Burning Today Options

[Olen]

Some of you probably remember my last piece, Yesterday's Shadow and that it had a rather unsatisfying ending. I spent the summer rectifying this and now have a sizeable sequel/ completion to it which is itself now finished. It would probably be better to read Yesterday's Shadow before this as it would make more sense, however you should get by without it. If anyone wants I'll put a synopsis here, though Yesterday's Shadow isn't very long so you could just read it here (enough plugs yet?)

Anyway without further ado:

Burning Today

Prologue

Dervas wore boots while he worked. Shoes didn't last long in the decaying mixture of blood, vomit, drink and drugs which floored The Black Guar. The dark man had finally passed out and for the first time Dervas dared look at him. A worn man with a broken soul. Who are you? The Black Guar didn't get passing trade – the mixture of pushers, heavies and racketeers who made up most of his patronage didn't appreciate strangers. In the first hour the man, who now lay face down on the table, had knocked two out cold and broken another's arm. They left him alone after that and he them. Dervas wiped the remains of a line of sugar off the bar and nodded to the bouncer who went to move the man to his room.

Someone knocked at the door. Dervas ignored it. They knocked again, for longer this time. He cursed and went to tell whoever it was where to go. It was late an he didn't need any more trade. He pushed open the door, a curse dancing on his tongue. A sack crashed to the ground, gold clinked within. A Breton in black clothes stood in the doorway.

“What's his tab?” There was no need to ask whose.

“Sixty.”

The Breton showed no surprise, and counted out the gold. “Listen,” his tone offered pain if Dervas didn't, “You keep giving that guy drinks, drugs, whores, whatever he asks for okay? For him happy hour doesn't end, tabs never have to be paid. Push as much as you can into him. Don't worry - I'll be round a couple of nights a week to pay you. That sack,” he kicked disdainfully at the one he'd just dropped, “Contains a thousand drakes, payment enough I'd say. If he asks don't tell him, just give him more drink. Understand?”

Dervas nodded, his mouth was dry.

The man disappeared into the night.

Dervas walked back into the bar. He looked towards the dark man's room. Who are you? he thought again, And what have I gotten into?

[Olen]

The story changes direction somewhat now so if you've got any overall comments on the first 'act', as I tend to refer to phases of stories, I'd be interested to hear. Also how is the post length/ frequency? As I think I've said it's all written and half cleaned (the final polish being directly before posting) so this can be varied easily. Thanks for reading

19. Lighting the Way

We arrived at the port town of Droyn seven days later. During that week I became increasingly sure that the crates of redware in the hold were for the excisemen and the ship was actually smuggling. I also suspected that the larger argonian portion of the crew, and the fact Hulgar spoke argonian fluently had something to do with it. I quickly ruled out any other passenger but I couldn't work out what they were into, and in the end I decided I didn't care.

Although at the far northern extent of their influence the town had a distinctly Dres look from the water. The whitewashed buildings had blue windows and the richer ones had pillars and the domed roofs which the Dres favour. Closer I saw that the market reached right down to the docks so incoming ships wasted no time before engaging in the favourite activity of the Dres: commerce. Before we had even tied up a small rowing boat had sailed alongside offering fresh fruit and sweetrolls. But in spite of its varied grandeur I couldn't help sensing a dark bruise just under the surface of the bright colours. I knew the origin of that stain, it came from the same place as all the wealth of the Dres.

We tied up at a poorer corner of the docks, the plaster front on the buildings were cracked and stained. After being cooped up for a week I was more than ready to be off and was already on the deck with my bags. Once the boat was tied up Hulgar came over to me, "Seems we part here. Good luck with... things."

I nodded, "Likewise, thanks for the journey."

"Anything for someone... like-minded. Here I said I'd put you in contact with someone who might help you find that slave train. I'm afraid I'm really busy, you know how it is," he nodded at the customs building, "So I can't take you personally. Go to the Westwater Club and tell Nakuma Hulgar showed you the light. She's alright but watch yourself."

I hefted my pack and nodded, "Goodbye then."

"Aye and good luck, and if they catch you with that stuff you didn't come in on my boat."

I smiled and left away down the gangplank. I didn't look back as I walked across the rutted quayside.

