Chapter 3 Part 2

During his first few days on the road he mentally put the finishing touches on his “disguise”. He was Zachary, a traveling merchant from Tycho. He had been working his way south for several months now, after having finally put together enough to buy his cart and some trade stock. He had no family left, and had never been married. He’d worked the iceboats for several years and was now working for himself.

It took longer than he’d thought to get to Sidmuur, there had been some bad weather just off of the Orkon Mountains and he’d stayed a couple of days in an inn to avoid it. Then too, he’d stopped at small villages along the way to trade and seek information about Sidmuur.
Oddly enough, the information was generally good, with many folks in the outlying areas believing the dragon to be either a myth or a local joke. Another common story held that the ruler in Sidmuur was nicknamed, “the Dragon”.
He finally arrived at the gates on the afternoon of his fifteenth day on the road. The city was fortified with a palisade of fire-hardened logs and had guards patrolling at the top. The road leading up had shown large well-tended farms, and he’d seen two patrols of city guard just that day. All in all it looked to be a prosperous city, not at all what he’d expected in territory held by a red dragon.
A gate guard approached him. “Good day Sir. Are you coming to trade?”
“Why yes I am,” Zachary replied. “I have a cartload of ale and spices.”
“Then if you’d pull your cart to the left as you enter the gate, you’ll be met by a broker.”
“A broker?” Zachary asked. “Can’t I just trade with the inns?”
“No Sir, our city laws require that all trade coming from outside the city be handled through a broker.”
Zachary mused for a moment, then said. “Ok, then to the left it is. Thank you. ”
“My pleasure Sir. Enjoy your stay in Sidmuur. ”
Now that was odd. He’d never heard of a large town using brokers for small trade.
As he moved through the gate he entered into a large open yard that was walled off from the rest of the city. The area contained only three buildings, a brokerage house, the Courtyard Inn & Stables, and what appeared to be a barracks. Several wagons were parked near the inn, and some folks were trading from the backs of them.
A guard and a man in a blue uniform approached his cart. “Good day trader, and welcome to Sidmuur.”
Ultrecht stopped his cart and stepped down. “Thank you. I’m Zachary,” he said as he extended his hand. “And you are?”
“Ames. I’m one of the city brokers,” the man said, returning the handshake.
“Then you’re probably the guy I need to see. I’m trading ale and spices.”
“Oh good,” said Ames cheerfully. “Do you come from very far?”
“Yeah, quite a ways I’d say. I started out near Tycho and have been trading my way south ever since.”
“Well, that is a long way,” Ames nodded towards the guard and continued in a chummy manner. “He’ll be wanting to know if you’re carrying any weapons or magic devices.”
The guard spoke up. “Yes sir. Our city ordinances prohibit the carrying of any kind of bow, or any blades longer than a man’s hand. If you have any such weapons with you, they can be checked in without charge.”
Zachary nodded and slipped his knife out of its sheath inside his coat. He held it up for the guard to inspect and said, “Is this one okay?” The blade was pitted and old but sharp, with an overall length of about six inches.
The guard smiled at the obviously utilitarian blade and said, “Yes sir, that one you may keep.”
The trader nodded and put the knife away, then reached under the seat of the cart and pulled out a battered old crossbow and its accompanying pouch of bolts. “This here’s my only other weapon.”
“You can pick it up at the outer gate when you leave sir,” said the guard as he took the crossbow and exchanged it for a numbered wooden chit. “You may present this to the guards there and they’ll return your weapon to you.”
“All right,” Zachary said and pocketed the chit.
“Do you have any magical devices, sir?” The guard asked.
“No, but I saw one once,” Zachary said in his best country bumpkin manner.
“Ok, thank you, sir,” the guard said with a polite, but insincere smile.
As the guard left, Ames said, “Would you like to get settled in first or would you prefer to get to business?”
“First off, I’d like to know what it’s going to cost me to trade here.”
“Fair enough. Let me begin by telling you how it works here. We get lists of requests and availability from all of the local merchants and try to match them against all the incoming trade. Items not on the lists are purchased by the brokerage for future barter. There is a one silver coin fee on all transactions concerning such speculation, but standard trade is only one percent or one copper coin, whichever is greater."
“Sounds reasonable. In fact it’s less than most cities.”
“We’re trying to attract more trade,” Ames gestured towards Zachary’s cart. “I believe you said you had spices?”
