Thornhold - Elaine Cunningham [114]
A pair of small skiffs met them at the chained entrance, and a woman clad in the gold and black uniform of the Watch asked to come aboard. At this, the ogre captain bared his fangs in a sneer and started to go for his cutlass. Before he could speak, Bronwyn caught his arm and nodded to the water beyond the skiffs. Orwig tracked her gaze and defeat registered in his small, red eyes. Several heads broke the surface of the water here and there, and shadowy vaguely human forms swirled around the ship. Mermen, ready to aid the officials if need be. Orwig valued his ship too highly to risk having it scuttled from below.
“Permission to come aboard,” he snarled. He shot Bronwyn a glare that left the matter in her hands, then stalked off.
Bronwyn produced the logs stating their cargo, and, on Orwig’s behalf, paid out the cargo tax in some of the coins taken from the slave ship. She wrote a note for the docking fee, promising to deliver payment to the Harbormaster within three days. The chain was lowered, and Narwhal allowed to sail into the harbor. For Captain Orwig’s sake- the ogre was clearly uncomfortable with this port-Bronwyn requested that the ship be allowed to dock at the nearest available slip.
Within an hour, the passengers had disembarked onto a small, barnacle-encrusted pier just off Cedar Street. Narwhal took off with such haste that the last dwarf to disembark was still on the gangplank. He fell into the harbor with an enormous splash and sank like an axe. Four mermen managed to drag him the surface, though all of them were visibly worse for wear before the task was done. A grinning dockhand threw down a rope. Glad for something they could do, a dozen of so of the Stonesbaft clan seized the rope and hauled it up with a gusto that brought the unfortunate dwarf vaulting out of the water and skidding along the dock on his belly.
Once that bit of excitement was over, the dwarves gathered into a cluster on the dock, their eyes wide as they gazed around the bustling scene and the narrow, crowded streets beyond. For once, all fifty-some-odd dwarves were struck silent, their contentious voices stilled by their awe of the city.
“Gotta excuse them,” Ebenezer murmured to Bronwyn. “I’m the only one been out of the clanhold much. The rest of them, well, you might say they’re ducks in a desert.”
“The sooner we get them settled, the better,” Bronwyn agreed. She hailed a tall, bald man who wore the insignia of the wagoner’s guild on his jacket. After a brisk, brief haggle, she hired three wagons to haul the dwarves through town to her shop.
“We could-a walked,” Ebenezer complained once they were settled inside a closed wooden wagon that smelled strongly of fish and old cheese.
“Fifty dwarves marching through the Dock Ward?” she scoffed. “It would look too much like an invasion. That much attention, we don’t need.”
The dwarf considered this, then nodded grudgingly. “What’s your plan, then?”
“For now, we’ll go to my shop. I’ll send out some messengers, call in a few favors. We’ll get everyone settled.”
Ebenezer looked over to the fistfight that had erupted between two of the dwarf lads. “Not an easy thing,” he observed.
The wagon driver, as directed, let the dwarves off in the alley behind Curious Past. Despite Bronwyn’s pleas for discretion, they roiled down the narrow path, clearly feeling more at home in the close, tunnel-like corridor than they had for many days.
They descended on the Curious Past like a plague of blackbirds. Alice’s response astonished Bronwyn. The gnome produced a sword from under the counter, as well as a smoke-power pistol. These she brandished at the first pair of dwarves in the