Brutus Weaver Chapter 5 – Part 2: Water from a Stone
That particular day, Cribbly Steelweavel was standing behind the main counter of his shop, surrounded by cogs from a recently dissembled grandfather clock. The man was always pulling something apart and putting it back together. In the fifteen years Brutus had known him, he had never figured out if the old man was looking for something or just enjoyed seeing if he could it to work again.
The shop itself was stacked to the rafters with boxes full of random junk – there were springs and bolts nestled in with scraps of yellowed dresses and jewelry boxes. Nothing seemed to be of any value, nor did there appear to be any sort of organization to the random boxes of junk. Yet, Cribbly was said to be one of the richest merchants in the city – whether that was from the exorbitant prices he charged for his information or some other, more secretive method of gaining wealth was hard to imagine. Brutus rang the bell at the door signaling he wanted to talk to the old man and not simply peruse the piles of junk (somehow organized by Cribbly but impossible to make heads or tails of for anyone else).
Cribbly had a healthy mane of silver hair that hung loosely around his neck, thick to the middle of his back and wrapping deep around his jaw. It barely failed to connect across his chin, the beard that could have been instead wrapping above his lip in a bridge of sorts. It was a strange look and at least a half century out of style, but then Cribbly’s bent over posture and wrinkled forehead said that he had been around for much longer than that. The sagging bags under his eyes were a deep shade of purple and hung loosely over his cheek bones, but the eyes they supported were as sharp and penetrating as a hawk’s. Aged or not, he didn’t miss a whole lot.
“Brutus,” it wasn’t a question. Just a casual statement identifying his patronage.
“Cribbly – I have need of your vast fountains of knowledge.”
“So does everyone else? You can pay?”
“Of course. Do I ever come up short?”
“Not of late, but there’s a first time for everything. Word has it that you’re living in an even shabbier hole in outhouse that is the Under City than you were last time.”
Brutus cursed under his breath. The old man tended to know entirely too much. “Things have been a bit rough of late. Picking up though. I’m on a hot new case as we speak.”
“The merchant’s daughter from the Upper City?”
Brutus bit his tongue to keep from exclaiming. How had the old man already learned about that? It had only been a few hours. “Something like that.”
“You probably need to know about that amulet they’ve been making such a big fuss about.”
“That would be most of why I’m here ,yes.”
“Well, I can’t help you.”
“What?” Brutus was actually a little shocked. If there was one thing you could count on from Cribbly, it was consistency. He always had information and he was always willing to sell it. “Why?”
“Things are a bit complicated with this one. I’d advise you to steer clear.” Cribbly looked up for the first time from the cog he had been working on. The grizzled sausage fingers he’d been using for decades to pull things apart were gripping a small wrench tightly. He held it up and pointed it at Brutus. “You don’t want to get mixed up in this kind of thing.”
“What, the Salmites?”
“Bloody Salmites are the least of your worries. Those stinking boils are puss on an ass’s prick. You’re going up against power here – real power.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean? Listen, Cribbly. I have coin. I can pay you double if you want.”
“No sale. You’re not getting me mixed up in this mess. Find someone else to talk to.”
“Cribbly…”
“If you’re not buying something, get out. You’re scaring away the other customers.”
Brutus turned and saw the empty street outside the door. It was highly unlikely that he had scared away anyone, but Cribbly was clearly not going to work with him on this one. Had someone gotten to him or was he really just that afraid of what he knew. It was unnerving. If there was anyone that you could count on not to let things get to them it was Cribbly. The old man was the most reliable, and generally best informed person in the city – that included the Spiders in the Guard – the king’s personal cadre of informants and spies.
But, it was clear that if Cribbly didn’t want to share information, he wasn’t going to. Brutus spotted a pair of heavy set men with shoulders like ham hocks standing in the back room. They were watching him carefully, the question in their eyes – are we going to have to beat you out of here? Brutus obliged them with an answer and turned to leave. He’d be better off without having his skull bashed in just yet.
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