The Keeper And The Dragons Ch 16 17

Chapter 16

Northmarket District, Oldtown

The Red Mountain dwarf, who the street urchins called Mr. Whiskers, birth name was Draga Stonecutter. He was 153 years old, middle-aged for dwarven-kind; old enough to have the beginnings of a true grandfather's beard, 3 feet long and pure white. He was exceedingly proud of it and had his wives braid it into all kinds of fanciful designs. Dwarven-kind valued their elders for their wisdom; his beard gave evidence of high status.

He was behind the bar, serving ale to a motley collection of pipe-smoking oldsters of his kind, when Quinn and his small companions walked into the tavern. Quinn grinned when he saw the dwarf's normal grumpy demeanor get grumpier.

He gave Quinn a sour look. "The little one said you were in the city. What were you thinking, giving her such a fortune? You have not changed. You were a troublemaker back when you were too short to cut a purse, and you still make trouble today. Your nonsense has the youngsters all atwitter with talk of the feast. So much so that they are not thinking about work. We will all soon be starving and homeless, thanks to your nonsense."

Quinn laughed, reached over the bar and picked up the old dwarf and gave him a bone-crushing hug. "Greetings, Grandfather. You are the one who talks nonsense. All know you have wealth beyond counting. No doubt these grandfathers come to you asking for loans. Did you arrange the food for the feast?"

'"Yes. If you wish to throw away the wealth that fate has gifted you, who am I to argue? Now for the love of The Stone Father, put me down, you big idiot."

"Why don't we grab a table and gossip a bit?"

The dwarf signed Klzyx and Clover to go to the kitchen to eat and waved to a young female troll server to take his place behind the counter. He drew a couple of mugs of ale and led Quinn over to a corner table.

"Tell me the marketplace gossip."

"Things have been chaotic ever since someone eliminated two of the most powerful figures in Oldtown." He gave Quinn a questioning look. When he realized that no comment was forthcoming, he frowned and continued. "Up till now, the war for control was in the background, but now the chaos has spread to even the thieves' guilds. It's getting harder and harder to borrow or lend money lately. A sure sign, that hard times are coming. No one is taking chances. Folk are hording. We have had peace for over eighty years. That peace has ended. We're returning to the bad old days when I was a young lad. There has been a series of assassinations—very slick professional assassinations. That means the Drygioni have got their slimy fingers in one or more of the six guild lords' wallets. Old scores are being evened up."

Quinn told him of the conversation he'd had with the Vampire.

"Sweet Mother, you have been breathing rarefied air. Few get an audience with the Bloodsucker. Be careful you don't get enmeshed in her web. She's as tricky a being as has ever lived in Oldtown."

"We have an understanding."

The old dwarf scowled. "Do not put your faith in anything she says. Luciana Marinus is as devious and ruthless as any being in the city. Youngling, you know that there is no profit to be gained by interfering in the business of our betters. Why are you here?"

"Wraith is here and I want to find her."

The old being let out a strangled curse. "By my grandfather's hairy balls, are you telling me it has been our little Lamia roaming about town working?"

"Yes."

"Gods blast that stupid girl. She's going to get herself ended. What is she thinking?" The old dwarf's brow wrinkled in worry. He had always had a soft spot for her. "She is a chameleon. You will never find her. I will wager that she has bolt holes all over, even down in the Desolate. I wouldn't go down there unless I was backed by two and twenty warrior orcs."

"That's the why of the feast for your young minions. Ask them for me to keep their eyes and ears open for her, have them tell of any odd rumors or beings that don't belong. Be sure to tell them to be careful. Also, some Carter's Guild enforcers will be looking for an old woodworker. You might as well earn a few coins by helping them find me."

The old dwarf gave Quinn a suspicious look.

"Why? What have you done now?"

Quinn gave him a bland look.

His demeanor grew more irritable looking. "Longshanks tell me you are not the being the market is chattering about. You did not disfigure guild master Silverbirch's whelp. Tell me you didn't arouse the anger of the leader of the most powerful guild in Oldtown."

"He desperately needed a lesson in manners. Listen, I know someone is running Wraith. Given her reputation and status, it is some being at the top of this garbage heap of a city."

The dwarf signaled to Klzyx, who was munching on a sausage, watching Quinn with hopeful eyes. "Klzyx, go you with this tall simpleton and see if you can keep him out of trouble. And you, young human, watch your back."

Klzyx hurried to his side, his face now stern with his new responsibility. He signaled 'come here' to little Clover, who was watching from the doorway of the kitchen, to come join them. She skipped across the room to his side with a delighted grin that almost stretched to her ears. Quinn gave the dwarf a farewell slap on the shoulder and the trio walked out of the darkness of the tavern and into the bright sunlight.

Chapter 17

Northmarket District, Oldtown

The Oracle's pawn shop was tucked into a dead-end alley four blocks west of the tavern. When they arrived, Quinn asked Klzyx and Clover to keep watch and walked into the shop. The dimly lit shop looked like a hoarder's paradise. It smelled of dust and mildew. Four long glass cases were filled with assorted bric-à-brac and dusty jewelry. The walls were festooned with a haphazard collection of pots and pans mixed with tools of all sorts. Racks of clothing took up the remaining floor space.

A scarecrow-thin female gnome perched behind an age blackened counter haggling with a couple of young street toughs who were trying to pawn a silver necklace.

