Trail of Rifts

by David Bokman

  The portals were perhaps what Zena was most proud of during her time as townmaster so far. It had not been easy to get an audience with The Archive, and harder still to convince them to help her, but she had managed both. She had to pay a high price, but in return, the archivists gave her something invaluable. Magic and innovation in their purest form, Zena thought, as she walked into the archway and felt the slight tingling sensation of the portal. The Archive had outdone themselves with this creation, but Zena was left wondering how far one could push the concept. Could I walk into an archway in my tower, and end up in the Eastern Horizon? How much of their progress did The Archive share with us? Having the portals installed in her tower and the library was a good start, though. And most importantly, it shows the people that my city is the City of Progress.

  The ground floor, as always, was quiet. This, combined with the unique grey-brown hue of the rehi stone used to build the tower, gave it an almost otherworldly aura. I can still remember the first time I stepped into this tower. I think everyone can. The Townmaster’s Tower was not a building one easily forgot after visiting it. It had been built merely sixty years ago, under the rule of Barkon Bluehair, who had ordered the destruction of what would have been his home no more than a day after taking office. In its place, he had erected this tower, with the help of hundreds of builders and hundreds of days of work. The naturalists had told Barkon that the rehi stone was the rarest and sturdiest of rocks, so he naturally ordered that the entire tower be built out of rehi stone, and nothing else. The costs had nearly driven Kardh’Ao into bankruptcy. In the end, Deston the Older, who was almost as rich as his son was today, had saved the city with a few loans to the Townmaster. Loans we are still paying off to his son, to this day. Barkon made sure that Deston and his family would have leverage over this city for eternity. In Barkon’s mind, I’m sure it was worth every penny, though. In the end, the rehi stone tower stood hundreds of feet tall, enough to make the King himself jealous. And now it is mine.

  Zena was adamant about not letting more people into her tower than what was absolutely necessary. Their thoughts contaminated the air, making it harder to think. The majority of breathing beings in the tower were guards. And thankfully they don't think much. Zena’s eyes did however have the misfortune of observing Frida, who had of course already made her way to the tower, and probably demanded she be let in. The young Commander was, like always, dressed for battle. And, as always, she was pacing around the room impatiently. Upon spotting her square face, Zena let out a deep sigh. “My favorite cousin returns, short of hair and short of temper. We’ll talk later, I have other business to attend to.”

  “Then why did—”

  Zena silenced her with her eyes. “Perhaps short of hearing, too? Wait in my office.”

  The ground floor of the tower was by far the largest, and was filled with refreshments and furnishings to ease the nerves of irritable noblemen. Zena remembered how she used to hate the tower. It was one of very few places in the city where she had felt like she was not in control, where she had felt she was at the mercy of someone else. Here, no guards had listened to her, no noblemen had done her bidding, nobody had recognized her authority. She was just another townswoman there to see the Townmaster. Never again. Nowadays, it was the place where she felt most at home, and a place she rarely left. The tower is mine, and it will be mine until I die.

  When Zena returned to her office, Frida looked like she had already walked a hundred laps around it. The carpet cost me a fortune, and she’ll soon have worn it out completely.

  “About time,” said Frida. “What’s this meeting about, anyway? Too long since you told me we wouldn’t get any more resources, so you had to remind me?” Frida was as rash with her words as she was with her sword. Were she not of my blood, I would have gotten rid of her already. “The Portsguard has been negligent in their duties. You constantly complain about your lack of funding, yet you make it look like you get a quarter of the money you do. Why is that?” asked Zena, sitting down at her desk, paying more attention to the rings on her fingers than to her cousin.

  “What do you want me to do, march into the sewers with all my guards?”

  “I’m not opposed to that idea.”

  “We need more money. Common thugs are better armed than we are, and that’s saying a lot.”

  “What you need,” said the Townmaster, her voice cold and calculated, “is direction. You are ruthless and efficient when you choose to be. Yet you so rarely choose to. Does The New Port scare you, young cousin?”

  “Nothing scares me, but attacking them on their turf would be suicide. They know the sewers better than anyone, and act too quickly to be apprehended in the streets.”

  “Or perhaps you act too slowly.”

  “If you are relieving me of my duties, just say so.”

  Zena gave her cousin a confused look. “I am doing nothing of the sort. I am simply letting you know that if you do not start making progress, I will break your legs and throw you out of my window.” Zena spoke as casually as if she was discussing the weather, yet there was no mistaking the sincerity of her words. Even though Frida took pride in her prowess as a fighter, she did not fancy her odds against her cousin. The Townmaster did not look physically intimidating; she shared her brother’s thin face and lithe features. Yet Frida had seen her brute force in action, and was not keen on seeing it again.

  “To the point, as always, Zena. I wouldn’t want to damage your office, so I’ll humor you. Anything else?”

  “See to it that my brother stays far away from the church. That will be all.”

