Chapter 40 – Discovery
District 6 was the usual mix of properties; any breaks in the buildings were filled with narrow, twisting alleyways. As the streets pushed out towards the city's outer walls, the buildings were smaller, less well-maintained and rundown in comparison. It was a common sight in most districts. The address for 'Threads of Glory' was further out towards the outer wall than SJ would have expected. That immediately felt wrong to her. If the beings who had run the scheme were determined that the tailor's shop would be as successful as one from the capital, she would have expected it to be in a wealthier area of the district.
When she reached the address, she discovered the area wasn't as run down as she had expected, although not wealthy. At least two of the other storefronts appeared empty from where she observed. The shop was located on the edge of a market square. Several traders had stalls spread around the area, selling various merchandise, and called out to beings, attempting to draw their custom. She chose a building that overlooked the market and the front of the store.
'Threads of Glory' was painted in bright golden paint on a hoarding above the large windows that made up the ground floor of the building. She could tell it hadn't been painted long, as the other stores around had faded signs in comparison. It was a simple difference, but one that set it apart from the surrounding stores. It looked more appealing just from the simple addition of a freshly painted sign. A central door stood between them as the entrance. The interior of the shop was in darkness as she had expected, and she watched for some time as life beneath her continued, non-the-wiser, to her crouched, miniature form looking down on them.
Beings came and went through the market. There was a small bar at the corner of the market frequented by several beings.
Maybe a good place to start, SJ thought.
She dropped down into an alley before she grew. Checking her appearance quickly before pulling her hood up and entering the square. No one really paid her attention as she crossed the market towards the bar. As she passed the front of the store, she noted the empty mannequins in the windows and the general grime coating many things in the streets from the various smithies and other sources of smoke.
The bar was dimly lit as she entered; a thick haze of pipe smoke hung in the air, and the stench of sweat and stale ale wafted to her nostrils. The bar area was just an open space with tables and chairs; several beings drank, most appeared to be alone. There was nothing appealing about it, and SJ walked to where a thin woman with a wistful look was drying a tankard. She was staring into the distance, lost in her own thoughts.
"Could I get a coffee, please?" SJ asked.
The woman jumped slightly, drawn from her thoughts. "We don't do coffee. Ale and only ale."
"I'll take an ale then," SJ said. She really didn't want to drink anymore after having two dwarven brandies.
The woman took the tankard she was holding and filled it from one of several kegs that stood behind the bar. "Two coppers."
SJ paid and took the tankard before moving to an empty table.
She kept her hood up as she sat holding the ale; it smelled strong, and she lifted it to her mouth, taking a sip. It was foul, a bitter, stale flavour, nothing like the many ales she had drunk before. She spat the liquid back into the tankard and placed it down on the table.
A portly man entered the bar, ordered an ale, and came and sat at the table nearest to hers. The overpowering stench of the man's sweat made SJ feel repulsed. His clothes were stained, his beard untidy, and his hands were covered in dirt, thick black lines under his nails. A large pimple stood out on the side of his cheek like a beacon.
"Don't get many females in here," he said, looking over to her.
SJ looked towards him, her face shadowed by her hood. "I only called in to visit a friend nearby. We were supposed to be visiting the tailor's shop, but it appears closed."
"Aye, closed a while back now. Thought it would be a good draw for the market, but it never opened. Owners probably realised there are better areas in the district to set up shop."
"Do you live around here?"
"Yeah. Just on my lunch, then back to the bins."
That explained his hands, at least; if he were a waste collector, his role would be a thankless one. SJ knew that many got paid so little for keeping the streets of the districts clean.
"Did you ever see the beings that owned the shop?"
"Yeah, think there were three of 'em. A man, a woman, and one of those avian beings. Looked busy initially when they were setting up; loads of beings kept visiting."
"I see," SJ nodded.
The man downed the rest of his ale, pushing back from the table. "Back to it," he said, leaving the empty tankard on his table as he walked back out from the bar. SJ watched him through the grimy window as he climbed into the driver's seat of a cart and horse, then moved it on, its rear filled with rubbish.
Man, woman and an avian. The woman has to be Evelyn. It would be good to find out who the other two were.
"I agree. Did Yawnee mention any other names? I can't remember."
Nor can I, and she definitely never mentioned an avian. I'm going to see if there is a way inside.
SJ was glad to be back outside, leaving the dingy, dirty bar behind her. She knew her dress would self-clean, but the smoke's stench had permeated the material in the short time she had been inside. As she walked past the store again, she noticed several overturned chairs behind the initial display mannequins and what looked like scattered parchment on the floor. The building had three floors, and from her vantage point, she had initially observed the shop from the upper floors, which had looked residential. That made sense, as many stores were the same in Asterfal, where space was limited. She didn't think the upstairs was anything to do with the shop itself but wouldn't know for sure until she got inside.
