Chapter 2 - The Docks

            Dall continued to stare out of the window for sometime. He sat dreamily, resting his head on his folded arms as the rain fell down, now worse than ever. The clouds covered the sky and the snow from the streets quickly turned into a torrent of slush. He thought bak to the events of yesterday, and was glad that he'd had no trouble so far. Still, he wondered why he'd come - well, not why he'd come but why he'd thought he could do what he set out for. That murderous bastard who'd killed his parents and youngest brother could be anywhere, possibly not in the city, and probably behind an army of thugs who'd kill him on site. "I'd need an army," he mused allowed. "Or if not an army, some help." But right now what he knew he needed was a job. He had to make money some how, and he wasn't planning on going after the taffer for a few months. Connections, information and friends would have to be built up first. But since he knew nothing about the city at the moment - any job would do.             "Damn. This is going to be hard." he said to himself.

            "What is?" asked another voice. It was calm, yet strong and although young it was filled with an air of wisdom and knowledge. It was also female. Dall quickly turned aound, falling off his chair. He managed to pick up as much of what had fallen off and as much of his dignity as possible.

            "Well?" asked the woman.

            "Oh...nothing important." Dall replied. The woman as quite thin, although obviously strong and she had long, silky black hair.

            "Well it must be important - important to you anyway. You said you'd need friends. Or an army, "she laughed, confident that she could provide either.

            "It's private," said Dall in a harsh voice. "And were you spying on me?"

            "Not spying - overhearing."

            "Well go away and listen to someone else."

            "As you wish." She turned and walked down the corridor to her room, with a smug grin and the knowledge that she'd found something interesting. "You should close your door at night," she called. "Never no what people might hear." Her door slammed.

            Dall was relatively unnafected by this ordeal. It didn't really have any significance, and he needed to go out and find a job. But first he needed food.

            He went down the stairs to the main room, where a few guests were sitting - mostly on their own but there was a small group of around five talkin and laughing at the bar. Johnny Landon, the jovial innkeeper sat carelesly cleaning bottles and ale mugs, while Maddy, his fat wife, replaced the reeds on the floor.

            "Morning, Mr. Landon," said Dall in a suprisingly cheerful voice.

            "Good morning, Master...er...um...Hammerson? Yes, Hammerson. And it's jus' Johnny - we don't a bother with all this formality 'round 'ere. What be ye wantin'?" The innkeeper said in a voice as jovial and relaxed as ever.

            "Just some breakfast. Whatever you've got - and some ale, bread and cheese to take with me."

            "Maddy, get of the floor and giv some of that there stew to Master Hmmerson." ordered Johnny. "So you're going out - I never like to go out in this kind of weather."

            "I need to find a job - any suggestions?" asked Dall. He'd found that  he'd grown to like the innkeeper. He had a good spirit and a cheerful manner.

            "Well....it depends what you're after - if you want something constant, I'd recommend working at a smithy, a stables or getting some kind of job aat a nobelman's house. But if you just want quick cash, your best bet is down the docks - there's always eople on the look out for erand runners down there."

            "Thanks," said Dall as he sat down by a window eating the dull but wholesom stew. He was quickly finished and went straight out, with the food that had been prepared and saddled up Fella. At least he had one friend to rely on right now - even if it was a carrot-obssesd horse. The rain was beating down now, so he was wearing his thick woolen cloak from the mountains. Fella was reluctant to leave, more interested in the cart of oats than freezing, wet ride through a polluted city. But Dall hit him on with his stick and the white horse was galloping through the streets like the wind. His movements were graceful, yet fast but Dall had the skill to handle him and stay on well. Dall made good time, and was soon at the docks. He had no idea where to go, so went for the nearest ships. Shipping was as busy as ever - more and more ships left and returned, loading and unloading with dockhands rushing about on their jobs and errands. They were struggling to cope with the rain - and then Dall noticed the wind - it didn't really effect the interior of the city because of the walls and buildings - but these docks, along what was known as the Bank of the Seas, had nothing to protect the docks - it was just a line of ships and jetties along the edge of the land. The seafront was filled with cargo containers and everything else - fishing nets etc. that you'd find at a dock. Then there were warehouses, shops and ruff pubs as well as watch and customs houses lining the docks, opposite the sea which tossed with great waves. Some ships were being sent out but other crews were more reluctant. The wind ws now ferocious, howling so loud that everyone had to shout just to be heard. Dall was to wet and cold to have time over choosing a ship, so he just went for the nearest one. There was a bit of shelter where other horses were tied up, so he left Fella here, and went on and into the cabin of the ship. As he entered, he was already feeling seasick - he'd never been on a boat before, and although the  ship was tied down it was still very rough.

