Red Stockings

The road from Firden to the port was short, but dropped in elevation quickly. There were no trees atop the granite, as the horse stepped carefully. A few shrubs dotted areas where a small amount of soil existed between the boulders. Talla Espinoza patted the brown leather satchel containing official messages and letters. She could also feel the spongy cotton stockings entrusted to her by Raleen. As a courier, Talla was accustomed to voyages, and she had once travelled to the mountains of Andaval. That had been her longest journey at over 1,500 miles. 

After Raleen handed off the red stockings to her, Talla assessed her route on the map of the Empire. From Firden, she would board a vessel for Ledger’s Reach. Raleen’s message, based on the color of the stockings, signified utmost importance and required timely delivery. From Ledger’s Reach, Talla would take another ship to Cliffport, the capital. Her horse could bring her to Eastpoint, where a final ship would bring her home to Firden. Talla tallied the distances: Firden to the Reach, 540 miles; Reach to Cliffport, 200 miles; Cliffport to Eastpoint, 300 miles; and Eastpoint to Firden, 100 miles. 1140 miles total. 

Talla led her horse, Lenny, down the steep hill. A ship was waiting for her – the Winded Quill. As she rounded a corner, Talla eyed the top of the mast. She hastened Lenny on, not wanting to make the captain or crew wait. She knew the sailors would be upset with a woman on board. Bad luck, they said. Talla doubted her presence would be of poor quality, but she had to keep herself in check.

“More inconsistencies,” Raleen had whispered at the tavern.

“Why the urgency this time?” Talla asked.

Raleen shook her head. “Too dangerous to tell. You must make haste, though.”

“As you say, Raleen.” Talla let herself linger on Raleen’s gray, hazy eyes.

Raleen allowed herself to smile. She touched Talla’s arm. “Be safe on the seas.”

“Send me off right then,” Talla grinned. She grabbed Raleen’s hand and led them upstairs to a rented room.

Talla enjoyed the memories of last night and this morning. She found herself at the docks soon enough. The nearest ship proved to be the Winded Quill. Most men were already aboard, milling about, or tending to the ship’s lines. A few men were bringing on more barrels of ale or wine. Talla dismounted at the base of the dock. She walked the rest of the way, Lenny in tow. She spotted the captain, easily distinguished by his cocked hat and relaxed nature.

“Captain, my name is Talla Espinoza. I have dispatches to deliver.” 

“Alon Deras, miss. We have been waiting for you,” Deras looked her up and down.

Talla groaned on the inside. “Hopefully not too long, sir.”

“Are you ready, Miss Espinoza?” Deras looked down the length of the Winded Quill. The ship was a standard trading vessel of an older design. Operated by the Aurum Ledger Empire for twenty years, it was sold at auction to Alon Deras when the new trading fleet was introduced. Despite her age, Talla noticed how affectionately Deras looked upon his vessel.

“Yes. I trust there is room for my horse and myself,” Talla took two paces towards the ship. 

“There is, Miss Espinoza. I warn you, however, that a lady’s presence aboard a ship might have negative influences on her crew.” Deras took Lenny’s reins.

“I’ll keep to myself, Captain Deras,” Talla promised.

Nodding, Deras walked Lenny to the crane. Talla observed the captain set Lenny in the rope loops with care. Once in the net, Lenny was lifted from the dock and lowered onto the deck of the Winded Quill. All the while, Deras acted as cool as ice cold water. It was time to depart.

The voyage was rather uneventful, regardless of the leering crew. The ship managed a section of twenty-foot waves. “Tis nothing,” Alon Deras declared after they had crested the last of the ocean white caps. One drunken crewmember went too far with Talla, referring to her as a whore. Deras had the man lashed, but made sure Talla watched. Otherwise, the Winded Quill made good time to Ledger’s Reach. Upon docking, Talla waited for the gangplank to be run out. 

“We’ll be leaving in two days’ time, Miss Espinoza,” Captain Deras said from behind.

Talla turned. “Very well. May I accompany you to Cliffport?”

Deras shook his head. “Not this time around.” He turned and began shouting orders to his men.

Talla waited on the dock for fifteen minutes before Lenny was offloaded by crane. When her horse had all four hooves on solid ground, Talla stroked his face. “Well done, Lenny. Another sea voyage under your belt.” Her satchel, looped on a belt, weighed heavily on her hips. Talla reached in for assurances. There were no stockings. She rummaged through the parchment and packages. 

“Miss Espinoza!” A man yelled from Winded Quill.

Talla whipped her head around.

“You be needing these stockings? Or can we have them?” The man smiled wickedly, missing most teeth. 

“Return them at once!” Talla demanded.

The man frowned. “No fun!” But he threw the stockings from the main deck. “We didn’t use ’em too much.”

Talla caught the stockings and pushed them deep into her satchel. “Off we go, Lenny!”

Talla walked by Lenny around the northern end of the island. It was mostly empty here, save a cemetery and three or four long forgotten cellars. She wanted Lenny to find his legs again after four days at sea. Ledger’s Reach often impressed her by the quantity of trading done on such a small island. The harbor nearly split the island in two, leaving just a few hundred feet of land in the north that connected the two halves. Dozens of ships came and went daily. Many of the vessels were operated by the empire to supply its holdings. But foreigners came to trade as well. 

