Guild Wars: Sea of Sorrows (28 page)

In the wide doorway of the town’s main store, four charr clustered around a burly, square-shouldered asura. The asura’s arms were crossed, and a glower was smeared on his features, belligerence positively dripping from his long sloping ears. Opposite him, the charr sailors were clenching their fists and growling in low tones. Their legionnaire—the captain of their vessel—snarled down at the asura in warlike defiance.

“What’s the problem, shopkeep?” Cobiah pushed his way through the charr nonchalantly. Though he managed to sound at ease, he was glad Sykox was by his side. “Is there some kind of disagreement?”

Xeres Grimjaw was the charr captain, a surly fellow with dark tiger-striped fur, a thick muzzle, and two long snaggled canines. “It’s a scam. Nodobe said that his crew gets twenty percent off at the store. I want my crew to have the same. He gives preferential treatment to humans.” Grimjaw said the word scathingly. “This wretched, miserly asura’s the problem, and I’m the solution.”

“I’ll admit one thing, you surly stinkball. I
do
give Nodobe’s crew preferential treatment,” Yomm sneered haughtily. “But I do it because I prefer customers who pay
their tabs. You and your crew skipped town with seven gold on your ledger. Seven gold!” The asura wrinkled his nose as if he smelled something rancid. Jade-green eyes as hard as stone chips glared at Grimjaw. “You’re a dirty cheat!”

“You copper-counting cutthroat! We’d pay if the prices were fair!” Grimjaw roared, the furor of his breath blowing back the little asura’s ears. “You’ll get that gold from us over our blood and bone!”

“Blood, bone. Whatever,” Yomm taunted, revealing long rows of teeth. “You’re still not getting the rum.”

Two of the charr reached for their weapons, jerking them half clear of their sheaths. Cobiah stepped between them quickly, shouting, “Enough! All of you!” Sykox flinched, ready to fight. Among the crowd, Cobiah saw Aysom, the youngest of the charr in the
Pride
’s warband. The golden-maned warrior moved up behind the others, looking to Cobiah for a signal to attack. Since the death of old Grist a few years back, Aysom had taken the post of bosun aboard the
Havoc
and had grown into a massive specimen of his race, each muscular arm as thick as a human thigh. Aysom shook his mane with a growl and looked intimidating.

Sykox shifted the bag of machine parts onto his shoulder like a club. Although Cobiah couldn’t see Fassur, he was certain that the black-furred charr was somewhere nearby, just waiting for an opportunity to strike. Heartened, Cobiah squared his shoulders and met Grimjaw’s eyes. “The Captain’s Council meets today. If you think Yomm’s prices are unfair, you can make a complaint at the meeting, Grimjaw. Now, take this out of the street.”

Frustrated, the charr knocked it aside. “You’re damn right I will. And that’s not the only complaint I’ll be making,” he snarled. “I stored four bags of goods in his shop, and he says he’s lost them!”

“I didn’t lose them.” Yomm shook his head, ears flopping smugly. “I
sold
them, and all the belongings inside them, to pay part of your debts.”

“What!” Grimjaw roared even louder. “You skelk-stinking, ooze-chasing gold monger! Those were my dress uniforms!”

“Really?” Yomm lifted his eyebrows in mock surprise. “With all those spikes? I’d hate to see what the charr consider ‘dressing down.’ ” Pompous to the end, the green-eyed asura tossed his head. “I’ll tell you the same thing I tell everyone who uses my storage services: pay your tab or lose your deposit.”

“This isn’t over, Yomm. Not by a long shot.” His whiskers bristling in anger, the striped charr glared at Cobiah. “C’mon, boys.” Gesturing for his warband to follow, Grimjaw stormed away. One of the other charr spat on the hearth of the general store before he turned away. Yomm reached for a pistol at his belt, but Cobiah stepped in front of him and caught the asura’s arm. As Grimjaw and his warband strode off, the shopkeep redirected his anger toward Cobiah. “I demand the right to speak before the council!” Yomm said imperiously. “I have a right to refute these ridiculous claims and demand repayment.”

