Blood of the Underworld(80)

“Been here before?” the first asked.

“Can’t say we have,” Grayson said.

“Need you to register your cargo, as well as pay a fee if you’re not with the merchant’s guild. I’ll let you know the tariff once I look it over.”

“Not sure that’s necessary,” Grayson said, leaning closer to the guard. He lifted the medallion, given to him by Laerek to ensure entrance to the city without incident. The guard’s eyes widened upon seeing it, and he glanced about.

“Back to your post,” he said to the other. The man looked unsure, but did as he was told.

“You’re asking a lot,” the guard said when they were alone. “We allow the temple to bring in supplies as necessary, but three wagons? And you’re yet to tell me what it is you carry.”

“What I carry is of no concern,” Grayson said, reaching into his pocket. He thought the priests of Karak might not have enough sway to get all his men and crimleaf through. But of course, power wasn’t the only way to get what one wanted in the world...

“This, however,” he said, tossing a bag of coins at the guard, who caught it. “I think this is what will most interest you.”

The guard opened it, saw the gold within. The yellow sparkled in his eyes. Closing it, he pocketed the bag and then nodded.

“I’ll still need to inspect it,” he said. Grayson motioned to the others so they might know to leave him be. The guard climbed into the back of each wagon, giving only cursory glances and not once opening a crate. After the third, he returned to the front.

“Your tariff plus merchant fee is seventeen silver,” he said. “Going rate for such low quality wheat.”

“You heard him,” Grayson told Boggs. “Pay the man for our wheat.”

Boggs grumbled but pulled out the demanded coin from his own pocket. That done, the guard waved them through, then went back to his station to hand over the tariff.

“So much for your help from on high,” Tracy said as the wagons rolled forward.

“We’re through, and untouched,” Grayson said. “That we had to grease the wheels a little shouldn’t be much of a surprise.”

“Just preferred we used your grease instead of mine,” Boggs muttered. “Where to now?”

“Head south. I already have a contact there waiting. Once we’ve claimed the hearts of the city’s most poor and desperate, and established our territory, we’ll worry about moving north.”

The quality of roads steadily deteriorated as they traveled deeper into the southern district, the neglect apparent with potholes and even gaps where the brick had been covered with long swathes of dirt in half-hearted attempts to smooth out the passage. The wagons slowed, and the jostling increased. Grayson saw Pierce hop out of the second wagon and come running. At first he thought him just tired of the rough ride, but it turned out not the case.

“We got a tail,” he said, walking beside them.

“To be expected,” Grayson said. “I doubt too many merchants travel south. Did you catch which guild?”

Pierce shook his head.

“I don’t know them well enough. Sorry.”

“Just keep your eyes open,” Grayson said. “And don’t let them know we see them.”

Pierce nodded.

“They’re running ‘long the rooftops,” he said. “Watch them if you can.”

Pierce returned to the second wagon. Grayson leaned back, imitating his relaxed position earlier. As he did, he looked to the rooftops, trying to see who shadowed them out of the corner of his eyes.

“Any of them a threat?” Boggs asked as they shifted to one side to avoid a nasty stretch of mud.

“Not really,” Grayson said. “Just the Ash Guild. But if that is them, well, they might have a tail of their own...”

They continued until they reached their contact, one of the few merchants still maintaining a presence in the far south of Veldaren. He was an overweight man, sweaty and with his shirt overstuffed with his own fat.

“Afternoon, Billick,” Grayson said as they stopped the wagons in front of his shop.

“I assume no guards followed you?” Billick asked, furtive eyes bouncing between the wagons.

“Guards?” Grayson asked, hopping down from the front of the wagon. “No, guards are the least of our problems, my friend. Where can we store our merchandise?”

“Space for everything,” Billick said, gesturing toward the open door to his shop. “Carry it in, and put it the back room.”

“You heard him!” Grayson roared, amused at how the fat man jumped at the volume of his voice. One by one the wagons were unloaded, his Suns lugging the crates into their place of storage for their time in Veldaren.