The walk to the Herbalist was not as long as he had expected, but gave him ample opportunity to take in the city and those who lived closer to the centre. While Ferra was indeed an industrial city, the machines and Chapterhouses of the Manufactorum spread throughout it like the roots of a great tree, the wealth it had once held had allowed it to flourish into something more. Tall houses with ornate fronts lined the streets. Small, elegant gardens occupied the middle of squares to give contrast against a horizon filled with a forest of chimneys. Now stone was darkened with soot, trees were bare or cut down; gardens were filled with refuse and makeshift hovels. The water which once flowed clear in fountains was stagnant.
Ferrans were a proud people, and their insistent neutrality made them wary and cold towards outsiders. Those wealthy enough to have some say in how the city was run did not wish to be reminded of the world outside; guards could be seen roughly escorting the destitute back to the outskirts of the city. Faces were fuller here, but still showed signs of hunger, as was to be expected of a city that long ago gave up agriculture in favour of industry, and for all their wealth, they could not buy in what was no longer available, and the lands around Ferra would need many cycles of tending before they could support crops once more.
He smelled the shop long before he saw it, the rich, pungent aroma of herbs penetrating the persistent stench of the city. It was a well stocked apothecary, and had all that he needed. After purchasing a few vials of tinctures which, when mixed correctly, could make a highly potent poison, Shattano checked that he was alone in the shop before addressing the Herbalist.
‘Tell me, I may have need of some people who can acquire things for me. Would you happen to know of anywhere I should look?’
‘Hmph, the Guild is less prevalent in Ferra these few cycles past, but I dare say they still have some presence. There is a tavern not far from here, The Broken Axle; it would be as good a place as any. It can be found quite easily.’
The tavern was indeed close by, off an empty, shaded street; he had not needed to ask for directions as the Guild sigils had been visible along the way. It was dark, musty and quiet inside, with a few patrons nursing their drinks, none of which looked at him as he entered. He paid for two mugs of ale and took them to a table, setting one across from him and waited. Presently, a bulky man wearing a dirty, red skullcap got up from a table he shared with two others, walked over and sat down opposite him.
‘They call me Tareis.’
‘Shattano.’
‘A foreigner, then?’ He sniffed, and took a sip of the ale. ‘Well, that will be no problem here. Are you looking for something?’
‘Yes, I recently misplaced some documents and I was hoping that someone might help me reacquire them.’
‘That is most unfortunate. What sort of documents?’
‘Plans; detailed architectural diagrams of the Cathedral, and of the buildings within the Fortress Wall.’
The man they called Tareis regarded at Shattano for a while, before answering. ‘They will not be easy to find.’
Shattano placed a small pouch in front of him. ‘I will be very grateful.’
‘That’s as maybe, but -‘ he trailed off as he opened the pouch. ‘I see. I will find them for you. Do you need them soon?’
‘The sooner I receive them, the more grateful I will be.’
‘You will have them before endweek. Where are you lodging?’
‘I will meet you here in two days. I would prefer that no-one knew that I had lost them. It could prove embarrassing.’
‘Of course, I am always very discrete in my enquiries.’
‘I am sure you are.’
‘Well,’ Tareis raised his mug and drained it, ‘here is to the reunion of owned and owner.’
Shattano smiled and drank from his own; the ale was bitter and cloying, but not very strong. Tareis pocketed the pouch as he stood up and walked back to his companions. After some hushed whispers one of them, a scrawny youth, got up and hurried out of a side door stealing a furtive glance at Shattano as he did.
Leaving the rest of his ale untouched, he left the tavern and walked back to the main street. Using the Guild made him uneasy, and Tareis was clearly not to be trusted, but there was no other way to get the plans. The Manufactorum had always been notoriously secretive and since the war this had only increased. No sanctioned details of the Cathedral and its surroundings could be found anywhere outside of the compound.