The Kraken -- Listening In -- Fight Club -- Security --
~oOo~
Realising he has some time before Amelyn is due to arrive at his studio, Tiago decides to make a lunchtime visit to the Kraken with Mendrik. Making the usual excuses to his sickly wife, he meets his man outside his studio and the two make their way to the Docks.
It's not a part of town that he's frequented very often, but The Kraken is precisely the sort of establishment that Tiago favours on his night-time excursions into other parts of Syran's dark underbelly. In taverns like this throughout the city, men gather together in the pursuit of uniquely masculine pleasures: drinking, whoring, random violence and the visceral camaraderie of collective cruelty offered by 'sports' such as Tiago's personal favourite, cock-fighting.
Not surprisingly, such taverns are very different places during daylight hours and The Kraken is no exception. The cold light of day reveals it in all its misery: a grubby, ill-smelling hovel with a handful of suspicious customers and a scowling, red-faced proprietor. The former are mostly sailors or dockhands, while the latter seems startled to have unfamiliar customers at this time of the day.
"What you want?" he says, by way of welcome.
"Two things", says Tiago, cheerfully ignoring the manŽs foul humour, "WeŽd like something to wet our throats, and weŽd like to know when the next cockfight is. Since Hotspur bit the dust, I find the sport a bit tame for my taste, so IŽm looking for something more...lively. Tell me, who runs the fights hereabouts?"
With this opening gambit, Tiago hopes to engage the man in some more friendly conversation than the proprietorŽs initial welcome and bring the conversation around to the comers and goers of the tavern, some of the local characters. Tiago hopes to find something out about the man Mendrik followed here...
The taverner eyes Tiago suspiciously, but seems to be reassured by the presence of Mendrik.
"Men o' discriminatin' taste, are you then?" he observes, as he fills two glasses with ale. "Well, you don't smell like no squealers [1] - next fight'll be this evenin' at first quarter, I reckon, but you'll 'ave to whisper Sharp Olly if'n you wants in. En't my say-so..."
It emerges that this Olly will be in a little later, so Tiago and Mendrik decide to wait. The iconographer is familar enough with Syran's dark underbelly to know that the taverner's instruction to 'whisper' this individual implies that he is part of the Sussuruss syndicate, whose members are known as 'whisperers'. However, the phrase is also increasingly being used to signify criminal connections in general.
An hour or so and several drinks later, their host sends over a man with a long and pointed beak of a nose. It seems likely that this part of his physiognomy is where Sharp Olly got his name, but a short conversation with him leaves Tiago with the impression that this man's wits are also fairly acute.
"You blokes are lookin' for some sport, I understand?" he says. "Well, I hope that I can oblige you, I really do, but I must tell you that our little enterprise is - necessarily, if you will - run in the form of a club. Don't get me wrong, mind: membership ain't so much a matter of a fee as it is a question of trust."
He studies Tiago a little more closely. "No offense, like, but I 'ave to ask: ow'd a gent like you get a taste for feathers? Not my usual clientele, if you catch my drift..."
"Well, I use feathers in my trade," says Tiago quite frankly, "and, as with many things in life, one thing leads to another. Mendrik here mostly likes the sport of it, heŽs not a gambling man. I find I like the thrill of the laid bet..."
So Tiago talks enthusiastically to Sharp Olly, quite forgetting that the man is seeking to test him.
~oOo~
One of the sailors leans back apparently a little worse for the drink. A dark hole of a place with rotten beer and worse clients. Just my sort of place, thinks Touchstone as drinks another dark ale.
Touchstone knows Sharp Olly very slightly, and suspects that he's a member (or at least and associate of) the Susuruss Syndicate. However, this isn't really his stamping ground and his contacts in the underworld are all part of the Black Star Syndicate, which is a bitter rival of Sussuruss. He does know, however, that the two syndicates are very active here in The Docks, just as they are in Portside, and that their most profitable business here is smuggling.
He's curious to know what Olly means when he refers to a club - unlicensed cockfights tend to take place in empty warehouses or basements, with the venue changing regularly and often only announced on the night. He continues listening to the conversation.
His ears prick up at the mention of the 'free-trader tunnels'. He has heard rumours that the smuggling operations of the Sussurrus syndicate take advantage of a secret route into Dockside from the Docks, but hasn't yet discovered it for himself. Perhaps he will now have the opportunity to do so...
