Benjamin Ashwood (12 page)

When
Renfro stole from someone, he didn’t consider the consequences to the victim,
he only considered his own risk and reward.  For the same reasons he had no
problems with theft, he had no problems spilling his life story and all his
hopes and desires to Ben.  He had no mechanism to hold back.  He had apparently
decided he could trust Ben to help get him out of his troubles so he jumped
into the friendship with both feet.  Renfro was all or nothing.

Lying
there on the deck of the ship, staring at the billowing sails snapping in the
wind overhead and trying to ignore the stench of the wet rope behind his back, Ben
wondered if Renfro’s way was better.  A life unmuddled by concerns about
others.  It seemed simpler and Ben had certainly seen his share of trouble
trying to help others recently.  The fights at Murdoch’s and in Fabrizo
wouldn’t have happened if he’d kept to himself.

Ben
was still contemplating the simple life of Renfro when he went to talk to Lady
Towaal about keeping him in the group past Whitehall.  He found her leaning
against the rail staring into the depths of the Blood Bay.

As
he approached, she waved him closer and pointed down towards the water.  Ben
was startled when he noticed several large dark shapes coursing through the
water and keeping speed with the ship.

Lady
Towaal explained, “black sharks.  They follow ships all the time this close to
Whitehall.  No one is really sure why but the popular story among sailors is
that they smell human blood.  They say that when the Blood Bay earned it’s
name, these sharks fed for years on the corpses of the losers.”

“Blood
Bay.  Why is it called that?” Ben asked, “I’ve heard the stories of course, but
I don’t know how much truth there is to them.”

“You
might be surprised,” Towaal replied, “there is sometimes more truth in stories
than there is in the histories.  Both the stories and the histories of the
Blood Bay are one in the same though.  Long ago, almost 300 years past, the
leaders of Whitehall and Issen became upset with each other.  They were
powerful cities with powerful leaders, much like they are now.  It was over
some simple offense, a raised tariff or spurned marriage proposal from a
cousin.  The details of how it started have been forgotten and aren’t really
that important.”

“What
happened after is important though it’s lesson has also been forgotten.  The
two rulers started collecting allies and making strategic military moves they
said to thwart the aggressor.  Even at the time it was difficult to tell which
one of them was supposed to be the aggressor and which was the defender.”

“They
were both powerful enough that eventually nearly every nation and city state
within 200 leagues of the Bay had been drawn in on one side or the other.  One
summer, a small skirmish set it off and they called all of their armies
together and planned to march to what would have been assured mutual
destruction.  The forces were so large that whichever side won, the loss of
life would have been catastrophic.  The land would have been stripped of
farmers, wheelwrights, carpenters, fishermen and all of the other common men
and specialists that make our civilization work.  Those outside of Whitehall
and Issen were extremely concerned of course, but what could they do?  Who had
the power to stop something like that when both sides had already accumulated
so much might?”

“Fortunately,
a huge storm came out of nowhere and it rained for weeks.  The roads became
impassable and the men were washed out of their camps.  Critical bridges were
destroyed by flooding, mountain passes blocked due to landslides.  All
resources and manpower had been devoted to the military build so nothing could
be quickly repaired.” 

“The
pitched battle had been averted, but both sides were still unwilling to back
down so the war took place across this bay.  It grinded on for years because
neither force could gain a decisive advantage.  In the end, it wasn’t much
better than the catastrophe that the storms had delayed.  Finally, the people
of Issen grew sick of the war and called their troops home.”

“The
ruler of Whitehall named himself Emperor and King and claimed dominion over
most of central Alcott.  Sadly for him and his heirs, they found that they
didn’t have the men to work or protect that land.  Fields went fallow, nets
were left untended, cities abandoned and so on.  The dark forces; goblins,
demons and worse found a toehold in our world and it took a century to battle
them back.  In some remote places in the world, they still exist in serious
enough numbers to pose a threat.  The one we killed in Farview is child’s play
compared to the demon swarms they faced after the Blood Bay.  The lesson was
obvious at the time.  The victor of the great battles ended up losing more than
they gained.  The fighting and bloodshed had been pointless.  There are too few
left who remember the lessons of the past.  It’s just pages in a book now.”

Lady
Towaal finished with her narrative and continued staring at the black sharks
flanking the ship.  She appeared to be lost in her thoughts and Ben was afraid
to interrupt her.

