Fog hovered over the docks. A big sloop, flying a Port Sud banner, was approaching one of the waterfront's side piers. The pier's sleepy supervisor came out reluctantly of the wooden shack, which served him as a shelter from the wind, rain and cold. It was an hour before the end of his shift. He cursed under his breath and yawned. The moist morning air, still smelling of the ending summer, but already carrying a cooler autumn note, sobered him. The last remains of his sleepiness had gone with another yawn and a stretch.
The ship passed the breakwater's head and glided alongside the pier. Two seamen jumped down from the deck solid ground and the third one threw them the mooring ropes. Men slowed the boat down with skill and tied the ropes to the marina posts. So far only a lone flat-bottomed barge used for coastal shipping had been moored there making the supervisor's job an easy one. He was determined to keep it this way even if it meant turning a blind eye to some minor transgressions of the harbour's regulations. With this thought in mind, he trudged towards the ship.
The sailors greeted him with silent nods. The port official pulled a small plate and a piece of chalk from under his robes. He looked at the side of the ship and noted down its name painted in crooked letters on the side of the vessel - the "Underwater Goat". He smiled to himself, grabbed his hips, and cried to the helmsman.
- Ahoy there, on the bridge. Who is in command of this fine vessel?
- Ahoy there, on the quay. I am the helmsman, captain and owner here. Captain Janus Janus from Port Sud. First time in Haaven.
- A first-timer, eh? So, I am obliged to collect all dues in cash and on the spot then. I can accept bills of payment only after a dozen visits. What purpose of the visit should I put down?
- Profits, ha, ha, ha ...
- And in more detail?
- Wine for sale. Ten dozen barrels of Bogony red and two dozen of the finest pink Zirro.
- OK. Fine. I am obliged to notify you that the quarantine period for the freight is twelve hours, during which the captain is required to be on the vessel or assign in his absence an officer accredited to host inspections and pay the customs duties. In case there is no customs' control during the quarantine period, a duty of one silver piece per barrel must be paid to me before unloading the goods, and I only need to charge the mooring fare. Sloops are due half a gold piece for the first week, one for the rest of the first month, and three more for staying over for the winter.
- Great, then, it seems mooring here is half free. In Port Sud, one needs to cough up almost twice as much. Wait a minute. I'll come right down and pay you the amount due.
- And another thing... - The pier supervisor turned as much to the working seamen as to the captain already walking towards the gangplank. - In Haaven pouring any impurities into the docks prohibited by law. Thus, if need arises, use the public latrines, because if I catch anyone with his ass hanging overboard, I will impose such a fine on this vessel that mooring here will soon turn out to be the dearest experience of your career.
- Now, do not scare us so... There, six silver pieces, and the seventh for you... for your trouble.
- What trouble?
- Turning a blind eye or, indeed, turning both your eyes away, when the boys are pissing from the ship's side. I give you the captain's word that nothing else will find its way overboard. - He winked to the official with a sly grin and slapped him on the shoulder. The expression on the supervisor's face showed his contempt for the dirty crew as well as the provincial and moronically named ship along with her captain, but that did not stop him from accepting the extra coin. There, just another young trader, with a mediocre vessel who thought himself to be the greatest seafarer of all times, only because he was able to tell the bow from the stern.
Meanwhile, the captain was well on his way towards the port, looking with open curiosity from left to right. He left the ship at the mercy of a big, bald thug, who claimed to be the bosun. As he passed the supervisor's shack, he lifted his hat to greet a lady of easy virtue, who had been watching the mooring sail-ship with a mild interest of a businesswoman assessing a new market. Soon, he ventured between the trading chambers and commercial buildings still closed at this time of the morning.
When the man was sure he had disappeared from the sight of the harbour official, he stopped, looked around, and replaced his tentative step with the determined walk of someone who knows where he is going. This sudden metamorphosis would have surprised a random bystander, and, therefore, he had made sure there was no one around to witness it. He quickened his pace and turned several times into the side streets along his way, making sure he was not being followed, until he stopped in front of an inconspicuous pub. Its walls were still covered with impurities indicating that the time of morning cleaning had not yet come. The man entered without hesitation, not paying any attention to a drunk kneeling in the gutter and adding his small contribution to the filth already on the building.
- Who goes there at this ungodly hour? We're closed till noon. - The voice coming from behind the bar was hoarse and unpleasant. Somewhere behind the veil of neutral words, a threat was hidden. - I have not yet washed the bar of the gore of those who did not want to get out last night.
- Is this how you greet your friends...? And associates...?
The innkeeper took a closer look at the man's face. His eyes lit up when he recognised his guest and a wry smile beamed on his doughy mug.
- Kris, my friend... long time no see, buddy, long time no see ... How long has it been? A year? Two?
