This investigation was taking its toll. She had arrived at the town in late morning to find that the Spring Gratitude Festival was in progress. Acolytes in red robes herded people into the chapel, relieving them of “offerings” and marking young people for tribute.
She needed information, but with the service in progress, there wasn’t much more she could do but watch the proceedings. It struck her as ironic that the name had been retained; the participants looked anything but grateful. Before the Prophet’s arrival, the festival had been a joyous, pastoral occasion. Now, gratitude for the Three had been replaced by “gratitude” to the Prophet, although for what she wasn’t sure exactly. You’re starting to sound like a heretic.
A burly acolyte stepped up and grabbed a youngster by the arm, yanking him away from his mother. Keris watched as the woman cried out and tried to hold on to the boy. A brief tug of war ensued until a second acolyte strode over and struck the woman in the face. She cried out as the boy was dragged off to have the flame marking of the Prophet branded into his neck. The woman fell to her knees. Hands covered her face as she sobbed uncontrollably.
Keris felt her eyes starting to water. What “grand purpose” of the Prophet could justify this?
“Faith,” Mordal would say. “Faith and Patience.” The words had a hollow ring as she watched the celebrants file silently past the woman, who was still kneeling on the grey stone floor.
There could be no question of her intervening. Keris the diamond merchant was a simple trader, nothing more. Keris the Keltar had no authority to interfere in the selection of tributes. She turned away, feeling as helpless as a flame at the mercy of every draught of air. The lamp by her bed guttered once more.
Keris centred herself on her obligation and her duty. It was time. She raised the back of her hand to her mouth and spoke a word into the Ring on her third finger. The Ring was bronze, set with a single dark stone.
“Keris.” The Ring glowed with a delicate green phosphorescence as she spoke.
A moment later, the Ring glowed once more.
“Report.” It was Mordal. He had never had any time for pleasantries.
Keris spoke directly into the device. “There is no word on the impersonator. He does not appear to be known by anyone I have spoken to. However, I have discovered that his accomplice fled to Lind, so I have journeyed there to pursue the investigation.”
“Captain Sallidor has returned.” The Ring luminesced. “He says you ordered him to return to the Keep.”
His men attacked me! Keris realised that to tell Mordal that, however, would only make her reasons for ordering the withdrawal appear petulant. “He was making no progress in the investigation. He had executed an innkeeper and was only succeeding in antagonising the townspeople.”
There was a pause. “I see…continue.”
“Two people were buying up supplies in town yesterday. The man is a local musician. I don’t yet know how he is connected. However, the girl fits the description of the impostor’s accomplice. Among the items they purchased were two morgren from the stables.”
There was another pause. Then Mordal completed the thought. “They are headed for the Southern Desert, the fortress of Gort.”
“Exactly,” Keris affirmed. “It makes perfect sense. Where would a man who wishes to free tributes go, if not to the compound at Gort?”
“I will Ring the fortress and make sure there is a nice surprise awaiting them at the compound should they make it there. Excellent work, Keris. How do you intend to proceed?”
“Well, I certainly don’t intend to go stumbling about the countryside by Ail-Mazzoth’s light. They have a day’s head start at most, and they have slow moving morgren. It should be a simple matter to overtake them. Right now, I intend to get a decent meal and a good night’s sleep.”
“Very well, Keris. May the Prophet guide your steps.” The Ring fell silent.
Keris extinguished the lamp and sat in the dark for a long moment. Then she got up and left the room, closing the door behind her.
<><><><><>
Chapter 6
Shann looked tiny and distinctly uncomfortable clad in the flying cloak of a Keltar. It felt like she was being made to become the thing she most hated in all the world. This is necessary, she told herself. What was it Lyall had said? Once you understand the source of a tyrant’s power, you can use it against them. She adjusted the fit across her shoulders as best she could.
“It feels a bit heavy,” she commented.
Lyall stood opposite the girl, an identical cloak draped about his shoulders. “That’s the downward pressure from the lodestone layer pushing down on the bronze layer below it. Try retracting the bronze layer a bit.” She adjusted the control at her neck. “Better?”
She nodded.
“All right. The first thing you need to realise is that the flying cloak does not enable you to fly–at least, not in the same way as a mylar or any other bird. It would be more accurate to call it a ‘leaping’ or ‘jumping’ cloak. You remember the discs? Lodestones will push against all materials, but the push is greatest against other lodestones. There are naturally occurring lodestone deposits in the ground from meteorites which have been falling for millennia. We use the refined lodestone in the cloak to push against these deposits to gain lift.”
“How do I do that exactly?”
Lyall gestured with his hands. “You need to ‘feel’ for deposits. It’s something that will come naturally once you get the hang of it. Start by retracting your bronze layer very slowly, bit by bit. Stop the moment you feel anything unusual.”
Shann moved the control slowly with her fingers. She stopped. “There, like a slight pressure.”
“Good, now can you tell which direction it’s coming from?”
“Over there.” Shann pointed to the left.
“Come on.” Lyall set off in that direction. “Tell me when you feel it move under you.”
