The Path of Poison: Chapter 39

In Farhaven, after Sepp’s grimoire of medicine and hexes was stolen, he agreed to aid a paladin named Casimir in his quest to uncover what is behind the city’s plague of thievery. After learning just how rattled the criminal element are, the duo now seek information…

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Back out along the waterfront, the paladin Casimir led the way. A guard barracks with holding cells was what they sought. The goal was a thief, bandit, mugger—anyone being held who might be willing to part with information, connections, even a name would do, although the paladin had confirmed he had someone in mind. The waterfront had a lot of small guard posts, of the kind where Sepp had learned of the paladin, but the barracks was a larger structure, sitting right against one of the vast overcity supports. One way in, one way out, was what Casimir said as they approached it. And yes, there had been precedent for it in the past, he had added, with no prompting. In the bright city lantern light, for night had well and truly settled early, it wasn’t a remarkable building, it had no ornamentation whatsoever, just a plain, lightly weathered facade of grey stone. And it looked solid, too. Not in that Voerlund way that things seemed to be clad in aged weight, but just...heavy. Dense. Sepp supposed that was the point. It was a guard barracks. He noticed, however, that it was given a fairly wide berth by the bustling sailors, traders, and other folk around it.

Inside the somewhat dusty interior was a desk of bare wood with a massive ledger and length of pointed charcoal beside it, manned by a guard who didn’t even look up as she said “Sign in the book, please,” unwilling the part from whatever papers she was dealing with. Casimir cleared his throat. She looked up, and raised a brow.
“There is a prisoner we must speak with, can you summon me a captain?”
“You’re that paladin I’m hearin’ about it, then?” By the look on her face, this was the most excitement she’d had all day.
“I am.”
She leaned in over the counter, glancing sideways.
“This about the thievery goin’ on?”
Casimir seemed to key in on this, and leaned in on his elbow.
“Aye, could well be. Have something I must make sure of first.”
She gave a kind of turn of the head. “Who are you lookin’ for?”
“I seek the man Zaffer. Brought him in here myself not too long ago.”
“Ah. Him.” Sepp noticed a tone to her speech. She sat back. “I think he’s out on his duties today,” she said nodding upwards, “so you’d best go speak to the captain wrangling his lot. Vohemme Street, take the lift if you can.”
“Much appreciated, guardswoman,” said the paladin with a short bow.

Casimir led the way once more outside.
“Are we going into the overcity?” asked Sepp.
“We are. I take it you haven’t been there yet.”
“I haven’t, no. I suppose I’ll have to be the guide when my friends want to go,” Sepp with a little smile.
“We may be on business, but it’s a sight to behold nonetheless. Farhaven’s real beauty shines there.”
“The guard mentioned his duties up there? I thought he was a prisoner.”
“He is, but they don’t let you sit out your sentence in Farhaven, oh no,” he chuckled, “you labour for it, depending on the charge, and length of sentence. How do they treat criminals back in Silverden?”
“Don’t know much myself, our village was pretty remote. I think it was more of a, what’s the word...penitence, or something.”
“Sounds very Silverden, if you don’t mind me saying,” Casimir spoke with a smirk in his words.
“Yeah, I suppose it is. Though, mind you, I don’t think anything really bad ever happened back in my village—crime, I mean. Some bad people might pass through, or some locals cause some trouble, but nothing ever...really bad.”
“Good to hear. Could be your people had things figured out.”
“Could be...but we’ll never know, now.”
“Hmm.” The paladin was quiet for a second, realizing perhaps he had spoken improperly to this lad who had just lost his home. “Well, in time, Sepp, anything may happen. Such as this,” he said, his voice brightening. They had arrived at a contraption the kind of which Sepp was given time to take in. It was a massive platform of reinforced wood, hoisted, it seemed, by a series of chains and ropes around a long series of toothed circles, themselves reinforced wood. Underneath were four—or five, actually, pillars of metal-banded wood. It made an incredible racket as it settled, the pillars going into the ground. Just what in the world made the thing move, he couldn’t fathom. “You know they say there may come a day when cities rise into the very heavens, taller than this, taller than the mountain Baletor, and there will be lifting platforms like this going up and down at every hour of the day and night, inside and outside, large and small, and swifter than this. Of course, inventors say all sorts of things to secure patronage, do they not? Still, a fantastic vision!”
“And this goes to the overcity?” His voice was distant as he continued taking in the sight.
“Aye, it does. They use them to haul cargo, masses of people, burden beasts, and the like to certain streets and warehouses. There aren’t many of them, these in particular actually quite new. I understand things like them have been tried many times in the past. I think we’ll be able to steal a place on one going up, it’ll get us to this Vohemme Street.”