- Three - replied the stranger, shaking his hand somewhat involuntarily as it was trapped in both great palms of the host.
- Sit down, make yourself comfortable. I'll set up a table for you in a private room, and give you breakfast. I need to clean up here a little, but when my Anne comes down to sit behind the bar, I will come to you. We shall talk.
- So be it. - Kristoff slapped the innkeeper on a chubby cheek and gave him one of his sly smiles. He followed the host to a secluded chamber in the back. He slumped behind the table and having taken off his gloves, he peeled away the fake moustache and beard off his face. His bushy sideburns turned out to be natural. The man rubbed vigorously at his chin and scratched himself under the nose.
He barely finished his peculiar activities, when a platter of marinated mussels and eels arrived on the table together with a pint of beer. Before he even managed to empty the dishes, a steaming bowl of fish stewed in a thick, fat coconut milk, seasoned with garlic and sprayed with lemon was placed in front of him. To top up this feast, the innkeeper himself appeared with two pints of foamy beer and took a seat opposite Kristoff, who was just wiping his fatty mouth with the tablecloth.
- To be honest, I was not expecting you. You are not welcome here, in Haaven. The arrest warrants with your face on them hung in the harbour until springtime. Dead or alive they said. You must have pissed off some mighty important people...
- Fortunately, they did not yet realise that my "Thunder Led" may look almost like any other ship. I entered the harbour as Janus Janus, the captain of the "Underwater Goat". A huge sloop.
- Good, because they are looking for a small frigate...
- I had to sail here because I have a hold full of one hundred and fifty double-decked barrels of wine stuffed with zemna flowers. I don't smuggle drugs usually and I lack the contacts to sell them, so I figured it would be the easiest solution to reach Haaven and dump this worry on your shoulders. Buy this wine of me, or find me a tradesman I can trust, and I'll be shoving off soon. You could also get me a freight order of some kind, so I wouldn't have to sail with an empty hold. It may even be a legitimate cargo cruise, I don't mind.
- Have you gone completely insane? Too much direct sunlight and sea water? What will I do with such a load of wine?... Not to mention the zemnas. It's illegal here.
- It's illegal everywhere. If it were legal, I wouldn't have to hide it in double-decked barrels. Just find someone who will take it to Daelwynn or straight up north, to the Kaesary.
- And how am I supposed to come up with a caravan heading to the Kaesary?
- You can always pull it out of this fat ass of yours... Think about it. I can't set sail with a freight like that. Half of the East Sea Trading Company's fleet is looking for me on the Inner Sea. I also can't stay here as here I am wanted by the Guild's guards, so you have to figure something out, because if they catch me, I have to warn you, they will come here fifteen minutes later.
- And how did you even come across such a load?
- Don't be too nosy. I just have it, all right? Let's just say that for some time I should refrain from showing up in the western ports of Ipion, because back in Trogar, I accidentally loaded some merchandise that was supposed to end up on a ship of the Ipionese mafia.
- So: the Ipionese mafia is chasing you because you nicked their zemna load that could stone the whole city. The East Sea Trading Company is after you too, because somehow they found out who picked up the drugs and now they think you work for the Ipionese mafia. The Smiteverden harbour is blockaded and both Braag and Port Sud check each mooring ship from top to bottom and from bow to stern, so you came up with a brilliant idea to get lost in the port of Haaven and push the hot merchandise on me.
- Nice summary. Accurate. Precise.
- And on top of that, you ask me to find you a freight order so you wouldn't have to sail with an empty hold... You're crazy, Kristoff. As I said, you had simply lost it because of all the wine and the zemna. Admit it, you smoked that shit, or at least chewed on it. There is no other explanation.
- Don't be so dramatic, Hans. Ask around among your customers. After all, all the scum of the harbour gathers in this hole. Your thresholds are maybe a bit too humble for someone wealthy enough to buy a whole load of drugs, but just right for someone who can be a middleman.
- You know, if I had not known you for so many years...
- ...and the fact that you always get a hefty share...
- ...I would have thrown you right out on your ass. - The men smiled at each other and raised their tankards in a silent toast. - And now... get some sleep. Anne made you a bed upstairs. I'll talk to some people that need to be talked to, so your ship gets proper customs papers with no questions asked, and nothing suspicious found. It should whitewash the merchandise a little. Do you have any money? - Kristoff shook his head. - As usual. I will add the bribe and the duty fee to my share of the profits. When you come back down to the tavern in the afternoon, this chamber will be waiting for you. Perhaps I will already be back, too.
- Thanks, Hans. Give me another pint of this piss you dare to call beer around here... - The innkeeper stood up and put his hand on the shoulder of Kristoff who was just finishing his pint. The host patted him with a sigh, gathered the dirty dishes from the table and left the captain alone.