[R3, late night, Umbida's] Grey Market Goods [Fazeia, Private]

rillani

Long after closing, Umbida swept the cellar.  Bread crumbs, burlap scraps, mouse droppings, and dubious raisins all found themselves mixed up in her dust pan.  A comparison to Little Anaxas came to mind, but then she had Anaxas on the brain.

Someone in her acquaintance wanted to buy rare books from Brunnhold.  For a friend.  A wealthy friend, judging by what she was getting paid.  If Umbida had to guess, the books would be tucked away in a home library and never cracked open again--but that had to be better than letting them burn.  Nevermind that the books were probably stolen.  Nevermind that they probably contained spells designed to cook humans alive.  Books shouldn’t be punished for the actions of their owners.  It was a good cause, she told herself.  Besides, she could use the extra cash.  That patio wasn’t going to pay for itself anytime soon.

Done with sweeping, Umbida sat on a crate.  She rested the broom across her lap and lit a stubby cigar.  Delivery would come knocking at the trapdoor any minute now.  She listened for the sound of a boat on the river below, and she waited.

Char

They moved quietly across the water by the light of the lantern that sat next to Fazeia on her seat in the prow. It was about the only light they had what with the hour being so late so it was fortunate that Benti could navigate the three rivers with expert familiarity. In the hull between them was a small pallet piled up with five sacks, one of which Fazeia was resting her feet on. There wasn't much of a breeze so their progress was slow but smooth. There weren't many other vessels out on the water and the trip from Benti's boathouse was easy and pleasant - though one might have thought they were going on a long journey fraught with deadly peril at every turn by the irritating way Benti twitched and fumbled and was constantly peering around into the dark.

He was new to this, she had been warned beforehand and though green to the world of smuggling, he had been chosen for this job as it was simple, brief and relatively low risk. The goods had already made their way to the city and after spending the day stashed in the boathouse, they had to make their way to who Faz assumed would be the end seller. The hard work was done and though this could have just as easily been done during the day, the buyer had insisted the goods be delivered at night. They were apparently highly sought after and Fazeia knew it wasn't beyond some of Thul Ka's scrounger scum to ambush a delivery at the last moment if the goods were ripe enough. She'd done it herself more than a couple of times.

All was quiet though as she noticed Benti timidly pointing behind her. She turned and saw the dark shape of a bridge looming closer. She squinted up at the structure and after a moment of consideration, she nodded at the bank of the river where a small jetty stuck out directly under the bridge.

Benti dropped the sail, took up a pair of oars and steered them slowly over to the jetty. Faz tied them up and after telling Benti to stay put she picked up the sack she had been using as a footstool and slung it over one shoulder. She took the lantern too and stepped off the jetty onto slippery wet bank where a rusty ladder led up to a walkway that ran underneath the length of the bridge. Fazeia climbed it swiftly, the lantern's handle held tightly between her teeth. Her white cloak stirred a little in the breeze as she strode the walkway and it creaked and groaned beneath her feet. She headed for another ladder, the only one that had been left down, linking the walkway to the underside of the bridge above her head.

It was almost pitch black out here near the middle of the bridge and the other side was lost in the darkness. She was glad it was too dark to look between the planks of wood underfoot and see the deep water shifting below. After adjusting the sack on her shoulder and putting the lantern down, Fazeia climbed the second ladder, clinging to it with one hand as she reached the top and knocked twice at the trapdoor overhead.

rillani

Umbida nodded to herself when she heard footsteps along the walkway.  The boat had been too quiet for her liking--silence was suspicious in a town like Thul Ka.  She hated that it had to be at night, too.  An honest businesswoman, she prefered smuggling by daylight.  But the acquaintance’s so-called friend was as impatient as they were wealthy.

Biting down on her cigar, Umbida reached out with the broomstick and knocked twice on the trapdoor.  Then, she nudged the latch open.  

“S’open,” she said, not getting up.  It had been a long day.

Char

With a frown and a bit of jostling for balance, Fazeia managed to push open the trapdoor above her head. She peered through the crack and saw a pair of feet and smelt the rich smoke of a cigar filtering through the air. Grunting, she gave a good push and the trapdoor swung open with a creak and a squeal of the hinges. Fazeia first heaved the sack off her shoulder and it landed with a shuddering bang on the floor of the cellar. Then, after sticking her head through and taking a quick look around, she followed and soon enough she was standing in the cellar, trying to wipe the rust and grime off her hands.

