The Dragon Hunter and the Mage (23 page)

Fadan had no idea what to say. Fabian gave him a nod and, as if that had been an absolutely normal conversation, turned around and headed to the stairs.

“Wait!” the Prince said.

Fabian halted.

“Did my father send you to spy on me?”

“No,” Fabian replied. “But I wouldn’t tell you if he had.” He smirked. “Just like I won’t tell him about this conversation.”

  The sound of dripping water echoed through the tunnel. The light from Fadan’s torch played over the glossy black slime of the mold covering the stone wall. He walked alongside the black, stale river of sewage, its rotten smell nauseating. The place where Aric and Doric had been caught wasn’t far. Fadan didn’t know the sewers very well, but he knew that much.

He turned a corner and a rat ran over his feet, squeaking and startling him.

“Damn it!” Fadan muttered, steadying himself from the fright. “What the heck am I doing here?”

There was a manhole above him. He couldn’t be sure he had walked far enough underground to have reached the other side of the Citadel’s wall, but it was possible. He carefully set the torch on the ground, upright against the wall, and climbed the iron ladder.

The manhole cover slid out of the way with some effort, clanging against the cobblestone. Fadan peeked outside, hoping there weren’t any Legionaries close by. His head swung around and he failed to recognize any of the houses.

I’m out,
he thought.

The Citadel walls stood less than a hundred feet behind him, blocking the street and turning it into an alley.

Hurrying before anyone showed up, Fadan hopped out from the manhole and covered it once again, dusting his hands off. Up in the battlements, a couple of Legionaries walked by, chatting casually. Fadan raised his hood over his head and marched away.

Some of the main streets were still busy with pedestrians and even the occasional horseman, oil lamps flickering above them. Every merchant stall had been closed for the night, and windows were covered with wooden shutters. Nothing here felt familiar. The narrow streets and the closely packed buildings all looked the same and gave Fadan the impression that he was walking around in circles. Returning home would certainly be much easier. There wasn’t anywhere in Augusta where you couldn’t see the Citadel, perched atop Mount Capitol like a crown. He decided to use the moon as a reference and make sure he kept going south. It should eventually lead him to the docks.

Fadan crossed avenues, squares, and plazas. Several people bumped into him without so much as an apology. He saw noblemen entering and leaving some of the shadiest buildings he had ever seen. Beggars, wrapped in ragged blankets, mumbled incoherently on most corners. Fadan crossed the gates of two of the inner walls, and on both of them, Legionaries were playing dice on wooden tables instead of standing guard. One of them actually looked drunk, and Fadan had to make an effort not to stare.

As he moved through the city, carefully cobbled streets were gradually replaced by mud paths, while stone houses, five or more stories high, were replaced by wooden shacks with three floors at the most. Then, the wide curve of the Saffya became visible. Ships of every shape and size were anchored to a tapestry of docking peers, wooden scaffolding rising here and there. Lamps and torches disappeared, and the streets became lit by the moon alone, helped by the massive, mirror-like surface of the Saffya. Barrels and crates seemed to be lumped together everywhere. Dogs rummaged through garbage piles, and cats fought each other in back alleys.

He had arrived at the Docks.

What was he supposed to do now, though?

There were plenty of shady characters lurking here and there, but Fadan couldn’t bring himself to approach any of them.

A man walked past him, stepping into a puddle and splashing Fadan’s boots with muddy water.

“Hey!” Fadan complained. “Watch where you’re going.”

If the man even heard him, he made no sign of it. He simply kept walking until he reached a door and opened it. Light and wild chatter poured outside until the door closed behind the man.

A tavern.

Fadan felt like going in there as well. Not to chase the man, of course. It should just be easier to strike up a conversation inside a tavern than in the streets. Someone in there would have to know something or someone that could help. He decided to go in.

Muffled sounds of laughter came through the wooden door. Hanging above it, shaped like a tiara, was a plaque that read
The Boring Princess
.

Fadan chuckled and walked inside. The air was thick with smoke and the tang of bad wine. Two long tables occupied most of the space, and a crowd of what Fadan guessed were sailors gathered around both of them, drinking, yelling, and laughing obscenely loud. There were other, smaller tables, lining the walls, where a myriad of different patrons sat. Fadan chose one of the only two vacant tables and sat down, pulling his hood back. Behind him was a pair of old men playing cards while at the table across from him a Cyrinian tuned a sitar.

It was a strange, diverse crowd, certainly much different than what he was used to, but that was to be expected.

One of the girls waiting tables walked by but completely ignored Fadan. Not that he was in any hurry to try their wine. That was when he noticed one of the sailors at the long table staring at him with a wicked smile. The man scratched his chin, weathered skin under a couple days’ worth of old beard. His hand had the thickest knuckles Fadan had ever seen.

The Prince averted his eyes, pretending like it was nothing with him.

“Hey you,” a hoarse voice called.

It was the sailor. Fadan turned and the man widened his smile.

“You lost?” the sailor asked.

“I’m fine,” Fadan replied. “Thank you for the concern.” He averted his eyes once again.

“Nice boots you got there,” the man insisted.

Fadan looked down and realized his mistake. Before heading for the sewers, he had snuck into his bedroom to change his clothes. He had chosen something warm, dark, and simple. The idea was to blend into the crowd, of course. He had also grabbed a pouch of silver coins with which to buy the Runium, and lastly, a dagger, just in case something went wrong. But he had forgotten to change his boots. They were dark, sure, but they were also made of the finest leather, with silver straps and rivets. Not even the muddied water that had spilled over them made them shine any less. No commoner would ever wear something like that.  

