Chapter 86: Trouble In The City

Chapter 86: Trouble In The City

The following morning everyone had a terrible hangover. Apart from me, of course. They emerged from their rooms wincing and coloured various shades of green.

Gullen hadnt reappeared since he rushed off the previous night, but Biadet was there to guide us to yet another dining room where we were served breakfast. I ravenously stuffed my face. The others nibbled a little toast.

You should try these sausages. I waved my fork under their noses. Not sure what kind of meat it is, but it tastes great. So juicy and succulent. I stuck it in my mouth and chewed sloppily. Mmm, yum. Look.

Flossie and Maurice both rushed off to the bathroom while Claire refused to look in the direction of my open mouth. Dudley was the only one to match me bite for bite, tucking into his plate loaded with a bit of everything.

Oh, I say. Thats a little bit better.

Either he had a remarkable constitution, or he had abstained from drinking too much to make sure Flossie was okay. I know which Id put my money on.

Eventually, everyone finished eating and/or throwing up. We collected our gear and piled into the carriage. It was a bright, sunny morning with nothing too concerning on the horizon. The perfect time for misfortune to attack.

Biadet, dressed in her top hat and black velvet coat ensemble, drove us back into the city at a relaxed pace, possibly out of sympathy for the fragile condition of the party, or she didnt fancy having to clean out the interior if it was sprayed with puke.

Our first priority was to find some digs to use as a base while we decided how to proceed. I hadnt discussed Gullens offer with the others. He hadnt pressured me into making a decision on the spot, so I probably had a little time before push came to shove. At which point there was a very good chance I would be forced to accept his offer, even though the chances of it actually turning out to be a cushy desk job far from danger were probably slim to none.

No point worrying about it now, though.

Biadet stopped the carriage outside a swanky hotel with doormen in maroon and gold jackets who rushed to help us out of the carriage, fawning and bowing like we were royalty. Which could only mean one thing.

This looks a bit expensive, I said to Biadet.

With your current savings, you will be able to stay here for seven days, said Biadet. I didnt ask how she knew the state of our finances but there was no reason to doubt the accuracy of her figures. The question was, if Gullen only expected us to need seven days of accommodation, where did he expect us to go after that?

I suppose the hotel staff all report back to Gullen.

The staff, the guests, the pigeons, the mice

We need somewhere cheaper.

Biadet took us to four other establishments, each a little less impressive than the last, until we ended up outside a small inn at the end of an alley so narrow the carriage only just managed to squeeze into. It was called the Faraway Near and the only occupant appeared to be the ruddy-faced and mildly inebriated manager.

The rooms were small and the plumbing was dicey but it was clean and cheap. And it was out of the way, which meant less likely to attract trouble.

Biadet left us with an emotionless, Well be in touch.

After checking in, I inquired about the local Municipal Directory. The manager gave me directions, which took quite a long time because he kept getting halfway through them, forgetting his place, and starting again.

Im also looking for a blacksmith.

Oh, no problem there, young master, said the manager. Whole citys chock full of em. Cant move without getting hit in the face with a shower of sparks down in the southern district.

Its one guy in particular Im looking for. He came here to claim a silver hammer.

Oh, right. Yes, I had heard there was a new silver hammer been awarded. If you head into the southern district, Im sure youll find his place. Businesss been booming, so I been told.

That was good news. I had thought maybe Kizwat wouldnt have had time to set himself up with a place yet, but from what the manager said Id be able to get some bespoke gear made straightaway.

The walk into the city centre was, as you might expect, delayed by plenty of window shopping. It was still fairly early but the streets were buzzing with people. A large proportion of them were in military uniform.

The Municipal directory was similar to the one in Fengarad; a grand building with columns and arches. It was situated in the main square, so not very hard to find. There was a stall set up by the entrance recruiting for the army.

A man in full plate armour stood in front of a large banner that read:

Human lives matter

There are twenty-three ways to pickle cucumbers, said Dudley, for no reason.

I left them discussing pickling and fermenting techniques (I wish I was joking) and wormed my way through the crowded entrance. Once inside, it became a lot easier to move around. Everyone else had places to gomainly down the broad staircase leading to the lower levels. Which made me think that maybe the reason there were no tall buildings in Dargot was because everything was underground.

Behind a reception desk sat a small man in black and green attire.

Excuse me.

The man looked up at me with a smile. How can I help? He had a small goatee and slicked back hair.

Im looking for the blacksmiths guild.

Of course. No problem. He bent down behind the desk Apothecary, alchemy, ah, here we are, blacksmith and came back up with a large book, which he flopped open. When would you like to make an appointment?

Actually, Im trying to find a blacksmith called Kizwat. Can you tell me if he registered with the guild recently? He came here to claim a silver hammer.

Silver hammer? The mans smile remained fixed in place, but his eyes reacted in an odd way. He started blinking rapidly. Im afraid the name doesnt ring a bell. Let me just check the book.

He ran a finger down the page, turned it, did the same with the next one.

No. No. Kizwat was it? Im afraid no one by that name has registered recently. We do have an excellent silver blacksmith in the city, though. Master Akrote. You can find him

Kizwat, I repeated. I had been willing to accept Kizwats absence as just one of those things but the way the receptionist reacted made me think something wasnt quite right here. Are you sure he hasnt been here?

It doesnt look like it, said the receptionist, which was kind of a vague answer.

There wasnt much I could do even if he was lying. It wasnt as though hed tell me what had happened to Kizwat if I made a fuss.

Okay. Well, thanks any

There was a commotionpeople shouting and cursingcoming from below us.

If theres nothing else?

No. Nothing else. I remained where I was, straining to hear what was going on.

Good day, then.

Yes, not bad. The noise was getting closer.

The people going down the stairs scrambled out of the way as a group of large men came up the stairs, pushing a smaller man ahead of them. He stumbled and fell to the ground.

You wont get away with this! the fallen man screamed. I am Kizwat, registered blacksmith. I have every right to enter the guild offices.

I looked at the receptionist. He smiled innocently. Oh, did you mean him? I thought you said kumquat. My mistake.

Kizwat?

Kizwat looked up at me. Col-een? Col-een! He burst into tears. He tried to speak but was too worked up to make any sense.

I helped him to his feet, which was when I noticed that his right arm was completely mangled. The wrist was bent back and the shoulder was crooked.

What happened to you?

Them! Them! They stole my spike. They cheated me. He pointed at the men at the top of the stairs. But now youre the ones who will suffer. Col-een is here, and he will kill you all!

The men stared at me. They looked big. They looked unpleasant. They looked like trouble.

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