And up they went, Sepp silent the entire time, fascinated by the sheer scale, power, and intricacy of this machinery, even if he was being jostled by sailors and scaly dracomounts each minute of the several minutes it took for the deep, heavy clunks and thunks to begin, the chains to rustle, the cords to creak, and the toothed circles—the gears, which all bore serpentine decoration, to chatter as they spun. And then, as quickly as it started, it was over, and the sailors and dracomounts skittered off into their directions, and Sepp was greeted by his first vision of the overcity of Farhaven. Above, the vast, clean spread of stars in all their shades of shining silver clusters and spans, and then below, the proliferation of coloured lanterns, carried on long staves and upon tall poles along the chasm-like stretch of the tall buildings with their glittering, round, mullioned glass and decorated pale stone. Yamesh had been a village, and Saumark had been a town, but this was a city. Oh, his friends were going to love this. He could hear Barosh swearing under his breath already. Seva, too, probably. Casimir gave a laugh.
“Looks painted and pretty tonight, eh? I wonder how it compares to the wonders of Silverden temple-cities.”
“Must find out one of these days…” Sepp trailed off, looking up and inspecting the sheer breadth of the sky-scraping towers. He was shaken out of it by a tap on the arm.
“These great walls hide much in their depths, Sepp, including the object of your quest. We are not far off. I’m afraid you must admire the city later.”

They found their mark in the middle of a minor construction site in the midst of a sweeping open court. Sepp couldn’t tell what it was meant to be yet, but that didn’t matter. Piles of worked stone blocks, delivered by resting burden beasts, sat next to wooden braces and frames piled high already. Casimir strode ahead and spoke with a plumed captain while Sepp turned about slowly, trying to get his bearings. Streets heading off in every direction, climbing slightly here, sloping down slightly there, bent and twisting, like strange spokes in a wheel, and this great court as its nexus. Casimir returned, tapping him on the arm. Time for business. They went over to a group of four Voerlunder men unloading much smaller bricks from a cart.

“Zaffer,” said the paladin.
The man’s head snapped up and around, his eyes wide, his mouth either working to speak, or trembling. S’eth, he was terrified.
“What d’you want?” he said with tremor. “You know I’m protected here!”
“Want a word. Over here.” Casimir gestured with a nod behind him.
He took a second, looking back to the plumed captain who merely looked down, and the man shuffled forward, following the paladin a few steps away.
“Right, Zaffer, listen to me, I’ll put in a good word with the guard if you cooperate here, you know the influence I have as a paladin.”
“You want a word? What d’you want to hear?”
“Give me a name, any name, someone you did your business with in the city, either side. Fences, dealers, merchants. Someone you would trust.”
“W-what for?”
“Because I am asking, Zaffer.”
The man just stared, and shifted uneasily on his feet. “I didn’t…”
“Didn’t what?”
“I didn’t know that many people, if I had connections I wouldn’t be in here.”
“You weren’t stealing for yourself, and simple padfoots don’t burgle from the kind of house we found you in.”
“Come on...when I get out of here, if people know I said something—to a paladin, I-”
“You had no choice. Talk,” Casimir growled. The man actually flinched. He blinked, and gave a long, shaky breath.
“There’s an antiques dealer on the Beoffre Canal, deals in junk, it’s a front. That’s the best I’ve got.”
“Good,” Casimir said as he turned and left. The man backed away a few steps before turning, and himself went to go.
“Wait a moment,” Sepp said suddenly. Zaffer stopped and looked back, eyes focused on Sepp’s hand in his pack. He removed a small, withered, brownish length of root, and handed it to Zaffer. The man simply looked confused.
“I noticed your leg,” he said, “the way it was being held. I was brought up a healer, can’t really leave you like that, can I?” The man mumbled something like a thank you, and limped away.

Sepp caught up to the paladin who’d already left the construction site.
“Weren’t you going to talk to a guard?”
Casimir waited for a few seconds as they made their way back to the lift.
“Zaffer murdered three children during a burglary that went worse than he’d expected it to. I was there when the city guard responded to calls for help. I’m the one who gave him that limp. Were it up to me, he wouldn’t be walking at all.”
Sepp couldn’t even respond. Now, he was one to give people the benefit of the doubt. A lot of people who did stupid, ignorant, neglectful things came to his father’s shop for medicines seeking aid—but that’s all they were. Stupid, human things. Sometimes they caused harm, but there wasn’t anything truly malign behind them. That some things could be fixed, and others have their impact lessened, and that he could help do that, had always been a comfort. But this...that was hard for Sepp to look past. There was no room for it to be a mistake. In that moment, all he could do was hope it would be haunting regret this Zaffer would live with for the rest of his life, that might change him, or at least stop him in future, as if that was in any way a consolation. Regardless, Sepp thought to himself, deep inside where he kept all the thoughts that troubled him of every origin, he wasn’t sure, if he had known what Zaffer did, if he would have given him even a simple pain medicine.