~oOo~
Mendrik does his best to steer the conversation in a more productive direction, but to no avail. Fortunately, Olly proves to be a very enthusiastic conversationalist and soon drops his guard, ordering a round of drinks and reminiscing about some of the more memorable fights that he's seen.
"Hotspur was a fine bird, I'll grant you, but he wasn't a patch on The Black Devil. Really gave me the willies, that one. Could have sworn he had the evil eye..."
Good-humoured though he is, however, Olly doesn't really tell them much of consequence and they doesn't give them the chance to fish for more information. Eventually, he excuses himself and prepares to take his leave.
"Things to do, people to see, I'm afraid," he tells them. "But you come back this evenin' and talk to old Crab," he says, indicating the taverner. "And he'll let you know if we're on. We'll make the password 'Hotspur' this evening, I reckon," he says with a wink at Tiago.
Dropping his voice, he leans towards them. "I take it you gents are familiar with the free-trader tunnels?" he says, raising an eyebrow.
Mendrik nods quickly, before Tiago has a chance to say anything.
"Excellent!" Olly says. "Then we won't have to worry about either of you getting claustrophobic on us, will we? See you later..."
"Free...?" Tiago begins, when Olly has gone.
"Free as in 'free of excise'," Mendrik tells him with a frown. "I hope you know what you're doing, boss..."
~oOo~
Having slept the beer off, Tiago returns to the Kraken with Mendrik. Now, with its deficiencies mercifully concealed by the velvet cloak of night, the tavern is a more welcoming prospect, filled with people and a hubbub of hearty laughter and drunken conversation. Fighting their way to the bar, Tiago and Mendrik eventually attract the taverner's attention. With all of the distractions around them, it takes them several attempts to explain that they're here for the evening's private entertainment. When understanding finally dawns he summons a surly barmaid, who takes them to a back room. Here, some serious-looking patrons are engaged in a variety of competitive leisure activities, mostly involving knives, cards, dice and/or the consumption of near-lethal quantities of alcohol.
"Daan there, innit," she says, pointing to a narrow flight of stairs in the corner of the room. "Mind y'r 'eads."
The staircase leads into the tavern's beer and wine cellar, where a rough-looking man awaits them. "Yeah?" he snarls.
"Ah... Hotspur?" Tiago responds, hopefully.
The fellow grunts and motions them to follow him. Stopping at a large barrel, he fiddles for a moment with the spigot, then pulls. The front of the barrel opens like a door, revealing an empty space behind. He stands to one side. Tiago and Mendrik glance at each other.
"Well?" the man demands. "You goin' in or what?"
For a moment the two of them just stare at them stupidly. Eventually, Tiago wins out, perhaps because his mind is more befuddled than that of his companion.
With a grunt, Mendrik folds himself into the barel, scowling at his master, a blade concealed in his lap.
Stooping to look, Tiago sees that the back of the barrel is missing and watches as Mendrik steps awkwardly into the low tunnel beyond. Soon after Tiago has stepped through into this tunnel himself, the barrel-door swings closed behind him and plunges them into darkness. Once their eyes have adjusted, however, a dim light becomes visible up ahead and they hear the faint sound of voices.
The noise becomes louder as they make their way slowly along the tunnel, which is not quite high enough to allow them to walk comfortably. They eventually reach a heavy metal gate fitted with a sturdy locking mechanism, which currently stands open. On the other side is a large stone-walled and dimly-lit room from whence the sound of excited voices and the steady background rumble of conversation originates.
Moving inside, Tiago and Mendrik find themselves amongst a familiar class of entertainment-seeker. In the centre of the room is a shallow depression, cordoned off and surrounded by a growing crowd. Beyond it, various other punters are gathered around a group of wickerwork cages, where they engage in debate regarding the merits of the various cockerels on display. They spot Olly with a couple of heavies near the cages beside a chalkboard, upon which the sharp-nosed man appears to be recording odds as he accepts wagers from his clientele.
The atmosphere is close, but not quites as unpleasant as they had feared - the lighting is mostly provided by high-quality oil lanterns and there are a number of vents in the ceiling to allow the smoke to escape. There is another metal gate on the far side of the room, but this seems to be locked and barred. Tiago can't help wondering where it comes out...