  Zena’s following appointments were short, but there seemed to be an endless stream of them. A representative from the builders spoke with her about her plans of expanding the road network, and a representative from the naturalists assured her that the research she had commissioned was proceeding according to plan. Finally some news that doesn’t make me want to rip my hair out. Looking at her schedule, she feared her next appointment would not be as satisfying. Let’s hope Stonehand’s idiots have the decency of being brief idiots. They would be five in total if Stonehand still knew how to count, and Zena did not like the idea of letting five unknown quantities into her office. No, they would have to conduct their meeting on one of the lower levels, where there was more space and fewer valuables. If they were to break one of my heirlooms, that would make our meeting very brief indeed.

  Zena was not in the mood for food today, preferring to get her appointments over and done with, so she made her way down to the ground floor once more, preparing to greet the buffoons. They were easy enough to spot. Standing in a semicircle in the main hall were indeed five ragtag adventurers.

  The first one was large as a cliff, tall and broad-shouldered, and looked like he would rather be anywhere but here. Perhaps not total amateurs, then. The second one did not look too dissimilar from Zena herself; a middle-aged, deft-looking woman with attentive eyes. Her ripped and torn clothes indicated she had been on the road most of her life. The third, a young man with long, ashen hair, looked at the inside of the tower as one might look at a fine banquet, soaking everything in. The interior was not everything he looked at; his eyes also seemed to linger on the Townmaster for far longer than she would have liked. I could have him thrown in the dungeon for such an insult. Perhaps I will. The fourth had longer and more flamboyant hair than many of the noblewomen Zena interacted with, and she had a kind face unscarred by tragedy. The fifth, the Townmaster mistook for a child. Looking closer, he was indeed a man. If you can call an aeni a man. He was the owner of a round face and sand-colored hair, and his tanned skin indicated he was not a native of the town. They all look ridiculous. The one thing that seemed to connect the five figures were the emblems marking them as heralds. While it was technically within Stonehand’s right to name heralds, Zena did not appreciate him exercising that right. Gallo would not go around making people heralds for naught, though. So what is it about these five that’s so special?

>   “Stonehand’s new heralds here to see you, Townmaster,” one of the guards announced.

  “I know who they are. Follow me.”

  The Townmaster led the quintet through a portal leading to a common hall on one of the middle levels of the tower. Many of them seemed unfamiliar with portals, and the big man required hefty reassurance from the group before stepping through it. After dismissing the guards that had decided to take a break in the room, the Townmaster picked a chair and sat down. “So?”

  “Ah, Townmaster, it is an honor to finally meet you. I met your brother just two days ago, a fine—”

  “I won’t waste your time, so please don’t waste mine. What can I do for you?” Zena felt her patience running thin even before the meeting had begun.

  The woman with the torn clothes said, “We are on a mission from Commander Stonehand to investigate the strange rifts that have started appearing. You’ve no doubt heard about the one on the Townsguard grounds?”

  “I have.”

  “We have reason to believe there is information on one of the restricted levels of the library that could help our cause. We were told you are the one who decides who gets to access the higher levels.”

  “I do, and I decide that nobody gets to access them.”

  “And we do not doubt you have good reason for doing so, but we are asking for an exception, to help our investigation.”

  These are the kind of people you send to me, Stonehand? I should have you drawn and quartered. “Which level?”

  “Twenty-four, ma’am.”

  “And why would there be information for you there?” How do they know where to look?

  “The Curator mentioned it, although I don’t think he meant to.”

  Speaking of people I should have drawn and quartered, Hako is at the top of the list. Even after his… treatment, he is still causing trouble. Zena inspected her new heralds once more. “Who are you?”

  “We’re the new her—”

  “I heard you the first time. But who are you?”

  “Introductions, of course!” began Jaio. “I am Flavio, of the Woodleaf clan. I—”

  “I don’t like the way you speak. I don’t like the way you look at me, either. You can wait outside.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Did I stutter?” Zena made no effort concealing her hostility.

  After Jaio had bowed and excused himself from the room, Cadwell tried his luck. “Name’s Cadwell. I was in the military, left right around when you became Minister of War. Before that, I was a knight for a few years, but that doesn’t mean much nowadays. Now I’m a mercenary of sorts.”

  “Hm. You’ll do. Next?”

  Sam cleared his throat and prepared to speak, but Zena held her hand up before he even had time to begin. “Not you. You.” She pointed at The Dart.

  “There’s not much to know about me, I’m afraid, Townmaster.”

  Who does she think she is? Zena stood up, and slowly walked up to The Dart. When she stopped, she stood close enough that they could hear each other’s breath. “I get word that Stonehand has named not one, but five new heralds. You know how often heralds are named? Of course you don’t. Not often. And now there’s five of them, and I don’t know a single one. And you come in here and tell me there’s nothing to know about you?”

  “I only meant—”

  “You can wait outside, too. Leave. And you, girl, who are you?”

  She seems to like honesty, Na thought. Besides, what point is there in trying to hide something from the Townmaster? “I’m… an arcanist. A novice one.”

  “I like magic. You’ll do, too. That marks two out of five that I can accept. Stonehand really outdid himself, huh?”

