STALKER7

An ongoing story about professional dungeon delvers and the dirty, dangerous jobs they do for their wealthy patrons.

Part One – Again

Part Two – Serious People, Serious Coin

Part Three – Old Legend, New Skin

Part Four – Alley Rats

***

PART FIVE – FIRST IMPRESSIONS

The next morning was rough.

Even drunk and concussed, Mikal chased sleep all night. Memories, guilt, and shitty excuses buzzed through his soggy brain like furious hornets, so between no sleep and bruises blooming on most of his body, his second hangover in a row was downright ugly.

Seeing Vera downstairs somehow made it worse.

She was in her old spot, at the table by the back window, bright-eyed and fired up for the day, a bowl of thick oat porridge, a mug of tea, and the business ledger open in front of her. She was scratching away with the quill, making notes in the columns. Getting the numbers in our favor is half the job, Mik, she’d always say. Mikal had seen the same most every morning for a dozen years and never thought twice. The sight of it right then made his chest ache.

Vera scowled as he entered the kitchen. “Gods almighty, they beat you good.” She waved at the empty chair opposite her and nudged her bowl across the table. “That bottle of brandy still in the flour cabinet?”

Mikal nodded, sat, and pulled the porridge toward him. His stomach lurched at the smell but he spooned a mouthful and kept it down. A heartbeat later, a short glass of dark plum syrup appeared in front of him.

“That’ll ease the hammering in your head,” Vera said. “But just the one. We’re due at Edna’s in an hour.”

The brandy was thick, sweet, and strong enough to light with a match. Mikal threw it back, felt it burn down his throat, then the slow, coal fire spread from his stomach.

His headache receded. He spooned down more oats and suddenly caught a whiff of himself. “Ugh, I need to wash up.” 

Vera wrinkled her nose and grinned. “Glad you said it, and not me. The rain barrel out back is full. There’s a clean towel and soap already out there.”

Mikal nodded slowly, so as to keep his head from falling off. He caught himself staring down into the bowl of porridge, trying to make sense of the mush of thoughts and feelings he was having. He looked up, into her face and gestured at the table, the ledger, the bowl, the empty shot glass. “This,” he said. “What is this?”

Vera frowned. “It’s breakfast.”

“Yeah but…. Are we, us again?

She frowned and slammed shut faster than a broken window. “We’ll talk on that later.” That discussion was over until she said different.  

“Right now, you need to wash the stink off you, drag a comb through your hair, and oil your beard,” Vera said brusquely. “New hires can’t see you looking like a stewed owl. Bad first impression.”

Mikal slurped down the rest of the oats in silence. He was walking out the back door when it hit him. “Wait. How do you know about Edna?”

Vera gave him an ‘aren’t you stupid today’ look. “How do you think, Mik? Now get clean, before I change my mind.” 

***

Interviews were always conducted in Edna’s ‘back office’; a generous term for a former meat curing room in the southeast corner of the Short Shovel’s warehouse. The rear of the building had been a butcher shop for ages and Edna had left the room when she bought the place because the reinforced door, thick walls, and lack of windows made it a decent makeshift vault.

As her fortunes grew, Edna bought a real vault in one of Nagront’s banks, so she brightened the curing chamber’s walls with paint, added a desk, lamps, some mismatched chairs and benches, and converted it into a secure meeting room. Not only did its construction deter rivals from eavesdropping on negotiations, the ‘solitary confinement’ squatness intimidated any arrogant patrons with a mind to grind the salvors. “If we’re going to make them rich, they’re going to pay for it.”

Edna’s two hired men, Rawlins and Ryle, stood on either side of the office door. The first had a puckered patch of skin where his left ear used to be, the second had two fingers gone off his right hand. Rawlins had lost the ear to bandits who jumped his crew coming out of some nameless catacombs in the eastern valleys. Ryle’s hand had been whittled down by a Blotgan raider’s axe, the mad descendants of Ur-Gench soldiers who haunted the forests up north. Despite their injuries, both were serious men, lean and fast as cats, who didn’t shirk from a shovel, a knife, or a tall glass of whisky.

