The Tales of the Wanderer Volume One: A Book of Underrealm (The Underrealm Volumes 4) Garrett Robinson (poetry books to read TXT) 📖

Moments passed as Sun looked nervously around. They were in a narrow intersection in the alleys between buildings. Though it led to open air in all four directions, Sun could not help a slight feeling of being trapped.

“Keep talking while we wait,” she whispered. “At least tell me what Kaita—”

Snap. A latch turned inside the door, and it cracked open. But Sun could see that a thick chain was affixed to the inside of it, which kept the door from opening too far.

Through the crack, she saw a man. His face was of a medium brown and wrinkled—though not as heavily as Albern’s. He wore a thin mustache and a scrub of beard that only held to the edge of his chin, but which was neatly trimmed. His clothing had a sort of look Sun was well familiar with from up-jumped courtiers back home: fine quality, but too ostentatious. His hair fell to his shoulders, black but heavily streaked with grey. His eyes were sharp as he took in Albern, and then his glance flitted to Sun. When he spoke, it was with a heavy south Heddish accent and cadence.

“Albern,” said the man. He undid the chain and opened the door wider. “You’re late.”

“Only by a few days, old friend,” said Albern. “I had some important business to attend in Lan Shui.”

The man sniffed. “Iss always important business with you. I s’pose you should come in.”

“We would not want to trouble you.”

“Did I say you’re troubling me? Come, iss bloody warm in this sun.”

He closed the door and undid the chain before opening it again. He waved a hand to indicate they should climb the stairs. It was less the gesture of a well-mannered doorman and more the furtive command of an irritated parent summoning their children in for dinner.

At the top of the stairs was an apartment, as Sun had expected. A large central room took up much of the space. Cabinets and shelves of crockery lined the walls, and a hearth dominated the back right corner, though it was now empty and cold. A large wooden table stood in the center. On this was a map of Dorsea and Selvan, with some of the other kingdoms poking in at the edges. Sun spied some markings on the map in various colors. But before she could get a good look at them, the man threw a thin blanket over the map to cover it.

“Something to drink?” said the man.

“Mayhap a bit of wine,” said Albern. “Not too much, though. We need to keep our wits about us today.”

The man’s eyes sharpened at that. “Some trouble in the city?”

“Not if we avoid it,” said Albern. He sounded unconcerned, but his words reminded Sun of her family. A worried knot formed in her stomach.

The man snorted. “Fairly said.” His gaze turned upon Sun, and she felt as though she was being inspected like a murky ledger. “You as well?”

She felt her cheeks flame. “I … I will have some wine, yes. Thank you.”

“Welcome.”

The man went to one of the cupboards and pulled out a bottle, tugging the rag from its neck. He produced two glasses and filled them, handing them over. Sun thought it strange that he was not having any himself, and her hackles rose—but then he went to the table in the center of the room. A half-full glass already stood there, and he filled it the rest of the way. Still, she waited for him to drink before she took her first sip.

“How goes business?” said Albern. “Have you had any more trouble along the western coast?”

“Fah,” spat the man. “The western coast is nothing but trouble these days. Well, trouble and money, which is the only reason I still deal there. But most of the northern pirates have scuttled into dark holes with the hunt on, and so it isn’t as bad as it might be.”

“That is good to hear,” said Albern. He drank deep of his wine. “And how about closer to home?”

For the first time, the man gave a smile. It was crafty and seemed to hide many secrets, but it was still a smile. “Much better, especially with your help. And speaking of …”

He went to another cupboard on the opposite side of the room from the wine. Inside, Sun could glimpse several iron cases that she recognized as lockboxes for coin, as well as piles of bags made from black velvet. He danced his fingers along the bags as if the tips could tell the contents merely by touch. At last, he selected one and hefted it, tossing it in the air twice. Satisfied, he returned to the table and upended the pouch.

Gold scattered across the thin blanket covering the map. Sun guessed there had to be more than a hundred weights. She could not stop her eyes from widening. The man spread a hand expansively over the coins.

“Payment rendered for services well performed,” he said. “I threw in a little bit extra. Loyalty may be iss own reward, but I find something a bit heavier provides even more motivation.”

“And we thank you kindly,” said Albern. He began to scoop the gold up, dropping it back into the pouch without counting it, and then he glanced over his shoulder at Sun. “Would you like a separate pouch?”

Her throat went dry. “I … A separate one?”

“Why, yes,” said Albern. “Half of this is yours, you know.”

“I … What am I supposed to do with it?”

Albern blinked. “Money can be exchanged for goods and services.”

Over his shoulder, the strange man turned away, but not quite quick enough to hide a smirk. “Glad to see yer keeping witty company these days.”

Sun’s cheeks, already dark, flushed darker still. “I know that,” she snapped. “I mean, what am I supposed to do with it now?”

Albern shrugged. “Tie it to your belt and keep it under your cloak, I suppose. You would not want to lose it to a cutpurse.