“Yep. I have a pretty good selection, but my largest stock is in black pepper.”
“Well then, would you like to settle in first or start trading?”
“Let’s trade.”
“Very good, sir. If you’ll follow me with your cart.”
As he followed Zachary asked, “So why do I need a broker? Why can’t I just trade with the inns?”
“Years ago we had a bad plague break out. Traders had brought it into the city, and in the aftermath we began to separate the outside trade from the population. It eventually grew into the system we use today.”
“Doesn’t that drive prices up inside the city?”
“Yes some, but it works, and it has become kind of a tradition. Besides that, it generates income for the city without the need for more taxes.”
“Well that makes sense I s’pose.” Zachary glanced towards the inner city gates. “Can I go in and see the city?”
“Certainly,” said Ames. “But they do charge a toll to enter.”
“Oh? How much?”
“A silver coin.”
Zachary looked at the gates again. “Why so much just to go in?”
“It tends to keep the troublemakers out. Visitors can only stay in the city for a limited time unless they have business there.” Ames shrugged apologetically, “I know it sounds odd, but it seems to work. The crime rate is low and we haven’t had any more plagues.”
Ames led him to a large barn-style door at the side of the brokerage house and they began trading. Oddly enough he traded fairly, without the usual gouging on hidden fees or harsh deals. In fact they seemed to be going out of their way to make it a good trade for both parties. When Zachary finished trading, he had sold all of his ale and over half of his spices. Things here were not at all what he’d expected.
Zachary parked his cart and paid a very reasonable fee to stable his mule, then checked into the inn. It was pleasant, clean and well appointed. In the commons, there were a few brokers having meals and drinks with the larger merchants, but no one that looked like a local could be seen just hanging out. He took a table and was approached by a pregnant barmaid.
“What would you like sir?” She said pleasantly. “We have a very good mutton stew today.”
Zachary nodded. “That sounds good. I’ll have a glass of wine with it. ”
“Ok, I’ll have that right out. Will you be wanting a room too?”
“Yes, and a bath.”
She smiled and left. She was only gone a couple of minutes before she returned with a large bowl of thick stew, a thick slice of bread, and his wine. “We’ll have you in room six. It’s on the right just as you come up the stairs.”
“How much?” Zachary asked a little warily.
“Two silvers for the room, one for the bath, and one for the meal.”
Zachary raised an eyebrow in mild surprise. The price was good--suspiciously good. He was beginning to wonder about the safety of his cart, his crates were chained into the back, but that wouldn’t stop a determined thief, nor would it prevent the whole cart being stolen. He paid her without comment and ate his stew.
After dinner he went to his room. In his travels he’d paid far more for far worse. It was as if someone were trying very hard to make a good impression to outsiders. His curiosity piqued, he needed to get into the city, he decided.
The following morning, after a fine breakfast, Zachary went to check on his cart. Everything was just as he’d left it. Relieved and puzzled, he made arrangements at the stable for his mule to stay longer and headed for the inner city.
At the inner gate the guards were more attentive. There also seemed to be two different groups. The regular guards wore a tabard that matched with the pennants flying over the gates. The second group wore a tabard with a stylized flame emblazoned on the front. The first group was polite and seemed to be doing the actual work, while the others were standing about with a somewhat haughty demeanor.
Zachary paid his entry fee without comment. Suddenly, he felt the telltale tingle of magic. He glanced around, and spotted one of the flame-clad guards nonchalantly making the gestures for a spell. A moment’s casual watching and he noted it to be a wizard’s mark. He pretended to gawk like a tourist and studied the flame-tabard guards. Two of them wore their armor awkwardly, and had their swords slung back in a manner that suggested they really didn’t know how to use them. All of the others in the group carried them like men who knew the weapon intimately.
He didn’t know why someone would want to hide a pair of mages amongst a group of fighters, but that was obviously the case. Then he noticed a man nearby with a wizard’s mark on his forehead. The spell was simple; it made a magical mark on a person or object that was visible only to the mage who cast it, and others of at least as much ability. The mark could contain most any kind of information but this one held only a time and date. They were evidently recording when people came into the city. He really wanted to know why.
Zachary started up the main street, being as much the tourist as he could, casually perusing the offerings of shops and carts. When he came to a tailors shop, he went in.