  “Does that mean—”

  “I can’t revoke your titles until your mission is finished, even if I wanted to. I’m just letting you know that you two are the only ones welcome in my town when you’re done with whatever Stonehand has told you to do.”

  “Of course.”

  “You all seem utterly incompetent to me, but since clever people have not found an answer to the problem as of yet, perhaps you are who we need. I will not grant you access to the higher levels of the library, but I will let Curator Hako collect any relevant scriptures from the higher levels for you.”

  “Thank you, we—”

  “In return,” Zena interrupted, “you will forgo the reward that Stonehand has put up. Should you solve the problem, you will not be given any gold. Your names will not appear in any history books. You are ghosts, working for me. Understood?”

  “That sounds fair to me,” said Cad.

  “I don’t care if it sounds fair or not to you. I care that you accept.”

  “We do.”

  “Good. Furthermore, you will allow a tailor of my choosing to design new clothes for you, which you will pay for and wear. I will not have heralds of my city walking around looking like you do. Understood?”

  “Certainly, Townmaster. Thank you.”

  “On your way, then.”

  No rest for the wicked, Zena thought, returning to her office. Just as she thought her day was nearing its end, these faux heralds create more trouble for her. The Crazy Curator better be in a good mood, for his sake. A lesser woman would feel guilt over Hako’s insanity, feel like she caused it. Zena did not. It was true that the Curator had been what could almost be considered sane before she took over, but he was on the brink. I only expedited the inevitable. Despite his insanity, Hako was exceptionally skilled at his work, probably even more so after the insanity set in. Now, his mind is consumed by that library. One of the few people in town to rival Stonehand in age, Hako had allegedly worked in the library for close to seven decades, and Zena suspected he would not stop until his body failed him. His mind already has, and that didn’t hamper him.

  Because of his penchant for books, it was perhaps not surprising that the Curator had not taken well to her orders of restricting the higher levels. Even before, he spoke about his books as a mother might speak of her children. Few mothers have three hundred bookcases full of children, though. But no, losing just nine levels of books was apparently unacceptable. Zena had no choice but to use less tasteful methods to make him see things her way. She had also given the library its own, specially tailored guard force. It had proved a great success; nobody, not even Hako, had accessed the higher levels since the restriction was placed a few months ago. But now, thanks to these heralds, Hako would get his chance. He ought to thank them, but I doubt he will. Zena knew that she would have to go to the library herself and deliver the news; nowadays, Hako listened to very few except her. Hopefully he doesn’t find the wrong things up there. I want the rifts closed, but I don’t want these buffoons to know what I know. I cannot allow them to, not now.

  ⧫ CHAPTER XV ⧫

  Cadwell hated the new clothes. It was as if the tailor liked leather and silk in equal parts and could not decide which to go with, so went for both. The torso was of a strong leather, which Cad appreciated, but the arms had streaks of silk mixed in for no apparent reason. He supposed this was what was considered high fashion. I consider it a waste of silk. They were not going to attend coronations in these outfits, they were going out into the wilderness. The silk would get in the way, get damaged, and get ripped off.

  Florianna, on the other hand, adored their new outfits. The silk made her feel like she was back at home, while the leather made her feel like she was out exploring, as far from home as possible. The duality somehow felt soothing. Furthermore, they now looked cohesive, prepared, and professional. They now demanded respect. None of them were too pleased with the fact that it would cost them ten suns each, though, but they did not have much choice if they wanted those scriptures. “Townmaster seems charming,” said Mae.

  “I didn’t like her.” Florianna was in the process of admiring herself in the mirror. “Something about her made me feel… uneasy.”

  “It’s almost like people in power are bad,” agreed Cad. “Who would’v
e thought? What's in those books you wanted, anyway?”

  “We don’t know. Went to the library, the Curator said there was information about the rifts on level twenty-four, then quickly changed his mind and said it was restricted. Figured it was worth exploring.”

  “Whatever it is, it better be worth my ten suns,” muttered Cadwell. “This city consumes gold like a nobleman consumes pie.”

  The heralds had been instructed to meet Curator Hako in the library after their visit to the tailor, and so they did. As they entered the Eastern Library, which was by now filled with scholars, naturalists and other knowledge-hungry individuals, they quickly laid eyes on the Curator. Hako was pacing to and fro in the middle of the room as if he was walking on hot embers, and a pair of guards were following him closely. In his arms he carried a tome that had to be thousands upon thousands pages long. Stacked on top of it were several scrolls and parchments of varying qualities and sizes. “You!” he said upon spotting the heralds. “Come here, come here, quickly, quickly!” The man spoke as if his life was on the line. “Townmaster said you would come, she did. Said to get these texts for you. Restricted texts, forbidden texts. But she said to get them, and I did. Didn’t read them, tell her I didn’t! Not one page. Bad texts, they poison your mind! Must keep my mind clear, yes, keep it clear at all costs.”

  “These are the texts from level twenty-four?” asked The Dart.

  “Twenty-four, yes, restricted access, but Townmaster insisted. I do not understand. One day they are restricted, next day she forces me to go up there! I don’t want to go up there, I don’t like the higher levels!”