They had to wait a few minutes for the lift. It wasn’t going to run for two people, but, an operator said, a contingent of burden beasts was arriving any minute, so they could wait around if they so wished. As they did so, Sepp asked the paladin:
“Casimir, do you mind telling me…”
“What is it, lad?”
“How did you get involved in all this...sneaking around?”
“You think it strange for one such as I?”
“Well, I suppose I got the impression you were...I don’t know how this sounds, a warrior.”
“Hah!” He at least seemed amused, Sepp thought. “You’ve heard of Imaal as a god of law and order, I take it.”
“I don’t think I’ve heard much about Imaal, actually,” Sepp replied, “save for what you’ve said.”
“Well, let it be known that most foreigners, and it must be said, many Baletorians, speak of Imaal as a god of law and order, justice, righteousness, all of these things, but in truth, Sepp, Imaal is the Righter of Wrongs. Yes, we often uphold the laws of the lands we dwell in because we believe they are usually the right way. But what is right is not always lawful, and those who commit wrongs, who choose to cause harm, suffering, misfortune, they live beyond law’s bounds. And so, come we who bear the sign of the hammer.”
“Wait, how many of you are there?”
“In Farhaven alone? Not that many. I do believe I’m the only bearer of a hammer, though. But I’m getting ahead of myself. This is a lengthy topic, so suffice it to say, my learned, more scholarly brethren have a presence here, as they do most places. Perhaps we shall meet with them one day. I should visit more often.”

Sepp marvelled again at the lift as it descended. He took it in, that one could merely ride what he considered a kind of miniature caravan without any payment, but did consider who he was travelling with. He must ask about that, see if he could get his friends to ride on one of these. They disembarked minutes later, and stole once again into the murk of the undercity.
“In these early nights, and these strange times,” Casimir rumbled as he began choosing streets and passages, “many of the merchants, legitimate or otherwise, they may choose to begin closing up quickly. So, my friend, we must hurry, it would make fine progress were we to find this fence.”
“It just occurred to me,” Sepp said, “would the city guard not have lists of suspected merchants to check?”
“Aye, they most likely would, but such information wouldn’t be free for anyone to simply walk in and peruse. There’s also another reason I wish to not involve the guard more than I have to in my own investigation. You wouldn’t know it to see it, and this goes, from what I understand, for most cities: the guard is full of strife, many captains have been bought off, but a lot of others...have ideas about themselves. See, the guard knows many traders are smuggling to dealing in illicit goods, but princes won’t let them move in because they don’t want Farhaven getting a reputation of interference that may scare off the more important merchants who do much for the city coffers.”
“Hmm… Isn’t the city between princes right now?”
“You are correct, and so things are halted, or at least slowed down, however, a few of the more, shall we say, driven guard captains might be getting ideas. Farhaven is full of grudges. I believe this may give us a fine advantage—but we must be a step ahead before any valuable sources of information become clapped in irons.”

The antiques dealer was a tottering old brick structure, damp and streaked and faded, entirely unremarkable in aspect. Perhaps, much like the guard barracks, that was the point, thought Sepp. Inside was a little more interesting, though there was a chance it was interesting only to him. Through a tall, thin door was a tall, thin interior to match, almost tower-like, with high shelves packed with scores of dust-laden odds and ends, books, chests, statues, as well as rows of tables of similar things on linen sheets, and even certain items just scattered on the floor. At the far end was a figure in large puffed sleeves and long coat seated upon a high chair or stool at an equally high, slanted desk, examining a great bundle of loose papers. Upon hearing the two enter, he sprung down from his perch and to a lower, longer table just before it.

“Good day, gentlemen, good day, how ma-”
Casimir unslung his hammer and slammed it down flat onto the table, sending the fellow lurching backwards.
“You understand what this means.”
The dealer didn’t speak for some several seconds, his wide golden eyes darting from hammer, to paladin, and back again. He gulped, and sputtered out some words with a faltering half of a smile.
“You’re not here to sell, I see.”
Casimir huffed. “No, but we do have an offer.” Casimir stepped closer. “Something stirs in the undercity. We want information. You are a fence for stolen goods.” At this, the dealer’s mouth trembled. “Know this: eyes are on you. But I can take many of those eyes off of you, should you aid in our work.”
“I don’t,” the merchant gulped, “have much of, uh, a choice, but how,” he tried puffing out his chest, his voice growing, or at least trying to grow, just a tad more firm, “how can I trust your word?”
“He’s a paladin of Imaal,” said Sepp, who had been turning over his impression of the warrior in his mind quite a lot today. It had, at least for the mean time, settled. He spoke matter of fact.
“And who’s that?” asked the merchant.
“The only other person in this city,” spoke Casimir, “with the guts to step up against this plague of thievery. Now. Let us talk.”