“May I help you?” asked the smartly dressed shopkeeper.
“Why yes, I’d like to buy a new shirt.”
“Certainly sir,” said the shopkeeper as he warmed to a sale. “Was there a particular style you had in mind?”
“Well I’m new in town and I wanted one that is in common fashion.”
“Oh I quite understand sir.” The shopkeeper showed him a shirt that Zachary had already seen on several people. “This is popular these days, and blue is our most popular color.”
“May I see one in a mirror?”
“Surely. The mirror is behind that drape,” the shopkeeper said as he pointed across the room.
Zachary went to the mirror and held the shirt in front of him. His forehead held a wizard’s mark denoting the time and date he came in the gate. He stood for a moment looking at his reflection then turned to the shopkeeper. “I’ll take it.”
“Splendid. That will be one gold coin.”
Zachary paid the man and thanked him. The price for the shirt was high, but not as high as some places. As he left the store, he nearly bumped into a pregnant young woman. He stopped and asked her pardon, then continued down the street. A few paces away he noted another pregnant woman. Then another.
He walked around for nearly two hours, casually shopping and strolling. He had counted over a hundred noticeably pregnant women. He had also noted a man who always seemed to be nearby. It seemed he had a watcher. It was time to find an inn and get something to eat.
The nearest inn was a place called The Red Feather. So he strolled in and took an empty table. A very pregnant barmaid waddled over to him.
“What would you be wanting today, sir?” she asked as she wiped his table with a rag.
“I’ll have ale to start with. What do you have to eat?”
She was about to reply when a pair of men at a nearby table began to laugh uproariously at some shared joke. A moment later the man Zachary had noticed following him strolled casually into the room. Instantly the two men quit laughing and huddled nervously over their drinks, their talk turned to matters of work.
His waitress stammered nervously for a moment then she said, “we have, uh, a very good roast pork sandwich. We also have a thick mutton stew.”
Zachary looked at her. She was concentrating on his face, obviously trying to avoid looking towards the newcomer. “The sandwich sounds good to me,” he said with a smile.
She nodded, gave a nervous smile, and nearly fled into the kitchen.
The “tail”, as Zachary thought of the newcomer, walked nonchalantly to the bar and spoke quietly with the bartender. The bartender nodded and turned to pour a mug of ale. He seemed nervous, and darted a glance towards Zachary. When the mug was full he gave it back to the tail and collected a few coins.
Zachary sat quietly, blandly staring out the door. A couple of minutes later the waitress came back with his ale. She set it down carefully and with a self-conscious glance at the tail, hurried back to the kitchen. About five minutes later she did the same with his sandwich.
As he ate, he quietly looked around the bar taking note of the nervous behavior of the other patrons. He spotted several glances at both the tail and at himself. The tail was obviously known to the locals and he was now under suspicion as an outsider.
The sandwich was good, perhaps a trifle salty, but good. Zachary was about halfway through it when a loud voice called out, “Krell! Imagine seeing you here.”
Zachary looked up to see the largest human being he’d ever seen stride in. The man was wearing a steel breastplate emblazoned with the flame symbol.
The large warrior spoke in a friendly voice, though his body language was anything but friendly. “So what could possibly bring the esteemed Captain of the Secret Guard to a lowly tavern in the merchant quarter?” He stopped as if a thought suddenly dawned on him, and with mock contrite exclaimed, “Oh no, could you be on a mission? Could you be trying to remain incognito?” He turned such that his commanding presence caught the attention of everyone around. “Attention people! It was my mistake,” he pointed towards the tail. “This man is not Captain Krell of the Secret Guard. I must have been mistaken. Oh can you ever forgive me stranger?”
Krell looked at the large warrior with murder in his eyes. In a casually friendly voice he said, “Why Baron Roth, how nice to see you. It’s nothing like that at all. I had merely stopped for ale as I was passing through. I’m shopping for a gift to bring to my wife. You know how thirsty that can make you.”
“Well then, in that case perhaps I’ll join you. Barkeep! Be good enough to pour one for me too, would you.”
The bartender quickly poured a mug and set it on the bar, proclaiming it to be on the house. Zachary noted that the Baron hadn’t made any kind of motion towards payment anyway.
Krell’s face turned to hatred and he said in a deadly quiet voice, “You tread where you don’t belong oaf. Our Lord gave me a job to do just as he did you. If you persist in trying to make my life miserable, I’ll make yours a living hell.”
