Birth occurs at the conjunction of pleasure and torment. So the first Forbidden Acts of the Forge birthed sparks of delight which took root in the Glory or in Nowhere: who can say? So the seeds of the Flowermaker were planted, though for long years he was nothing but an unfulfilled ache.
The dawn found Eddy by the docks, this time not to visit the Embankment, or steal from the Parliament Street Gang. No, today Eddy was deep in the Zmanger docklands. It was generally secure. Eddy had heard that recently the Black Skeleton Gang had probed around the area, but the Zmangers were strong enough to hold their ground for now. Did his rifles guard these wharves? Eddy wondered if that corrupt weapon-smuggling quartermaster got as much money as he had wanted in the end. After all, Eddy did take a chunk out of his profits by stealing from him. It was strange to think that his actions in Backlund had affected people as far away as Balam. In any case, it was Monday morning and, for the first time in a while, Eddy had to go to work.
It didn't help that he had dreamt of The Wood last night. Dreamt and remembered. He shivered, still feeling the cold of that ancient forest. He had wandered for hours last night until he had become utterly lost. At times he had stumbled and fallen, skinning his knees and scoring his hands on thirsty brambles. He had not accomplished much, come to think of it, but Eddy did not particularly mind that. For, in the morning, he could spot the red hints of bramble-scratches across his knuckles. To him, it was a promise of things to come. The Wood was a dream, but in The Wood dreams were sometimes more real than the waking world.
He put aside his thoughts of The Wood. It was not something that should be thought of in the light of the sun. Yes, he had things to do. He had work to do. Today's work, however, was a little different to cutting hair with Mr Emerson.
Yesterday, as he was leaving the Zmanger compound at Red Brick Alley, he'd received the details of his new assignment. A shipment of 'goods' had come in at the West Balam Docks, near Backlund Bridge. Dutt, an addictive stimulant grown in parts of East Balam (normally in the more isolated areas where the Loen Kingdom had less oversight). It was made by drying the root of a certain flowering plant and treating it in chemicals. Eddy did not know the process in detail. It was normally chewed or smoked and was quite popular among those working long hours as it kept them awake, alert and gave a pleasurable rush upon consumption. It wasn't the most dangerous drug on the market, but it made the Zmangers a good sum on the streets due to its popularity.
Unlike normal though, the Dutt had not been transported out to the Zmanger's usual distribution network of shops and dealers due to the attention of Sivellaus Yard. Policemen were openly watching the entrances to the docks and the Zmangers had it on good authority that plain-clothes officers were present too. Therefore, it was Eddy's job to sneak the drugs out of the West Balam Docks without being noticed by the law. Given Eddy's abilities, this was actually very easy. However, looking below the surface, the situation seemed designed to deliberately frustrate him - for multiple reasons.
Firstly, the West Balam Docks were officially abandoned, the colonial disputes in the Southern Continent having blocked off that market to normal commerce. After all, the constant spats between Loen, Intis and Feynapotter were not conducive to regular and legal profit. Instead, the Kolain and East Balam Docks had flourished due to Loen's higher control over those areas of the continent. This abandonment meant that the West Balam Docks were the perfect place for smuggling goods into the city. Security was lax and activity was low, meaning that the gangs could use the docks as their personal playground. Every empty wharf was a door into the city. Naturally, the Zmangers used took advantage of this situation a lot.
However, this only acted as an advantage when the gangs were left alone. Now that there was an investigation from the police, any activity in the abandoned docks was extremely obvious. Obviously, if the Zmangers tried to move a large amount of drugs out of the area in a large convoy, or moved a lot of people (each smuggling a small amount) back and forth, the police would notice this heightened activity and would catch them - confiscating the drugs in the process and incurring a huge loss for the Zmangers. Eddy theorised that the confiscated drugs would no doubt go missing in short order and end up in the hands of the corrupt police's paymasters before ending back up on the streets. How infuriated would the Zmangers be then? Therefore, Eddy's task was actually more difficult than it initially appeared.
Initially, Eddy wanted to simply strap the drugs onto his body and walk out of the docks in plain sight until he got to the Zmangers distribution centre near Red Brick Alley. Under the power of his Veil, who would be able to spot him? Frankly, it completely bypassed the severity of his assignment. However, Eddy quickly discarded this option due to one reason.
This reason, the second complication, was not due to external factors - such as the police presence or some other factor - but because of Eddy's own goals and aspirations. Using the Veil would be easy. It would certainly allow him to finish his mission easily in a few trips at most. However, doing so would negate one of the advantages that had persuaded him to work for Meursault in the first place. In essence: the principles of his Sequence.
Smuggling the drugs using his Veil would uphold the first principle of 'hiding what out to be hidden' and, after being paid, would also satisfy 'profit by your secrets'. However, as far as Eddy saw it, invisibility was not the essence of smuggling and in fact negated it. The essence of smuggling (and by extension Eddy's Sequence 8) was in 'letting truth conceal lies'. Hiding in plain sight. The secret compartment in the ship's hull. The false base in a merchant's crate. The Veil was, with this understanding, actually harmful to the ongoing digestion of Eddy's Smuggler potion. At least, this was the hypothesis Eddy had come to while planning his extraction of the gang's illegal cargo. He couldn't be entirely sure, but it was his sincere hope that refraining from using the Veil would lead to a greater effect on his future development.
