Razala adopted a permanent scowl on his face as he neared the waterfront, having learned that thieves typically went for the easiest prey. He stumbled into the first sailor’s tavern he came to and limped up to the bar.
“Harac?” he croaked.
The bartender looked at him briefly and shook his head. Razala scanned the room as he turned back towards the door and shuffled out into the street. The waterfront was just starting to come alive at this time of night as workers finished their tasks for the day and migrated down to waterfront to procure whatever pleased them. Razala entered the next tavern and scanned the room before approaching the bar.
“Harac?” he croaked again.
This bartender had been pouring ale and stopped, putting the mugs down, and approached Razala. “Ain’t seen him,” the barkeep slurred. “If you finds him, you tell him he still owes me and I’m getting impatient. Now get outa here.”
Razala scowled at the man and left. The next three taverns were no better and Razala was getting impatient himself. He entered another tavern and this time the barkeep nodded over his shoulder. Razala nodded and made his way along the bar to a doorway leading to a back room. A burly man blocked the doorway and Razala limped straight for him.
“Harac,” he stated simply as he approached the man.
The man nodded and stepped aside. Razala went through the doorway and down a short hall, turning into another room crowded with people. He could barely squeeze into the room and had to push his way, which earned him hard looks and a few shouted insults. In the center of the room two men sat at a table with their left hands palm down, while their right hands held sharp knives. Their right arms were intertwined with each other and they were trying to stab their opponent’s left hand.
It was an old sailor game that had resulted in many a lost finger or maimed hand. All around the table, other men were betting on the outcome of the match. Across the room in the crowd was a seedy looking man with week old stubble on his face and only three fingers on his left hand. Razala headed straight for him.
“Harac,” he said when he reached the man.
The short man looked up annoyed, but his eyes widened when he saw Razala. “Just a moment,” he said. “After this match. I got 5 coppers on this one.”
Razala took a gold piece out of his purse and placed it in Harac’s hand. Harac looked at it and his eyes opened wide. He grinned as he shoved the coin into his pocket and nodded.
“C’mon out back,” he said as he led the way through the crowd and out the back door into an alleyway. “‘Tis good to see you again Razala. You must want something big to be throwing gold around like this.”
“Something big,” Razala confirmed. “And I want it done right. It is going to take a lot of men. Can you handle that?”
“A lot of men is a lot of gold,” reasoned Harac. “What do you need done?”
“Are you familiar with the Campanil area?” Razala asked.
“Sure, I’ve been there before,” answered Harac. “Decent taverns and not much else.”
“It is the main producing area for watula,” explained Razala, “and it is almost harvest time.”
“Hey, you don’t mean to harvest watula, do ya?” asked Harac.
“No,” sneered Razala. “I want the entire crop destroyed. Burn it all down.”
“Are you crazy?” asked Harac. “Why do you want us to burn crops?”
“Do you care?” Razala queried as he placed a bag of gold in Harac’s hand.
Harac opened the bag and looked in. “I don’t care,” laughed Harac. “I will even burn the city down if you want.”
“There is more to it,” Razala stated as he handed another bag of gold to Harac. “I want it to look like it was done by Sakovans.”
Harac raised an eyebrow as he stuffed the two bags of gold in his pocket. “How do I do that?” he inquired. “I don’t know what Sakovans even look like.”
“Leave some bodies behind with some stars in their backs,” Razala suggested. “Maybe mutilate a few bodies. The important thing is that nobody knows it was not Sakovans. That means it all goes up at the same time. It will take a lot of men and a lot of closed mouths.” Razala handed him two more bags of gold.
Harac swiftly stuffed the gold away. “I can get the men,” he assured. “I won’t say anything to them about Sakovans, but I will tell them what to do. I think the easiest way to make it sound like Sakovans is to tell the Imperial Guard that we seen them do it after it happens.”
“Whatever,” Razala said. “As for your men talking about it afterwards, I will give you ten times the amount of gold when you return successfully. The fewer men who return with you, the more gold there is to share.”
“You mean burn my own men?” Harac grinned.
“You could be a very wealthy man if you do this properly,” smirked Razala, “or a dead one if you mess it up. Plan your attack well before you attempt it. If the destruction is not blamed on Sakovans, do not come back.”
Harac squinted at the old man. He made good money off this man in the past, but nothing on this scale. Ten times the four bags of gold would make him rich. He wouldn’t need his men for anything after this job anyway.
“How do I find you when I come back?” Harac asked.
“I will find you as I always do,” smiled Razala. “Do not worry about getting paid. Your work will make a small fortune for me and I do not mind sharing. In fact, you do this job successfully and I will have another for you.”
Harac nodded his head vigorously as the old cripple limped off into the darkness.
Chapter 18
Mekin
The young impish woman opened the door to the Sakovan leader’s office and marched to the desk, her long golden hair swaying about her waist as she walked. “We found him wandering aimlessly around the Sakova,” MoonFlow reported.
“Have you verified his identity?” RavenWing asked as he peered out the open door at the young man waiting in the corridor.
“He knows his father’s Sakovan name and bears his father’s ring,” MoonFlow responded. “I am afraid we have little information on Mekin in our files. He is around the right age and his physical description matches what is in the files. Is there some concern that he might be a spy?”
“There is always concern,” sighed RavenWing. “Send him in and I will speak with him. You should remain and see if you detect anything out of place.”
MoonFlow called to Mekin and the young man entered the office. His eyes darted left and right absorbing every detail of the office as he entered and came to a stop before RavenWing’s desk. He smiled at the white-haired old man and extended his hand in greeting.
“Thank you for saving me,” Mekin greeted. “I was beginning to wonder if I would travel the Sakova forever in search of you.”
RavenWing grasped the young man’s hand and held it firmly as if measuring the depth of the man behind it. “Tell me what happened to your father,” he ordered.
“It was fairly sudden,” Mekin explained. “The night before he was taken, he gave me his ring with instructions to come here if anything happened to him. He must have known they were on to him. He refused to elaborate further when I pressed him for an explanation of what was happening and why I should come here. My father never told me of the Sakovans before that night. I had no idea that I was Sakovan. You can imagine how confused I was by his abrupt disclosure. All he would tell me was that his name was GoldenEar and that I must come here. The next morning he was arrested while leaving the house. I hid in the rafters when I heard the noise and the guards that searched the house did not notice me.”
“What did you do then?” RavenWing asked as he released the young man’s hand and indicated that he should sit.
“At first I refused to believe that they would hold him,” frowned Mekin. “I remained hidden for a few days. At night I would sneak out and try to learn of his fate. Finally I heard that he was executed as a Sakovan spy. I could not believe my ears. I am afraid that I became hysterical for a while and lost track of time, still refusing to believe that he was gone and I was alone in the world.”