Roth took a long pull at his ale then wiped his mouth with his arm. Towering over the smaller Krell he said flatly, “Large words from a little man.”
“Be wary fool. The smallest creatures have the sharpest fangs and the strongest venom.” With that Krell turned and stalked out of the bar.
Zachary glanced around the bar. From the look of the other patrons, you’d think nothing at all had taken place. Everyone was very intent on his or her food and drinks. The bartender was industriously polishing glasses and the waitress was presumably very busy in the kitchen. He decided to keep his nose in his sandwich.
Baron Roth stood at the bar; quietly finishing his drink. After about two minutes he strode purposely from the building. The collective sigh of relief at his leaving was nearly deafening.
A young man in well-cut clothing stood from his table and approached Zachary. He looked slightly apologetic and said, “Sorry that had to happen. Most of the folks here aren’t really that unfriendly. It’s just that anytime the Serpent or the Dragon are around one misspoken word or a suspicious action can get you arrested.” He held out his hand. “I’m Drew Goodson. I’m a brewer.”
Zachary shook his hand, “Zachary. I’m a trader, just visitin’. What was that about a Serpent and a Dragon?”
“Oh Captain Krell is known as the Serpent, and Baron Roth is known as The Dragon.” Drew pulled out a chair. “Mind?”
Zachary gestured. “No, not at all. In fact I’d like the company. Can I get you a drink?”
“No, let me.” He gestured with two fingers at the barkeeper. The man nodded, poured two tankards, and brought them out.
When the barkeeper merely left without being paid Zachary asked, “Ya runnin’ a tab?”
Drew smiled. “No I’m running a tavern. The Red Feather is my place.”
"Well then, thanks for the ale. Your own brew I take it?”
“Surely. It’s sort of a hobby as well as a craft.”
Zachary took a long drink. It was a full-bodied wheat ale with a hint of honey. “Good.” He said appreciatively. “Quite good.”
“I’m glad you like it. But surely a man who’s traveled has sampled other brews. Perhaps even talked to a few brewers?”
“Well I’m not a man O’ the craft, but I have tipped back a tankard or two. What is it yer lookin’ to hear about?”
“Ideas,” Drew said. “I’m looking for a way to keep my he…” He coughed theatrically. “Ahead, of the competition.”
“I did meet some farmers in a town a few weeks ago, that was usin’ strawberries instead of honey to sweeten their ale.”
Drew looked interested. “Really, strawberries? Now that might work. It’d definitely be different.”
They spoke about various ales for about another hour. Zachary tried steering the conversation around to find out what the man’s ultimate goal was, but he just couldn’t puzzle it out. Drew also seemed reluctant to answer any questions about The Serpent, The Dragon or their mysterious lord.
Finally Drew stood. “Well I’ve probably bent your ear long enough. I really do need to get back to work.” He offered his hand again and continued, “I don’t know how long you plan to stay in town, but please feel welcome here.”
Zachary shook his hand and said, “Thanks. I will.”
As he turned to go, Drew signaled the barkeep to bring Zachary another tankard. “Enjoy, and thanks.”
He sat and sipped his ale, pondering what he’d learned so far. The town had a secret guard, a regular guard, and evidently an elite guard. Pregnancy was an epidemic and there were two men with draconic sounding nicknames. It was quite a puzzle.
He finished his ale and sauntered back out into the street. He stood a moment looking out at the merchants as they plied their trades. Something was out of place. It struck him, there weren’t any street entertainers, or beggars, or even any shifty-looking folks loitering around looking for pockets to pick. It seemed that he was one of very few people wandering aimlessly about the city.
Increasing his pace to the same kind of industrious bustle that most folks around him had, he continued his sightseeing tour. He bought another shirt, some bread, a pound of jerked beef, and a new hat. By evening time, he’d seen the larger part of the city, so he headed back out the city gates and back to the Courtyard Inn.
“I’ll have the beef pie and ale,” he told the barmaid when she came to his table for his order. The other tables were sparsely occupied. The caravan that spent the previous night had left this morning.
Soon his meal arrived, but before he started eating a voice called out his name, “Zachary, how nice to run into you again.”
He looked up. It was Drew. “Oh, ‘lo there. Pull up a seat.”
