Her name was Raven

Chapter 13

It was a gloomy night. The sky was dark as pitch and the moon hadn't come out. Smoke from the chimneys drifted across the sky. A cartridge rattled past, wheels clattering on the cobblestones. Two drunken men stumbled out of the tavern together, propping each other up as they made their way home in winding footsteps. Despite the customers in the tavern and the travellers in the street the night was a silent one. Fog was beginning to creep over the city, swirling and engulfing alleyways and muffling the world.

Raven stepped onto the street, wiping her hands over her skirt. She glanced around and headed home, her footsteps echoing along the street. In the shadows shapes moved, watching. As she turned into another street two men moved to block her. Their forms took shape in the swirling fog and too late they were upon her. Both men were solid as oxen and covered head to toe. Raven backed up and turned, but before she could so much as open her mouth a man smothered her face with a cloth. Raven choked on the laudanum and kicked. Her shoes scraping against the cobbles were the only sound in the night.

A carriage pulled up alongside the men and they hoisted the unconscious body inside it. The driver cracked his whip over the pure white horses and the carriage swirled and disappeared in the creeping fog that engulfed the city.

***

When Duran arrived in the city his heart hurt with worry, he'd travelled far with little rest and now he was in the city he had no idea where to begin.

He rode his horse aimlessly along the streets for a while until he realised that his throat was parched. He looked down the street and saw a tavern with patrons leaving and entering. It looked an honest enough place, so Duran dismounted and tied his horse up.

Inside was dark, but cosy and chatter filled the room. Duran made his way over to the bar and sat down next to a man whose head was buried in a large glass of whiskey. He coughed out a hoarse request for a drink, any drink, and when he had quenched his thirst asked for a room for the night. The bartender said sure, but took off to attend to other customers. When he returned he apologised to Duran.

"Sorry my friend, I'm short on hands tonight."

"Why's that?" Duran asked absently.

"Well, I lost me best waitress."

"How?"

"She hasn't turned up in two days. Been here weeks, faithful to the last, a very honest girl; never a minute late and now two days haven't shown hide nor hair. There as something about her though, young ladies like that are almost always running from something." The bartender continued. Duran listened while his mind wandered.

What was he doing here? He'd left without notice, taken off on a whim, no clear idea of where he was going, where Raven was, even if he was in the right city. He'd get fatigued if he didn't get some proper rest soon, and then what good would he be to her?

The bartender filled up the whiskey glass of the man next to him and hurried off again.

"Drink up, Edward, on the house for your troubles," he said, slapping the man.

Duran sat in silence brooding into his drink when finally curiosity got the better of him.

"What's the matter sir?" he asked his neighbour.

"What's the matter? What's the matter he says! The world's falling down is what. All my trade... all my wares... worthless! I'm damn near broke is what's what." The man buried his face in his hands and Duren felt a tug of sympathy for this poor strange.

"Now, it can't be as bad as al that," Duran said.

"Oh yes it can. I've no gold to buy my wares. No wares to earn me gold. No good. I was warned. No good. He told me this would happen. He said the Lords were getting cocky again. I should've listened. Now it's too late."

"Why is it too late?"

"It's the lords, see? No one's meant to know but us merchants have got it just about figured out. Of course, I was blind, and I didn't see until it was too late. Robert saw... They own all the gold, all the silver, see? So they can buy any ship that comes into port. They control prices and charge high enough to make Rapunzel weep in her high tower. The small merchants, like myself, well we can't compete, can we? So now it's only a matter of time before they own our towns and food. They could very well own us."

The man took another deep gulp of his whiskey and lolled against the bar. Duran patted his shoulder in sympathy. The poor blighter was in deep, but then so was Duran, in a completely different issue. The lords...

Raven had been scared of them. They owned all the ports and trade ships. Duran had heard stories of the lords, he'd been collecting them. He just hadn't realised it until now.