Gangs of New Larn
Devin opened one eye. Morning. At least he could see a smudge of lighter grey in the sheet of slate grey cloud that could be the sun. A sailor had once told him that in the Savage Lands the sun was a golden globe hanging in a blue sky and it hardly ever rained. He also said he was a Prince and that he would return with gifts of rare spices and gems. But Devin was still here plying his trade on the wet streets of New Larn, so much for sailors’ tall tales.
Devin sat up, and slipped his feet into his rubber clogs, a luxury for sure, but one worth paying for. He unhooked his sword belt from the bedpost, grabbed his starwheel from the bedstand and got ready for another day in New Larn’s docks.
And what was it that Devin did allday, Devin always with coin without apparently working. Devin fixed things – not with a tool kit – what he did was get things for people, put one person in touch with another to perform some service or make an exchange. Want a rowboat for a night no questions asked and no need for a permit – ask Devin. Want a gate pass to the Senate Quarter – ask Devin. Devin knew people and people knew Devin. Even the Praetors knew Devin, but he fixed things for them too – a new gear for the clockworks of their steam jack before the Tribune found out it was mising in the first place – Devin could get it, wanted company for the night – Devin was your man.p. So did the ever popular Devin have enemies then? Oh you bet he did. Other fixers jealous of his success. The losing side in a ‘transaction’ arranged by Devin – and Devin was rarely on the losing side himself, Devin chose who to assist well.
However those enemies soon found that Devin’s contacts had contacts of their own, contacts with blades loose in their scabbards and charged pistols. Oh Devin was a busy man, a very busy man!