Jackal Among Snakes

Delphasium, Mistress Tatia’s town, could not be called grand in scale, though the shining marble streets inside made it seem like a pearl amidst the desert. That place was far behind them, and Argrave felt it had been a suitable welcome to the Burnt Desert.

The mining city, Malgeridum, was giant compared to Delphasium, yet it lacked the magnificence the simple trading town had. It stood at the point where the sand dunes began to fade in way of hills of black rock and dirt, cratered deep into the earth. It had walls, but the city itself was so much lower than the surrounding terrain it was difficult to spot them from a distance. The first thing most would spot was rising smoke from the ever-burning furnaces, and the tarps waving in the wind to ward off sand.

The road to Malgeridum forked into two separate entrances, each for a distinct district. One district was obviously more maintained than the other, made for residential use, while the other was for labor and production. Argrave and his company stood beside Titus’ carriage, their bags fully packed. They would separate here—Argrave would head for the residential district while Titus would depart for the production district.

“What’s this?” Argrave held a thick round metal disc. It had eight triangles spaced equidistantly on the edge.

“A parting gift for the gentleman,” Titus explained. “I understand that the esteemed persons will be travelling to Argent. Even for those who have travelled there before, the dunes and the hills stretch on forever.” Titus looked out to the desert behind Argrave. “Just as a sailor must use the stars and a compass to mark their path across the ocean, so, too, must men in the Burnt Desert use a compass to traverse this sea of black sand.”

Argrave finally figured things out, and he flipped open the disc’s lid, revealing a bit of glassware above a simple magnetized needle. The cardinal directions were marked.

“This is…” Argrave looked down at it. “Damn. I feel pretty stupid. I was worrying about how I was going to find my way around in case things went sour, but… guess I forgot these stupid things existed,” Argrave laughed and shook his head. “I appreciate this. It’s a very considerate gift. I don’t know what I did to deserve it, exactly. Don’t you need it?”

Titus scratched the back of his neck, embarrassed. “It’s an old thing, in truth, one that I used long ago. But it’s reliable, and I believe that’s the most important thing.”

Argrave nodded and closed the lid with his thumb. “You’re a nice guy, Titus.”

“The gentleman was entertaining and polite—rare company for a merchant as me. And…” he stepped away, retrieving a simple red cloth wrapped around something rectangular. “Here. The madam expressed enjoyment of the Bitterbite leaves, and so I took the liberty to prepare some. Please,” he held them out to Anneliese.

She took them from his hands. “Such a thoughtful gift,” she smiled warmly.

Argrave felt something unpleasant in his chest, and he found himself stepping forward between the two of them. “So, you’re headed to the production district to unload things?” he addressed Titus.

“Yes, my men and I will be headed that way,” Titus confirmed. “I apologize, but I could not think of a gift for the second gentleman, Galamon…”

Galamon shook his head. “I have all I need.”

“I appreciate all you’ve done.” Argrave held his hand out, holding ten gold coins in hand stacked atop each other. “Here. I know you didn’t ask, but don’t refuse.”

Titus blinked for a moment, biting his lips in clear hesitance. Eventually, Argrave grabbed his wrist and dropped the coins in his hand.

“The gentleman is generous,” Titus sighed. “May your days be vigorous, and your nights tranquil,” he placed his hand on his chest and bowed deeply.

“Maybe not too­ vigorous,” Argrave said musingly. “I wish you well.”

Titus straightened, nodded, and whistled with his fingers. At once, his men spurred the camel forward, and they moved down the road, heading for the production district.

Argrave watched their caravan move away, feeling a little bit empty.

“Can talk again, finally,” Garm veritably shouted.

Argrave turned to Galamon and looked past, seeing the gleaming black and gold eyes hiding behind Galamon’s helmet atop his backpack. He really leaves himself open for low blows. So much mean stuff I can say in response to that.

“You did well,” Argrave said instead, turning away to the mining city ahead. “Even still, we have to get inside quickly, find a place to stay. Don’t want to linger in this city long. Not the same type of place as Delphasium.”

#####

Malgeridum possessed the bare essential qualities of a city.

The word ‘barren’ was the best fit to describe the place. The Vessels in this city were not so liberal with their resources—not a drop of water could be found anywhere, and every field of crops had tall fences with guards stationed. People lined up outside a stately building, tokens in their hands. The tokens marked hours worked, and the people would exchange them for their necessities.

The streets were made of hardened black clay and each building was packed very closely together, enough so that people could not walk side-by-side in some areas. A few of the buildings were small enough that Argrave could see the roof if he craned his neck a little. It made traversing the place difficult, at times, because the population in the place was quite densely packed.

The walls on the outside of the city were not as tall as those in Delphasium, and consequently, the place was filled with black sand blown in from the dunes they had come from. There was a strange, industrial scent hanging about most of the air from the mines, furnaces, and forges, and Argrave was glad that his lungs had recovered from that disease he’d caught in the Low Way. Most people walked about with cloth about their face to protect their airways, and Argrave found himself doing the same.

But as they pushed past the decrepit clay houses, eventually the streets opened to accommodate the wealthier residents of the city—Vessels, and their trusted aides. The well-maintained streets lined with orderly estates were like night and day when compared to the hovels they had come from.

“Here. This place,” Argrave pointed out a gated area. Tents lined the courtyards, each occupied by large beds. “Luxury brothel, as I remember, but it’ll rent rooms to foreigners. Other places won’t.”

Argrave walked to the gate, where two men stood on guard. “Hello,” he greeted. “Like to rent a room for the three of us. That possible?”

