THE SERPENT'S TOOTH, Part 4
The next day, I told my family and vassals that I would be visiting Nyagra. Benjamin and Gant were to accompany me.
That actually fit into existing plans. I'd already decided to discuss certain issues with the grain factors of Nyagra. The region had enjoyed several good harvests in a row and the factors were trying to control prices by refusing to accept all of the grain that we and others in the region were trying to ship. Many of my fellow lords were angry with their easy assurance that we had to play their monopolistic game. Actually, I was irritated as well.
Anna had furiously described the situation as follows: "It's bullshit, and we shouldn't have to put up with it."
I agreed with Anna. After calming down some hot-headed suggestions by my neighboring lords (and one of my wives - guess who) that Nyagra should be sacked and burned, I convinced my neighbors to threaten something that was superficially more peaceful, but was actually far worse for Nyagra. If our business was not treated more respectfully, then we would form a cooperative, ship our own grain westward, and the factors could kiss our collective asses as they begged for coppers in the streets.
So while in Nyagra, I would present my plans - dealing with both the immediate issue, and some of my more long-term schemes. That would also give me the chance I needed to converse with our friendly, neighborhood, assassin's guild.
Benjamin, Gant, and I left just after dawn. My family saw me off.
Perhaps I was imagining it, but Emma seemed distant.
Benjamin and I were on horseback. Gant trudged alongside us. With his long legs, he can cover a remarkable amount of ground without the benefit of a riding beast - not that there was a horse born that could carry him.
I was dressed as befitted a minor lord. Benjamin was in leather armor and a chain shirt, with two short swords in back-sheaths, their hilts projecting over his shoulders. Gant was wearing his usual ragged pair of tattered canvas pants and his favorite bear-skin cloak.
"So what is this really about?" Benjamin eventually asked me. The man is strikingly perceptive.
Benjamin is one of the wallcrawlers - also called the Spider-Folk. His appearance is unremarkable, although he is quite wiry and shockingly powerful for his size and build. I first met him under less than happy circumstances, but he eventually became a friend and was one of my pack when I killed Malekith. He also became my first follower after I ceased to be a seeker, and has always been my senior samurai. His wife is a member of Rahne's pack.
I trust him without question.
Like many wallcrawlers, Benjamin has a strange sense for danger that even the Blood can't quite match. He's also very intelligent and not afraid to ask questions that have to be asked. Benjamin is loyal and deadly with his swords, but those weren't the only reasons he was my senior samurai.
Gant's ears pricked up after Benjamin asked his question, but otherwise he didn't react.
"As I've said, we will be talking to the factors in Nyagra," I replied, "but I will also be contacted by somebody from the Black Widows."
Benjamin looked at me for several seconds before he spoke again.
"If you want someone dead, I can handle it for you," he responded mildly.
"Who are the Black Widows?" Grant asked curiously.
"A pack of female assassins," Benjamin told him. "They're mostly Folk and Scatter, but also some Wilder. By all accounts, they're a nasty and dangerous bunch. And if the stories are true, they have reason to hate our boss."
Gant nodded, veered slightly off-course, and yanked a young tree out of the ground. Gant was big even for a troll - a towering mass of horribly ugly muscle and bone. He'd once been a slave to the dark elves, but came into my service after the war. I also trust him a great deal - for one thing, his mind was simply not built for duplicity.
As Gant began yanking boughs from the tree - he was fashioning a troll-sized tetsubo - I looked back at Benjamin. "I don't intend to kill anyone..."
Benjamin smiled.
"...but I need the Widows to find something for me. That requires an organization with a long arm and a talent for keeping their mouths shut."
With a frown, Benjamin asked, "You want them to find something? Do they do that? Everyone talks about the Widows as if they're just killers."
"They're that," I agreed, "but they're also spies, saboteurs, investigators, instigators, and kidnappers - among other things."
"They're professional assholes," Benjamin suggested.
"Yes. And they're really good at it."
Benjamin nodded. "Pardon me, but if this trip involves meeting a bunch of assassins who hate you, why the hell aren't we travelling with twenty of our samurai?"
"If we did that, everyone will know that I'm doing more than just talking about crops and money with the factors. I need to keep this quiet. And the Widows know it would be unwise to do injury to me. There is a treaty that is very much in their interests to honor. And they have to consider the possibility that if they kill me, Rahne just might decide the treaty has been violated and call for another war."
"Perhaps Gant and I should have a plan to kill anyone we meet - just in case," Benjamin proposed.
"Yes."
"Okay," Benjamin said with a calm nod.
"Always do that anyway," Gant grunted as he hefted his huge club.
