SciFi and Fantasy Stories: Return of the Moth, Chapter II

Chapter 2

“One true love is eternity for two

Three four nevermore will I see my love true.”

5th Ebbingtide, 1402

It had been a hectic morning already, and I was in no mood for dealing with Master Perindon. He was a nasty toad of a man who wheezed his bulk around and had a reputation for ruining those who owed him. He was here to contend that we did and he would have what was owed. Since my husband was unavailable, I would have to fork over the requisite funds... I ended up telling him my solicitor would be in contact with him unless he provided documentation of this debt. Master Perindon apparently thought this funny and stood to leave with an “I shall return.” and a shark like grin.

     As I showed him out he paused momentarily in the front office to regard another man waiting to see my husband or me. Then, so quick was his departure, one could almost say that he had fled.

     I turned to my new visitor who was sitting uncomfortably on a small couch holding a teacup delicately, as if it might break in his hands.  He was tall and well built, had dark brown hair cropped short and kind brown eyes that were darkened with fatigue.  There was the faint memory of some childhood pox on his cheeks.  By his bearing he was ex-military, and by his uniform he was one of the three Captains of the Watch.  My stomach, which had been upset since my husband, Fanuil, had not returned home last evening, turned cold and knotted itself into a hard stillness.

     “Madam Gambardin” said Riana, “This is Captain Caverly, um, Captain of the Nightwatch.”

     “Madam Gambardin...” he began.

     “Please, come into my chambers, we can speak privately there.” my voice, often described as full and rich, sounded very far away and hollow to me just then.  I opened the door to my chamber and preceded him in. When he had closed the door and we had found seats he began.

     “Madam, I’m sorry to....”

     “Fanuil is dead.” I cut him off.

     “I am truly sorry, we have him down at the Old Hall. We need you to come confirm it is him.” The captain looked miserable, “At your earliest convenience...”

     Part of me wanted to laugh: Convenience? Convenience? “I’ll be down by noon.” was all that I said. After showing him out I gave Riana the rest of the day, set the closed sign in the window and retired to my office.  Somehow I could not find tears, only anger.  For the last year Fanuil had become increasingly distant and drunk.  He had a plan that required some heavy investment, was it possible he had borrowed to cover losses?  He had been convinced that I wanted to be rich, when I was content with him, our sons our daughter and her impending family and our lives. 

     My feet had now taken me into his office.  I looked around for some clue as to the madness that had over-taken my life.  "Why?" I asked the empty room.  I moved to his desk and sat in one of the chairs across the desk from his and conjured his image from my memories.  Older memories from when he was not a drunken, broken man.  I could see his angular face and sharp brown eyes before me sitting at his desk as we used to when we were talking of business, life, and contentment.  He was fiddling with his quills and arranging them just so on his blotter.... 

     "You shouldn't have to work to keep us going" Fanuil was looking worried.

     "But I want to, Love.  It gives me a purpose since the boys have left for school."  I smiled at him, "Besides I get to spend my days with you now, not waiting for you to come home."  I continued to sip my morning tea. 

     "Well, I have a plan that will take all those worries away.” Like he didn’t hear me,  “I don't want to say too much; it is too early in the game to make any promises..." he trailed off.

     The vision faded. 

     I stood, rounded the desk and started exploring.  On top was his usual collection of quill pens, ink, blotter and paperweights.  Nothing was in view that was out of the ordinary so I started on his drawers. They were locked, of course, but that would never slow me down.  After retrieving my tools from the secret compartment I had installed in the roll-top of my desk I set to work on Fanuil's locks.  Even out of practice as I was they were simple affairs and I had the whole of my husband's business secrets open to me in a matter of minutes.

     On the left-hand side there were this year's tax account logs for all of our properties.  I thumbed through them and saw he had stopped updating them from my active accounting books prior to midsummer, when his drinking became truly bad.  I pulled a fresh sheet of parchment and started a to do list with catching up the tax logs as the first item.  In the drawer below was the log of his personal expenses and finance book.  It too was over two months behind on any accounting.  No log of expenses, deposits, nothing.

     Now I was starting to worry, had he paid for our sons' tuition?  Had the last cycle of taxes been put aside?  Where was our money?  How much squandered?

     When Fanuil and I met I was still a thief and an information broker.  I had explored much of the Calirian Peninsula with a group of doom-farers and even visited the Elvin ruins in the Iltani Uplands near Dragon Bone Pass to the east but I was always most comfortable in Ravenia, born and raised in its streets, steeped in its secrets, its alleys and roofs have always been my home.

     I was successful, as those in my chosen profession go, but still not very secure.  That was when I met Fanuil.  He was 35 years old, 15 years my senior, tall and handsome with fine angular features and short dark brown hair with stylishly long bangs.  He seemed to find a shortish half-Rashanza fascinating, exotic and dangerous.  I was thrilled to accept his proposal to marriage.

      We were wed in the spring of 1385.  It was less than six months later our first child, a daughter named Rannella was born.  The boys came much later, Hayden in 1392 and Lennor in 1394.  Now Rannella was married and is starting to show with her first child.  The boys are both away in school...

