Chapter 3
Trader Jerome
  They traveled for only another hour before turning off the main road and as far into the brush as they would go. Allen followed behind the wagon, doing his best to erase the shallow ruts it left in the hard earth. Once he had the sides to tamp down, he used a broken branch to sweep all signs of footprints away. Chore done, he went to the small camp hidden in a grove of alder.
  Alan sat at the base of a wheel, on the cold earth, and waited. There would be no fire tonight; the threat of pursuit was too great. He would not sleep however, until he had heard Jerome’s story. He said as much, and Tobias and Stormy agreed.
  Jerome looked up from the lantern he had been dousing. “I suppose you all won’t wait until morning.” He grumbled, but without much feeling behind it.
  When they shook their heads, he sighed and, grabbing the last lit lantern from the back of the wagon, he told his story.
 
 
  Well, as I told you earlier, my name is Trader Jerome. My full name is Jerome Wolf, and I grew up in a little town near the coast. I was selected by my local Trader to apprentice with him. I traveled for six years all around Aelynn before I was considered learned enough to attempt mastery of my profession. Basically, in order to be considered a Trader, I had to make one successful run on my own. My cargo was rare indigo dye from the coast that I was to sell in Hells Gate. Unfortunately, I paused in Crossroads one night to rest. When I woke, my entire cargo had been stolen.
  “How to describe my horror,” he said thoughtfully. “It was like waking one day and realizing your grandmother had come visit you without warning. I was embarrassed, ashamed, frightened... A whole host of emotions overwhelmed me. Indeed, it was some minutes before I realized that one of the casks had either broken open, or loosened as there were drops of ink on the ground.
  Well, needless to say I was very much excited at this development. I had no guards with me on the run, an oversight on my part, but I grabbed my dagger and set out after the thief.
  The trail led me across Crossroads, to a large log building with a faded sign hanging above the door. I had no idea what the building was when I entered. I stormed inside, determined to get my goods back no matter the cost.
  The room was dark, I could see shadowy shapes against the wall, and seated at tables. The atmosphere was smoky, smokier than the densest hell. The commonest of taverns, he explained seeing their blank looks. I paused for a moment, every instinct in my body telling me to run, but I saw my man. He was a sallow, apelike man with the longest arms have ever seen. But it was in those arms that I spied one of my casks sitting on the table in front of another man. Indignant anger welled up inside me, he was selling one of my casks. No one would sell those except Trader Jerome! Not thinking clearly, I confronted him.
  He was a bit surprised that I had managed to track him down, but laughed when I accused him of stealing my goods and told me that possession was the law in Crossroads.
  “If that is the case, then I shall take it back. “I snarled. Perhaps not the best thing I could have said, but I was young and foolish.
  If I had thought I was being impressive, the man’s laugh quickly disabused me of that notion. He gave me a savage backhand across my mouth that sent me sprawling.
  “’Geh lahst ya squirmy maggot.” He told me malevolently, “Or ah’ll kill yas.”
  He turned back to his bargaining, but I would not take this lying down. Pulling my dagger from my coat pocket, I threw myself on his back and stabbed.
  He screamed! Tossing me off like a bear who has just had a fox land on his back, he turned to me. Throwing his arms around me and a great hug, he began strangling me. I panicked. I couldn’t breathe, his grip was so tight. Blackness crept at the edge of my vision, and I began to fear that I would not live to see the morning when his grip weakened. My dagger had hit the mark after all. Using my newfound freedom, I was just able to reach the hilt of the dagger and pull it out of his back. Though he gasped in pain, his grip redoubled again and I feared this time he would not let go until I was dead. It was either him, or me, and I decided it would not be me.
  I thrust my dagger into his neck, and twisted the blade. With a gurgling scream he fell dead at my feet. Standing haggerdly, I stumbled to the bar and grabbed my cask from the other man.
  “I believe that is mine.” I told him.
  He shrugged and, scooping his money up from the bar, left. I decided that staying there would not be good for my health, and I went to fetch the watch.
  I led them back to the building within a few minutes, but the building had already been cleared out. The only thing left, was my casks of indigo ink stacked in the back room and the body of my assailant on the floor. I learned that he was Mark Long-In-The-Arm, one of the local toughs for the Thieves Guild. The watchman was a kindly fellow, who advised me to get out of Crossroads as fast as I could. The man I had just slain was a friend of Alexander Jones, that balding man we met tonight. Jones had a horrible reputation of working his victims over with knives before killing them, and was rumored to be rising rapidly in the guild order.
  I left Crossroads that very evening much like tonight. I successfully managed to sell my cargo, and returned to my home city a Trader in full. I traded for several years throughout Aelynn, but never occasioned back through Crossroads until tonight. I spotted Alexander Jones early on in that town and, and was trying to find a way to disappear when you boys happened along with those gems. I knew Jones is greedy nature would get the better of him, and arranged for him to see them when I leaned in and took the one from you. And, well you know the rest.
 
  Jerome looked a little uncomfortable, and he looked Alan square in the eye. “I’m afraid I used you, and put you in a very dangerous situation. For that, I offer my services. I have several contacts in Hells Gate that may be of use, and will offer them to you gladly to make amends.”
  Alan considered his words carefully. If his story were true, then Trader Jerome never actually lied to them. However, he had used them to his own advantage. Allen was a bit mortified to realize how easily he had been played, but pushed the feeling away. The services Jerome was offering would be valuable. He had no idea who to talk to in Hells Gate in order to get an audience with the pa’grund, or even where to start. Having someone with contacts already in the city would aid him no end and save him valuable time.
  “Did you set the inn on fire?” Alan asked harshly.
  “No.” Jerome said calmly. “That was Jones. He set the fire and started the brawl as a distraction. I had originally assumed you would try to sneak into your rooms, and had positioned myself near the stairs to intercept him.”
  Alan nodded to himself. “I will accept your offer of service gladly. I have had no ideas on where to begin once we reach our destination. Having someone with contacts in the city would be of great help to us.”
  “I had thought as much.” Jerome said calmly. “I will do what I can.”
  With the decision settled, everyone began getting ready for bed. Jerome disappeared into his wagon, Tobias and Alan unrolled their bed rolls, and Stormy stood on watch. She promised to week Alan when the moon had risen to its full position, little over two hours he thought.
  “Good night, master Alan.” She said quietly as she set off to the side of the camp closest to the road.
  “Good night Stormy.” Alan yawned as he rolled over. In moments he had drifted back to sleep.