At mid-morning, the Sea Gate was bustling. Cargoes being unloaded in the harbor and transported into the city spawned dozens of carts and wagons that moved slowly down the street toward the Old Market and beyond. Sailors just arrived from long journeys hurried off-ship to find inns and women. Above the docks, sea birds squawked and wheeled in flight, seeking out the debris from dropped cargo that comprised a major part of their diet.
Jazhara suppressed a yawn as they walked. “I’m so tired that watching all these people dash about makes me feel as if I’m sleepwalking.”
James smiled. “You get used to it. One of the tricks I’ve learned in Arutha’s service is to nap whenever I get the chance. My personal best is four days without sleep. Of course I had the help of a magic potion and once its effects wore off I was good for nothing for a week . . .”
Jazhara nodded. “Such things must be employed with caution.”
“So we discovered on the trip home,” said James, now also stifling a yawn in response to Jazhara’s. “Whatever fate awaits us, I hope it involves at least one good night’s sleep before we depart.”
“Agreed.”
They reached the Wreckers’ Guild, a fairly nondescript two-story building a block shy of the Sea Gate. Several men were gathered outside, next to a large wagon. Two of them climbed atop the wagon as another pair began to walk away, lugging a large chest.
James stopped and tapped one of the men on the shoulder.
Without turning to see who stood behind him, the man snarled, “Shove off!”
Tired, and in no mood for rudeness, James said, “Prince’s business.”
The man threw him a quick glance. “Look, if you’re here about the Guild Master, I just told everything I know to the Captain of the Watch.”
James took the man firmly by the shoulder and spun him about. The mover’s large fist pulled back to strike James, but before he could, the squire had his dagger at the man’s throat. “Indulge me,” he said with more than a whisper of menace in his voice. “Perhaps you could spare a moment and go over it once more. What exactly did you tell Captain Garruth about the Guild Master?”
Lowering his fist, the man stepped back. “It doesn’t take the brains of an ox to know he was murdered.”
One of the other movers, watching the exchange, shouted: “It was Kendaric what did it! He cost us all with his greed.”
The first man motioned toward the Guild entrance. “If you want details, you’d best talk to Jorath, inside. He’s the journeyman in charge, now.”
James put away his dagger and motioned for Jazhara to accompany him. They entered the Guild Hall, where several men stood in the corner deep in discussion. A young man, barely an apprentice by the look of him, stood nearby. He was tallying various items of furniture and personal belongings and recording figures in a ledger. James approached him. “We’re looking for Journeyman Jorath.”
The boy didn’t stop counting, but merely pointed over his shoulder with his quill at a door leading to a room in the rear.
James said, “Thanks,” and moved on.
He and Jazhara entered a room occupied by a large desk and several chairs. Standing before the desk was a middle-aged man, with dark hair and a short, neatly-trimmed beard. He wore a plain blue robe, similar to what one might expect on a priest or magician. Glancing up from the document he was studying, he said, “Yes?”
“I’m from the palace,” said James.
“I assume that since I’ve already answered questions, you’re here to tell me you’ve made some progress.” His tone dripped arrogance.
James narrowed his gaze for a moment, then let the irritation pass. “We are not part of the Guard. We need a ship raised.”
“I’m afraid you’re out of luck. The Guild is closed. Evidently you haven’t heard, but the Guild Master has been murdered.”
“What happened to him?” asked James.
“No one knows, exactly. There was some sort of struggle, apparently. He was found dead in his room, with his possessions scattered about. He put up a good fight, but it seems his heart gave out.”
James asked, “Why is the Guild closing down?”
“The Guild Master and Journeyman Kendaric were the only members of our guild capable of leading the ritual necessary to raise a large ship.”
“Well, we need to speak to the Journeyman right away.”
“Quite impossible, I’m afraid. Kendaric is the prime suspect in the Guild Master’s murder, and he seems to have gone into hiding. With both him and the Guild Master gone, we’re out of business.” He let out a soft sigh. “Which is probably not so bad, all things considered.”