“Both of you?”
“There’s been trouble before now, between our men and the dockers,” said the senior belligerently. “I wanted someone to watch my back.”
“You’re too cursed fond of a fight, Krim,” spat Glannar.
“Which is why I wasn’t about to let him go off on his own!” The thin man’s protest rang with complacent truth.
I raised a hand to silence Krim’s indignation. “So where were the relief? The sworn that is; I know where the lads were.”
“Torren says they’d agreed to meet at the end of the rope walk, Ardig says it was outside the chandlery,” spat Glannar. “They were both late and each thought the other must have rounded up the lads and gone on. Seems neither was in any hurry on their own account.”
“Did you find either of them?” I demanded of the two sworn men before me.
“Only Ardig,” muttered Krim. “By then midnight had come and gone.”
“Torren sniffs round a pretty little slattern up in Rack Row any time he’s in town,” said the rat-faced one. “Seems he’d headed there to poke up her hearth on a cold night.”
“So what did you find when you got back here?” I snapped.
Krim sneered. “Torren’s lads sitting out front, no more use than tits on a boar, the back open wider than a whore’s legs.”
“None of yours had the wit to worry where the lad watching the back had got to,” I reminded him. “Torren can answer for the shit on his shoes and you can answer for yours. Tidy this mess up and see if you can find any scent. Glannar, let’s get some fresh air.” I wanted to escape the musty atmosphere thick with recrimination and justification.
Glannar walked with me to the door, red-faced embarrassment struggling with fury at his men. “All right, you don’t have to tell me. All four wheels came off this cart, good and proper. I’ll kick their arses from now until Solstice for not sending me word when the relief didn’t show. But in all justice, Raeponin be my witness, I never thought there’d be theft, not with a decent watch set for all to see. Bremilayne can be rough, I’ll grant you, but it’s a small place for all that. There are too many trading interests here for wholesale thieving to go unchecked! One warehouse gets robbed, every sworn and chosen turns the town upside down. We catch the bastards and they get a flogging to warn off any others thinking of trying their luck. That’s as long as we get the goods back, mind. If they’ve nothing to trade for their lives, it’s the gibbet on the end of the seawall.” He fell silent, out of words as well as breath.
“Start turning over rocks and see what crawls out,” I told him tersely. But I was as cross with myself as I was with Glannar. I should have realised a tarnished arm ring was a bad sign; you have to keep the talents that warrant it polished up along with the copper.
“Ryshad!” I turned to see Temar wave a parchment at me.
I left Glannar without a word. “What’s all this?” I shifted a splintered scrap of deal with one boot.
“We brought mostly woods unique to Kel Ar’Ayen,” explained Temar. We both looked at the cords of logs untouched in their ropes. “But our joiners made prentice pieces, to show how it can be worked.” He passed me a tiny drawer scarcely the length of my hand, one jagged scratch marring the smoothly waxed front. “Those pieces were all boxed together. My guess is they broke open the case thinking it was something valuable.”
I looked inside the shattered top of the rough wooden box to see miniature copies of fixtures and furniture like the ones Messire’s craftsmen make for the Sieur’s approval when some residence or other is being refurbished. “Have any been taken?”
Temar shrugged. “I think not. Some of the furs are gone though, the small pelts, the finest ones.”
I bent to retrieve a torn sheet of parchment. “What’s this?”
“Notes from our artisans.” Temar frowned. “Nothing important, but everything is unsealed.”
“Thieves looking for information more than valuables?” I mused.
“Anything valuable has gone,” scowled Temar. “There was some copper, but it is nowhere to be found.”
“We all grew up with tales of the riches of Nemith the Last’s lost colony.” I looked at him. “Gold and gems. Were there any?”
Temar smiled grimly. “All still safe in my personal baggage back at the shrine.”
“Along with any maps or charts that might give away Kellarin’s secrets?” I hazarded, relieved to see him nod. “But whoever broke in here wasn’t to know that.”
“So was this just sneak thieves taking advantage?” Temar wondered aloud.
I sighed and nodded towards the door. “I don’t suppose the inns down here serve tisanes, but I’ll buy you ale if you want it this early.”
Temar shook his head as we walked out into the sunshine and both drew thankful breaths of clean, fresh air, crossing the dock to sit on a baulk of timber.
“Glannar’s men have got a sorry tale of thoughtlessness adding to mishap piling on stupidity.” I scrubbed an irritated hand through my hair. “It could just be some bright-eyed lads taking the chance they saw offered, certainly. A ship from unknown lands, all but dragged off the rocks by wizardry, the whole town would have heard the tale before their dinner yesterday, and a fair few would have been curious to know just what you’d unloaded.”
“Curious enough to search through every scrap of parchment?” Temar was as keen as me to find an innocent explanation but equally alert to more sinister implications.
“There are plenty of sailors keen to know the currents and winds between here and Kellarin,” I mused. “Some might be foolhardy enough to risk the crossing without magic if there’s enough profit to be had.”
An unwelcome voice hailed us in a strangled shout.
“What has been going on?” puffed Casuel as he reached us, hair unbrushed and mismatched buckles on his shoes.
“Some of the Kellarin cargo has been stolen,” I said flatly, hoping his precipitate arrival might go unnoticed.
“By whom?” he demanded, outraged.
“As yet, we don’t know,” I replied calmly.
“Why aren’t you out looking for them!” Casuel looked around the harbour, presumably for some slow-footed miscreant draped in stolen pelts.
I turned my attention back to Temar. “It could have been pirates. They’ll be interested in knowing what comes from Kellarin and how it might compare to the Inglis trade.”
“And they would certainly be interested in looking for charts,” agreed Temar.
“Thieves or pirates, what’s the difference?” Casuel folded his arms abruptly, scowling.
“Otrick was keeping Velindre informed, hadn’t he?” I took a step closer to Casuel, using my greater height to force him back a pace. “Otrick was well liked by pirates all along the coast, wasn’t he? If Velindre has similar friends, perhaps she let something slip?”
“Impossible,” snapped Casuel, affronted.
“From her manner last night, I hardly think the lady would be so careless,” Temar said cautiously.
“Unlikely,” I agreed. But not impossible, and anyway the notion had Casuel too distracted to interrupt again.
“But what if it’s neither?” I said to Temar.
“Elietimm?” He nodded, expression dour. “People forgetting what was agreed, forgetting to mark the time, that could be Artifice at work”
“What?” Casuel looked from Temar to me and back again, eyes horrified. “There’s nothing to suggest Elietimm, is there?”
“No, but nothing to suggest it wasn’t, as yet.” I heaved an irritated sigh. “But how by all that’s holy can we tell? Could Demoiselle Tor Arrial tell if these men had been enchanted?”
“I am afraid not.” Temar looked thoughtful. “But she can look for anyone working Artifice hereabouts.”
I stared at the warehouse. “Copper is copper, and melted down it could have come from anywhere, so I don’t think we’ll see that again. But furs are too easily identifiable to risk selling them here, if our thieves have any wits.”
“So they ship them out with goods honestly bought and paid for?” Temar guessed.