Over a century ago, a gigantic Creed raid slashed through the region that spanned from Nyagra to Roche, killing thousands and destroying the hard work of generations before it was finally halted. The region has never fully recovered. The village I'd founded was built on the ruins of another village that had been wiped out in that war. The village had been named Ashe. I kept the name and it was now my place-title.
"Please! Please, Lord Ashe! Let's discuss this matter further!" begged the most reasonable of the factors. He was visibly nervous. He was also smart enough to know what would happen if my neighbors and I decided to bypass them.
I looked at the faces of the five factors - the elders of the Folk and Wilder families who more-or-less ruled the town of Nyagra. Some of them hadn't realized the danger of what I was threatening. At least not at the moment.
"Actually, there is one more thing to consider," I said. "If my part of the valley can put together our own wagon trains and boat convoys... then perhaps, instead of replacing your enterprises, we could become an adjunct to them. We could expand our reach to new markets and better serve existing ones. I imagine the additional profits would be considerable, even if they had to be split more ways."
Two of the five factors suddenly looked thoughtful. The other three were completely suspicious.
"What 'new markets'?" scoffed one of the uninterested faces.
"Roche and Syra," I said.
A babble of hostile responses broke out.
"We don't produce enough grain to regularly supply those towns - the current glut of grain is an anomaly," pointed out the youngest factor. He struck me as sharper than the rest. Or perhaps he was just more willing to consider untraditional ideas.
"An additional supply of grain will be available from the region east of Lock," I replied calmly.
"There's nothing there!" a scoffing factor shot back heatedly. "The villages there were lost long ago! And that area is now rife with Creed!"
"My fellow lords and I plan to form vassal villages in the area," I responded. "There's also an old copper mine in the region. It was producing ore right up until the Creed War. I'll have some Folk mining engineers from Delphi - guarded by my samurai - investigate the old mine within the month, but initial reports from my scouts look good."
"We've heard nothing of this," the most reasonable factor said slowly, his eyes meeting mine as he tried to judge the truth of what I was saying.
"The first vassal village will be built in the early spring," I replied. "It will be protected by a war-band culled from the samurai of six local lords - including myself. That band will be far larger than any we could individually put together, while still leaving us with adequate samurai and supporting forces to protect our holdings. The new village should harvest its first crop next fall. After that, we will wait two years until we form the second village. In between, we will conduct raiding and patrolling operations into the Creed territory east of Lock and immediately south of the Ont Sea, killing Creed warriors and rescuing any slaves they've taken. The goal will be to stabilize the trail between Nyagra and Roch, it's far too dangerous right now."
"And?" the youngest factor said when I was done.
He and I locked eyes. He didn't look away and thus he found his way onto the list of those whom I should make into an ally.
"The Creed in this region have been allowed to flourish for too long," I continued flatly. "It is time to heed the will of the Old One and exterminate them."
The factors were somewhere between fascinated and horrified. The future was coming, and they just didn't realize how fast it was arriving. If what I was saying was true, then their comfortable old world was ending before their eyes. It was only natural that they didn't want it to be true.
"I and my fellow lords will cooperate with anyone who wants to work with us," I finished. "It is not neccesary for all - or any of you - to participate."
The factors stirred uneasily. Some of them shot glances at their fellows.
"Consider my words. If you want to make a counter-offer, have it ready by tomorrow," I said as I got to my feet.
When I left, three of the factors were definitely interested.
The other two would hopefully come to their senses soon.
Nyagra is located at the junction of two of the great inner seas, and is famous for a huge set of nearby water-falls that are located on the river that connects the two seas. To the north, across the Ont sea, are the titanic ruins of Tronto. In the great war between the Folk and the Wilder - the event that led to the rise of the Blood - Tronto was razed with weapons that burned and fused the ground itself, while the great steel and glass towers of the city center were left resembling nothing so much as half-melted candles. Tronto is now a demon-haunted place, populated by monsters, and wandering bands of Creed and half-crazed Blood. Their primary occupation seems to be to kill each other with wild glee. The seas nearby are filled with pirates and yet more monsters, which are a constant threat to the trade that is the life-blood of Nyagra. Nyagra has no choice but to fight the constant savage overflow from the north. The town militia is quite competent and the nearby Blood lords are more allies than threats to either Nyagra or each other.
There are other places like Tronto scattered around the globe. Why some of the ancient Folk cities were so brutally eliminated, while others survive to this day, is unknown. The strategists who made those decisions are long gone.