Her
story surprised him.  He’d heard numerous accounts of various battles, the
heroism each side displayed and the glory when it was all over.  He had never
heard it quite like this.  The way Lady Towaal described it, both sides had
tasted bitter defeat in the end.  In the stories there was always a winner and
a loser.  The winner took the battlefield and the spoils.  The loser went home
in shame.  It never occurred to him what happened when the winner went home.

After
several minutes he decided to risk a question.  “So, does this mean that
technically Argren of Whitehall is my King?  In Farview, we never really paid
attention to that kind of thing.”

For
the first time Ben had seen, Towaal smiled.  “No, the leaders of Whitehall
still claim the title of King, but over the years that portion of the map has
been shrinking.  In reality, their reign doesn’t extend much further than the
walls of Whitehall and the Sineook Valley by proxy.  If you want to be
technical, on the maps Farview falls within the realm of Issen.  I suspect
though that you haven’t seen a tax collector in your lifetime and Lord Gregor
probably wouldn’t know where to send them if he became so inclined.  You are
right to not pay much attention.  For the common man, it only matters that you
are left alone to live your life.  Lines on the map, that only matters to
scholars and rulers.

She
frowned, “enough history.  That’s not what you came to ask.  What is it, the
world is a big and scary place and you’re looking to turn back?  No one could
blame you after what’s happened over the last few weeks.”

“No,
I, uh…  I want to continue with you.  I want to see this through.”

“Good,”
she replied with a nod.

He
thought he detected a hint of another smile.  “I, actually, I came to ask if
Renfro could continue on with us.  Despite his past, he’s a good man and I
think we could use him.”

Towaal
paused and gave Ben a long appraising look before answering.  “Make sure he
keeps his hands to himself.”

The
next morning Ben lined the rail with Meghan, Amelie, Meredith and Renfro.  None
of them had ever seen the great city of Whitehall.  Even for someone who was
used to big cities like Amelie, it was a sight to behold when approached from
the sea.

When
the shore first came into view, they could only see a long stretch of somber
grey cliffs topped with the occasional splash of verdant green forest.  Above
the forest in the distance a jagged mountain range tore into the sky.

The
city of Whitehall was a brilliant beacon shinning out from the grim coastline. 
In the morning sun, the white of the buildings reflected like a diamond.  As
they sailed closer, Ben saw that there were virtually no flat areas in the city
– it seemed to grow straight out of the water in a dazzling pile of limestone
and marble.  The buildings were built up from the huge port and stacked in
tiers climbing all the way up the cliff.  He could see wide boulevards
zigzagging up through the city and it wasn’t until they were nearly inside the
seawall that he was able to make out tiny spots of color in doorways and
windows that marked the only breaks in the white stone work.

In
the center of the city, the White River poured down through a steep mountain
pass into a large reservoir, spilled over a low retaining wall then flowed more
peacefully through the rest of the city and into the Blood Bay.  From one
angle, the river appeared to cleave the city in two.  From another, the two
wings of the city appeared to be some mythical beast perched above the
reservoir and port.

Surrounding
the port was a thick rock seawall that protected the city from the weather and
raiding armies.  The only break in the wall was framed by two squat fortresses
which Amelie called ‘The Rock’ and ‘The Rock Too’.  Ben couldn’t tell the
difference between them, but the huge trebuchets sitting atop looked
intimidating enough to scare off all but the most determined attackers.

Once
they safely passed through the Rocks, Amelie was able to point out a few other
landmarks she’d heard of.

“The
Great Market there is supposed to be the only flat part of this city and I
believe it now.  Beyond that is the Cathedral which they say was erected after
the Blood Bay War when the leaders of Whitehall claimed they were God Kings. 
They’ve since dropped the God title but maintain the building.  Way up at the
top is the Citadel – King Argren’s residence.  That’s where we’ll stay.”

“Hold
on!” exclaimed Renfro.  “We’re staying at the King’s house?”

“Well,
when you put it like that, I guess we are.  There are hundreds if not thousands
of people who live there though.  It’s not like we’re sharing his bathing
chambers.”

“Still,”
Renfro nudged Ben, “pretty fancy.”