Edna was behind the desk, ready to start. She shook her head when Mikal came through the heavy door. He’d done his best to smarten up but beaten and crawsick wasn’t exactly an inspiring picture of leadership. Her frown flipped into a rare grin when Vera slipped in behind him. The old delver was pleased to see her, but obviously not surprised, and it chafed Mikal that the two of them had gone behind his back. That they felt they’d had to.

Can’t lead if I’m a step behind, gods damn it. The words flitted on the tip of Mikal’s tongue but he swallowed them when he saw prospects seated on the benches. Never gripe in front of the help.

Edna waved them forward and Mikal straightened, hoping the haggard look on his face would pass for professional weariness.

Edna stood and addressed the room once he and Vera were seated beside her. “Listen up. The contract on offer is a single Inspection and Appraisal – a sketch and fetch – and seeing as none of you are draftsmen, expect mule work. Odds are high the client wants valuables removed from the site. So if you can’t lug, step out now.”

She paused a moment. No one moved.

“Fine. Understand the hire is temporary, not permanent. You get signed on, no promises are made or implied. Pay is one silver owl per day. Job is expected to run a week to ten, and the outfit is providing travel, standard rations, and basic gear for the duration. Any questions?”

Silence.

Edna sat back down. “Good. Come up to the desk when you hear your name.”  

Rawlins called a name and the first prospect made their way forward, cap in hand.  

Edna leaned past Mikal toward Vera. “Now that Shiver and Funk are back together, four strong backs ought to do it, eh?”

Vera nodded. Stuck between them, Mikal’s irritation gnawed another tiny hole in his pride.   

The first round of potential muckers were jail birds and gutter sweepings. Like Edna had cautioned, no old hands showed up, even those Mikal knew were hungry for work. Vera and Edna went through the first two benches in minutes and dismissed them without a second glance.

The back bench was more interesting.

The first hire was a big lad named Davorin Darnock. He came from a farm on the Plains and looked like it; a kind, tanned face, broad shoulders, and a shaggy head of coal black hair. Davorin claimed his father had been a soldier and had taught him to use a sword and shield. There was no way to test that, but he looked like he could lift a cow, not just slaughter one. Seeing they were coming to the bottom of the recruit barrel and strong backs didn’t come cheap, Mikal had Edna sign him the moment he came up.

The next was a small, dark-skin girl in a hooded cape and worn clothes the color of cobblestone and smoke. She had a sharp, elfin face with bright, hard eyes that were always moving, taking things in. She stuck out her hand to Edna. “Shendarazeed Mel-fanth. ‘Shen’ for short.”

Edna didn’t take her hand. “What are you good at?”

The girl hesitated, then. “I’m good on my feet. I can carry more than you think. And I have a knack for fixing or finessing gadgets – if the need arises.”  

Edna’s eyes narrowed. Under the neutral earth-tone clothes, Shen was wearing black leather wrist wraps, tight leather boots, and had thin bandoliers crossing her chest. A second grin tweaked at Edna’s lips. “You one of Molly’s moths?” she whispered.

Shen kept her face impassive. “Molly? I know lots of Mollys,” she replied.  

Edna pressed her. “High Town Lapidary?”

The girl’s face blanched for a sliver of a second. A quick nod.

Edna told her to sit beside the big farm boy and signed her on without so much as a glance at Mikal or Vera. “She’s a Nick,” Edna explained. “And if she runs with Molly’s crew, that means talent.” 

“What happened to needing mules?” Mikal asked.

Edna frowned. “That girl is a picklock that climbs like a squirrel, can rig traps, jigger safes, and most likely carries more knives than both of you. Plus, she needs to get out of town, fast. Very handy to have on your side any time, and a steal at twice the price. She’s going with you.”

Mikal didn’t know what to say, Vera just shrugged, and that was the end of that.

The final hires were a brother and sister named Orba and Gellert. The sister, Orba, did all the talking. Short and sturdy with corn-yellow hair, she was pretty in a weathered way, with a well-made leather satchel slung over her shoulder that had more flaps and pockets than a street busker’s vest.

Fresh off the wagon from the capital district, she explained the family plot had been swallowed up by debts after the parents had died, and with no relatives, no land, and no future, they’d come to Nagront for a fresh start. Vera nodded in sympathy. It was a common story, but hers sounded a shade practiced to Mikal’s ear.