Talla’s packages and messages were mainly dedicated to court officials in Cliffport. But she had two letters for the regional branch manager as well as the governor. Not to mention the stockings to be delivered. The last item was most important, so Talla marched to the Governor’s Office. The building sat across the street from the regional bank and the primary negotiation house. The Governor’s Office was of hefty build, once serving as an outpost for soldiers of the empire. Now, the two-story structure is occupied by tax collectors, judges, and assistants to the governor himself. The doors are secured by two guards utilizing long pole spears. 

“My name is Talla Espinoza. I have messages for the governor and Official Messenger,” Talla stated.

The guards assessed her. They lifted the handles and opened the doors for Talla to enter. She thanked them on her way in, passing the golden seal of the Aurum Ledger. Aside from Cliffport, Ledger’s Reach was the most affluent city in the realm. The governor, an honest and proper aristocrat, still enjoyed showcasing his city’s status. Talla hadn’t delivered messages to the messenger before, not in person. We practically have the same job, Talla thought in error.

An older man, white bearded and bald, sat at the base of the stairs leading up. Talla approached him. “You seek the governor and Official Messenger. Second floor. Governor’s office on the right, messenger on the left,” the man offered.

“How did you know?” Talla was taken aback, nervous now.

“Fear not, child. I heard it through an earpiece I installed some time ago by the door,” the old man smiled. “I wouldn’t be a good guide if I didn’t know where you were going.”

Talla laughed. “Thank you, sir.”

The old man bowed in his seat. Talla took to the stairs, anxious to relieve herself of the stockings. Raleen had been insistent on the timing. On the second floor, paintings of all previous governors hung like watchmen. Even Elar Vencair, first governor of the island, studied visitors. Talla eyed the current governor’s likeness. He wore a twirled mustache of brown, matching the long locks that fell from his head like coils or snakes. Stanwith Houseman was likely the best looking governor since Elar. 

Talla knocked on the messenger’s door. “Enter,” a deep voice ordered.

The heavyset oak door opened with ease, thanks to its well-oiled hinges. Talla saw the man ahead of her. He was seated, poring over documents and maps. What kind of a messenger does all this? Talla wondered.

“Welcome. What is your name, messenger?” The man asked.

“Talla Espinoza from Firden, Mister…?”

“Ah! Castien Vaelcroft, Miss Espinoza.”

“Mr. Vaelcroft, I have some stockings for you.” Talla withdrew the red fabric and handed it over.

“Red,” Castien whispered. Talla barely heard it. She waited.

“Will you wait outside my office, Miss Espinoza?” Castien requested.

“Yes. I have messages for the governor I will deliver.” Talla bowed and removed herself, closing the door. Her mind was running. What kind of messenger is Castien? Why does Raleen send stockings to him? Why the urgency? Talla had a few answers rolling around her questions like lazy bees. She wondered – briefly – if Raleen was merely playing with her. She doubted that supposition. 

When Talla turned to the governor’s door, she found it ajar, open enough to see a dead guard, his throat slashed. Against her will, Talla found herself edging her head into the doorway, curiosity driving her forward. She peeked into the office. Another guard lay against the wall, gurgling on his blood, eyes desperate for relief. The governor sat on his chair, flanked by golden emblems. He was straddled by something. No, someone. Governor Houseman spotted Talla. He pleaded for help with his light eyes, begging for assistance. The someone on him turned, revealing the blade buried in Stanwith Houseman’s chest. Talla retreated quickly, watching the assassin leap off the governor. 

With few options, Talla stormed back into Castien Vaelcroft’s office. She looked for a weapon of any kind. “What is the meaning-” Castien began before the assassin entered. For a moment, the three people in the office stared at one another. For a moment, they all wondered how they had gotten to this point, reviewing their day’s activities. Then, quickly, the assassin bounded, dagger in hand, for Talla. There was nothing in sight to fight back with. Talla threw a chair in the assassin’s way, hopefully impairing his approach.

Talla stumbled on a rug, locally made. The assassin bore down on her. Talla grabbed the arm that held the blade. She forced it up with all her might. Castien reached into his desk and drew a matchlock pistol. He snuck behind the man and clubbed him by the temple. The assassin collapsed on Talla, but the blade fell from his grip, striking the floor near her head. Talla lurched to her feet. She hugged Castien without thinking.

“Thank you, Mister Vaelcroft,” Talla cried out. She let go almost immediately, realizing the improper embrace. “Sorry!”

Castien wasted no time calling for the guards. He eyed the assassin cautiously. Sticking out from one of the pocket’s on the unconscious man’s chest was a paper. Castien plucked it out and read the two inked lines: Stanwith Houseman; Castien Vencair. As the guards arrived and carried off the half-successful assassin, Castien sat down with Talla. He took the stockings in his hands, holding them with the concern a mother would have for a fever-ridden baby. 

“How well do you know Raleen, Miss Espinoza?” Castien said quietly. He was looking at the stockings.

“Well enough, sir.” 

“What I’m about to discuss with you must be kept in our confidence. Secrecy.” Castien looked up, directly in her eyes. “Secrecy or thousands will die.”

Talla nodded, but her fingers ached with a coldness.