CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE: INSIDE HAGGLER'S

Bent low, Fawkes stepped through the children's door and past cloaks Shyri held aside. He stood straight as his eyes adjusted to the dim orange glow of a lantern hanging from a spiral wrought iron staircase a few paces from the only doorway out of the room. He was not thrilled to see the lit lantern.

"This is not a playroom," he whispered. Wooden boxes were stacked to shoulder height against the walls. Only the old cloaks hanging on wooden pegs as they hid the children's door stood clear of boxes. Impressions in the dirt floor marked where other stacks had stood. 

"Close the door," Shyri whispered. She shrugged off her slicker and hung it on a peg then motioned for Fawkes to do the same once he closed the door.

"It was a playroom ages ago, now it holds the empties. "Let's go."

"Wait." He touched her elbow and nodded towards the lantern. "Who else is in here?"

"No one. They watch from across the street on bad weather nights. Good weather days they are on the roof. No one watches from inside. Haggler always leaves some lanterns turned low overnight in case a guard might have to look inside." She snickered softly. "They never do."

He still would not move. "Why do you need me if you know this place?"

"We're taking a box of bottles and I can't carry it by myself." She rolled her eyes back at Fawkes' raised brow. "You're ready to learn your way about in here. You need to know how to move. He uses Oddes Shoppe charms."

Fawkes swallowed a groan. Of course, he would! Father Burnyrd and Brother Symel and their clever little bells that rang loud as a temple if someone uninvited stepped into their notice. Great idea. But not if Haggler and the Hand use them, too!

Shyri led him out of the archway then took his arm and sidled along the wall.

"Stay away from the stairs."

The smells of various woods blended with the different fruits that made the brandies. As they went past the many barrels, sigils gleamed on every wooden lid he could see. More charms from the Oddes Shoppe but at least these were to keep the brandies aging at the right temperatures.

Shyri reached a corner and moved them across the floor following a rack of barrels. He took her hand off his arm and held it. They followed the rack around its end then down the other side. About a third of the way along, she stopped across from a gap where one rack ended and another began. How many times has she been in here to discover such a complicated route?

Stepping to the gap, they continued to weave their way to a room of wooden crates nailed shut. The crates were stacked four high. A closer look revealed a blackberry had been etched onto their center slats and gently scorched to darken it.

"This is his blackberry brandy." She frowned at the stack of crates, peering so close that her nose practically touched each one before she pointed at one in the third row. "Let's take this one."

Fawkes grasped the rope handle of a crate made to hold a dozen bottles. He lifted and set it aside. He moved they reached the crate Shyri wanted. He went to lift it then froze with a  grunt. He lifted it down to the floor.

"What's really in it?" And how does she know what to look for? She certainly snuck in here before. Where else has she been sneaking about and presumably plying people with drinks while they chatter about all their secrets?

He took another crate from a different stack and set it in place of the one on the floor. Together they put the other two back in their proper places. Shyri took a pry bar out from under her shirt. How did she keep it there? A sheath?

"You'll see when I open it. We'll put this crate on that other sta—" Shyri stopped speaking as the sound of a large door rolling open echoed through the distillery. Male voices reached their ears but were too far away to make out the words.

"Grab the crate before they have a chance to see us." The pry bar disappeared back under her shirt.

Fawkes rolled his eyes but picked up the heavy crate. Moving as fast as they could while remaining silent, they retraced their convoluted way back toward the old playroom. The voices grew louder as whoever was here was making their own twisted way through the charm bells from the other end of the distillery.

Seeing shadows under a lantern one row of barrels away, they hurried along the wall. Fawkes prayed the bottles would not rattle as he strained to keep the weighty crate against his gut. They made it into the darker playroom a moment before the sounds of several footsteps drew close. The two ducked into the dark on either side of the doorway. He dropped a hand to the hilt of his dagger and frowned as the footsteps stopped just outside the doorway.

"...had t' please that —" A male voice grumbled.

"Enough, Mogger. " A second, and deep, male voice snapped. "We've agreed that the innkeeper needed to be well-greased. "

"Thet book wasn't in the nisslin' lair," an annoyed third voice whines. "Thet's more important than greasing thet --"

"Yes, yes. The little buggers had already sold the sack without opening it."

"None of the varmints talked," Mogger growled.

"If'n you hadn't killed the ones talkin', we mighta found out!"

"I didn't --"

"Enough!" Deep Voice yelled then took a deep breath. "We have to get him to cast for the book again."

"An' lookit how THET went!" Annoyed Voice spat.

The sound of the large door rolling closed rumbled through the distillery, but did not bother their talks.

"Went fine. Killing that old wizard was the only way to get it," Mogger said.

"And the High Hand wizards agrees." An enunciating fourth voice said. "They also agree casting for it would be a waste of time unless whomever has it removes it from the sack, something most unlikely to happen. This leaves us with the problem of who the nisslings sold it to."