"Fresh seasonal veg," a trader called to her as she crossed by their stall, "Three pounds of potatoes for only one copper."
SJ glanced at the vegetables on display; they looked anything but fresh. The potatoes had the telltale signs of age, with small growths appearing on their surfaces. "No thanks," SJ replied as she walked past. "Can I ask you a question?"
The man appeared to be in his fifties; his face was aged but friendly.
"What do you need?"
"Do you know anything about this shop? I heard about it but didn't realise it was closed."
He shrugged. "It opened a few weeks ago. Then, it was suddenly closed down again; no reason was given. Has loads of visitors initially. I was hoping for more customers, but it seems that, like many businesses around here, they don't last long."
"Why don't they last long?"
"Cost usually. The market stalls are expensive enough to have here, never mind any of the shops. That's why so many are empty."
SJ couldn't see the appeal in the market square; it was drab and untidy.
"Thanks for answering my question."
"You're sure I can't persuade you to buy some fresh veg. Best in the district."
SJ again glanced at the stall, trying not to turn her nose up at the half-rotten food. "No, thank you," she said as she walked away. There didn't appear to be a way to reach the rear of the shop, so SJ headed across the square and turned down the next side street, hoping there might be access there. There was nothing; the stores all backed onto other properties, by the looks of them.
Looks like the only way inside is the front entrance. I may have to come back at night.
"Should head back and speak to Yawnee about seeing Mrs Kawill."
Yeah, I was thinking the same. She introduced Yawnee to the scheme after all and knew several who had invested.
The workshop doors were open as SJ approached her home, and rather than landing on her balcony, she dropped down into the rear garden. Since the property's refurbishment, a door had been installed leading into the rear yard from the workshop area, and SJ entered, startling Lurtew, who was moving some metal bands.
"Gah," he squawked as he dropped them, sending them clattering to the workshop floor. Several escaped as they rolled away.
Yawnee spun around from where she was cutting timber.
"Sorry," SJ said.
"I still haven't gotten used to that rear door yet," Lurtew said as he stooped to collect up the bands. They were for several barrels that they were currently producing for the alchemy guild. Since they had taken the contract, their order book had been consistently full, with crates and barrels of varying sizes regularly ordered. SJ helped him collect them.
"Yawnee, could you tell me where Mrs Kawil lives?"
Yawnee stopped sawing and turned to her. "Are you looking into the scheme?" she asked with nervous apprehension.
"Yes. I went to the store's location today, and it looked like they left in a hurry. There are still empty mannequins and chairs inside it."
"That's great, Mrs Kawil lives over on Maskin Street in District 7. Do you know where the flower street is?"
"No, I've never been."
"You can't miss it; the smell draws you in; there are so many flower vendors on that street. Mrs Kawil lives at the corner house on the east end."
"Is it numbered or named?"
"No."
That was one of the biggest problems that SJ had discovered ever since first coming to Amathera. People knew where people lived, but addresses weren't used in many areas. Only descriptions of properties or the street names they were located in made it difficult to locate many residences.
"Did you want to accompany me?" SJ asked.
"Are you okay here, Lurtew?" Yawnee asked, looking at her husband.
"Yep. The sooner we can get to the bottom of this, the better. You haven't slept well in weeks now," he smiled caringly.
Yawnee's fur ruffled with embarrassment.
Yawnee knocked on the door of the tidy-fronted property. Mrs Kawil's home was well-maintained; the windows were kept clean, and the heavenly scent of flowers filled the air. Yawnee hadn't been exaggerating the number of flower vendors on the street. There was a myriad of brilliant colours wherever you looked as they walked to her home.
It only took moments before the door opened and the friendly face of an elderly woman greeted them.
"Yawnee, what brings you here?" Mrs Kawil said.
"Hi Sally. SJ wished to speak with you about our investment issues," Yawnee said, dropping her head.
Mrs Kawil's cheeks coloured immediately at the mention. "Henry. I'm going out for a while," she called as she walked outside, pulling the door closed behind her.
"You still haven't told him?" Yawnee asked.
"No. Coin is hard enough as it is, and if he knows I've spent our savings," Sally paused. "Let's go to the tea shop." She said, leading them to it.
The tea shop was brightly lit and located halfway down the street. Every table inside had a fresh bouquet in a vase. After ordering three teas, they sat at a table by the window, looking out onto the street.
"What can you tell me about the investment?" SJ asked, sipping the hot, steaming liquid. The tea on Amathera was flavoured, and she had selected a gingery one; its flavour tingled her tongue.
"It was several weeks ago that I first discovered the investment opportunity. Several acquaintances were discussing it, and I was invited to attend one of the meetings. After going to the initial one, I then spoke to Yawnee about it and invited her to attend. I feel terrible now after what has happened."