Soon, Tiago has entered into the spirit of the evening, having committed a goodly sum to a couple of the more vicious looking cockerels. He has almost forgotten his original reason for coming when Mendrik, who is more level-headed than his master, reminds him. Trying to think how to proceed, Tiago realizes that his best strategy is to make friends with those present and, asking friendly questions like the novitiate he is, see if he can arrive somewhere.
He finds it fairly easy to mingle, his obvious enthusiasm for the sport quickly seeming to allay any suspicions that his fellow spectators might have about this rather atypical punter. Sharp Olly is too busy to chat, but Tiago soon identifies a number of regulars, who might possibly be able to give him some information about the man that Mendrik had followed to the Kraken. This concealed venue certainly offers a plausible explanation for his disappearance on that occasion.
Unfortunately, after speaking to a number of different people, neither Tiago nor Mendrik manage to learn anything about their quarry. There was a cockfight that evening and several people remember seeing a man fitting his general description, but it's impossible to know whether it was the same man. Even if it was the man they were looking for, none of the people that reported seeing him can offer any clues as to his identity.
Unperturbed, Tiago explains to his new friends how easy it is to recall someone's details if you concentrate on the small elements and build up from there. "So, how was his nose?" he asks, "a hawksbeak or a button?" Soon, with some good natured descriptions of the odd features of his own anatomy, he has them remembering more than they thought possible. These newly-remembered details also help Mendrik to resolve his own recollections of the man that he'd followed to the Kraken, which quickly narrows the field down to just two likely candidates.
"An' now I comes to fink of it," says 'Handsome' Hambard, an affable fellow with a rather unfortunate physiognomy. "That bloke wi' the crooked nose an' the gammy leg wa'n't 'ere on Clayday - you did say Clayday, right? Yeah, I fought so. So you mus' be talkin' 'bout the other one, the one wi' the tattoo an' the scar. Am I right?"
Mendrik nods. "Sounds like," he says. "So what can you tell us about him, then?"
"I never seed 'im before in me life," Hambard announces. "But I bet I'd know 'im if I sees 'im again," he adds helpfully.
Tiago rolls his eyes heavenward and is just about to call it a night, when one of his other new friends chips in.
"Bloke with the scar an' star, you say? I seed 'im too. Wondered 'ow come the Whisperers 'ad let 'im in. First time I seed anyone go out the Dockside gate, too - di'n't even know you could get out that way."
"What? Get out through the Dockside exit?" someone else interjects. "That's because you can't. Leastways, not in Dockside. Not since the tunnel under the baker's collapsed last year. Why'd you think we all come in through The Kraken?"
"So where does it lead, then?" Tiago asks. This is greeted with blank looks. "Well, you said 'not in Dockside'," he explains. "Implying that you might still be able to get out somewhere else..."
The others exchange uneasy glances. "Well," the man who made that observation says warily. "There *are* folk who say that there's tunnels under the whole city, don't they? Made by the Builders and full of ghosts and suchlike... "
"Bah! Them's just old wives tales," Hambard scoffs. "Me old man was in the Builders, 'e was, an 'e said the old tunnels are only under the 'igh ground - 'Ightown, o' course, an' over Eastgate way. Maybe Gavon an' Newmarket too."
"What 'bout this tunnel 'ere, then?"
"This ain't no Builder tunnel, though, is it?. Whisp'rers dug it after the 'Sociations stuck their oar in. Nah, the way I 'eard it, this one don't jus' come out in Dockside - it goes under the Moat too..."
"Under the Moat! What a load of..."
"Yeah, under the Moat an' into the crypts under 'Ightown. You ask me, that's where your mate was 'eadin'..."
~oOo~
Weaving ever so slightly, Tiago, an incredulous look on his face, wanders over to the heavy metal gate which, according to these tall tales, leads under the moat to Hightown. He takes a quick look at the locking mechanism, if there is one, then wanders back looking impressed.
The lock is sturdy, well-made and seems to be in reasonably regular use. The bars across the gate are slotted into brackets on this side, making it impossible for anyone to open it from the other side, even if they did manage to open the lock. Tiago notices that Olly is watching him as he examines the gate...
~oOo~
[1] Squealer: informant. Cockfighting isn't illegal, but wagering on it and other forms of gambling in the city are nominally regulated by the City Watch. In most districts, this means that bookmakers are supposed to give the Watch a cut of their proceeds in return for a 'license', so there are always those who attempt to avoid this expense.
