A Delayed Transaction

Note from the author: There are a couple of instances of bad language in this story.

***

The hall of trade was the easy part, Gail had been there as instructed, waiting to meet Gerrod in a private chamber. Frustratingly, he’d passed on details of a further meeting, this time in some fancy cake shop in the district of commerce. Infuriated by this latest setback, Gerrod thundered down the street alongside the river, back to his crew.

‘How did it go chief?’ Asked Giant. Inside the city proper, he’d been attracting many a sideways stare. Any man of Teraditha knew the horror stories of the mountain folk, and Giant definitely looked the part amongst the smaller, clean shaven Teradithans.

‘All I received was instructions for another bloody meeting, alone. Not fucking likely.’

Giant seemed slightly taken aback by his tone. Without a further word, he turned back to his men, leaving him to cool off. I shouldn’t have said that, thought Gerrod, these lads might save my hide if things go south. He turned and stared into the river, willing the flowing water to wash away his stress.

Here, on the north side of the city, the river was perfectly clear. After it flowed southwards, through the steel quarter and into the docklands it became a murky brown, spoiled with refuse and the waste of industry. Most of the snows had now melted, swelling the river until she threatened to overwhelm her banks. Gerrod’s eyes wandered upstream, back towards the mountains. Grey clouds gathered in the eastern sky, boding rain, or worse. He let out a long sigh, watching his breath mist before his eyes, and float away to nothing. He had cooled his temper, so he turned to his men and began relaying his instructions.

Mildred’s Sweet Treats sat in the middle of a row of tiny shops on a cobbled backstreet in the district of commerce, just as Gail had said. The wattle and daub buildings leaned so far over that only a sliver of winter sunlight warmed the cobbles, giving Gerrod an uneasy feeling of being trapped. He’d passed this way twice before to get the lay of the land, now on his third journey, he made for the wooden door with peeling paint. 

Before entering, he touched his hand to his left wrist, checking his trusty dagger was in place. Satisfied, he pushed open the door and walked through. Above his head a bell rang, shrill in the stuffy silence he had just entered. The shops walls were lined with shelves and shelves of jars, containing every colour of sweet imaginable. A rough wooden counter sat to his right, holding yet more jars. Behind it, a curtain that Gerrod supposed led to some storeroom. A few candles burned merrily on a wooden chandelier hung from the centre of the ceiling, complementing what little light that came through the windows from outside.

The curtain ruffled, then moved aside to reveal an old woman, as sweet as her wares. Bent-backed and stooped, she couldn’t have stood more than five feet tall, she wore her grey hair in a tight bun at the back of her neck, revealing every line and wrinkle on her withered face. Above all, Gerrod noticed her smile, the eagerness to provide a little treat to men and women, boys and girls, no matter their age.

‘Hello dear, what can I get you?’

As instructed, Gerrod took off his hat and placed it on the counter before turning around and inspecting the shop.

‘A good friend of mine recommended your honey drops. I’d like to try one.’

‘Of course, they’re very popular in these parts. Follow me and I’ll get you one from the back.’

She held the curtain for him as he stooped under the low frame and into the back room. The smell of damp and dust was overpowering so Gerrod had to breathe through his mouth. More jars, sat on shelves met his eye here, some containing bones, others, beaks, and claws. He hoped they weren’t ingredients; he’d never enjoy another sweet again. A dim lamp sat atop a small writing desk against one wall, the only source of light. Mildred picked it up along with a small key and made for a low door in the opposite wall.

The key scraped in the lock and the hinges seemed to scream in agony as she opened the door. He ducked under the frame after Mildred, her feeble lamp barely lighting the passage enough for Gerrod to see where he was putting his feet. His head scraped against wooden beams, and cobwebs assaulted his face with each uncertain step. Finally, Mildred stopped and opened a second door, revealing another dimly lit room, completely bare except for a square table with two wooden chairs facing each other. On the table sat another lamp which Mildred lit carefully, transferring the flame from her own with a tiny wooden splint.

‘He won’t be long, please take a seat and make yourself comfortable. When you’re done, just come straight back up.’

Gerrod nodded and forced a smile. Comfort wasn’t an option on this furniture, the wooden seat pressed hard against the bones in his backside. As Mildred left, Gerrod turned to watch her go, thankful there was no lock on the door they’d entered through. It opened inwards, so it would be difficult to trap him in here. He put his elbows on the table and leaned forward; eyes fixed firmly on a second door opposite.    

He ran through his plan in his head; hoping it would be enough. Giant was watching the front door, with Dwarf at the back. Grey Man would enter the shop shortly, to buy some sweets, then relieve one of the others at their post. They would take it in turns visiting the shop, if they all made their visits with no sign of Gerrod, they’d come in and turn the place upside down until they found him. Crude, but effective, Gerrod hoped.

He was running over the bare stone walls of his basement accommodation with his eyes when the door opened, revealing a guard clad in a plain grey surcoat over chainmail. Behind him, an older man, followed by another stern looking guard. The older man took the seat opposite without a word, the two guards stood either side of the door, scowls fixed on Gerrod.

The man sat opposite spoke first, he was definitely highborn, his voice was even more pure than the imposter’s had been.

‘Thank you for coming. Forgive me for skipping the pleasantries, I wish for this deal to be concluded swiftly.’

‘I share that same wish. Have you brought the gold?’ Gerrod was determined to lead proceedings, no matter how much he was scowled at.

 ‘I have.’ He motioned to his guards, they both stepped forwards and each of them thumped down a large, heavy bag on the table.

Gerrod untied the string and inspected the contents of each, biting a couple of coins to check they were real. So far, so good.

