AMBYSSUS | Ch. 7 - The Loophole (Patreon)

"I know what'cha did!"

"I-I'm sorry?"

"Yeah, you think that no one knew, but I was there. Saw everything."

"I-I don't follow, sir."

"Know wha? I'm gonna tell her. How will she feel once she finds out?"

"Please, sir, I beg you. Stop this. Don't tell her."

"Very well. I won't. But you gotta pay the appropriate price."

"That's blackmailing! Extortion!"

"It's not that different from what you did. Give me one crown, and we'll call it a day."

"How can I know you'll keep your word?"

"Please. I'm a man of honor. One crown is nothin' to keep ya little secret."

Joey watched from around the corner the exchange. The extortioner wore a top hat and a faded, worn-down dark blue leather waistcoat. He had a golden tooth and a smile filled with gaps.

As the passerby walked away at a rushed, embarrassed pace, the extortioner scouted the premises and, finding another potential prey went to him.

"I know what you did!"

"Excuse me, sir?"

"I know what you did!"

"Hmph... leave me alone," the man walked away, and the extortioner tapped his foot. He waited a few moments before another potential target walked down the street.

"I know what you did! We need to talk?"

"Who are you?"

"I'm the keeper of dark secrets. I will tell your family about what you've been doing behind their backs."

"Y-You are speaking nonsense!"

That was it. Joey approached from behind the corner and approached from his blind spot while the man was occupied with his victim.

"Hello, Reggie." The man jumped in fright.

"Constable Jones? What a surprise."

"You can go. He's just messing with you. He doesn't know any secret." The man, visibly relieved that his secrets were safe, walked away. Seeing his customer leaving before he could squeeze him off his money, Reggie pouted. "Come on, constable! That's bad for business!"

"Business? You're running a scam. Anyway, I still can't believe that your scam works."

"Everyone's got secrets, constable."

"Speaking of which," Reggie fidgeted uncomfortably, "What's the word in the street?"

"Oh, nothin'."

"Does anyone know who swept the market clean?"

"Come on, constable. You know bettah than to ask me about the oil market."

"Right, right. But do you know anything about shipments of sirenian oil being moved under the counter?"

Joey took a shilling off his pocket and flaunted it to Reggie. As the scammer's eyes landed on the shiny coin, entranced, he reached for it, but Joey kept it off his reach.

"Come on, Reggie. I have nothing for you if you've got nothing for me."

Reggie looked left and right nervously. "All I know is that pirates have been hiring a lot of muscle. They've come into some money recently. Some people say that they got their hands on some sirenia."

"Anything else?"

"Nothing. I swear on Ambyssus' eye."

"Ambi suzai? What word is that?"

"Ambyssus' eye! I thought you were a well-educated man, constable. Haven't you ever heard the phrase." It rang a bell, but Joey couldn't place where he'd heard it before.

"No, not really. First time I heard it."

Joey threw him the shilling. Reggie bit it to ensure it was real, causing Joey to frown. Really? This crook didn't trust him? Joey pulled out another shilling from his pocket and waved it before Reggie.

"What about the Black Merchant? Any news?"

"Have a good day, constable."

"Come on, Reggie, don't be like that." Joey pulled a crown from his pocket, hoping it would catch his informant's eye. "Are you sure you know nothing about the black market or the Black Merchant?" Reggie didn't budge. "Would some time in prison help you jog your memory?"

"Fine by me." It was useless. Whenever the Black Merchant was mentioned, there wasn't a crook in town that didn't shut down like this. Everyone was terrified of the man. It was like talking about the boogie-man.

"Go on. Beat it. You know where to find me if you think of something." Reggie gave him a creepy smile and disappeared into the alley, off to scam some other rich passersby with fear of being told on by a stranger.

Joey walked in the direction of the stable where he'd left Luna. Despite the recent events around the lake, the city didn't seem much different. The laughter of children still rang in the streets. The trees of the city's many parks still managed to interrupt the big city's grey with pops of green color. Ladies walked in their gowns and dresses as they exchanged gossip, and merchants and peddlers hawked their wares and goods out on the street. Joey smelt popcorn and sighed in relief that his daughter wasn't there. Had she been, the argument over having or not having popcorn would have been unpleasant.

Near his destination, he passed a dark alley where he heard the excited murmurs of young men. Curious, he glanced in their direction and found two teenagers graffiti drawing on the wall.