The guard looked up at Argrave, casting a glance to his fellow. “It will cost much,” he cautioned. “Foreigners… bring trouble.”

“Name a price,” Argrave held his hands out.

“In the northern coin?” the guard questioned, and Argrave nodded. “Hundred gold, including food.”

Argrave widened his eyes. “One night, hundred gold for three?”

“For each,” the guard corrected.

Argrave placed his hand to his forehead. He knew he didn’t have that much, at least not in pure gold. It wasn’t enough to warrant using a rose gold coin, either. Even if he cared to use the larger currency, the people here would probably bilk him on that front, vastly understating the value of the rose gold magic coin.

“You do realize we’re not asking for your primary services, right? Just need a place to sleep?” Argrave questioned.

“The Master stated this price, gentleman,” the guard stated passively.

Argrave sighed, turning around. He had his hand to his chin. “Galamon, get my lockbox, if you please.” He turned back to the man. “Tell the Master Zirun I’d like to work out a price in something other than gold.”

#####

Argrave sat on a comfortable cushy chair, sitting straight as he tapped his finger against his temple impatiently. Galamon stood behind him, at the ready, while Anneliese sat in another chair nearby, eyes darting from place to place. They were beneath a canopy in the center of the brothel, surrounded by the employees and the customers. To say the very least of the sights, Argrave agreed with the assessment of ‘luxurious.’

Argrave tapped her elbow with the back of his hand. “What are you looking around for?”

“I think you should know by now,” she returned easily. “Merely interested.”

With no retort, Argrave shook his head, waiting.

“My mother very nearly took employment at a place like this once… when she was at Berendar. She was offered a very tantalizing sum, so she said.”

Argrave frowned. “Glad she didn’t.”

“You dislike places like these,” Anneliese noted.

“Empty pleasures and venereal diseases—that’s all you’ll get here,” Argrave said, waving his hand in dismissal.

Galamon grunted in agreement.

“But people will always desire this sort of thing,” Anneliese rebutted. “It would be best if—"

“Not now, alright?” Argrave held up a hand to stop her. “The guy’s coming.”

Master Zirun, a short and well-groomed man, strode across the brothel and entered beneath the canopy. He was a Vessel, lacking a mark on the back of his hand, and with the same wet skin the others displayed. He wore flashy clothing with too many colors and sashes to count, golden jewelry dangling from his neck, ears, and fingers—probably enough metal to add fifteen pounds to him.

Zirun held his hands out, jewelry jingling against each other. “Greetings, foreigners. My guardsmen tell me you have something to offer me.”

“Yes, that’s right,” Argrave confirmed, standing.

“Please—sit,” he stopped Argrave, himself moving to sit across from their party.

“Trade is simple. We have plenty of gemstones here,” Argrave touched his lockbox as he sat down. “We’d like a room for three. Preferably secluded, preferably quiet. No need for any services,” Argrave emphasized. “Just a nice place to sleep.”

“Gemstones, is it?” Zirun leaned back in his chair. “Sir, you do realize this is a mining town, no? Gold, gemstones—we have been blessed with abundance here in Malgeridum.”

“Not pearls, though,” Argrave held out a finger.

Zirun paused for a long moment, but quickly recovered, added, “Even of pearls—”

“Don’t do that,” Argrave interrupted. “I know you have gemstones of all types—rubies, sapphires, emeralds—so much so that this little city is a geological miracle. I’m not even sure those jewels are supposed to form so closely together, but what do I know?” Argrave spread his hands out. “But pearls… no oceans, no water for miles and miles. Pearls are a very rare commodity here.”

Zirun said nothing, and so Argrave took the opportunity to lean in. “Adorn a few of your courtesans with pearls, this place will be the talk of the city.” Argrave flipped open the lockbox, ensuring the lid blocked Zirun’s vision. He retrieved five pearls carefully, placing them in between his fingers.

“Give us a room, plus a suitable sum of gold coins minted in the Burnt Desert… and I’ve got plenty of pearls.”

Zirun entwined his hands, staring at Argrave.

#####

“It was a pleasant trade,” Argrave said happily, loading the gold coins into his lockbox. Zirun had given their party coins minted right here in Malgeridum, which would doubtless make things much easier in future visits. The coins were smaller, Argrave found, and they had plenty for the future.

“A few of my girls will escort the three of you to your room,” Zirun informed, wiping the round pearls free of blemishes. “If you’d like, I can send some to provide services, as well. Free of charge, naturally.”

“Not a chance,” Argrave dismissed immediately.

“Yes… most in Vasquer are like that, I find,” Zirun commented woefully. “No matter. Be careful not to wander outside. The gates will remain open, but things are not at ease in Malgeridum presently.”

“Not at ease?” Argrave questioned. “What’s wrong?’

“A revolt in the production district,” Zirun shook his head. “The fools seized a supply depot—ah, this is where the citizens receive food and water in return for their labor.”

“That won’t last long, though, will it?” Argrave questioned. “Those places aren’t very big. Three days of supplies, maybe more…”

“True,” Zirun nodded. “And most Vessels have agreed to wait them out, cordon the place off and count it as a loss until the fools themselves submit to be Drained, or until they try and move.”

“A bit slow-moving, but it works…” Argrave said distantly. “Well, I hadn’t planned on going out anyway. Please, take us to our rooms.”

“Certainly,” Zirun gestured towards his girls. “East wing. The Hidden Tryst room. Take them, quickly,” he directed.

Argrave followed, feeling a strange sense of unease at the news.