The King's Reckoning
IC time is: morning
IC date is: late January
IC year is: 3187 S.A.
LOCATION:
Nardu Batan: The Guildhall
Wide and prosperous, the street looks freshly scrubbed and cleaned by the concerted efforts of many hands. The spotless stone pavement glides smoothly beneath your feet, guiding you towards a lavishly decorated group of buildings that stand at the bend of the street, facing west. Executed in the old style, with the skills of numerous woodwork artisans, it cannot be anything else but a Guildhall. No stone or iron you can see in its finely chiselled oaken mien, some features of design bringing to mind the Elven-ships of legend which are yet gliding over some far seas...
The building looks busy, with all manner of visitors going to and fro. All guild representatives are striking deals and conducting the daily business of their guilds, with the exception of the proud Shipwrights' Guild who choose to stand alone in the western part of the city.
Obvious exits:
* West leads to Nardu Batan: Umbar Jail.
* South leads to Nardu Batan: Eagle Square.
It is early morning on a grey winter's day, and a small group of labourers is gathered outside the Mason's Guild Office Nardu Batan. A damp, chill wind blows in from the Sea. causing those who have not brought warm clothing to shiver. Barzag stands among the group, wrapped in his old grey cloak, and like the rest he looks towards the building, waiting for the mason Ureziran to emerge. Odd it is that in this city of stone the Mason's Guild, together with the guilds of the other craftsmen, should be housed in a hall built of wood. Sentimental tradition on the part of the Council of Crafters, perhaps.
Ureziran exits the offices and walks swiftly towards the little knot of hired workers, who look up expectantly to hear what new project they will work on next. But today is different.
"I have an announcement to make," Ureziran states to the assembled men. "Some of you will have noticed the lack of new projects over the past few weeks. The reason for this is simple - I have decided to return to the Isle."
This information is met by dumbfounded looks on the part of most of the labourers. Those few who have heard Ureziran mention his aged father surmise that the old man's health has taken a turn for the worse, and nod their heads knowingly. But all shift uneasily, for the implications of the statement are all too obvious.
"I have already made arrangements for the journeymen and apprentices, of course," Ureziran continues smoothly. "Azranaru will be working for Dairabar as his journeyman. Dairabar was talking of recruiting more workers. Zimbalak, Izindir, you should speak to him. Marattar, Nimirik, I suggest you try Kathazir ..." Looking round the group with an expert eye, he gives each labour a recommendation of a likely employer. Lastly his eye falls on the Hillman. "Barzag - ah, wait a few moments, please? There was something I wanted to speak to you about."
Barzag simply nods, his face strangely blank, his lips pressed firmly together. The stunned expressions on the faces of his fellow workers show that he is not alone in his shock, though a few show resentment. One man mutters loudly, "He might have given us more warning."
Ureziran is unruffled. "The matter was not decided until today," he says calmly. "I realize that this will come as a shock to many of you, and therefore I have decided to offer you a week's pay as compensation. The clerk will see to it." He indicates the thin, brown-haired man who now stands off to one side. "If I can be of any help in providing references, please do not hesitate to ask - my ship does not leave for another two weeks." With that he turns away, obviously considering the matter ended.
The workers, still muttering among themselves, drift away in ones and twos towards the clerk.
Barzag waits until the other labourers have left, then approaches Ureziran. "You did wish to speak to me?" he asks uncertainly. He is acutely aware that /he/ was given no recommendations.
Ureziran looks uncomfortable. "Yes," he says bluntly at last, one hand reaching up to stroke his iron-grey beard. "I spoke to Dairabar - and I'm afraid he won't take you, he considers you a liability. Don't even bother trying Kathazir - despite his name, he is not known for his tolerance." A thin smile at that. "Perhaps one of the lesser masons may wish for labour...," he hesitates, then adds, "but personally I doubt it. Contracts are getting harder to come by these days."
Barzag's amber eyes are locked on to Ureziran, and his lip twitches slightly. "I see. Maybe labourers will be needed for the water-bringing project," he says stoically, showing little sign of his feelings at this blow.
Ureziran gives a short bark of laughter? "The water supply project? It's on hold - and likely to be indefinitely on hold. The City Council refused to release the funding, bunch of lazy a-" He stops, perhaps recollecting who he is speaking to, and adds brusquely, "I am sorry. You've been a good worker."
"But not so good that others will give me work, you think?" There is a spark of anger in Barzag's eyes, and his voice is slightly hoarse.
Ureziran eyes the Hillman shrewdly. "There is doubt about your status," he replies. "Why pay one who is effectively a slave?" And then once more, "I am sorry."
Barzag's left hand reaches automatically to cover his right upper arm at the mention of status. "I am not a slave," he says at last, the words coming slowly and his accent thickening. "And I will not be."
"Perhaps if you could provide documents showing that you are a free man?" Ureziran suggests.
Barzag shakes his head. "There are none," he replies bitterly. "You know how things are." His twisted lips twitch in a grimace.
Ureziran nods, once. "I guessed. If the authorities ask about you, I will of course say I know nothing ... but I am afraid can help you no further." He shrugs, and begins to turn away, stopping to add, "However, I wish you well."
"As I do you," Barzag replies, his mouth pulling up just a little at one side as he watches the mason stride away. Then the Hillman walks wordlessly to join the other workers.
"What was that all about?" Zimbalak asks, then looks at Barzag's face and guesses, "Nothing good. Well," he hafts a small bag from within which the chink of coins can be heard, "we're off to the Azulada now. Coming?"
Barzag seems almost surprised when the clerk thrusts a bag of coins into his hand - perhaps he had thought he would not be included. But he shakes his head at Zimbalak's question. "No - maybe later I will come. Now, there is a thing I would do." And with that he steps apart from the other labourers, no longer one of their number, and starts off in a south-westerly direction.
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