"Hey," shouted Joey, "You punks! That's public property."

There was a frantic confused exchange, "The cops! Leave it! Leave it! The young men ran in the opposite direction from the constable. Joey tried keeping up with them, but he was in his mid-thirties, and the kids were teenagers in their prime. They outrun him, leaving him breathless behind. When had he become so old?

Trying to recover, he doubled back and looked at what the young men were drawing. It was scribblings of some kind. Joey didn't know the alphabet. It reminded him of Arabic, but the letters were all loopy and odd. At the top was the drawing of an eye, or at least that's what Joey thought it was.

"Humph, those punks. The drawing isn't even that great. What's wrong with kids these days?"

Cursing his aching legs, Joey took off again. Arriving at the little wooden stall where he'd left his horse, Joey threw a shilling to the stable boy and jumped onto Luna. The mare, feeling that her owner had returned, neighed happily, and started to restlessly urge Joey to let her show him how fast she was. He petted his mare's neck and thought about his destination.

He couldn't think of any other informants to visit, and he had come up empty. All he found was that pirates were more active than usual. He still couldn't understand how or why. Since they took them off the water, they'd become land sharks, ruling the slums. They hung on like obnoxious barnacles to their turf. It was neigh impossible to get any word on them.

Joey gulped nervously at the thought of his next destination. He'd been delaying it for too long. It was time to see his father's estate.

*

"So that means that all the animals are doing well."

"Yes, sir. I can't explain how this happened for the life of me, but it all seems well."

"Do me a favor, Red. Let's keep it between us, shall we? Tell the boys that I want no mention of this to anyone."

"Sir?" the old man's eyes showed concern at the suggestion of not sharing their discoveries with the others.

"Red?"

"Fine, sir."

"Come on, Red. Don't be like that. I'm going to share it with the others. I just don't want people to start concocting ridiculous theories. Don't you worry, Red. I'll take this information up the right channels."

"Aye. I'll leave the business management to you, sir. I'm just here for the animals."

"Very good, then. Are you going to take them out?"

"Aye! They've been cooped up too long. They need to be out in the open."

"Very well. Go do that."

Geoffrey followed Red with his eyes as he headed toward the pier. It was an interesting discovery, but he would show it to the right people when it was right. It could be an important show of goodwill when the time came. He headed toward the parlor that had a commanding view of the property.

The lake water had started receding and was returning to its usual volume. As he climbed the stairs and looked around his property, his lungs swelled with pride. From owning cardboard to sleep on, he'd come this far. This was his kingdom, all his. As he entered the building, he passed his secretary to his office.

Deborah, or Debbie as everyone called her, was one of the most recent hirings that he'd done. She had graduated with the highest honors from Orca University. She had a forgetful face, and even though she had tried to tie her hair in a ponytail, she still managed to make it look like a mess. Her desk was also covered with random piles of paper and notes scattered everywhere. Even though her work post seemed chaotic, she had some system that made her the best secretary Geoffrey had ever seen.

"Hey, Debbie. How are you doing today?"

"Sir, there's a guest for you. He says it's urgent. I ushered him in. He's in the waiting room outside your office."

"Very well. I'll see the guest now." Geoffrey walked down the corridor and found a familiar face. He knew this man's facial features very well, even though he knew next to nothing about him, and the last time they met, there had been a counter between them.

"Hello, Geoffrey," spoke the tavern keeper in that wheezy dark voice.

"Hello. Who did you leave in the tavern?" As soon as Geoffrey asked it out loud, he realized how stupid the question was. This man owed him no explanations as to how they managed their business. He couldn't help it. He'd been fascinated by how their system was set up and assumed that the tavern keeper stayed behind the counter twenty-four-seven, cleaning glasses.

The man emitted a sound between a grunt and a chuckle. Geoffrey wasn't sure which it was. "Would you like to step into my office?" The same sound came off the tavern keeper. This was a man of few words.

As they made it into the office, the tavern keeper inspected the room carefully before stepping into it. They both sat down.

"So, what should I call you?"

"Tavern keeper."

"Very well. What news do you have for me?"

"We've studied your proposition and have found a way to make it happen."

"How so?"

"The law dictates that every oil transaction has to be carried out in the oil market of its respective district."

"Very well, so?"