The woman had a broom in her hands. Well, hopefully the floor is clean, Fazeia thought as she planted one knee on the floor and reached under her cloak to the small of her back. She unsheathed a small but beautifully ornate dagger, the hilt made of silver and black wood, carved with swirling floral patterns and decorated with a shining emerald embedded in the pommel.

Fazeia gestured at the trapdoor. 'Can't you put some fucking grease on that thing, Umbida?' she asked with a scowl
before slitting the bag open and reaching into it, sending the coffee beans inside skittering across the cellar floor. She pulled out a book wrapped tightly in cloth and string and handed it to the smoking woman.

'There's more yet. Four in each sack,' she said, straightening up again and sheathing the dagger.

rillani

Umbida hardly flinched at the sudden sight of the dagger.  She’d known Faz for a while.  Good worker, reliable.  Not stupid.

Relaxing, Umbida hefted herself off the crate and picked up a bean.  Normally, she wouldn’t let beans of such poor quality anywhere near her cups, but times were tough.  Some of her sacks could use rounding out.. call it a new blend.

She lifted the lid of the crate and flicked the bean in.  “How many total?”

Kneeling to the bag, she dug out a book and checked the title.  “Buyer wants specific ones, the hopeful idiot.”  With a bleary frown, the proprietor stuck the book back into the sack, stuck her cigar back in her mouth, and lifted the sack into the crate.  “Bhe, I’ll check them in the morning.”

Char

'In this shipment there are twenty,' Fazeia said, rolling a coffee bean under the toe of her sandal. 'Though I'm sure more can be found if these ones aren't to your buyer's liking... for the right amount of money, of course.' She hadn't had anything to do with obtaining the books, rather she had helped to organise their transportation and she knew from her friend in Anaxas that more stolen volumes were being held somewhere she hadn't been made privy to. Fazeia shrugged. 'You know how these things work.'

Leaning down to the hole in the floor, Faz let out a long piercing whistle. She paused for a moment and hearing nothing, sighed and knelt down, sticking her head through the trap door. 'Benti! Maguala! Stop playing with yourself and bring the rest.' She heard some movement then and stood up to wait. No doubt the boy would need help when he reached the second ladder.

Turning to Umbida, Fazeia fiddled with an earring and with a tone of mild irritation said, 'There's something else, too. I was told that in one of the sacks - maybe that one there, I don't know - is a bundle of letters from Brunnhold. It was a part of the deal. My friend in Anaxas needed help getting the books out of the university. Luckily he knew some people inside and they agreed to help for a small price and for our assistance in delivering these letters and documents to the right people over here.'

Fazeia looked down then as she saw Benti depositing two sacks at the bottom of the ladder before disappearing to fetch the others. 'Do you think you'd be able to help?'

rillani

“Bajea.”  Umbida chewed her cigar thoughtfully. “You know I don’t like surprises, but I think we can make a trade…”  She pulled a small stack of papers from her apron.  “These are supposed to go in to Brunnhold.”

She took her cigar from her lips and held the papers out to Faz.  “Next time, I don’t want a surprise.  Letters I can deal with.  We can do letters.  But I won’t take anything breathing.”  As she gestured to the cellar, the cigar left a trail of smoke hanging in the air.  “Don’t have the shelf space.”

Char

Faz nodded. The letters had been a surprise to her too, apparently a last minute condition imposed by their contacts inside the university. Her eyes narrowed slightly as she took the papers from Umbida, but she tucked them away in her bag. 'All right, seems fair. Been collecting these for a while have you, Umbida?' she asked, but just then there was a thud below them at the bottom of the ladder. She excused herself, climbing down the ladder to Benti who was stood waiting by the rest of the shipment.

She took some money from a pocket and paid him. His eyes shined a little as he looked at the coins in his hand. Owning your own transport paid well in this business and Fazeia was sure even a green little dullard like him would learn that soon enough. 'I'll do the rest,' she told him. 'You can go now, I'm going to walk home.' Benti nodded and set off along the walkway back to his boat.

One by one, Fazeia carried the sacks up the ladder, piling them up by the trapdoor. Once they were all inside she climbed back into the cellar and pulled Umbida's ladder up for her. She closed the trapdoor and turned to the woman. 'Anaxas really is a strange place,' she commented. 'This is the first time I've ever moved books and letters. Makes a change from drugs and guns though, I suppose. Want them in the crate?' she asked, gesturing at the sacks by her feet.