Just inside Bree’s south gate, the Auction House dominated the street, and it’s cobblestones were never completely empty of either traders bringing goods in or hopeful customers departing with newly acquired treasures. Some were happy with monies paid or received, others despairing of an unavoidably bad deal. Fate has two edges.
Cutch reigned up at the stable across the street from the Auction House, his head swiveling, searching for Clay Cob, a fellow he had grown up with and was as close a brother as he’d ever known. Not seeing the big bear of a fellow outside, he trotted crossed the street and entered the House through a side door.
Inside, small groups of sellers and buyers leaned into their quiet conversations, each a hushed mumbling punctuated by intense looks and gestures; little dramas and debates. Combined, they created a buzz that was slightly quieted when an auctioneer called his or her offerings to interested parties seated on rough wooden benches, lined up like pews before preachers. Hands raised up in ritual response to calls for higher bids.
In a small side chamber across the main hall, Clay Cob towered over a pair of cloaked and hooded men with whom he seemed to be arguing. Cutch hung back, sitting on one of the benches but watching his old friend. Beside him sat an elderly but well-appointed lady who raised her hand to bid on an ornate chest. She cast Cutch a stern gaze as if to warn him away from bidding against her. He smiled at her and shook his head, then turned his eye back to Clay.
Cutch blinked, confused by his friend’s sudden disappearance, but a loud familiar laugh from the main door of the Auction House drew Cutch’s attention just in time to see Clay and the other two men step outside. Keeping his distance as he wended though the crowd, he followed, catching the door just before it closed, listening. He heard Clay bid the others a cordial farewell as they mounted their horses and began to trot away. Cutch stepped out and behind Clay, catching him lightly by the elbow.
Clay turned, his face brightening. “Little Man! When did you get to town?”
They exchanged handshakes and brotherly embraces as Cutch answered. “Just this morning. Who were those fellows?”
Clay’s happy smile was capped by a suspicious frown. “I would have thought you’d have known them, but is has been a while since your boyhood days with them, eh?”
“Rangers, then? Can’t say I recognize them, but then, no doubt few outsiders know them all.”
“But you’re not exactly an outsider, Cutch, are you?”
“Depends on which of them you ask and if they give you an honest answer.” Cutch looked around and asked, “Somewhere nearby we can talk in private?”
Clay’s smile faded and his frown deepened. He nodded for Cutch to follow, and the two moved around the corner to the west side of the Auction Hall, away from the busy street. They sat across from each other at a table where they would be unnoticed.
“What’s this all about, Little Man?”, Clay asked. Cutch handed him the short letter he’d received from Esteldin. Clay read it silently then looked up at Cutch thoughtfully. “Rather mysterious, isn’t it?”
Cutch nodded. “Aye, it is, Clay. I have come to Bree for any gossip that might give a clue before we trapse all the way there. Have you heard anything?”
Clay’s frown turned into a wondering gaze focused on nothing. He glanced back over his shoulder in the direction where the two Rangers had ridden off. “Perhaps…perhaps…”, he muttered then sat silently for a moment.
Cutch cleared his throat and Clay turned to face him again and explained. “Those two. They were from the North Downs, as you might expect. They are looking to increase trade with Bree-landers, particularly in building materials. A lot of business, respectable income, and more open relationships. Could be their crafters are recruiting folks with your…background?”
Cutch considered that for a minute before asking, “But why cast a net that far? I haven’t lived near here for fifteen years, and it has been nearly thirty years since I left the Rangers tutelage, and even longer since any family ties were alive.”
Clay shrugged. “You are just going to have to go ask them, brother. Do you need a companion for the road?”
Shaking his head, Cutch replied, “I shouldn’t think so. I ride with Danny and Teahesto again.”
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