They set off across the broken savannah. After a little way, Shann held up her hand and they both halted. She turned to look up at him. “So if I can use my cloak to detect deposits, why doesn’t the Prophet mine loadstones that way?”
“Because it just isn’t exact enough. For example, the deposit you are detecting now. Can you tell where it is precisely? How large is it? How deep? Lodestone ore hardly looks any different from normal rock. You would need to dig and sort through tons of dirt by hand, and that would take a small army of Keltar. Can you imagine Keltar doing that?” He was smiling at her, and she forced a smile back.
“Anyhow, it isn’t necessary,” he continued. “In the Southern Desert the ore that falls from the sky is clearly visible on the surface. You don’t need Keltar to find it, just a herd of slaves who don’t mind dying from heat and exhaustion.”
Which is why we are here, she thought. “All right, so what do I do?”
“Try jumping up and at the same time, extending the upper lodestone layer of the cloak. Remember, you won’t travel straight up because there will always be some slight deviation from the vertical. Think of being pushed up by a fountain of water. Go on, give it a go.”
Shann bent her knees and leaped up, flaring the cloak as she did so. She sailed upwards, stifling a cry as she did so. Her legs bicycled in the air and she tipped over, landing a few steps away in a crumpled heap. She got to her hands and knees in time to see Lyall, hands on hips, throwing his head back in laughter. She frowned, angrier at herself than at him. I’m never going to get the hang of this.
Still chuckling, he walked over, offering a hand. She took it and allowed herself to be pulled up. “Don’t feel bad, everyone does that the first time. Actually, that was pretty good for a first try.”
“I’m fine, thanks for asking.” Shann adjusted the cloak and brushed off the dust and sand as best she could.
Lyall looked as if he was enjoying himself. “All right, time for lesson two. Remember, the lodestone will always push you in the opposite direction. If you detect it to your left and you flare
the cloak, then it will push you to your right. You can angle the cloak by twisting in the air, adjusting your trajectory. Try again, but this time instead of fully flaring the cloak, do a small jump and blip the control until you get used to the feel of it.”
Shann felt the deposit to her right and behind her. She did as Lyall suggested and leapt a short distance to her left. She stumbled a little on landing, but regained her balance.
“Good.” Lyall was clapping. “Very good.”
He walked over and looked into her eyes with intensity. “The real secret to using the cloak is always to be thinking one step ahead.” He flattened his hand to simulate her pattern of flight. “As you leap,” he moved his hand upward, “you should already be looking for another deposit to push against or a safe place to land. If you detect another deposit you can push off it,” he moved his hand in a different direction, “and remain aloft.
“Remember; always be thinking what your next move will be. And be careful not to over commit. Always leave yourself with a safe option.”
Shann nodded thoughtfully.
“Now let me ask you something. What would happen if I leapt, and then at the apex, I extended the lower bronze layer in the cloak?”
Shann furrowed her brow. “The lodestone would push against the bronze and the bronze would pull away from it. You would be forced downwards.”
“Quite right. I would be accelerated toward the ground, which would normally be a very bad idea.” His mouth quirked a little. “However, there are some circumstances where you may wish to slow your leap, perhaps to angle yourself toward another deposit. Blipping the bronze layer can work as a brake, giving you more control.”
“When will you show me how to use the staff?” Shann’s face was eager.
Lyall chuckled again. “Patience, Shann. You have to learn how to run from a fight before you learn how to get into one.” He looked up, shading his eyes from the suns. Ail-Gan was rising through a cloudless sky. Ail-Kar was a dazzling point of light near the western horizon. It was becoming distinctly warm. “Let’s take a short break.”
He headed for a low shelf of rock and sat down with a sigh, his long legs splayed out before him. Shann followed and sat down next to him, cloak still draped about her. He took out a skin bottle of water and offered it to her. She took a swig and handed it back. He quaffed, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and replaced the stopper. They both sat in silence, looking out over the flat grassland. Here and there, tufted plants that she could not name broke through the sandy soil or stubbornly clung to rocks. A few even boasted tiny yellow and purple flowers.
She went over Lyall’s training, trying to commit the points to memory, but there was something else–something nagging at the back of her mind. Fragments slowly converged, like a conjunction of the three suns, coalescing into a single inescapable thought.
She spoke the thought. “You’re one of them, aren’t you?”
“One of them?”
“You’re one of them. You’re a Keltar.”
Lyall’s voice was quiet. “What would make you say that?”
“Well,” Shann began, “you have the same devices that they do: the cloak and the staff. But more than that, you understand them. You know how they work. Only the Keltar have knowledge of such things. And then there is the money…”
“The money?”
“You don’t seem to have any work. Alondo is a musician, but doesn’t seem to have a trade as far as I can tell. Yet you have more money than I have ever seen. The only other person I know who has that kind of wealth is the Prophet himself….”
She glanced at him with guilty expression. I shouldn’t have said that. Lyall didn’t react, however. He continued to gaze out across the rough heath. There was a long pause before he spoke.
“You are a very clever girl, Shann. But you are wrong…although it is true that there was a time when I wanted to be a Keltar more than anything else. And I did train as one. But I decided in the end that it wasn’t the path for me.”