Ben
smiled and tried to take it all in.  The port was unlike anything he had even
imagined.  Where Fabrizo’s port was spread out across several miles of mainland
and islands, Whitehall’s massive docks were all behind the seawall and
clustered at the base of the city.  Earlier, Saala had explained to Ben that
Whitehall on the western shores of the Blood Bay was more susceptible to fall
storms than the eastern shore so the sea wall was built to allow merchants to
continue business throughout the year.  While several of the cities on the
western shores had protected ports, none rivaled Whitehall in scale.  Saala
said it was the largest port in the known world, and from what Ben could see as
they approached, he thought it might be true.

In
the port, a veritable forest of ship masts sprouted up.  Ben attempted to count
the masts but he gave up when he got over one hundred and wasn’t a third of the
way along.  There were large merchant cogs like they were on, small skiffs
darting about between ships and he spied several man-o-wars slowly making their
way out of the port into the bay.

One
of the small skiffs started towards them at the same time Rhys came to lean
next to the young people.

He
gestured to the little boat and said, “that’s a port pilot.  They’ll guide us
into an available dock.  Shouldn’t be too long before we tie up so best go get
packed if you’re not.”

The
girls darted off to gather their things but neither Ben nor Renfro actually
owned much, so they had been packed since early morning.

Rhys
continued, “I heard Amelie tell you where we are staying.  Not my type of
people but you can’t complain.  We won’t find any better accommodations in the
city.  Good drink, good food and good beds.  Take advantage lads.  Some of
these city girls are drawn towards the adventuring type and they’re wild.  Not
like the country bumpkins you’re used to.  There’s more to it than breeding. 
My advice, find a nice experienced girl and let her teach you a thing or two.”

A
flush crept into Ben’s face and he decided to divert the conversation.  Rhys
had offered his advice before and it always carried a similar theme.  “Will we
meet the King?”

“Not
us hopefully.  Keep away from Lords and Ladies lad.  They all play the same
game and you’re just a piece on the board to them.  All they care about is
money and power.  If they have one, they want the other.  If they have both,
they want more.  Remember that.”

Ben
frowned, “Amelie’s a Lady and she’s not like that.”

Rhys
shrugged, “we’ll see.”

Ben
tried to put the conversation with Rhys behind him as they moved towards the
city.  The man was an enigma to Ben.  He acted like a friend but he kept plenty
of secrets.  He worked as a Hunter out of The City, mostly for members of the
Sanctuary, but his open disdain of Mages and his disagreements with Towaal
didn’t seem to match his apparent job.  For someone who counted on Sanctuary
business for his income, he wasn’t very supportive of their activities.

Ben
shook his head and slipped below deck to get his pack.  Whitehall was one of
the grandest cities in the world and he wasn’t going to let creeping doubts
about his companions ruin this experience. 

The
first pilot skiff had darted back in to the port after they announced high born
guests and they were now being led in by a second skiff to their dock.  The
sailors were quickly stowing equipment, tying down lines and preparing bumpers
in a flurry of activity that Ben still could not understand after three weeks
at sea.  The Captain adopted a frosty attitude after he learned the identity of
his passengers.  Renfro speculated he probably would have tried to charge them
double for passage if he’d known.

When
Ben returned topside, Meghan was standing at the rail looking up in awe at the
city rising before them.  The two of them were the only ones who didn’t have
much experience with cities and they were both excited and nervous about
Whitehall and the rest of the journey.

For
Meghan, she told Ben she was becoming more and more uncertain about her
decision to join the Sanctuary.  It had seemed so simple back in Farview. 
After learning more of what to expect from Towaal and Amelie though, it was
more complicated than she’d realized.  She hadn’t come to grips with how her
life would change.  After this journey, Ben planned to return to Farview and
resume his life.  Nothing would ever be the same for her.

Ben’s
worries about Whitehall were more straightforward and immediate.  At Murdoch’s
he’d been nearly beaten to a pulp in the common room and in Fabrizo he’d been
knocked out and imprisoned.  So far, his luck out in the world was not very
good.  His excitement about seeing Whitehall was tempered with concerns about
what other kinds of trouble he may find himself in.

At
the railing, Amelie and Meredith joined them.  “Are you excited about the city,
Ben?”

“I
think so.  I was excited about Fabrizo too and that didn’t go well.”  Ben at
least had no secrets from his companions.

Renfro
broke in, “didn’t go well?  You met me!”

“I
see your point Ben,” Amelie gave Renfro a sidelong glance and he effected a
hurt expression. 

She
continued, “we shouldn’t have any of those problems in Whitehall.  Fabrizo is ruled
by the Merchants Guild and the lack of a single strong ruler leads to delays,
confusion and allows for groups like the Thieves Guild to flourish.  Some even
say the two guilds are one in the same.”

