Chapter 37: Coins & Chambers

Carefully stepping down off the gangplank and depositing my newly acquired bottle into inventory, I witnessed the flash of sun glinting off an iron coin as it was momentarily removed from Gael’s pocket. Flipping the coin she examined it, only for it to disappear back into her pocket as quickly as it had appeared.

There had to be something on that coin. A code? A message? If there was something, Gael didn’t seem to be following it. 

Instead of purposefully moving off like a hunting lioness that had caught a scent, our guide seemed to meander about the docks wandering this way and that like a curious house cat. Inspecting fisherman’s catches one minute, then talking to merchants overseeing their goods being unloaded the next. Slowly but surely making her way along the dockside, towards a crumbling stone mass at the harbour’s north end.

Ok, yep. Definitely towards.

Every aimless diversion and seemingly directionless meander took us inevitably closer in a manner that seemed both coincidental and merely consequential of following the dockside’s natural pathway. An act I was probably only seeing through because I was in on it, or at so much as knowing that she did have a destination.

Our destination was what seemed to be the ancient squat stone remains of what used to be some immense lighthouse. The base was wide and it was surrounded on all sides by newer wooden construction that jutted up against it, making it almost look like it was being swallowed by or sinking into the surrounding city. Above the base was a cylindrical tower whose top half seems to have collapsed in on itself leaving a jagged crown of stone work where what was above had fallen away.

As best as I could predict, our path was leading to a darkness filled archway in the base that resembled a dark cave or tunnel in a cliffside. A small crowd passed behind us and while it was blocking any sight of us, Gael darted forward into the dark opening with us rushing behind to keep up.

Entering the tunnel and it was now clear that it was a tunnel by the distant sunlight at the end of it and that it was seldom used by the refuse lining it burnt down torches in the brackets lining the walls. In addition to the smells of dust and garbage, was the smell of stagnant salt water and slimy algae. 

I couldn’t help but be reminded of a similar tunnel in which this journey had started for me. That now distant utility tunnel that had run under the Delaware River and the border between UN-aligned Canada and my prison the American Republic.

Ding.

I heard the ping of a coin being flicked before I saw it and almost instinctively I caught it, swiping it out the air before it could impact my face. The iron coin.

“You’re curious, aren’t you?”

Holding it closer to my face and up over my shoulder to receive light from behind us, I inspected the coin as Roxi looked on with interest. On one face was well… A face, a crowned head whose facial features had been rubbed almost smooth by successive fingers, and ringing the head were the slightly raised words, Rex Imperator Parcosia. On the coin’s reverse was a relief depicting the Lighthouse we were passing through and under, still whole and intact.

Passing the coin onto Roxi, I paid attention to Gale as she explained in a soft voice. “As you might have guessed, my order was a code phrase. I was asking for a meeting. The coin was the reply. Iron coins are a fairly common but rarely issued type of coinage, they’re roughly worth twenty of the smaller bronze acorns, but are considered collection pieces by many.”

After quickly looking the coin over before the sunlight from the entrance grew too distant, Roxi flicked the coin back to Gael sending it spinning through the air over the Alrec’s shoulder.

Still looking forward, Gael snatched the coin out of the air and slipped it back into a pocket without pausing her explanation. “The tradition of minting and issuing them dates back to the old Parcosian Empire and its Emperors; they would issue them to celebrate the completion of important building works as a form of propaganda. The Kings and Queens that followed kept up the tradition. The coins would feature a depiction of the completed building project and would be distributed across the empire. Castles, fortresses, bridges, walls, towers, lighthouses, cathedrals, plazas, fountains, even cities you get the picture.”

“Good propaganda. It might not be silver or gold, but most people would appreciate free money, especially the peasant class. And you don’t need to be literate to understand what a monarch’s face plus an image of a building project might mean,” mused Roxi.

The soft echoing clap of our footsteps threatened to drown out her soft words and I had to focus in order to both hear and comprehend them. Roxi clearly had no trouble focusing on the lesson going by her enraptured expression. Not surprising though, she’d had an obvious and enthusiastically adorable interest in CORA’s lore since the day we’d met. 

With an eager smile, Roxi leaned forward towards Gael. “Did any monarchs mint any of these in higher value metals?”

“To hand out to commoners? No. But at least a couple minted copies in silver or gold as rare collection pieces to gift nobles they wanted to reward or impress. But the iron pieces hold more value for us because they are more common.”

“It's an effective way to signal a place to meet,” Gael remarked with a purr-like hum of approval. “In this city alone I think there are at least five or six coins that were issued related to landmarks in or around this city, though not all are still standing even if their locations are known.”

It was an interesting enough concept and I found myself trying to think of a possible analogue that could have been used back home.

“Sounds like you’ve been using this method for some time,” I replied. She’s walked in after who knows how long away from this city and given a passcode knowing she’d receive a coin in return. “I’d have thought someone would have spilled the beans already, what’s stopping them from searching you to find the coin and ambush a meet?”

“They’re still currency. I keep a small collection of them in my coin purses and a few loose in my pockets. The number I have might raise some questions, but I can always claim to be a collector,” Gael shrugged, rolling her shoulders and neck worriedly as we reached and passed the tunnel’s quarter waypoint.

This far in refuse was beginning to pile up against the side of the tunnels, cracked casks and amphora piled atop of broken crates and piles of moldy torn sails and rusted metal. It was pretty clear now why no one used the tunnels, they’d become a convenient dumping grounds for anything those using the docks couldn’t be bothered to fix or recycle.

Following Gael and squeezing myself between two piles of trash that almost completely blocked the tunnel, I found myself being grabbed and pulled to the side with a hand clasped firmly across my mouth gagging me. Shortly followed by Roxi who’d seen me get grabbed and following to save me, wound up struggling to fight off the same group of men as they looped a length of rope over her head pinning her arms at her sides.

Our struggles slowed and stopped at the sight of Gael standing free behind the thugs who’d grabbed us, holding up her coin. 

“You’re not going to like this next part, but please cooperate,” she instructed as a sack was pulled down over her head and shoulders. 

Ears twitching, I caught the sound of hessian rubbing behind me a second before a sack of my own came down over my head blindfolding me.