Larkin: A Word In The Right Ear

[set the evening after Goro and Larkin went to Mishka to talk about Diva]

The warehouse was never still. By day, dozens upon dozens of workers, dock-hands, merchants, carriers and couriers milled about between the myriad crates, barrels, sacks and chests stacked on high shelves and on top of each other. Something was always moved, ordered, sold or stored in here, the wood cranes under ceiling creaking under their burdens and people shouting instructions at each other. By night, it was more silent but not less active in here. By night, the Basha’s people came out to separate the legal, documented goods from the more interesting ones. Hushed discussions, haggling, hand clasps. Horse carts that hauled a crate or two out into the night, covered with straw and canvas.

Up on the gallery, well above the bustle, Larkin watched them going about their business in the fading evening light. She leaned on the handrail while she waited to be let in. The guy on the door - Larkin didn’t remember his name, one of the bruisers her uncle paid and regularly changed – had left inside, then returned shortly after to tell her to wait. Renar loved making people wait. It made it easy for him to assert authority. Assert who was in charge and who was only a supplicant. Give them a chance to obverse a sliver of his little kingdom, of his wealth. Larkin got out a knife and began cutting chunks out of the handrail. Maybe she should carve her name. Or some profanity.

‘*Fuck you very much’ was here.*

If Renar knew why she was here, what she wanted to talk about, he wouldn’t make her wait. If he knew this was family business – but of course, for that he’d have to talk to her first. Maybe she should’ve just told the door-guy.

*Tell the boss his brother is dead.*

That’d have gotten him out in an instant for sure.

The door opened again and a woman stuck her head out. Renar’s right hand and, so it seemed, receptionist for this day. “Hello Larkin,” she said. “Come in.”

Renar Basha was, no doubt, rich. He could’ve had a manor up on the terraces with the nobility. Could have had lands and an estate outside the city. Could’ve rented a whole guest house of his liking for himself. Instead, he chose to live here, at the docks, in an apartment built under the roof of a warehouse. It had its advantages, Larkin supposed. Maybe one day she’d get herself a place like this to live in herself. But first…

They entered through another door into Renar’s office. The large room, like the rest out the apartment, was furnished and decorated in the Calimport fashion. Her uncle had always liked the style of his home city best. Simple, yet comfortable with a lot of warm colours. He was seated on the floor, a pillow under him and his hardwood desk in front, rifling through a stack of papers. The door clacked shut behind her and they were alone.

“Hello, uncle,” she said.

“Larkin.” He didn’t look up. “I got your latest rate. I’m pleased you’re still paying on time, even if it could be more. How long are you planning to pay off your debt?”

Way to go, uncle. Not wasting any time to start the bullying.

She moved closer to the desk but remained standing, arms crossed. “It’d be going faster if you gave me work again.”

Renar paused his rifling, glanced up at her, then looked down again, shaking his head. “Can’t do that. Not yet. My clients lost a lot of trust that night; you understand that, right?”

Of course she did. He’d told her that a thousand times already. She only wondered how long it was going to be that way and if it was really only Renar’s *clients* who had lost trust.

She scoffed, refusing to answer to this old argument.

Renar looked up again, longer this time. A mixture of weariness and irritation on his face. “What’d you expect, huh? I can’t just act as if it were nothing because it sure as hell ain’t. And if you were anyone, literally anyone else than my brother’s get, “ he sat more upright and pointed a finger at her. ”you’d have ended up face down in a canal long ago.”

“Yeah, whatever. Can we quit the niceties now, I gotta talk to you about something.”

“Something else than your debt?”

“Yes. About Pa.”

Something about the way she said it must’ve alerted him. He pushed aside his papers and indicated the pile of pillows across from him, then got up. “What about Kheman?” He walked over to a cabinet and took out a bottle and two small brass cups.

Larkin sat down, learning forward on the desk. “Have you… have you seen him lately?”

Renar didn’t answer while he poured liquid into the cups, then returned to place them onto the desk and himself back on his pillow. "Hm...no. Actually, no, not in months. I know he came back into port some time ago but he hasn’t shown his face here. What, do you think something happened to him?” Concern wrinkled up his face.