‘Five hundred?’

‘All there, you’ll excuse me I’m sure, but I don’t have the time to watch you count it.’

‘Very well.’ Gerrod inspected the man’s face, trying to work out his next move. He looked a similar age to himself, black hair going grey, and crows’ feet marred a once handsome face. His clothes were made of fine material, and well cut, but plain and unremarkable. He seemed unflappable, calmly studying Gerrod in the same manner.

Knowing a staring contest would serve no one, he took the small wooden figure of Heldus from an inside pocket of his coat, before placing it on the table between them.

‘One item.’

‘Unopened?’ Asked the man.

‘Unopened.’ Confirmed Gerrod.

Yet more staring and thinking. Gerrod’s patience was waning. This man had an odd understanding of haste. He picked up the object slowly and purposefully, as if savouring the moment. His fingers worked nimbly, no sign of arthritis yet. After separating the figure from its base, he extracted the note and read it, lips moving silently along with the words. Gerrod thought back to the inn in Whitestar at year’s turn, his curiosity had broken his own rules back then. How he’d love to know the identity of the writer and recipient.

The man’s eyes flicked back to Gerrod, staring over the top of the note, before reading it again. A frown appeared across his face quickly, before falling away again. Something was wrong. With no further emotion, he tucked the note and figure into the depths of his coat.

‘Thank you for retrieving this for me. I see you like to do your business professionally, a man after my own heart.’ Standing, he offered a hand to Gerrod over the table.

Gerrod rose himself and shook the hand firmly, not wanting to give any more away.

‘Farewell sir, and safe travels.’ He told the man, before scooping up his bags of gold and turning to his own door. As soon as his back was turned, he loosened the dagger in his sleeve, ears straining for any sound from behind.

Just as his hand rested on the handle, the scrape of a door swinging open came to him from behind. He might just get away with this one. He opened his own door and stepped through with as much haste as he dared. The passage was even worse the second time around, he’d neglected to pick up the lantern from the table, so he navigated with touch alone. The thought of the outside and fresh air drove him quickly on. Much to his relief, the second door was left unlocked. He stepped into the stinking back room, closing the small door behind him. Voices came from the shop, Gerrod paused to let them finish.

‘That will be four coppers please love.’ Came Mildred’s voice. Thankfully they were nearly finished.

There was a brief pause whilst the customer was assessing his financial situation.

‘One, two, three and four coppers.’ It was Giant’s voice that replied, Gerrod was surprised to learn he could count. This must be the second check taking place.

‘Thank you, enjoy your day.’

The bell rang as Giant exited the shop. Gerrod stepped forwards and through the curtain. Mildred smiled as he entered.

‘All finished?’ She asked.

‘All sorted, thank you for your hospitality.’ Gerrod made to leave, but Mildred caught his arm.

‘For you dear, on the house.’ She pressed a small, yellow ball into his hand. It was firm to the touch, but sticky. ‘A honey drop, I hope you enjoy it.’ With another smile she disappeared back behind the curtain. After a few seconds the sound of her humming floated through into the shop. Slightly at a loss for what to think, Gerrod placed the sweet into a pocket, then made for the door. He still wasn’t sure if he could trust Mildred.

His group gathered outside the Wandering Man inn, a few hundred yards from the northern city gate. Merchants, guards, and all manner of folk bustled past far too quickly to pay them any mind. Hiding in plain sight, as Giant called it.

‘All sorted Chief?’ Asked Giant. Him referring to Gerrod as Chief was beginning to get on his nerves too.

‘Finished, and not a moment too soon. We need to get back to Korvastor so we can all get paid.’

‘Music to my ears. Let’s go.’ Giant confirmed, before he and Grey Man headed to the stables to collect their horses.

Later that afternoon, as the sky began to darken, Gerrod turned in his saddle, watching Dalanor shrink away from them in the south. Trees lined the road and the winter sun had retreated beyond the horizon, leaving red slashes across the sky. Today might not be so bad after all, thought Gerrod.

‘Any more of them sweets Jorgen?’ Came Grey Man’s rough voice from the front of their procession. Gerrod wondered for a moment who he was speaking to, until Giant answered.

‘I’m out, you ate them all you greedy bastard!’

‘You can have mine. They rot your teeth anyway.’ Said Gerrod, throwing his sole honey drop to him. Grey Man caught it with one hand and popped it in his mouth, chewing furiously.

Gerrod pondered again on the sweet, he was next to certain it was poisoned. Poison was a woman’s weapon, so Mildred could easily make use of it, if she so desired. Plus, she had the means to apply it without anyone knowing. If he was wrong, there was no foul, if he was right, he got a larger share of the profit. He couldn’t lose.

The ground rose steadily, becoming rocky as they approached an old guard house, manned only by ghosts in these times of peace.

‘This used to be the border, just up ahead we’ll cross into old Norsivia.’ Gerrod explained to them, hardly sure they were listening.

Before anyone could reply, Grey Man began coughing. He pulled his hand away from his mouth to reveal his glove covered in spots of blood. Another bout took him, his shoulders rising and falling as he began to wretch.

Dwarf, who was closest to him, made to grab him as he fell from his saddle. He missed and Grey Man clattered to the ground, hands clawing at his neck, feet thrashing wildly.

‘Poison. A woman’s weapon.’ Said Gerrod, trying to sound surprised. ‘That was meant for me.’ He decided it was time to finally retire.

Grey Man lay still, glazed eyes staring helplessly at Gerrod for aid. Blood dripped from his lips onto the stony road. Gerrod said no more but dug his heels into his horse and carried on north.