“Don’t mind if I do,” said Drew as he sat down. “I was hoping to purchase some of that strawberry ale you were talking about. So I came out to talk to a broker. ”
Zachary raised an eyebrow. “The broker house is still open?”
“Nah, but you can find a broker here any time. That way you can get early morning deliveries arranged.”
“Makes sense I s’pose.”
The barmaid stopped by. “Can I get you anythin’?” She asked Drew.
With a glance at Zachary’s dinner, Drew said, “Yeah sure. I’ll have the same thing he’s having.”
She nodded and went to get his food.
“The pie looks good,” Drew said with a light smile. “And this way I don’t have to eat my wife’s cooking.”
Zachary chuckled. “I gather she’s not a cook by trade then.”
“Nope, she’s a snappy seamstress, but a lousy cook.”
“Well maybe you’ll get a daughter who picks up the knack.”
Drew laughed. “I’ve got one, but she’s too young yet, so I can only hope.”
Zachary paused over his meal. “You know, I do need to pick up another cargo. Can I arrange a way ta buy some of your ales without gettin’ in trouble with the brokers?”
Drew nodded. “Sure, all we need to do is call a broker over to certify the deal and collect the fees.”
“How do we do that?”
The ale merchant held up one hand with two fingers extended in a ‘V’ and looked around. A skinny man dressed in blue lounging at the bar nodded and walked over. At their table he pulled a medallion out of his shirt and said, “May I be of service?”
“I’m Drew Goodson. I run the Red Feather tavern, and this gentleman would like to purchase some of my ales.”
“Certainly, may I join you then?”
Drew gestured to the remaining chair and the man sat down. He asked Zachary, “Now how many casks did you want?”
“Well, I have room for about a dozen, and I’d like at least half to be the same ale I tasted today.”
“That's easily done. I have plenty of that, and plenty of stout. If you’re interested I also have a few casks of apple cider as well.”
Zachary thought for a moment as he chewed. “Ok, I’d be interested in six of yer reg’ler ale, four of yer stout and two cider.”
Drew sat and thought for a moment then said, “Ok, the honey ale for three gold coins apiece, the stout for four, and the cider for two.”
Zachary kept his face very straight. These prices were lower by far than any he’d encountered yet for ale casks. “I suppose we can go with that. Would ye like the coin now or on delivery?”
“Oh, my wagon has a broken wheel,” Drew looked at the broker and asked, “Can I get a pass for him to pick them up?”
The broker leaned back and replied, “Yes, but there will be an eight silver fee to pass the gates.”
“I’ll pay it,” said Zachary, glad to have another excuse for going into the city.
“Is the transaction complete then?” asked the broker?
Drew and Zachary looked at each other and nodded. “Yes,” replied Drew.
“Then you’ve decided on a price of thirty-eight gold coins for six casks of honey ale, four of stout, and two of apple cider, correct?”
Both Zachary and Drew nodded.
“Then the cost of this transaction will be three silver and eight copper coins, plus eight silver for a pass to take your cart into the city.”
Zachary took out his purse and paid both men. The broker went to the bar and was given a large book by the barkeep. He wrote in it then brought it to the table.
“Would you both please mark the transaction?” He indicated where each of them should sign.
Zachary read the entry. It was a simple log of the deal. After Drew signed, so did he.
The broker then wrote on a piece of parchment and handed it to Zachary. “Present this to the guards in the morning.”
“Thanks,” Zachary said and put the pass away.
After the broker had gone back to his place at the bar, the barmaid brought Drew’s pie to him, and he launched himself into it. Eating and talking at the same time, he said, “When you come in the gate tomorrow, go straight up Main Street until you get to Kerbin Street. That’s the fifth as you go in, and turn left. Follow Kerbin until you see the city wall. My brewery is on the right, third building from the wall.”
“Simple enough.” Zachary took a bite of his own pie. “I’m sure I kin find it.”
“By the way, that strawberry ale you sold, do you recall who you sold it to?”
“Yeah, it was a broker name O’ Ames.”
“Oh, ok. I know who he is.” He shoveled in the last couple of bites of his pie. “Well, I’m off to buy one before they’re gone.” He stood and offered Zachary his hand. “How’s an hour after sunup strike you?”
Returning the handshake, Zachary replied, “Good for me. I’ll see you then.”
After Drew left Zachary ate his dinner, relaxed over a glass of wine, and went to bed.