Like most of the large urban centers, about half of the population of Nyagra is Folk. The remaining half is split between Wilder and Blood. Towns tend to swap around the population distribution of the countryside. In the more rural areas, the population is predominately Blood by a good margin, with Folk being the second largest group, and Wilder a distant third. Many Blood find towns disconcerting. "Drowning in Folk," is a common phrase of distaste that Blood use to describe a trip to town.
Nyagra and the local Blood lords were more used to working together than is normal. The looming threat of Tronto and it's devil-spawn, and the many bands of Creed remnants, force that reality upon them. They weren't united, and there were very real differences between town and holdings, as well as between the Blood lords, but they were all unusually willing to cooperate.
If Nyagra and the local Blood lords were to somehow became truly united, they would be a formidable regional power.
As a local lord, I couldn't just camp in the wilderness any longer. Frankly, I missed that, but there was a room waiting for us at the inn. Gant would have to sleep in the stables. Fortunately, he was good with horses - once he convinced them that he didn't plan on eating them.
A Folk prostitute accosted Benjamin, Gant, and I as we walked towards the inn. The woman was a short-haired blonde with pleasing features, probably no more than twenty-five years old. She was wearing the easily unbuttoned tunic of her guild, and at the moment all of the buttons were undone and she was holding her tunic shut.
"My lord," she said softly, her eyes cast down, as she allowed her tunic to fall open. She was wearing nothing underneath - unless you counted some erotic bodypaint. I understand that fashion started among the guild-ladies of Bost. Over the last few years, the fashion has been steadily spreading its way westward.
A stray ronin on the far side of the street whistled appreciatively at the sight. Gant looked slightly surprised and disapproving. He doesn't approve of women selling their bodies. Proper trollish courtship involves gift-giving, feats of strength, and a long poetic description of your sexual prowess.
"We appreciate the show," Benjamin told the young woman, "but his lordship and I are..."
Then Benjamin paused. He'd seen it, too.
"Give the girl a coin, Benjamin, and have her follow us," I said quietly.
Benjamin reached for his pouch.
Amidst the brightly-colored pornography scrawled over the prostitute's bare body, a stylized symbol of a black spider with a red hour-glass on its midsection had been inked onto one of her breasts.
The Order of the Black Widow had found us.
Author's Notes:
Here are some notes on geography (I've received some requests for clarifications). A map of New York state would be useful to review the places and names.
Like the previous story, the action in "The Serpent's Tooth" takes place mostly in modern New York state, with some references to surrounding regions.
Lake Ontario is called the Ont Sea - or simply 'the Ont'. The waters and shoreline of the Ont Sea are infested with radiation-spawned monsters that are relentlessly puked out of the ruins of Tronto.
Unmentioned in the story so far is the Ire Sea, which is Lake Erie.
Nyagra is located roughly in the location of current-day Niagara Falls. Actually, it's a bit further east from the falls than the modern town.
Tronto is Toronto, Canada. My apologies to any of my Canadian readers for the gruesome fate I have inflicted upon that no-doubt wonderful city.
Roche is Rochester, New York and Syra is Syracuse, New York. Both are on the shore of the Ont Sea. There is an ugly and brutally uncivilized gap between those two towns and Nyagra.
The town of Lock is modern-day Lockport - a smallish and (despite the name) inland town located west of Niagara Falls. The village of Ashe is located in that area and has no modern analog. Ashe and the farmland around it are controlled by James (a.k.a. James Howlett III, a.k.a. James-Who-Was-Once-A-Seeker, a.k.a. James Malekith's End, a.k.a. Lord Ashe). There are five other regional Lords who have their holdings in the region around Lock. They are essentially a bulwark between a nasty Creed infestation and the towns of Nyagra and Buff. Those six lords are slowly, but surely, beginning to organize into something greater. Each is sure it's his own idea, but only one of them is right. Guess who that is.
The region centered on modern-day Albion and Medina is a major Creed holdout - a remnant of a decades-gone outbreak of Creed. Nobody has been able to regain control of the region for a hundred years. That might change in a little while.
The city of Buffalo exists and is called Buff. I was going to use it in this story, but no matter how hard I tried, a compressed place-name like "Buff" of "Buflo" just plain looked stupid when I tried to put it in a story. So it's there, but I'm not doing much with it.
I've never traveled to any of those places - except via Google maps - so please accept my apologies if I got something wrong.
Elsewhere:
Alban is the location of Albany, New York.
Cats Kill is Catskill.
The Point is West Point.
Nyack is (big surprise) New York - specifically the island of Manhattan.
Delphi is Philadelphia
Washton is Washington D.C.
The Huds river is the Hudson River.