The Oracle was an age-wizened matriarch with bright green eyes. She styled her snow-white hair in a thick braid that curled around her shoulders like a stole. A pair of hulking blue mountain trolls who served as her security sat at a table next to a display of dust-covered musical instruments playing some sort of complicated game of dice. The street urchins held that she was a thousand years old. True or not, no one in living memory remembered when she wasn't sitting at her pawn shop. The two street toughs, now swaggering out of her shop having completed their bargain, gave truth to the rumor she supplemented her income as a fence for the thieves' guilds.

Quinn was counting on the fact that while she had her fingers in many nefarious pies, most of her income came from the fact that she traded in information. She cultivated a vast web of informants who listened and passed along the rumor and innuendo that flowed from mouth to ear in Oldtown's five marketplaces. Unlike Earth-realm, Oldtown had no World Wide Web, where data and its offspring information were available at the touch of a finger. Seven-year-old Quinn had picked up more than a few coppers sharing street rumors and scandals with her. Nobody paid attention to the random guttersnipes who infested the markets. He had quickly found eavesdropping to be far safer and more profitable than cutting purses.

"It's about time you answered my summons, boy. They sent word you were on your way. But first, have you some mote of juicy gossip about our betters? Perhaps you might share what happened to the Druid and the Leprechaun, hmmm?" Her sharp black eyes gleamed with inquisitiveness. She absorbed gossip like a sponge.

Quinn didn't have to ask who "they" were. The Troll Women were in full puppeteer mode.

"Blessings, Mistress," he said politely. "This day, I am a buyer, not a seller." He reached into his pack, took out two rolls of pennies, and slid them to her.

She set the mini crossbow on the counter. He knew she always kept it close at hand while negotiating with the thieves of Oldtown. The rolls of pennies disappeared.

"Well, you have made an excellent start. How can I serve Vísdómur's Shadow Walker?"

"First of all, I don't need that fact that I'm here spread about Oldtown."

"It is too late. My watchers spotted you the moment you crossed. How do you think I knew to message you?"

Quinn sighed. Apparently, his disguise wasn't as good as he thought. He chided himself for his hubris.

"I need to know who the major players are in the current power struggle. Next, why does the Bank suddenly need a hex witch? Third has to do with Wraith. Why would she take a on a job against the dragon bankers of all people? Who is running her? She is supposed to be retired. Oh, I almost forgot. These treasures are for you." He reached into his bag and pulled out a one-pound bag of peanut M&M's.

She clapped her hands in glee. "Now, that is the reason you were always my favorite." She pointed at her two bodyguards. "You see this; you louts. This is how you stay on my good side."

The two paused their games. The eldest, named Venjo, "As you say, Mistress. We will try our best to do better."

He looked over at Quinn and winked. "We will deal with you later."

Quinn shot the big male a friendly grin.

The ancient gnome limped over to the door and locked it. She pointed to a scarred wooden dining table in the corner of the cluttered room.

"Venjo set cups. Ayagi, bring tea for the young Master. I have a tale to tell, and it will take a bit."

After the table was set and tea poured to her satisfaction, she carefully dumped the peanut M&M's into a bright green glass dish.

Selected one green piece, popped it into her mouth, and savored it with a delighted grin. Quinn waited patiently. The gnome did things her own way; if she was rushed, she stalled.

"After your ill-advised tantrum three months ago, young Keeper. You unleashed a power struggle that has everybody from the guild masters to the street sweepers jostling for advantage. This sort of pandemonium arises in Oldtown every eighty years or so and causes a reordering of the powerful. Over the millennia, the clans move up and down the social strata. A weak generation of leaders brings ruin to even the most powerful clans. That is the way it is and always will be. Thus, all clans have memories of the long climb out of the catacombs. All know they are one misstep away from returning to grubbing for salt in the Desolate to pay for their food."

"As I recall," Quinn said impatiently. "That is the normal state of affairs here."

"Hush now and listen. Things are very different these days. This is the first I have heard of a hex witch at the bank. They have their very own hexer and she is very talented. But. I will say that if the Balance is threatened, the situation is dire. The Balance is the key in Oldtown. Without the Balance, there is no safe place for honest thieves to do business. The Balance is the Dragon Bank. For centuries, the old dragon has been the force behind the scenes to hold the merchants and the guilds in check. They all think they are free to do what they will, but in the end, they all march to the beat of his drumming. He controls the cash, and the interest rates and enforces the contracts. The weavers' guild tried to cheat him four hundred years ago. The old dragon destroyed them root and branch. There is a four-block section down in Southmarket where nothing lives to this day. As for the hex witch, I have nothing to say except that she is at the bank. You know, as well as I do there is no profit to be had involving oneself in the bank's affairs. Beings that poke their noses into bank business get their noses lopped off."

Quinn quietly digested the information. He waited for her to continue.

There are strange undercurrents going on these days. I'm certain the Sidhe have their hands behind the actors, pushing and shoving where it will cause the most chaos. Old Silverbirch is the obvious key. So, I would start with him. However, you should be cautious as he is too foolish to be anything other than a puppet for other entities. The bank is bothersome. I cannot imagine how they could mount any sort of attack there. But if they succeed in bringing down the old dragon, Oldtown will instantly erupt in civil war."

On to the bank, he thought., Jesus, what a shit show this was tuning out to be.

Once outside the pawnshop, he looked over at the two younglings who were waiting for him and made a quick decision. "I want you two to go back to Mr. Whisker's place and wait for me there. I will be along in a while. I have one more stop to make."