***

The Westwater Club was a run down building in the warehouse district west of the docks. A couple of crooked tables sat outside, a redguard smoked a hackle-lo at one. "Afternoon," he said, I nodded back but didn't answer. "Another drink out here," he called though the open door behind him.

Inside was a welcome break from the burning sun of southern Morrowind. Carved screens let a gentle breeze waft though the plain room but kept the heat at bay. But as I grew accustomed to the gloom I noticed that every eye in the bar was on me. The weight of just stopped conversation was every bit as oppressive as the heat outside. The second thing I noticed was that, unlike the rest of Droyn which had a high portion of dunmer even for Morrowind, there wasn't a single local there. Men and Argonians dominated though there were a fair few Khajit and even an Altmer. The hostile gazes didn't bother me and I went to the bar.

"What do you want?" asked the barman.

I wasn't sure he meant drink but I decided to miss the hint. It was like dodging a half brick, "What do you have squire?"

He paused, frowned then replied, "The usual imported stuff, and some other stuff from up north, shein, mazte..." his tone said what he thought of that, "Or you could have some local stuff. My sira and rasde are quite good."

"What are they?"

"Sira is wine made from saltrice, rasde is the same but distilled."

"A jug of rasde then," I lent over the scarred bartop, "and can you tell me who Nakuma is?"

He paused with the jug half-filled, I heard people stir behind me. "Why?"

"I wish to speak with her."

"Very well," he said and put a jug of cloudy white liquid on the bar, "She's sitting at the table by the wall behind you. Don't try anything."

I looked and saw an argonian sitting alone at the table with a book. A glass of something sat by her scaled hand. I took my rasde, which smelt largely like any other spirit except for a slight tang of lavender, over to her.

"Nakuma?"

She looked up, "That's my name," I noticed that she was quite old, the scales along the side of her head were dulled and her throat was greying, "Though I wouldn't mind knowing who told you it."

A dozen pairs of eyes bored into my back. The bar was silent, menacing. "A captain called Hulgar, he said to tell you he showed me the light."

With those words the atmosphere changed instantly. Conversations restarted and the other patrons largely, though not completely I noticed, ignored me. "Ah Hulgar, he's a good man. Pity he's never joined us fully... Still he helps when he can. So," she levelled her gaze at me, "By the sounds of it you don't know what you just did. Either that or you've a hell of a nerve."

She was old so I decided to allow her to ramble. Besides she might well know things I needed to, "So what did I just do?"

"This club is Twin Lamps territory. Everyone here is involved, if only slightly. I am involved rather more than slightly. As you can understand we don't always get on with the local authorities, we like our peace and don't like outsiders. 'Being shown the light' is an introduction. So why did Hulgar send you here?"

"I'm hunting a slave train."

Nakuma paused, then shrugged, "Well we tend towards rather more peaceful methods, but I might be able to help. I know most of what goes on."

"They were buying up north, Dres bunch. They have a... friend of mine." I hadn't ever thought of Varnan as anything more than a millstone, but friend was the word, "I tried to catch them before they reached Alt Bosara but failed."

"Alt Bosara... Alt bosara," she drummed her claws on the table top and swished her tail slightly, "Yes I think a ship did arrive. North of Tear to one of the holding areas before they sell them on in Tear itself," she spat the last bit. "Inren Dres, that-"

"That was the leader," I finished for her.

"Well that's right at the belly of the beast. This is the nearest base we have to Tear, the Dres there take a rather more... proactive approach that those here, and, of course, we don't have enough dirt on the head of the guards to help them forget us." She paused and took a drink. I sat across the table from her and took a draught of my spirit, "No. There's no rescuing him from there. Best wait until someone buys him then rescuing him from the plantations."

"No," I said, "I won't wait. If you tell me where this holding area is I'll leave tonight."

She smiled in a faintly infuriating way, "And do what exactly, the place will be thronged with guards, you'll cause more problems than you solve. Join us, help us and once he's out where we can reach him we'll make a move, not before."

"No," I repeated, "I leave tonight, now what's the name of this holding place?"

"As I said, won't tell you if you're just going to get yourself killed." She wasn't either, not without more persuasion than I was willing to give. Pushers and agents are one thing, roughing up an old lady, even a well connected one with a tail and scales, is another.

"Then we have no more business together." I turned and walked out. Any hopes that she would call me back went unanswered.

This post has been edited by Olen: Feb 9 2010, 07:47 PM