Renfro
blurted, “they’re not the same!  The Thieves steal from the Merchant’s Guild as
much as they steal from anyone.  In fact, the Merchants have a bounty out on
any known thief.”

“Maybe
you’re right, but Whitehall is different.  Argren rules with a heavy hand and
he doesn’t allow any sources of power aside from his own.  At the first hint of
something like a Thieves Guild, he won’t just offer a bounty.  He’ll task his
soldiers to root it out branch and stem.  They’ll turn the entire city upside
down before they allow a group like that to exist.  The common people don’t
allow it either.  They’d rather deal with the problem themselves than have
Argren’s men come down on them.”

“Have
you met the King?” Ben asked.

“No,
I haven’t.  My father has and he described him as a hard man.  He’s had the
rule in Whitehall for almost forty years now and many say he’s the most
powerful man in Alcott.  I wouldn’t argue against that.  When you’ve had that
much power for that long it can change you, I hear.”  She shrugged.

“Are
you worried about him?  I mean, you’re going to have to make an appearance,
right?”

Amelie
blushed, “it’s a little more than that.  My father sent me as an envoy and
asked me to relay a message to Argren.”

There’s
always more to it thought Ben.  “What message?  If it’s Ok for me to know…”

“It’s
no secret really.  Not now that we are here.  King Argren wants my father to
join his Alliance.  The Coalition wants us to join them instead.  Issen is
stuck in the middle and my father is worried that either way he goes, we will
bear the brunt of any fighting that starts.  I’m here to gain assurances from
Argren that if we join him he will lend us troops and other aid.”

Ben
scratched his head.  “I was born in Coalition territory, before we moved to
Farview, and I remember my father telling me it was a horrible place.  The
Coalition doesn’t allow a man to live his life freely.  The Coalition say they
are building a better world but it seemed to only work out better for the
people at the top.  They said they were going to make everything fair and
provide the people what they need.  Things like setting up schools, providing
medicines and everyone getting a fair shot no matter how noble or common their blood. 
But someone’s got to pay for all of that and taxes quadrupled in two years.  At
least, that’s what my father said.  How could your father want his people to be
a part of something like that?  Argren is building his Alliance to fight that,
right, to make sure people are protected and have the freedom to choose things
on their own?”

Amelie
smiled a sad smile.

As
they docked and disembarked, Ben felt like he was still rocking with the
waves.  He felt the thrill of seeing a city he had heard so many stories about,
but the world wasn’t as simple of a place as it used to be.  Things were
changing quickly and he was a small boat on a large open sea.

Renfro
pulled him out of his gloomy thoughts.  He was close to Ben in age, but
sometimes he still acted like a child.  In this case, his excitement about
getting to Whitehall and escaping Fabrizo was infectious.  He bolted down the
gangplank as soon as it was lowered and spun back to face the group with a
broad smile on his face.

They
followed Renfro down and Ben realized that while Renfro had seemed worldly and
confident in Fabrizo, his experience with the world wasn’t any broader than Ben’s. 
Renfro had spent his entire life on the islands of Fabrizo.  Whitehall was just
as alien and strange to him as it was Ben and Meghan. 

They
dodged through the hustle and bustle down by the docks towards a large
structure by the Great Market.  This part of the city felt remarkably similar
to the docks in Fabrizo and despite the chaos, Ben found he enjoyed it.  A
cacophony of languages, sights and smells mixed into an intoxicating cocktail
that tasted like adventure.

The
large structure housed the base of something called the Funicular.  It was the
quickest – and most expensive – way to move through the city of Whitehall.  The
city was built on a steep incline, nearly vertical, and climbing from Port to
Citadel on the zigzagging streets would take half a day on foot.

The
Funicular was the way around that.  It was a wooden contraption built on
wheels, set on a rail and attached to a pulley system.  Once loaded, a signal
would be sent to the operators and team of oxen would pull the heavy cables
running through the pulleys.  The Funicular could roll smoothly to the highest
levels of the city.  There were several stops along the way and wealthy
passengers would board and disembark as the Funicular made it’s way up the
steep track.

“Better
than walking,” said Rhys with a wink.

Their
party boarded the Funicular with several other passengers and the signal was
given.  Ben held on tightly when they lurched upward.  As they rose, the view
was both spectacular and terrifying.