Still, she was entitled to her secrets and he certainly wasn’t one to judge.

Edna just gave Orba the once-over. “Skills?”

“I was apprenticed to the apothecary guild, in my final year when my parents passed. I trained under an herbalist but I can set breaks and stitch a gash too.”

Even a half-trained physic was a scarce commodity. Edna looked skeptical. “Really?”

Orba patted her satchel and matched her gaze. “Really.”

“No way to prove that short of starting a bar brawl, so let’s say that’s accurate.” Edna pointed to her brother. “What about him?”

Orba looked at each of them before speaking. “He’s got the Touch.”

Gellert was the male version of his sister, except his features were flatter than hers, almost smooth, and his gaze wandered like a curious butterfly.  Orba took his hand. “Gel? Say hey to these people.” 

Gellert’s face lit up as he fixed his attention on Edna, Vera, and Mikel. “Hello.”

“Hello,” Vera replied. 

Gellert smiled broadly. “I like your city. It’s very high. The wind and the river here are proud. They don’t listen to anyone, coming off the mountain like they do, but I can see forever. How long have you lived here?”

Mikal shook his head. The Touch? He’s soft. He was about to dismiss them when Vera kicked his ankle.  

“Salvage work is hard,” she said gently to Orba. “Dangerous. A delver needs to be sharp. Alert at all times. There’s got to be some other way to look after your brother – -.”

“I do watch after him,” Orba said, defensively. “All the time. And he does have the Touch – in a powerful way.”

“Can you prove that?” Edna demanded.

Orba took her brother by the shoulders. “Gel? These people have work for us, but I need you to show them your gift. You have to show them what you can do.”  

Gellert dropped his gaze. “But. But last time you said –.”

“This is different, Gel. These are nice people. You’ve got to show them something, something simple.”

Gellert looked into his sister’s face. “Okay Orba. What do you want me to do?”

She looked at Edna, then out into the room. At the back near the door, Rawlins and Ryle were doing a poor job of pretending not to be interested, while closer, the new hires Davorin and Shen were seated on the front bench, watching intently. 

Orba pointed. “The bench, Gel. Lift the bench.” She called out to Davorin and Shen, “You might want to hang on.”

Gellert screwed up his face and stretched his hand toward the farm boy and the thief. Mikal’s headache was coming back and he burped up a pinch of bile. All at once, the room temperature plummeted – his sour breath puffed into a tiny cloud – and the bench with Davorin and Shen leapt a good two feet into the air.  

Mikal and Vera gasped. A moment later, the bench settled back on the wood planks with a light tap. “Hunh,” was all Edna said, and scratched their names on the crew list.

Vera and Mikal turned toward her. “What?” Edna said, glaring back at their astonishment. “Boy has got the Touch.”

She waved the twins to join the now wary Davorin and Shen. “Besides,” she added. “Not like we haven’t seen stranger things out in the wild.”

At the bench, Orba had her arm around her brother. “Was that good?” he asked.

“Yes, Gel. It was good. You did good.”

Edna was packing up her pens and ink when the back door opened and the lanky sharpness of Lomer Jon strolled in like he’d just bought the place.  

Rawlins and Ryle tensed, reached for weapons under their heavy vests. There was history there, none of it good. Lomer John stopped between them and raised his hands. “Ah-ah now. Not here for trouble.”

“What are you here for, then?” Edna demanded. 

He bowed and flashed a slick, knowing smile. “Why, for work, of course. I’m here for a spot on the crew.”  

Edna snapped her folio shut. “Too late. Roster’s full.”  

“’Many hands make for light work’,” Lomer Jon recited. “Can’t have too many either, where you’re headed.” He winked at Mikal.

Mikal scowled back. “You heard her. Crew’s full, budget’s tight, no room for more.” 

“No need to fret over wages,” Lomer Jon said. “Mr. Stein put me on retainer. And, ever confident of your professionalism, promised me a sweet bonus on our successful return.” Another greasy smile.

Mikal grimaced. Auditor Stein. The Union.

The air around Edna, Vera, and Mikal tightened into an uncomfortable silence. Lomer Jon, sensing them fold, clapped once. “Marvelous. It’s settled then. What time tomorrow do we depart?”