Pools of Darkness - James M Brown [32]
"My name is Ren o' the Blade. Perhaps you've heard of me?" The ranger used his most polite tone, the one he reserved for guards who thought they were bigger than life.
The three exchanged glances, backing away at the mention of Ren's name. After the battles he had won with Shal and Tarl many years ago, there weren't many people in Phlan who didn't know the names of the trio. The ranger could tell that these three were no different. They knew of his reputation, all right. The scowling looks on their faces changed to ones of respect, then worry. The three glanced at each other, then the leader cleared his throat and addressed Ren.
"Will you be looking for the cleric Tarl and the sorceress Shal? They were in their tower when the gods took the city. The people of Phlan, including your friends, haven't been heard from since that night." The older trooper was the only one brave enough to explain and risk upsetting the ranger.
"What's your name, trooper?"
"Shelly, noble ranger. I have been appointed by the council of New Phlan to operate this ferry service. We usually charge whatever one can pay for the ride, but we'll cross you for free. It's the least we can do for a hero of Phlan." The trooper's look was pleading. Deep down, he was hoping that Ren might help locate the city.
The ranger stared hard at the three. He tried to assess whether they were really who they said they were. Maybe they were thieves trying to rob honest citizens trying to get into Phlan. Then Ren realized he was glaring and softened his look. "Who did you say operates this ferry?"
"The council, sir. The profits go to feed the homeless-in case you were wondering."
The ranger was convinced. He dismounted and led Stolen onto the huge raft. The craft was so enormous the logs didn't even dip into the water when the huge war-horse stepped on. Shelly followed the pair onto the raft.
"Tell me, Shelly, how much would you have tried to charge me?"
The raft started to move as the other two troopers cranked the winch.
The sandy-haired warrior hesitated nervously, then drew himself up. "Why, I would have insisted on at least a gold piece for a fine-looking warrior like yourself, sir."
Ren grinned and tossed two gold coins to the man. Slapping him on the back, Ren tried to sound friendly. "Thank you for the information, Shelly. See that the homeless get this."
Shelly was obviously pleased by this gesture. He softened up a bit and no longer seemed as jumpy around the legendary ranger. "Many thanks, sir. And watch out for the first councilman. Lord Bartholomew is a rough one, Ren o' the Blade!" the old guard offered.
During the rest of the short journey, Ren asked Shelly if he knew anything else about the city's disappearance. The trooper knew little more than silly rumors, and the ranger realized that most of the sparse information was only idle chatter.
The tent city that sprawled before Ren was a huge, dismal thing. A large corral for horses stood to the north of the city. The wretched smell made it obvious that horse droppings were regularly tossed into the river. Greasy cooking fires sent plumes of smoke up over the village. Most of the tents along the river were little more than ceilings of canvas with open sides or blankets propped against ladders or wooden planks. Ren hoped there were some answers to be found, but his mood worsened as he looked about. He seriously doubted that anything useful would be found in New Phlan. His heart felt heavy in his chest. Even Stolen seemed somber.
As the raft approached the bank, ten troopers stood ready to meet it. They were led by a tall knight wearing plate mail armor. The knight's crest proclaimed him to be of the Wainwright clan, but Ren had met other members of the Wainwright family and found them much more refined than this gruff-looking fellow. Before even a polite hello could be offered,