“We’ve had this discussion before, Yomm.” Cobiah shook his head. “What you do with your store is your own business, so long as it’s legal.” Cobiah’s eyes darkened. “You’ve got the right to refuse them service, but the council can’t force Grimjaw to pay you if he says he doesn’t owe anything. He’s a captain of the council. Unless you have evidence, we have to trust his word.”

“That charr’s a liar and a cheat. I’ve caught his sailors stealing more than once. My ‘evidence’ is the ledger of debt he owes. I tell you, Marriner, that thieving charr shouldn’t be allowed to get away with this.” Yomm
crossed his arms belligerently. “I’ll pack up and leave, that’s what I’ll do. Without my store to get your goods into Kryta, this town’s just a glorified pit stop.”

Cobiah sighed and exchanged a glance with Sykox. “I’ll bring up your side of the story, Yomm, but you can’t come to the meeting unless you’re on the council. It just confuses the issue. If everyone in the town showed up and kept interrupting us, we’d never get anything done.” More sternly, he added, “You’re no captain, Yomm. You abide by the laws we set, or you take your business elsewhere. Don’t worry about the town. We’ll build another store and make another shopkeep rich.”

“Macha will hear about this.” Yomm’s scowl was as fierce as any charr’s.

“Go ahead and tell her. Tell whomever you like.” Cobiah stepped down from the shop stairs. “If you think you’ll get further with her than with me, you go right ahead and try.”

When they were out of earshot, Sykox cracked a smile. “You’re a mean cuss, Cobiah Marriner. You realize Macha will eat him alive if that little rat tries to get between the two of you, right?”

“Realize it?” Coby winked devilishly. “I’m counting on it, my friend. I’m absolutely
counting
on it.”

T
he central building of Lion’s Arch was a long well-built pavilion on the eastern cliffs with a magnificent view of the harbor. It was sturdy, built from the hull of a large galleon and constructed to weather even the coldest of severe winter storms. Since the flooding, the tides and the weather in Lion’s Arch had never been quite the same. Meaner, some said. “More protective,” Cobiah would reply. The storms made the winter harbor even more difficult to navigate without the tugboats. That kept the Dead Ships away and gave the city a season of relative rest. To Cobiah, it felt as if the goddess Dwayna were watching over them in the wintertime. Of course, he’d never say that to the charr.

After escorting Cobiah to the council building, Sykox had returned to the
Pride
to take his bundle of tools and equipment aboard. Each captain was allowed to bring one crew member as aide to the council meetings. Cobiah had learned from experience that bringing any of the charr—even Fassur or Sykox—only caused trouble. Neither had the patience for long meetings. “Too many brunches, not enough fighting,” Sykox would grumble. Macha, on the other hand, actually enjoyed going with him.

She was already inside the foyer of the pavilion,
waiting for him, tapping her foot in sullen annoyance. Macha’s braids were still dyed all the colors of the rainbow, but in recent years, she’d exchanged her blue feather robe for a plainer set of clothing. She wore a turquoise bracelet around the top of one arm, a mark of her advancement in the asuran colleges—genius first grade. Its inscriptions matched the markings of Macha’s invention, a navigational tool she had titled “the sextant.” The first norn who laughed at the name found himself unable to speak properly for a week. Regardless of that, the instrument had so revolutionized navigation that the city had named a section of the docks after her: Macha’s Landing.

Macha glared at him. “You’re late,” she said grumpily. “I got stuck talking to Nodobe for ten minutes. Ten minutes with that pompous, self-absorbed nincompoop is worse than three days in the doldrums with no wind. How could you do that to me?”

“Sorry. I had a little problem with Yomm.” Cobiah paused outside the big pavilion, lowering his voice so passersby wouldn’t overhear. “By the way, he might come talk to you.”

“Is this about Grimjaw and his warband?” She raised an eyebrow inquisitively. “I’ve heard rumors they’re running up tabs and then leaving town. Sometimes it takes months for them to come back, and when they do, they argue the charges before they settle up for the minimum possible. Now, I’m sure Yomm’s charging them an arm and a leg above everyone else, but I don’t blame him for being angry.”

“Angry’s one thing, but Yomm’s threatening to shut down the store.”

