ren said, and found himself a stool. Hethel offered him a glass, so he pointed at a bottle of cider for her to pour him. “The storm hit hard, didn’t it?”
“The storm, sir?” she asked.
“The hurricane,” Ren said. She paused, the cider’s splashing halted. “The state of the streets?”
She shrugged and continued to pour. “That’s because of the riots,” she said. “Too much money going through the streets.”
“What money?” Ren asked, blinking. How long ago was the storm? he wondered.
“Stolen money, I heard,” she said, then popped the cork back into the long-neck scheme.
Ren blinked. “What stolen money?”
“I don’t know,” the barmaid said, blinking. She held up her hands. “Who do I look like? The Wife of Lerran?”
“Why are you talking about her?” Ren asked.
“Because! She’s his wife…?” Hethel said, smiling. “She’d know where he’d get all the money.”
Ren connected the dots. “What does Lerran have to do with the money? What about Gharo?”
She guffawed and leaned forward, over his cider. “You been at sea a long time, then?”
With a sigh, Ren picked up his drink and took a sip. “This conversation is confusing me. I was on Vanci’s ship, by order of my father, and we got caught in the hurricane and then wound up here, with no memory between.”
“Who are you?” Hethel said. “You’ve struck me as familiar since you entered.”
“Renado, son of Gharo.”
“We all thought you were dead!” the barmaid exclaimed. “You’ve been gone for a year.”
Ren’s fingers clenched involuntarily. “It’s not the 6th Moon of 1478?”
“It’s the year 1479. You’ve been gone for a year.”
Ren leaned back, with wide eyes. He gasped for breath, but filled his mouth cider nonetheless. “Gods…” he murmured. “What happened to me?”
Hethel held out her hands and opened her mouth, but had no explanation to give.
“I have to go,” Ren said. He finished his cider as quickly as he could manage and briskly headed for the door.
He had barely collected his wits when he arrived in the town square in front of Worker’s Rise. The gate was broken, he saw, battered aside and off one hinge. Inside were pavilions and campfires, and a barricade in front of the entrance to the stone dome itself.
“Let’s go!” barked one of the enemy soldiers. A line was quickly formed of soldiers and prisoners. That was Vanci, in their midst, Ren realized. The others were soon hauled to their feet, Asar, Karsef, big Omma. They’d been spotted, scaling the wall. Captured.
“Dammit,” Ren whispered. “Stupid old man.”
It was well past noon now. Ren stood in the town square near Worker’s Rise trying to determine what to do. It was a long walk back to the Family estate, but Ren wanted to get a better look at things. To see if there really was some way onto the property.
He found an open, unoccupied balcony near a restaurant and climbed up to the roof to get a good view of the estate. There were still guards on the ramparts, Family guards. The gates were locked—no one was getting in or out that way. He couldn’t get a good look at the main mansion, but saw Gharo’s soldiers near the Emerald Eye tavern.
The blocks of buildings outside the property were mostly undisturbed, though the citizens kept to their privacy and stayed out of the way of the military presence. The buildings closest to the estate had been emptied and renovated into quarters and outlook posts for the hostile soldiers.
In the siege camps, he spotted workers preparing a battle ram and hammering planks together into ladders. They were preparing for an attack, he realized, and it would be ready soon.
Using such a ladder or a plank, Ren figured he might be able to climb from one of the longer reaching buildings onto the wall of the estate, but that would not be a proper solution. Even if Ren’s own Family guards saw him coming, they’d release arrows and knock him right off the wall before realizing who he was. This was a siege, not an exclusive banquet to sneak into.
He descended from the roof with the setting sun. He would stay in an inn tonight he decided. Not the Seastar. He’d stay somewhere close to the estate, not down in the harbour. On the morrow, he’d look for more options to get onto the estate. He needed to know what was going on. What had happened since he left Sheld? A whole year had passed? Ren walked down the street away from the barricaded estate and hung his aching, pounding head. Someone was messing with his Family.