The Five Markets were packed with crowds, and there were not enough stalls for all the traders, many being forced to set up shop in alleyways and on street corners. Fine Pontaine wines brought in from the captured Anclas Territories were sold alongside clothes of the highest fashion worn in the Vos cities of Malmkrug, Scholten and Vosburg. The people of the city moved easily, dressed in clothing finer than he remembered them wearing eight years before, and the traders themselves seemed to be doing a great deal of business.
He had to admit, it was not the city he had grown up in. The population had forgiven Vos for its crimes in return for an economy that had flourished, the city's coffers swelled by the presence of the invaders. So what if a little freedom had been curtailed and new taxes imposed? Everyone was better off.
Except himself, Lucius thought. Perhaps the old saying was true, and you really could never go back home. Turnitia was no longer the place he had thought it was, and it was unlikely to welcome one of his sort. Adrianna had been right in one thing; he had grown into an adventurer and mercenary.
He was not entirely sure when it had happened, but he thought of his time in Pontaine and the Anclas territories, working as a sword for hire, trading his skills for gold and silver as the opportunity struck. It had not been a bad life, he decided, and he certainly appreciated the freedom he had experienced more than the people of Turnitia mourned its loss.
As he wandered through a crowd gathering around a stall whose rotund trader cajoled them into buying trinkets all the way from Allantia, or so he claimed, Lucius made the decision to make what money he could in the city, then leave. He needed gold for a horse and supplies. Then he could perhaps lose himself in the Anclas Territories once more, or perhaps journey deep into Pontaine to discover what lay within the Sardenne. Maybe head north to Allantia, he thought as he eyed the trader. Why not? He was free to do as he wished. Money permitting.
Lucius flicked his eyes to each side as he paced the Five Markets, looking for an opportunity, some sign of the old city he would find familiar and could turn to his advantage. An old acquaintance, perhaps, who could push work his way. A rich trader in need of a capable guard. A ship's captain recruiting marines to work the dangerous trade routes. Anything that provided quick and ready gold.
Much of his morning was spent in this way, but Lucius found little that presented itself. He feared he might be reduced to gambling as a means to an end, but even his special skills might not guarantee win after win. There was a reason they called it gambling, of course, and there was always the risk he might meet someone whose luck or skill at cheating might exceed his own abilities; and then he would be back to square one.
Trying to think a little more laterally, he began to eye up the various stores he passed, and his gaze fixed upon a trader whose accent gave him away as Vos born and bred. His stall was bedecked with chains of gold and silver, bracelets and brooches sparkling in the strengthening sunlight as their gems glinted with every colour Lucius could imagine. He stopped in the street and stared, thinking fast. A quick distraction would be easy enough to create, and a faster hand could sweep a cluster of jewels under his cloak before the trader's attention was brought back to his wares. Glancing about, he looked for the telltale red of guard patrols and, sure enough, he saw two at opposite ends of this market. However, they were both at least a hundred paces away, and would have to fight their way through the crowd.
The trader was engaged in an animated discussion over a thin gold chain with a young lady wreathed in silks. He was anxiously assuring her that the chain would bring focus to her neck which, he declared, could not remain unadorned another minute. Lucius cast a look at the two patrols, and then began to search for escape routes. He knew he would have to move fast once the goods were in his possession. The alleyways in the area were too crowded for his comfort, with peddlers and customers spilling over the boundaries of the markets. He knew he could make a crowd work for him, but it would be better overall if no cry of alarm went up until he was well on his way. He took a step forward, preparing to draw upon otherworldly energies to create the distraction he would need.
'I wouldn't if I was you,' a gravely voice behind him said.
Lucius turned then looked downwards to find the source of the comment. He saw a filthy man sitting on the cobbles, leaning against a rusting horse trough. The man's clothes were a patchwork of cast-offs, each thread entangled with dirt, crusted food and other, less describable stains. A terrible stench of sweat and foulness reached Lucius' nostrils, and he gagged as he tried to form a retort.
'You'd never make it out of the market in time,' the man continued as he quite openly scratched at his nether regions. 'See, people here don't like thieves too much. Don't like beggars either, as it happens, but we just get moved on from time to time. You'd go straight to the Citadel, make no mistake. And then you really would be in trouble.'
Lucius stared at the man for the moment, peering through the dirt and wild greying hair to detect any deceit. He had the feeling he was being played, but could not quite put his finger on how.
'What business is it of yours?' he asked, quickly glancing about to see if the beggar had any accomplices that were about to assault or rob him.
The man shrugged. 'Call it some advice from someone who knows. That much I'll give you for free. If you want more, it'll cost.' With this, the man produced a tin cup from the folds of his rags and proffered it upwards to Lucius. 'Spare a coin for the sick?' he said with a grin that revealed ruined and blackened teeth.
Trying hard not to wrinkle his face in disgust, Lucius shook his head. 'You've caught me at a bad time, my friend. I am as desperate for coin as you.'
'Oh, I'm not so sure about that,' the man said, winking at Lucius. 'A man like you is never far from gold.'
That checked Lucius and he gave the man a hard look. 'And just what do you mean by that?'
The man shook his head noncommittally. 'I've seen you about.'
'I haven't been in the city long.'
'Last evening, for example. Six men was it? Or seven?'
Lucius narrowed his eyes. 'How do you know this? I saw no one else.'
The ruined teeth grinned at him again. 'That's the point. No one sees us beggars. Just part of the scenery. There I was, just minding me own business, trying to get some kip in the door of the local book-seller. But I have a clear view down a certain alley, and what I saw there was… intriguing.'
Lucius glanced about nervously, seeing if anyone else was taking an interest in the conversation, but the crowd seemed to be far more intent on securing deals on food, clothing, or luxuries.
'And what, exactly, would a beggar find intriguing about it?' Lucius said dangerously, though he was a little unsure of what he could do to this man while so many people were close by.
'Just going to dismiss me because I am a beggar, is it? Of no use to anyone, a stain on the backside of Turnitia? Well, I'll tell you, my foolish friend. We beggars are the eyes and ears of the city. What we don't see 'ain't worth knowing. The wise man knows this, and rewards a beggar for the information he has.' Again, the tin cup was shaken in front of Lucius.
Pursing his lips, Lucius considered the man and his words. Opportunity had so far eluded him this morning, and the beggar clearly understood the city and its workings. If the man's intention was to call the guard and get a reward for finding a Shadowmage, if indeed he truly understood what had taken place in the alley the evening before, then surely he would already have done so. The greatest danger was, surely, that the beggar was simply fleecing him for a coin. Despite Lucius' own financial circumstances, the beggar certainly looked as if he needed the money more than him. His face full of distrust, he reached into his pouch and flipped a coin into the cup.
The beggar grinned openly as he scooped the coin out. 'Ah, blessings of the Faith be on you.'
Lucius watched as the coin disappeared in the folds of the man's rags. He coughed to bring attention back to himself. 'And you have information for me?'
'Well, it seems to me you're looking for good money.'
'How perceptive.'
'There's a peddler across the way, near the fountain in the centre of this market. You'll recognise him, has a green awning above his stall. Sells pans and ornaments, foreign junk.'
'And?'
'Ask for Ambrose. You'll be thanking me later.'
The beggar shifted his position, then stood, brushing himself down as if removing the dirt of the street would have any effect on his hygiene.
'That's it?' Lucius asked, frowning.
'That's it. Can't do everything for you. My thanks for the coin,' the beggar said as he waddled away. Then, he