“The cloaks and staffs–believe it or not, I obtained them legitimately, although many in the keep at Chalimar would no doubt be shocked to find out how. The ‘offerings’ he demands have made people short of coin and desperate. The parts can be purchased, if you know the right people; then they can be assembled if you have the right skills.”
“You made them?”
Lyall laughed. “Alas no; that’s Alondo’s department.”
He made that instrument he carries with him, she reminded herself.
“As for the money…let’s just say I thought the Prophet’s servants had a little too much to carry, so I relieved them of some of it.”
“You stole it?”
“Well he extorted it from poor townspeople and farmers, so I suppose it depends on your point of view. We have to use whatever resources we can if we’re going to defeat him, Shann. Besides, I think there’s a certain poetic justice to our using his ill-gotten gains against him, don’t you?” He gave a satisfied smile.
Shann was dubious. “I suppose.”
“Come on.” He pushed himself to his feet. “Shall we see if we can try a few more practice jumps? We will have to catch up to Alondo soon …unless you’re ashamed to be seen with a self-confessed thief?”
She smiled in spite of herself and joined him for another gruelling round of training.
Later that afternoon Alondo the musician watched as two cloaked figures alighted on the roadway just behind their tiny caravan. He gave them a cheery wave. “Impressive. I see the lessons are going well.”
“Indeed, Shann is ten times the student you ever were,” replied Lyall. Shann looked down, embarrassed.
“That’s only because I had enough sense to keep both feet firmly on the ground. Hey Shann, did he do that thing to you where he gets you to stand directly over a lodestone and jump as high as you can?” She looked up, recalling her ungainly landing. There was a moment’s pause. Then all three of them burst out laughing.
Alondo turned to lead the morgren forward and Shann noticed his instrument was slung over his shoulder. She turned to Lyall, speaking in low tones.
“If we meet up with any dangerous beasts what does Alondo intend to do–serenade them to death?”
Lyall cocked his head to one side. “Well, I really don’t know. Let’s ask him, shall we? Hey Alondo?”
“Yes, Lyall?”
“Shann wants to know if we meet any dangerous creatures, whether you were going to serenade them to death.” Shann shot a look of injured betrayal at Lyall, but Alondo merely appeared pensive for a moment before speaking in a cheerful tone.
“Well I’ll certainly do my best!”
~
Keris the Keltar swooped low over the rock shelf, her flying cloak casting a shadow like an immense bird of prey. She landed and assumed a crouched position in one fluid movement. Only a few steps to the edge. She pressed herself to the ground and crawled across the smooth surface to the lip of the outcrop, quickly peeking over the edge as it jutted out over the pass. She had a view of the road a hundred feet below her, as it meandered through a cut in a range of low hills. The sides were steep and there was evidence of rock falls both young and ancient. They would be coming through here in a short while.
She was little more than a day out from Lind before she spotted the little party in the distance, moving slowly across the desiccated landscape, shimmering in an early morning heat haze. She allowed herself to get close enough only to make a positive identification: two morgren, three people, one tall, two shorter. The shorter one in front had strapped to his back what looked like a musical instrument, of all things. A musician, then, just as the stableman in Lind had described. There could be no doubt; it was them. The other short figure had to be the girl, reported to be the impostor’s accomplice. That meant the tall one was the impostor himself.
Keris took a fix on their position, and then fell back, plotting a wide arc across country to re-join the road ahead of them. The route led throu
gh a constricted pass with steep sides. One entrance. One exit. Perfect. Their journey ends here.
Lying near the periphery of the shelf overlooking the ravine, she took out three lodestone discs one by one from the pouch at her belt, placing them in a small triangle at the edge of the overhang, on the side facing where the highway approached from the north. Then she reached in once more and took out a transparent globe, placing it carefully over the centre of the three discs. The Vision Sphere floated in mid air, suspended by the pushing force of the discs.
Keris got to her feet and moved back a few steps out of sight, extracting an identical sphere and setting it carefully in a crevice. She turned it until she could see a fish-eye view of the road as it wound through the hills. The two spheres were Linked, but unlike the Rings, the Link was one way. She sat with her legs crossed and her cloak tucked under her, watching the sphere set in the rock surface, planning her next actions.
Three hostiles. Objective; neutralize two, retain one for questioning. Tactical assessment mandates isolation and containment protocol. However, common sense suggested such precautions were hardly necessary. A musician, a slip of a girl and a man who had delusions of being a Keltar. The impostor would have to come with her, of course, and he would have to explain how he obtained the cloak and the staff. But she was inclined to simply let the others go. They appeared to be no threat. At most, they were guilty of allying themselves with a madman. And she had seen more than enough unnecessary death and suffering of late.
A movement on the road below. The sphere showed a distorted image of three figures and two morgren rounding a bend in the gully. She obviously could not leap off a hundred foot drop on the off chance that there would be a deposit of lodestone to break her fall. Her plan was rather to allow them to continue through and to be waiting for them at the other end, where they would have nowhere to run. Time to finish this.
Keris picked up the sphere and returned it to her pouch, then went over to retrieve the other sphere and the discs.
The Lodestone Trilogy (Limited Edition) (The Lodestone Series) Page 7