“Nothing I can prove.” Larkin reached out for a cup but didn’t drink. “Thing is, I thought he was out at sea until I went to talk to somebody earlier today.”

“Who?” Renar took a sip out of his own.

“Mikhail Haeth.”

“Haeth? What business do you have with that man?”

“So you know him.” It wasn’t much of a surprise. Renar Basha knew about most people in Skyport. Those of significance, at least.

“Oh, sure. He and I have been dealing for years. He’s often sold loot and laundered money through me. You’ve probably met him, too.”

Right, she probably had. The familiarity she couldn’t quite place when she had met him… Renar did not just live in this house inside a house, he also used the front rooms to receive all kinds of business partners. When Larkin had still lived here, as a child, she’d often come across these people. Shady men and women who ignored her more than not. They talked, got drunk and left richer or poorer than they’d arrived. Mikhale Haeth must’ve been one of them.

“He knows Pa, too, right?” she asked, still toying with the cup.

“Yes. The pirate ship your father is on? I got him the job through Haeth. They’ve been sailing together for years.”

“I figured as much by now. So, I’ve been at his house today. Manor, rather.”

Renar gave her a look of mild surprise. “Really?”

“I was invited.”

“Were you, huh.”

“Yeah. I went there with someone from the guild.” Larkin halted for a moment to look up and give Renar a lopsided smile. “You know, the place I work for now since you refuse to employ me. We went there to...uhm. Damn, this is complicated. Do you know something about someone called ‘Diva the Deals Queen’ ?”

Renar thought for a moment, making a low humming sound to himself. “She’s got a shop down by the docks. Sells some odd stuff but as far as my people tell me, nothing to compete with us. What about her?”

“She’s -uhm,” Larkin sat up more straight and drank from the cup, trying to gather her thoughts. “Okay, this is a really long story. I’ll tell you all about it but the details aren’t important right now.” She sat the cup back down on the desk. “What’s important is, we went to Haeth because we hoped he had more information about her. I gave him a fake name but he caught onto the fact that he knows Pa. Don’t ask how that happened… “ She shook her head shooing away the embarrassing memory. ”I played dumb a little, you know how it goes. But then he said something odd. He said, he’s been looking for Kheman’s daughter to tell her that her father is currently recovering in the Eldath Sanctuary and she should go visit him.”

Renar was silent for a long moment. He swallowed the last sip of his drink, the frown on his face deepening. “Was that all?”

“Yes. I didn’t want to give away more so I didn’t ask. Sounds like an invitation to a set-up, if you ask me, but I don’t what know the hell he’d want from me. Or maybe he wants to get at you but - it’s stupidly obvious and this Haeth guy doesn’t strike me as stupid.”

“No, he sure isn’t. He's...”

Larkin waited while Renar was silent for another minute. His face grew darker and darker with every second. He slammed his hand down on the desk and the brass cups clinked away.

“That *slimey* bastard! Larkin, I want you to keep your feet still and your hands in your pockets. I mean it.” He sneered, probably thinking about what he could do to the man who held his brother captive. ”You acted as if it got nothing to do with you?”

“Yeah.”

“Keep it up. Don’t go to the Sanctuary.” He emphasized that by knocking on the table with a knuckle.

“I wasn’t planning to,” Larkin said, truthfully.

“Good. Good.” Renar got up, nodding, and started to pace. ”I trust you to not do anything stupid until we know more. Leave it to me. I’m going to find out what’s going on and deal with it. I’ll tell you when I need you. We’re going to show this elf not to fuck with the Basha – not with any Basha, alright?” He stopped in front of her.

Larkin got to her feet. “Thanks Renar, that-”

He stopped her by holding up one hand and putting the other on her shoulder. “Don’t call me that,” he said, “I’m your uncle.”

Larkin gave a single nod. “Thank you, uncle. That’s what I wanted to hear.” She touched his hand on her shoulder and he clasped it around hers. They separated and she turned to leave.

“Oh, and Larkin.”

She stopped to look back.

“Twenty-five grand. Then we’ll talk about business again.”