            The main cabin was well decorated - it had panneled walls with red drapes and all kinds of nautical charts hung up. The man who was in charge was obvious - a fat man dressed in expensive black robes, with gold chains, sitting at the large oak desk with several men around making calculations with compasses and their charts. A slim man - some kind of steward - ushered Dall over to his desk at the near corner.

            "Looking for a job are we?" he asked in a very snooty and disdainful voice. He was wearing black as well.

            "Yes - anything really," replied Dall.

            "Well we do have an occupation available - but I'll have to ask the boss. Hang on...Mr. Gilver - we have a man applying for the job of courier here - would you like ot see him now?" His tone was really starting to annoy Dall now.

            "Yes - come over here lad," said Gilver, in a tone that wasn't as stern as an order but new what he said would be done. "You look strong. Not that this job is all heavy lifting. Do you know how to keep your mouth shut?" Dall was getting the idea of this now - he didn't say anything.

            "Well done. When can you start?"

            "Right away sir, thank you." Dall was amazed at his good fortune.

            "Oh - no need for thanks - anyone could do this job. i excpect

you'll want to know about the business, yes?

            "Yes sir."

            "My name is Mr. Gilver. I run an exporting company - we've had hard times of late - when we were confined to Rampone's Dockside Shiping. It's a hard area and we lost most everything we ordered to Pirates.

Namely Captain Davidson - anyway the watch caught him when he was docked and we all had a good party at the gallows that day! It took us a while to get back on track again, especially after the whole premises was robbed by some bloody thief. Anyway, after making deals with well, not Pirates but er, um, ah er - well Captain Harden. Anyway - with his help we made a lot of cash - we have a trading fleet and they mostly dock here - I just have a few men at Rampone's and a total of 22 ships - 11 for me and 11 for Harden. The company is split in half between us - he handles escorts and I handle the deals and trading. That's about it really. Your job as courier will be to deliver objects and substcnces that can't really be sent through the more...public channels. Your first delivery will be some foreign herbs - don't know what they're for, don't want to know - either way, give them to the barkeep of 'The scarred blade," the roughest tavern on the city. Here they are - now get to it."

            Dall didn't question, but put the small bag into his cloak and went out. he hadn't asked about pay - no doubt that would be decided later.

AS he left the warm interior of the ship, he was hit bye the ice cold air outside. The storm was still getting worse. He looked out to sea where some poor ships were trying to anchor - but that was no near as bad as the ones being sent out. The huge waves tossed them around, damaging masts and sales. He looked then to the docks - everyone was still at work, and it seemed that accidents were far from uncommon - several sailors were thrown of riggin while trying to take down the sails, spray lept high over the dockside, knocking dockhands everywhere and the wind pulled down piles of cargo that wasn't securely fixed. It would be to dangerous to go by horse, unless he wanted to have a fast journey to the ground. As he walked down the heaving dockside, soaked from rain and spray and amazingly cold considering his cloak he again had doubts about the city. All he'd seen so far was dirt and the cold - and he needed somewhere better than the Crippled Burrick to stay. Fortunately the "Scarred Blade wasn't far - and it would be warmer. The downpoar continued, and the winds got worse. "Oh well - it's a job," he said to himself in a voice that wasn't cheerful but wanted to be cheerful.

            And from the rooftops of the warehouses, he was watched.