After all, what was the use of being the Zmanger's dog if he couldn't get stronger while doing so?
With all of this running through his mind, Eddy got up from where he had been sitting and thinking while looking across at the boat traffic on the river, and walked toward the entrance to the West Balam Docks. He did not forget to turn on his Veil and walked straight through the entrance to the old shipping area without being stopped. Of course, he had considered that the police might have Beyonders able to see through his ability, but he discounted this idea after some thought. After all, even if the police possessed such a person, why would they be assigned to a stakeout when there was no suspicion of Beyonder activity? It made no sense to waste such a resource on such a minor task. Besides, even if they did, then what was the problem in him entering the docks? It wasn't illegal to do so, and a search would find nothing wrong with him (hidden pockets were a true marvel). No, he wasn't actively smuggling yet, so using his Veil gave him no disadvantage. He passed between two watchers in black and white uniforms like smoke in the wind.
Soon enough, Eddy found his way to the warehouse that had been specified in Meursault's instructions. It was in the middle of the docklands and, from the outside, looked abandoned. However, as Eddy looked closely, he noticed signs of artificiality in its look. Yes, one could see paint peeling from the wooden walls of the warehouse, and cobwebs over the dusty windows, but the actual structure was sound. A closer look might reveal that some of the 'old' wooden walls had actually been replaced and then scraped and abraded so as to look older than they actually were. After all, the Zmangers couldn't have a secret warehouse with rotten walls filled with holes. The whole pretence made Eddy wonder about just how many of the other warehouses in the West Balam Docks were in a similar state of 'abandonment'. Casting such thoughts aside, Eddy walked through the slightly ajar door of the building.
He immediately took in the interior of the warehouse. Contrary to what he expected, the inside was actually very clean and tidy. The gas lamps were working perfectly, providing a steady flicker of yellow light. Clothes covered the high-up windows - not fully stopping natural light, but denying anyone who would spy on the interior. In the centre of the warehouse was a pile of crates. The Dutt. Eddy noted that the crates were all marked with stamps reading 'Naval Supplies'. Was that just a cover, or were corrupt quartermasters an endemic issue in the kingdom's military?
Around the crates were four wild-haired Zmanger thugs. Not so many for guarding such a valuable cargo, but Eddy supposed that too many guards would alert the police, or rival gangs. Besides, there were most likely hidden thugs watching the warehouse from nearby. At least, that's what Eddy would do if he were organising the Zmangers.
As soon as the men spotted Eddy, they immediately scrambled to their feet - hands reaching for pipes and knives. Before they could do much though, Eddy called out.
"Calm down lads, I'm expected. Barton. Meursault sent me."
This calmed most of the men down enough, but Eddy noticed one of the thugs - a hook-nosed fellow - sneer at the mention of Meursault. Hmmm. It only lent credence to Eddy's idea that Meursault's rise to power had not been unopposed. The Zmangers, historically discriminated against due to their 'barbarous' origins, presented a united front in public, but Eddy was beginning to see past the facade. How deep did the factional splits run? Was there a serious conflict brewing in the gang, or was it simply that Meursault was a self-important prick that got on people's nerves? Even after only two conversations with the Beyonder in question, Eddy wouldn't be against betting money on the second option. The first, though, would be much more interesting…
One of the thugs stepped forward before spitting on the ground. His spit was red and frothy. A sign of Dutt chewing. These highlanders had been sampling their own stock.
"We got ten pounds of root 'ere. I'd like to see how ya meant to move that past the black and white dogs." The man grinned nastily at Eddy after saying his piece in a thick highlander accent. He clearly didn't like the idea of leaving the job to an outsider.
Eddy replied. "You leave that to me, I'm a specialist," He gestured at the crates. "The sooner we get this stuff out of here, the sooner you can go home."
The man shot a glance at his fellows before they broke into a discussion in the rapid language of the highlands. Eddy couldn't speak the language, but he was clever enough to know that some of the things said about him probably weren't entirely charitable. However, after a round of shrugs, the man turned back to Eddy.
"Fine by us then. No skin off our noses if ya get done in. All's ya to do is ken thi sen and we'll follow you, Mr Specialist." The last part was said mockingly.
Ken thi sen. Eddy knew that much of Zmanger slang. Watch yourself. A warning. An unfriendly bunch, for sure, but Eddy wagered that they'd appreciate him a bit more when he snuck out ten pounds of Dutt under the noses of the 'black and white dogs' (as they called the police). Ten pounds. That amount had to be worth over £250. No wonder the Zmangers were willing to stand hiring outside help - with so much money on the line, biases tend to evaporate in favour of pragmatism.
