Fanuilh by Daniel Hood (ebook reader with highlight function TXT) 📗

knuckled his forehead, then retreated behind the mound of junk where the children played, bowing his way.

Liam called to the girl, and she reluctantly climbed down from her playground to stand before him. The boy stayed perched atop the pile, poised and watchful.

"Thank you," Liam said and held out two coins for her. She snatched them, dropped a quick curtsy, and ran back up the pile to the boy, holding the coins high like a prize. The boy smiled shyly.

It had grown darker in the courtyard, and Liam hurried out one of the alleys. The street it opened on was broad, marking the edge of the Warren and the beginning of the waterfront district. A row of brick warehouses stood across the way. Necquer's offices were only a few streets away.

The clouds had grown angrier, agitated by the harsh wind from the sea; it would rain soon, but there was time to visit the merchant before it broke. Necquer would not be happy to see him, certainly, but what did that matter? He would simply ask a few harmless questions, and make sure Epidamnum had been one of the ports the merchant traded in. And since Necquer was already displeased with him, he could afford to annoy him a little more.

Necquer's warehouse was more attractive than Marcius's, red brick and long-fronted with a wide strip of clean windows near the roof. There was a large sign as well, painted in elaborate letters, announcing "Freihett Necquer, Factor and Merchant." Liam had been there before on three occasions, while selling his maps. There were no guards, only an old doorkeeper who seemed to recognize him. He let Liam in, and bid him wait while he went to announce him.

There were more goods in the warehouse than in Marcius's, kegs and boxes and bales reaching to the raftered ceiling in tidy stacks, and they filled most of the floorspace. Between the stacks at the center of the warehouse, an aisle had been left that led back to the offices. The doorkeeper appeared again after a moment, and waved Liam on.

"He'll see you," the old man called.

Liam went down the aisle and passed the doorkeeper into the merchant's offices. There was a large area with tall secretaries and the high stools that went with them. The other times he had been there, clerks had perched precariously on the stools, busily scratching away at ledger entries and bills of lading, making jokes and speaking among themselves. Now there was no one, all gone for Uris's Eve, Liam supposed, and the silence was eerie. Necquer's private office was beyond the clerks' area, behind a stout wooden door. He knocked at the door and then went in.

Necquer sat at a simple table, papers piled neatly before him, pen and inkpot and blotter arrayed with military precision. Sea charts and maps of Taralon hung on the walls, but Liam did not see his own charts. Too valuable to be displayed, even for Necquer's own clerks.

"Rhenford. What may I do for you?" He spoke formally, sitting rigid in his chair, his affability replaced by a brisk, businesslike demeanor.

"Well, Master Necquer," he said, smiling brightly, "I had the afternoon free, and it struck me that we never really discussed the outcome of your journey."

"Yes?"

"Naturally, I'm interested to know more about it. The maps, after all, were mine, and I'm glad to have heard you did well by them. But I'm really more interested to know how you found the lands themselves. Some of them I have not visited in a long time."

"Really?"

"Yes. For instance, I was wondering how things were in Domy—I spent six months there, and found it a very pleasant place. Did you find it so?"

"The trade was good."

The merchant's apathetic answers were exasperating. He decided to simply ask.

"Ah. And Sardis? And Epidamnum?"

"We did not make Sardis. Epidamnum was fairly profitable." He mentioned the second port without hesitation.

"I would like to discuss your journey in more detail, Master Necquer. Compare notes, you understand. Perhaps if you could spare an hour or so?"

"I am occupied at present, Rhenford. I have work to fill the afternoon."

Liam could sense that Necquer was getting impatient, but he wanted to know how far he could push him. It couldn't hurt, as the merchant's attitude towards him was already obviously negative.

"I see. Maybe this evening, then? Only an hour or so, I promise."

"Tonight is Uris's Eve, Rhenford. I will be working until eight, and then I must attend the vigil at her fane. I cannot spare you any time."

He spoke the last in such a way that the word "ever" was clearly attached, and Liam decided to take the hint.

"That's too bad. I would have liked to hear what you thought. Well, perhaps some other time."

"Perhaps," Necquer said coldly, and pointedly picked up his pen and began writing.

Liam nodded and left, still smiling brightly to show that he had not taken offense. The merchant paid him no attention. The doorkeeper was waiting outside the clerks' room, and escorted him out.

A fat drop of rain stained Liam's cloak. The storm was only a few minutes away, and he walked as quickly as he could towards the city square and the jail.

Lay worshippers were not allowed into the Uris's Eve vigils, Coeccias had told him. Necquer knew he was a Midlander only recently arrived in Southwark, and would not expect him to know that. But why then say he was going to attend the vigils? A convenient lie to avoid meeting with him, or did Necquer have somewhere to go at eight? More likely the first, but it was just possible that the merchant had a rendezvous scheduled. And if it were in the Warren, with a certain hooded woman ...

Liam hurried faster, happy Scar had left his legs alone. The drops of rain began to fall sporadically, spotting his cloak, and by the time her reached the jail, it was a solid drizzle.

Coeccias was not there, but the Guardsman on duty let him sit on