     I came back to reality with tears rolling down my cheeks.  Once I had started crying I couldn't stop, the tears just kept coming.  After about a quarter hour I had cried myself out.  I had to fight to maintain control but the grief seemed to be at bay for the time.  I retired to the privet bath upstairs and wondered how I would start over.  I washed my face in the plumbed basin; thanks to gnomish innovation many buildings in the better districts have running water.  The mage guild agreed more than 20 years ago to provide the spells necessary to heat the water; thus many places have hot water as well as cold on tap.

     I then looked at myself in the mirror.  I was 37 and already had the lines of age around my obsidian eyes.  Laugh lines around a too generous mouth... At least I cried well thanks to my olive complexion.  My hair was a mass of raven curls with a few threads of silver winding through it, thick enough to put up with my abuses.  My body had fared poorly; when I was young I was at best described as curvy.  Now my hips had flared noticeably, and FAT was the first word I thought of, soft was next.  Who was I kidding, by the time I was done mourning I would be 38 years old and our, my, finances were in ruin; no one would marry me.  That was a lost cause.  I would have to make my own salvation, so it was time to know what I was up against.

     I returned to Fanuil's desk.  He had been my best friend and mentor for many years, not just my husband.  The times I had sat across from him as he talked of the ways to stretch what we had into something more were countless.  I returned to his drawers.  In the lower right hand drawer I found his investment notes and Letters of Contract.  Within was a list of all the people he had borrowed from.

     It was astounding.  He, we… I owed several small gambling debts in minor amounts.  The Contract that caught my eye was with Master Tambly Perindon, it was for an ungodly amount.  There were several other lenders of import but Perindon was the largest.  It was here I found a list of names with some addresses or other notes.

            Wenchly and Morgan ~ Firecross Lane

            Fascraft

            Ninrecast ~ C. Frost

            Halsted ~ 48 Neggler Lane

            Cornade ~ ask about Map (done)

            Hawkwier ~ contact for ref.

     The only name that was familiar was Hawkwier.  I had traveled with Lord Falkner Hawkwier III in my doom-faring days.  We had explored the ruins of Celnioth in the Iltani Uplands and emerged with decent spoils, I would have to visit to see what this note was about.  Firecross Lane was high up in the Clerks District not far from the New Court, and were likely solicitors.  Fascraft was gnomish, and I had some contacts there so running down that name would be possible.  Ninrecast sounded Elvin, but I couldn't have said if it was a person, place name or an object for it had no specifier included.  C. Frost left me mystified but had something to do with Ninrecast.  Neggler Lane was in the Flats, a large neighborhood built on the mud flats as a buffer between the Shipping Yards and the Foreign Quarter.  There are a lot of cheap dives, flop-houses and warehouses; it is incredibly rough and I didn't believe Fanuil had ever been in such a neighborhood, let alone know any one who came from there.  Cornade was a northern name, foreign; again I was mystified.

     The rest of Fanuil's desk held no surprises, no secret compartments, and no more helpful information.  No clue as to why I was alone in the world...

     Tearing my thoughts away from impending grief I decided to head home, I had a lot of arrangements to make as well as viewing the corpse of my husband.  I found that I was feeling something else, hidden under the pain and tears that still threatened to overcome me, rage.

     I gave Hadley, my driver, the day and walked.  I needed distraction and in the past motion had always helped.  From my office steps I gazed at a world completely changed from when I had entered.  Looking easterly from my door the Highbridge Court was full of traffic, people on foot, horseback or in carriages, moved with purpose.  The sky was mostly clear and the sun bight.  I looked at my city and marveled.  The cobblestone street and the monument to the Ravenian Sailors in the middle of the Court, it was a beautiful day and no one noticed my pain.

     Breaking from my reverie I crossed the court with purpose, heading along Highbridge and headed northeast seeing the surrounding cliffs and buildings as if I had never seen them before.  I passed through the South-Bank District and followed Highbridge Street as it curved north.  I paid the penny foot toll to use the Span and started the mile long walk ignoring the foot-cart taxis and hawkers of goods. The Span was busy as always, I passed dwarves and elves haggling over goods while near at hand a group of young centaurs from a visiting clan gawked at the wares and crowds.  Color and texture met the eye everywhere I looked. At the apex a gnomish merchant was negotiating with some orcish laborers. 

     Near the northern end of the Span I was caught by a sense of melancholy.  Withdrawing to the eastern rail and cutting between two of the semi-permanent peddler booths, I looked up river to the east with a profound sense of loss.  After tossing in two pennies, and watching them fall to the water more than fifty feet below, my eyes traced the banks of the river as it snaked northward around the bend to the stony outcroppings and islands that constituted their own neighborhoods accessible only by ferry.  The green leaves of the trees lining the banks and cliff tops were all dusted with gold as autumn approached.  Suddenly overcome with the need to see that it was Fanuil I virtually tore off up Highbridge heading for Falcon Street, the Old Hall and the morgue below.