Eddy looked over the crates - pondering his strategy for five minutes. He came up with several plans over that period, discarding options and redrafting aspects until he was happy with his options. Eventually, Eddy settled on one plan and turned to the waiting thugs. It was a little theatrical, but why shouldn't he enjoy his work as long as he got the job done? The thugs, meanwhile, looked bored; one of them tapping their foot. Eddy smiled at them.
"I know how we're going to move this lot. It'll take a couple of hours to set up, but I'm certain it will work. First though, help me hide some of these crates a little better…"
The policemen assigned to stakeout duty around the West Balam Docks were utterly bored. They had been watching people coming and going for a few days and, so far, there had been no sign of the supposedly large shipment of narcotics that was meant to be transported out to gang distribution centres. In fact, the docks had been remarkably quiet. So, they felt only momentary interest when a small covered cart - similar to those of many peddlers - was dragged into the cobbled square adjacent to the docks.
It was rickety, seemingly cobbled together with spare bits of mismatched wood. However, the dark haired and blue eyed young man dragging it seemed in high spirits despite the apparent poverty to which his patched clothing spoke. Nevertheless, attention was drawn when he started hawking his services.
"Haircuts, haircuts! Get your hair cut! Best scissors this side of Backlund Bridge!"
He didn't get much attention at that. If he was actually any good, then he'd have his own shop rather than working out of a rickety cart. Therefore, most of the people passing by did not give him a second look. However, the young man began to get more attention when he took out a pair of silvery scissors and began flipping them from fingers to finger. Gradually, still shouting out his services, he escalated his tricks - making the blades dance over his hands, tossing them up in the air and catching them showily. He even drew a small crowd of spectators. Some of them cheered when he made a particularly difficult trick, although it seemed as if others were a bit disappointed when he didn't lose a finger.
This show of skill was enough to win the young fellow some patrons and, over the next hour, he cut several people's hair - charging a couple of pennies each time. This was, in the eyes of the hidden watchers, enough to discount the man. He was just a barber. Technically, he needed a permit to run a street side stall, but no policeman was zealous enough to actually go over and demand proof of his right to be there. Besides, it wasn't like he had enough money to pay a bribe…
Therefore, the plain-clothes officers were not alarmed when a tall and wild-haired man walked casually out of the Docks and joined the crowd watching the young barber playing tricks with his scissors. They were not alarmed when he asked for a haircut. They did not notice that, as the barber placed one hand on the man's shoulder to guide him down onto a wooden stool, another supernaturally dexterous hand reached out and untied a half-pound package that had been secured to the man's waist and moved it under his own jacket in a single swift movement. They did not notice that, as the barber moved back to his cart to grab a basin of water and a towel, the package slipped out from under his jacket and through a convenient gap in the wooden slats of the cart - falling quietly into its darkened interior. They did not notice as, throughout the rest of the afternoon, the man repeated this process another three times. After all, he was just a barber.
As evening approached, the young barber finished with his last customer, packed up his cart and dragged it away from the docks on stiff wheels. The hidden watchers stayed in their positions. The shipment had to be on its way. Any day now.
Eddy took the cart back into the heart of East Borough, other pedestrians making way for him as he manoeuvred through the streets. Finally, he made his way onto Bacardi Street before turning and dragging the cart into a dead-end alley. As he got the cart into the alley, the entrance was quickly blocked by the sudden appearance of Zmangers. Some of them lit cigarettes, others squatted down to play cards on the cobbles. Either way, they incidentally stopped anyone from entering the alley. They also stopped anyone from seeing one wall of the cart being disassembled and two pounds of packaged Dutt being extracted and handed over to a distributor for the Zmanger Gang.
The distributor, a highlander by the name of Anouilh - nicknamed Slow-worm - grinned at Eddy and whistled as he saw the drugs.
"I suppose you did what you promised, Barton. Good work. There's still eight pounds of product left in that warehouse, though."
Eddy nodded. "I cut around twenty people's hair today. Four of them were carrying Dutt under their jackets. Any more than half a pound and they would have been too obvious. Any more than four, and the black and white dogs may have noticed a pattern. We'll do the same tomorrow. Two pounds a day, every day, until it's done. They'll be less wary if I become a regular sight outside the docks."
At that he paused.
"Make sure that you change out the guards for tomorrow. I can't give the same person a haircut five times in a week."
Anouilh laughed at that. "I'll make sure to get you the thugs with messiest hair then, Barton! I look forward to seeing similar results tomorrow. You are an excellent smuggler."
Eddy smiled at that - his eyes unfocusing as if he were looking at something not quite in the real world. "Thank you Anouilh, that means more to me than you know."
AN: Eddy is smuggling and is having fun with it by going back to his roots! Edward Barton the Barber and Edward Barton the Smuggler don't always have to be different people. I don't want to dwell on the other days of Eddy's smuggling. He's going to pull the same trick another four times. Next chapter will summarise this, deal with his pay, and what else he gets up to over that time, etc. A short timeskip. As a side-note, if you're wondering, we're between chapters 112-116 in the canon story. Klein is still in Tingen and is just under a month away from digesting his Seer potion. The Tarot Club has just held its fifth meeting.