"Well, embassies are technically foreign soil. We could argue that they are a different country altogether. They have no district. Therefore, no one could say we were breaking the law if we took the oil and did the deals there."

Geoffrey felt goosebumps and the hairs of his arms standing up. By Ambyssus' grace... the elation of a loophole. It was the best feeling to bend and twist the law and pass it through these little cracks in the law. Geoffrey excitedly went to grab a glass of lake water and gulped it down. The rush of joy was renewed, and he took a deep pleasurable breath.

"Wonderful, wonderful. Very resourceful, and I trust you have connections with the ambassadors." The tavern keeper nodded. "What about the oil market stamps? Any oil barrels sold must carry the stamp, or they will be confiscated."

"No law says you can't refill old barrels that already have the stamp." Brilliant, another loophole.

"What about the transactions? The papers?"

"You'll make a batch of fifty barrels available in the oil market, which we'll make sure to buy. Then we'll carry the fifty barrels back and forth across the border, emptying and refilling them using the same papers. It's more work but all within the boundaries of the law."

"Very well. Oh... Where are my manners? Would you like some water, tavern keeper?" The tavern keeper refused.

"One more thing. The papers will have to contain the producer's name, so you might receive visits from customers wanting to see your estate."

"Very well. We'll be on the same boat, and I can count on your... charisma and persuasion to ensure their collaborative silence."

"I'll be on my way then." The tavern keeper stood up and left. Geoffrey looked out the window that had a panoramic view of his estate. It was time to start filling his coffers.

*

Silverlake Ranch was the oldest estate in Lake Grassum. Its towers, and strong, tall walls, were characteristic of the oil estates back when pirates plagued the shores of Lake Grassum. When pirates were finally eradicated, producers invested less in military defense and channeled their profits toward comfort and luxury.

Joey prompted Luna to gallop through the gates of the property that were kept open and rode down the road that led to the manor. He couldn't help reminiscing about how often he'd chased bugs in these very woods. After leaving the tree line that stood between the gate and the manor, to his right, the lake shimmered as it reflected the light of the sun. In the distance, he saw the familiar humps of some of his father's dugongs, who were taking breaths so they could return to placidly eat the seagrass that grew on the shores of the lake.

He left his mare at the stables of the property and walked toward the manor. The house had two fronts and was made of brownstone. As he drew closer to the front door of the house where he'd grown up and where his parents had raised them, the images of the fateful night all came in a sudden violent rush. As he relived seeing his father dead on the floor, he had to lean against the wall for support. He was gasping for air. He tried pulling his attention off the house, focusing on the lake again, hoping it would help him calm down. After a few long minutes, he managed to regain his cool.

Just the thought of entering the house had given him such a violent panic attack. There was no way he could go in. He walked away from the manor and tried to find one of the people that he had left in charge of maintaining the Silverlake Ranch. Many would be inside the house, but he was sure that there would be someone doing some gardening or attending to the animals out here.

He walked past the stables again and the warehouses. All the facilities were in disrepair. His father had painted the property every year, making it look new, but it had been at least 10 years since it was last painted. The salty winds of the lake had punished the walls of the manor, making them look old and tired. His father would have hated seeing it.

Finally, he saw signs of movement. He spotted a woman at the piers of the property. She was carrying a basket of apples that she was throwing to the dugongs. As soon as her eyes landed on Joey, the stewardess smiled radiantly, put the basket down, and ran toward Joey. Run might be too strong of a word to describe what this sixty-year-old lady was doing, but still, she was marching as quickly as she could toward him.

"Joseph. It's you." She hugged him, and Joey was happy to return the gesture.

"Hey, Sophie. It's been a long time, hey?"

"Too long! Too long! Are you... are you here to... maybe..." she tried clumsily. Every time they met, it was the same thing.

"No, Sophie. I'm not coming back to live here. You know I can't come near the house. It breaks my heart."

"But it's a fine house, Joseph. It's a fine house indeed. It could fit all of your family nicely. How's the wife? And your daughter?"

"They're fine, thank you."

"You know, you could have a whole litter of little Mollys running around the property if you moved back in, master. I'd help you care for the kids like I used to help your mother watch over you. Fine house this is."

"I told you no, Sophie!" he screamed. She shrunk back, scared. "I'm sorry, Sophie. Too many memories."