Macha paused at that, cocking an eyebrow. “Is he now? Hm. He might do it if he’s mad enough.”

“Can we stop him?”

“Is it going to go that badly?” she replied.

Cobiah sighed. “Worse, I think. Yomm wants to set prices according to each ship, so he can charge Grimjaw’s crew more. Grimjaw wants standard prices for everyone. Most of the other captains will vote with Grimjaw. Yomm won’t like it, but we’ll just have to find a way to deal with him.”

Macha’s expression darkened like a small thundercloud. “Don’t underestimate Yomm. He’s dangerous, Coby.”

“So’s a ship full of charr. Do you want to tell Grimjaw that we’re going to let Yomm gouge the captains?”

Macha’s ears twitched as she spun the issue around in her head. At last, the asura tossed her rainbow hair and sighed. “Nothing we can do about it out here. Best get inside, Coby, before the other captains vote to hang us while we’re not there.”

Cobiah chuckled and started walking again, Macha toddling along at his side. “Always practical. How late are we?”

“
We
are not late.” Macha smirked. “
You
are late. I’ve already been inside, so they know I’m here.”

They walked into the main chamber of the building, where a single long table stretched the length of the room. It could have easily seated thirty people. Today, there were only seven, plus an equal number of aides: seven of the fifteen ships whose captains had invested in the city. Cobiah’s contribution had been the largest, but these captains had each bought a seat on the council so that they could have a say in the city’s management. When the beacons were lit, they made their way to Lion’s Arch. Today, these captains would set the law.

Four captains were already seated at the table. One
was the elegant Captain Nodobe, his dark skin shining in the sunlight that streamed through the pavilion’s high windows. Grimjaw reclined in a chair farther down the table, speaking to his first officer in low growls. Cobiah recognized the other charr as the burliest of those escorting the legionnaire that morning.

Captain Hedda was also at the table: a broad norn woman whose flabby arms disguised her well-known strength. She was renowned for lifting the entire prow of her ship from the shore and shoving it into the sea during an unexpected low tide. Although the rumor was greater than the truth, it wasn’t much of an exaggeration.

The last of the four at the table was old Captain Moran, previously of the
Salma’s Grace
. After retiring from the Krytan military, he’d used his severance to purchase a small clipper of his own, which he’d named the
Valor
. He’d stayed on good terms with Cobiah and the others over the years and spent more time than not in Lion’s Arch. Moran was the only captain who smiled when Cobiah entered the room.

A small cluster of other individuals stood at the far end of the room. One was an asura, bigger and more muscular than most of his people, carrying a heavy war hammer across his back. His name was Captain Tarb, a relative newcomer to the council. His first mate was with him: a petite human woman named Gamina, only slightly taller than the burly asura. Gamina was slender, with a snub nose and honey-colored hair. Cobiah didn’t know much about either of them other than their ship’s name, the
Priority Divide
. It was an odd name for a vessel, and Cobiah didn’t get it, but Macha assured him that the name was extremely meaningful to the asura of Rata Sum.

Neither of them held Cobiah’s attention once his eyes
fell on the final captain in the room. She was a human woman, tall and athletic, with her dark mane pulled back in a simple ponytail. Hazel eyes caught the sun as she turned her head, and her lips turned up into a charming smile. Clearly, she was as happy to see him as he was to lay eyes on her.

“Oh, great,” Macha groaned, ruining the moment. “Isaye brought the bookah.”

Indeed, Henst was standing beside Isaye, wearing his typical gear: two swords and a scowl. He placed his traveling rucksack in a corner of the room and took his place standing behind Isaye’s chair. It was as if Henst’s presence sucked all the joy out of the room, dimming even the sunlight. Henst had served on the
Pride
for a short time, but difficulties with the charr and a dislike for being thrown overboard made him leave the ship for other work. Yet he stayed in touch with Isaye, and when she commissioned the
Nomad
, he joined her aboard as first mate. “Predictable. When Isaye’s had a good journey, she brings Verahd.” Macha hopped into the main chamber, keeping her voice low so that only Cobiah could hear her speaking. “She has a bad one . . .”