Fawkes silently suppressed a snicker. They don't know about map magic!

"The book's lost to us," Deep Voice declared. "The nisslings are subdued. The inn is back in our pockets. Our coffers suffered but we will remain strong."

"Lost good men for nothin' in that lair." Mogger spat. "This all stings!"

"It's stinging even more as the High Hand's taking up the hunt for the book. We're also losing our wizard."

"What?" Mogger and Annoyed voice said at the same time.

"Blackstone doesn't really need a wizard, especially after what happened." Precise Voice added. "He can be of better use elsewhere. In fact, I do believe he is getting on board the Eddy Rider as we speak."

"Ha! Don't think he's WANTIN' t' leave."

"I never said he had a choice. The story is he must return to his family estates and his belongings shall be packed up and delivered to him later."

"Does he even have a family estate?"

Another set of footsteps hurried over to the talking voices.

"He will have one when he arrives." Precise Voice turned sharp. "That matter is settled. Let's get to setting up how things are going to be for the rest of you."

"This way." A new voice said through the jangling of keys. Many footsteps sounded their way up the spiral stairs. A heavy door creaked open. Footsteps moved inside then closed with a thunk. A final clack of a door latch and the voices started talking again, too muffled to be understand.

Shyri grabbed their slickers off the pegs and handed Fawkes his. Without a word, they shrugged them on fast and flipped up their hoods. He picked up the heavy crate. She moved to the cloaks and held the door open. He hunched down and went through with the crate. JuJu licked his face.

"Ugh."

Shyri came out behind him and fiddled with the door until it closed without a cloak getting caught.

"That was clo—," Fawkes whispered until Shyri put a hand over his mouth.

"Not now."

She led the way back through town, taking the same route they had come by. Once they had to hunker down behind a wall while three people in cloaks led a donkey cart down the soft backstreets to avoid the clatter of hooves and hard wheels on cobblestones.

One of them walked just like Brother Symel. Who's he sneaking to the Cellar beneath the Oddes Shoppe this time?

Shyri elbowed him, jarring Fakwes back to the task at hand. Silently cursing, he hefted the crate carefully onto each wall before they took turns slipping over each wall. By the time they were away from the cottages and among the shops, he was breathing hard. In a dark, narrow gap between shops, they stopped for a much needed rest.

Shyri took her pry bar out again and quickly pried up the slats holding the lid closed.  She took two of the twelve bottles, putting one in each slicker pocket. Digging through the tightly packed straw, she frowned. "I need to nail these slats back on then we have to flip the crate."

"What?"

"Keep an eye out for the watch. The Hand seems to be very busy elsewhere."

JuJus already looked out from one end of the gap so Fawkes moved to the other end.

Of course, no one else was wandering about in this rain. Even the fishers were in their boat tents. From behind him came the sounds of tapping then a muffled clink as she tipped the crate. The creak of nails protesting their unjust removal from wood came next.

"Horsepucky!" Shyri swore.

Fawkes choked on a laugh, then winced when there was the sound of breaking wood followed by another. Staring up and down the street, he saw no one. What was she DOING?

There was more tapping then the clink of the crate flipping again. Her light footsteps hurried up behind him.

"I got it, thank you!"She kissed him long and sweet. "The rest of the brandy is yours."

"What did you get?"

"Oh, just some ... things they will regret losing if they ever come to light. And some trade bars."

"Trade—"

"Thank you for a wonderful time, Fawkes, but I really need to get home."

"Of course, you would find dodging The Hand with a crate of brandy wonderful."

She laughed, gave him a quick kiss, and wriggled past him. Looking up and down the street, she hurried off.

Heaving a sigh, Fawkes went to the crate that was right side up. Taking hold of both rope handles he picked it up. It was noticeably lighter but still heavy.

"Let's get this mess home, JuJu." Panting a laugh the big dog led the way. Worry over how he was going to get a crate passed the Hands aboard the Eddy Rider that had haunted him on the way disappeared with a quiet laugh. Three fishers with turtle spears stood on the high dock staring up the gangplank where two sailors on the deck stood with boathooks looked down at the fishers. Everyone else seemed to be under their tents or below deck.

"Thank you, Boki," Fawkes whispered to his goddess and tapped a finger to each eyelid. He nodded to JuJu. They made it aboard the darkened Gosling without anyone seeing them. Soon as Fawkes made it under the deck tent, set the crate on the deck and dropped onto a bench to catch his breath. Where was he going to put—

PeyPey stood up, revealing he had been laying on more than his blanket when he lifted something much bigger than his bone.  A nervous-looking Kipess, held by the neck in PeyPey's big jaws, grinned toothily at Fawkes.

"Foundss it," the nissling squeaked.