“Thank you,” Fadan replied. “I enjoy them very much myself.”

“I think I would enjoy them too,” the sailor sneered.

Fadan felt his heart speed up a little, but stayed quiet, hoping the man would just give up and ignore him.

“You didn’t hear me?” the sailor asked.

“Oh, leave him alone,” one of the serving girls said, walking up next to Fadan. “What will it be, dear?”

“Uh…” Fadan mumbled, “a beer, please.”

“Please?” the woman said, surprised. “You hear that?” She wasn’t talking to Fadan anymore. “Boy has manners.
And
he’s pretty like a button.” She turned around and left, her wide hips bouncing. “I gotta find myself one o’these.”

“Yeah,” a white bearded sailor said. “But you’d still need to find yourself a man!”

Half of the tavern burst out laughing and Fadan felt his cheeks warm. At least, the sailor with the thick knuckles wasn’t staring at him anymore.

The tavern woman returned a moment later with a wooden mug, brimming with frothy beer. Fadan thanked her and took a sip. It was by far the worst thing he had ever tasted, and that included Aric’s dares to try weird flowers from the Empress’ Orchard. Fadan was forced to summon all his strength in order not to grimace.

“Will that be all?” the woman asked. “Maybe something to eat? We have the best pork stew in the Docks. Ask anyone.”

Fadan was indeed hungry. He had skipped far too many meals that day. However, after tasting that beer, he wouldn’t dare to eat anything prepared in that place.

“I’m not really hungry,” Fadan said. “Thank you.”

“Alright then,” the woman said. “That’ll be a silver crown.”

Fadan hesitated.

A silver crown?
he thought.

There was no way he had any coin that small. He mumbled something incoherent as he rummaged through his pouch, trying not to draw too much attention to it. He finally found a smallish, twenty silver crowns coin.

“Hum… listen,” he said, leaning closer to her. “I need some… information.” He showed her the coin, making sure no one else saw it.

The woman frowned. “Information?” she asked, far too loud for Fadan’s liking.

“Yeah…” Fadan whispered. “I need to buy something.”

The woman took a step back. “All we sell here is food and drink,” she said flatly. “We have plenty of it, and you can obviously afford it. So, what’ll it be?”

Fadan sighed. “Right,” he said, leaning back away from her. “I’ll… have some of that stew, I guess.”

The woman swung around and left without another word.

Stupid!
Fadan admonished himself.

Then, a body landed with a thump in the chair across from his. It was the thick knuckled sailor who had talked to him before.

“Hello again,” the man said, taking a sip from his beer. “Couldn’t help but overhear.”

For some reason, the man now had a rather pleasant smile about him.

“Oh, I bet you could if you wanted to,” Fadan told him.

“What?” the sailor asked, confused. “Never mind. I know what you’re looking for. You’re looking for a drink. But not the kind they sell here, am I right?”

Fadan looked into the man’s beady, blue eyes. They made an eerie contrast with his leathery skin. He was obviously offering to help, but Fadan wasn’t sure he would like to be helped by someone like him. Problem was, what other kind of character would be involved in something as illegal and dangerous as the Runium trade?

“Maybe,” Fadan said. “Why? Are you in the… ‘drinks’ business?”

The man smiled with all his yellow teeth. “I knew it,” he said. “I always recognize your kind. Anyway, I am a… let’s say, ‘middleman’ in the drinks business. I don’t actually
sell
drinks, but I know who does.”

“Ah, I see,” Fadan said. “And you’d be willing to introduce me?”

“Not possible,” the sailor said. “You see, drink sellers, they’re cautious people.”

“What is it
you
do then?”

“Well, you pay me the price of the goods,” the man explained, “plus a small fee for my troubles. Then I go and fetch the merchandise and hand it to you.”

Fadan chuckled. “You think I’m stupid?” he asked. “You’ll just run off with my money.”

The man put on a frown. “No,
you
must think I’m stupid. You people can never have enough of that thing. I know sailors that can go longer without rum than your kind without….” He never finished his sentence. “Why would I waste a profitable, steady business from a fine patron as yourself?” He leaned back and motioned towards Fadan’s feet. “I mean, look at those boots.”

That certainly made sense. The man did not look the least bit trustworthy, but he was clearly not an idiot either. Finding himself a frequent Runium buyer would be far more profitable than traveling the Saffyan route, and Fadan could certainly make it worth his while.

“Alright,” Fadan said after a while. “We’ll make an experiment of it, see how it goes. If I’m happy with the transaction, I’ll be back for more, and I’ll even increase your fee.”

The man opened his arms in celebration with a smile. “Excellent!”

“You’ll find I can be a very generous patron,” Fadan told him. “
If
you keep your end of the deal.”

“Believe me, I’m very much looking forward to that generosity. Now, head outside, turn left, and then take the second turn on your right. You’ll find this alley. It’s discrete and quiet. We don’t want anyone nosing around in our transaction. I’ll meet you there in a moment.”

Fadan nodded in understanding. “And then what? I give you the money and wait for you there?”

“Not for me, no,” the sailor said. “A third person will come by and hand you the goods. It might seem convoluted to you, but trust me, this is the safest way to conduct this type of business.”