"It's alright Joseph. I'm sad that your father's heart would be broken if he knew this house was empty. It has housed five generations of your family, sir. It was once the last outpost against the pirates. It survived so many canon shots, but all it took was a broken heart to bring it down finally," she said quietly. Seeing one of his old nannies brought back many powerful memories, too powerful for Joey to handle. He tried to change the subject.

"How are pop's dugongs?"

"Well, as you have instructed, we just leave them be. We care for them, but we don't ever harvest their blubber. Shame, that is, sir. It's a fine herd. You could get several barrels a year. It would help you cover the expenditures of..."

"I don't care about the money, Sophie. My father left me more than enough of it. The only reason why I keep the dugongs is because they knew my father and, in a way, they were his best friends." They were the only ones that Joey was sure hadn't been involved in his father's demise.

"That they were, sir. Your father loved the dugongs as if they were his children."

"I just came to check how the flood affected the estate. Any damage?"

"Ambyssus' grief!" Joey turned. It was the second time he was hearing this phrase today. "Of course not, sir. Your father's property could hold off an army of pirates! Not even a tsunami could bring it down."

"What about the dugongs? I heard that something strange happened with the water."

"It's true that the water changed. It became sweet. Why don't you taste it, Joseph? It's so tasty!"

"Uh, no. Thank you." He wouldn't drink anything that hadn't been extensively boiled and tested for poison. He didn't care if it was taken from a river in front of him, much less a lake that had undergone a weird change like that.

"That's too bad. Anyway, the animals were physically uncomfortable for a couple of days, but then, suddenly, they relaxed and settled in nicely."

"Really? I thought that dugongs only did well in brackish or seawater."

"I don't know the reason for it, sir. All I know is that they're doing well." Strange.

"Sophie, what about the vacuuming parlor? Is it operational?"

"No, sir. Someone from the city came already to ask me that question a day or two ago." Who could it have been? "What was the person's name?"

"Sidney? Mikey?"

"Finley?"

"Oh, yes. That's it. I'm sorry, Joseph. My head is getting old.

Joey allowed himself a small smile. The mayor hadn't fully trusted Joey's word and had sent someone behind his back just to make sure that estate's vacuuming parlor was really out of order. It seems that the mayor wasn't fully happy with the monopoly that Jeffrey was keeping over the extraction of sirenian blubber."

"OK. And did you show him the equipment?"

"I did, sir. But what is there to show? It hasn't been used in over a decade. You know how the salt of the lake eats away at the metal and the wiring. It's all a huge mess. You have to fully disassemble it, clean it, maybe even change some parts, and assemble it again.

"I see. Maybe we should do that, you know? To help the city? After all, other producers will have to move their facilities away from the shore, and all that we would have to do here would be to repair our vacuum."

"That we could do, sir. If you're lucky enough to find someone who'll do it."

"What do you mean, Sophie?"

"Haven't you heard? After the flood, every mechanical engineer good enough to handle this kind of equipment was hired. There's a huge waitlist. There's been a full bidding war between different producers."

"Bidding? They are auctioning the mechanical engineer's service?"

"That they are, Joseph. From what I've heard, the price that you would have to spend to do this would be astronomical."

"I wasn't expecting that. Bidding for a repairman's services? That doesn't sound right."

"What can you do? The one with more money gets dibs on the specialized workforce." He had to tell the mayor about this. "It's not right, sir. To kick these poor ranchers when they're down..."

Hearing Sophie speak of the poor ranchers made Joey sick.

"Well, poor wouldn't be the word I would use to describe them, Sophie."

"Fair enough, sir."

"Very well. I want you to have someone at least paint the house. And keep taking good care of my father's friends." Hearing that Joey was giving the order to restore the property, Sophie smiled from ear to ear.

"Don't worry, I'll find the best painters in town. I'll talk to old Billy, who ran the crew that painted the house in your father's day. Mr. Jones would be proud, Joseph. Maybe your mother would even be happy to come here and take a look once we..."

"Thank you, Sophie," Joey moved in for a hug. "I have to get going. Have to go back to work."

"Very well, sir." Joey turned to walk away.

"Joseph," called the stewardess.

"Yes?"

"Remember, this will always be your house, sir. And this is your daughter's house too. "

"I know. I'll see you later, Sophie. It was good seeing you."

Joey walked to the stables and found Luna. She reached out with her head and drew Joey close, a horse's equivalent of a hug. He hugged her back and cried.

Ch. 6

INDEX

Ch. 8