"It wasn't your fault, Sally. I was as excited as you were about the chance to invest."
"Where was the meeting held?"
"At the 'Hogfathers' in District 6. It's a reputable bar and has a function room."
SJ removed the parchment that Fas had given her, scanning the list of locations that he had noted down. 'Hogfathers' wasn't one of them.
"Can you both tell me about the meeting, who ran it and what was said?"
"I believe the name of the man who headed the initial meeting was Tarquin," Yawnee said.
"Tarquin Evergreen wasn't it?" Sally replied.
"Yes, that's right. He was the one who counter-signed the contracts."
"That sounds like a fake name if ever I heard one," Dave said.
What makes you say that?
"The surname Evergreen isn't a human surname I have ever heard."
"Can you describe this man?" SJ asked.
"Well dressed. Six feet, clean-shaven, brown hair, and he wore a long sword in a gilded scabbard."
"That could equate to at least a hundred different beings in Asterfal."
"He spoke in clear common," Yawnee said.
"What's clear common?"
"He had originally come from the capital; they pronounce some of their words differently."
"Like an accent?" SJ asked, never having heard any different accent from those speaking common, unless you considered the race of the being speaking.
"Can you remember what was gilded on the scabbard?"
Sally looked thoughtfully for several moments. "I think it was a serpent of some kind."
"What about Evelyn?"
"Oh, she was angelic. So well-spoken, and the designs she showed us were fabulous. I would have bought one of each if they had been available," Sally said. Yawnee nodded in agreement.
"And that jacket. Lurtew would have loved it," Yawnee said.
"He would have," Sally agreed.
"What convinced you to invest?"
Yawnee and Sally looked at each other. Sally's cheeks coloured, and Yawnee's fur ruffled again. "The thought of the money. They promised returns in two months. It was too good an offer to refuse. Several others there had told us how much they had made already since their initial investment," Sally said.
"Who were these others?"
"A few of those attending the meeting were looking to invest more in the business as it grew and were discussing even then the opportunity to open other establishments in other districts. They didn't want to miss out."
"So, they had already invested, got a return, and were reinvesting?"
"Yes," Yawnee replied.
"Do you know any of the initial investors?"
"Er, no. It was the first time we had met them."
"You didn't recognise them from the district at all?"
"No, unfortunately."
"Have you seen any of them since? Or tried to contact any of them?"
Sally shook her head. "I did try to find one of them, an elf who had said his name was Hallis. He told me he owned a business in District 12. I can't remember the name of it. Can you, Yawnee?"
"Kantwells, I think."
There's the first clue, SJ thought. Kantwells was listed on the notes Fas had made. It was known as a front.
"How many of your friends invested in total?"
"I was introduced by Miss Galthor to the deal. But overall, I think there must be about fifty of us, perhaps more. I attended more meetings than Yawnee, and at each one, there were always new beings present."
"Who is Miss Galthor?"
"Was," Sally replied. "Miss Galthor died two weeks ago, just before the shop closed. It was the most terrible news; she was struck by a runaway wagon outside her home."
"It may be nothing, but the death of an investor sounds rather coincidental," Dave said.
I agree.
"Is there anything else specific you can tell me at all?"
"Not really," Sally said.
"Do you mind if I ask how much you invested?"
Sally's head dropped in shame, and tears started to form.
"It's alright, dear. You can tell SJ, she won't judge you," Yawnee said sympathetically.
Sally took a shuddering breath, holding back her tears, and looked at SJ. "Three gold. It was our retirement coin, saved from when we ran a flower stall. We only have a few silver coins left now."
"If you had so much already, why did you wish to invest?" SJ asked, not thinking before she did.
"Greed," Dave answered before Sally replied.
Sally looked at SJ blankly for a few moments before she replied, the look of shock clear on her face. "It was for the children. I had hoped to buy Nancy and Thomas their own homes, and the investment seemed the best way to do it."
SJ felt a pang of guilt at asking such a blunt question. There was no need for her to have been as direct as she had been. They were the victims after all, not the perpetrators.
"Sorry if that sounded harsh. I'm trying to understand the reasoning behind the decisions."
"No, it's fine," Sally said, her voice catching in her throat. "I know we had enough coin to live off, and the kids are doing okay for themselves. I just wanted to give them added security. Thomas is a caravan guard and is regularly away from his family for long periods, and we have had to cover his rent on several occasions. Faith can't work because of their youngest, and often she has had to wait for his return to get the rent money. They always pay it back. And I couldn't do it for one without doing it for the other."
SJ nodded in sympathy. "I understand. I think I have enough to get me going for now. Sorry for the pain the questions may have caused."
Next stop is going back to the store tonight, SJ thought, as they departed the tea shop.
I love how SJ’s curiosity brings Amathera to life, especially in that bustling market scene what inspired her sharp, observant voice?