Harbinger, A Gearspire Story

by Jeremiah Reinmiller

  A minute later, when Casyne asked what they should do, his analysis proved correct. When he tried to answer her, his lips parted. Nothing in his life had felt as wonderful or weird at the same time.

  Casyne gasped and laid a hand on his cheek. He savored the sensation along with the feeling of air once again sliding down his throat. A minute later, he could speak again, if with croaking words.

  “What a bastard,” he gasped and gritted his teeth. He hadn’t felt the flames when they touched him, but he felt them now. His throat felt like he’d received the worst sunburn of his life. He supposed under the circumstances he should be grateful to feel even that.

  Tears shone in Casyne’s eyes, but she laughed, and lightly slapped him on the arm. “Looks who’s talking! Almost getting killed in front of me.”

  His witty response was to lay there and suck in more air.

  A couple minutes later, with Casyne under his good arm, he managed to retrieve his sword and stagger upright.

  He could feel his burning hot face again and his left hand worked though it felt like he gripped a handful of needles whenever he made a fist. His leg was still screwed though. It had taken the deepest cut and the toxins had yet to burn themselves out.

  Around them the courtyard remained mostly deserted. A few faces peeked from doorways, but no one was coming near. That was probably a bad sign. He had to guess someone had already run to fetch the watch.

  “We need to get out of here,” he said, looking around for a likely exit route.

  “And get you back to the school,” Casyne said.

  “Muck to that.”

  “Ryle–”

  “No. I’m not going anywhere but after that book.”

  “You can’t even stand.”

  “It’ll pass.”

  “And then what? You think you can face Egan again like this?”

  “I’ll figure something out. But we can’t let Paundon have that book. It would mean Korvey died for nothing.” It was a cheap angle. He knew it as the words left his mouth, but all he could see in his mind was his only lead toward redemption vanishing with that blasted Egan.

  Casyne’s lips pinched together. “I know damn well why you want that book.”

  Ryle swallowed. “Cas–”

  “Save it.” She started walking, dragging him along with her. “I don’t want that ass Paundon getting his hand on Korvey’s book either.”

  He gave it until they exited the courtyard before speaking again. “How are we going to find Egan?”

  “We don’t have to. I wasn’t kidding about the strong-jacket. You need the key to open it, and there’s only one copy.”

  “Delago,” he said.

  She didn’t bother nodding, instead she looked both ways along the street then turned them south. While they limped along, the normal evening traffic of carts, servants, and menial workers streamed past. Steam billowing from vents in the street, flowed around their legs.

  Delago resided in an old rundown mansion not too far away on the south-east edge of the city. Thank goodness for that. Despite what he said, Ryle didn’t know how far he would make it in his current condition. He tried to hide it but his good leg was shaking by the time they’d gone two blocks.

  As if he didn’t have enough to worry about, something else had also been eaten at him since he received Korvey’s request for assistance. “Cas, you’re not– You’re not working for Delago. Are you?”

  “Of course I am, he’s my teacher.”

  “You know I don’t mean like that.”

  They side stepped around an old man pushing a wheelbarrow full of broken wooden gears, and for a moment Ryle thought he could feel his left foot again. He tried to put some weight on it, only to stumble causing Casyne to curse as she caught him.

  “Sorry,” he said, hopping to catch his balance.

  “Stop rushing. Give yourself time,” she said, voice tense for a moment. “And yes, I know what you mean, but no, I’m not spying for him. I’m just his student. That’s it.”

  “Oh.” Ryle had already convinced himself she was doing that very thing. It made so much sense. Her parents were well off and only a fool wouldn’t call her beautiful. She could get access to anywhere she wanted. He couldn’t see Delago not wanting to use her for his network.

  “I said no when he asked,” she said, once again reading his face.

  “Oh,” he said again, feeling relieved, if stupid, and fell silent.

  A few blocks later Casyne spoke. “We’re getting close.”

  In the distance the silhouettes of the mansion’s gables rose above the surrounding shops and more modest houses.

  “I’ll bet Paundon is meeting Egan at Delago’s. It feels like the sort of move he’d pull. If he’s there he’ll have guards with him,” Ryle said.

  Casyne nodded. “He clearly knew who Korvey worked for. I wouldn’t put it past that prick to go after Delago as well.”

  Guards. In his current state, that would be a slight problem. “I don’t know if I can–”

  “No kidding. You can barely walk. But never fear, I’ve got a plan.” She shot him a smile that almost looked genuine.

  Two blocks away from Delago’s mansion she turned them into an alley between a pair of dark houses. This led to an unlocked wrought iron gate and stairs descending into a small sunken courtyard. Ryle hobbled down the stone steps and received his first good news in an hour as needles of pain shot through his left leg. A few more minutes and he might be able to hobble around on his own again.

  They reached a pair of locked cellar doors set into the foundation of a building on the far side of the plaza that looked like an old cooperage. Casyne unlocked the thick padlock laced through the doors’ hasps with a key from her pocket – Ryle didn’t bother asking about that – and helped him down a ramp on the other side. They wound up in a dark moldy smelling basement. Dust filled the corners of the stone floor and cobwebs the corners of the wooden ceiling.

  Casyne turned them left and they inched through the dark until their outstretched hands found another wrought iron gate. Casyne unlocked this with another key and they ducked into the small passage.

  “Where the hex are we?” Ryle hissed. He didn’t add, and how do you know how to get in here?

  “Delago bought the abandoned cooperage and punched a tunnel through from his basement to this one. You never can have too many escape routes.”

  That was sound advice but didn’t make him feel much better. They shuffled through the dark, their footsteps and breaths echoing loud against the tight stone walls, smothering any other noises.

  “So this comes out in his basement. Then what?”

  “Stairs up to his pantry and then the kitchen.”

  Ryle nodded in the dark and kept shuffling along.

  “Where will Delago be?”

  “Probably his study. That’s where he receives all guests. Down the hall from the kitchen.”

  They almost ran into the wooden door at the end of the hall. Only a small amount of light leaking under the door gave them any warning.

  “This is it,” Casyne said. “How are you doing?”

  Ryle’s face felt normal aside from the burning, and the needles in his left hand had faded to a tingling in his skin. He tested his leg and with relief found it usable if painful. Hot needles shot up through his bones, his thigh throbbed when he’d been cut, but with gritted teeth he could stay on his feet.

  “I’ll make it,” he said and took a breath. “When we get inside–”

  “I’ll stay out of your way,” she finished for him. “I don’t want to be anywhere near that bastard Egan again. How can I help?”

  One day he might get ahead of her, but this was clearly not that day. He smiled to himself. “Get Delago away if you can. I’m sure he has a plan for things like this, but Paundon’s too sure of his own power. I doubt he’ll behave reasonably. Especially as he already proved he’s willing to kill over whatever’s in that book. And Egan is a through and through prick. He’ll stab
the first thing that moves because he thinks it makes him look stronger.”

  “Delago’s handled things like this before,” she said. “Korvey told me. We could ride it out.”

  “You willing to take that chance?” he asked.

  She took a breath, and opened the door.

  They entered a dry, clean smelling, well stocked cellar lit by a small lantern hanging from the ceiling. Casks lined one wall, and dry goods along another. A second door opened to stairs leading up into the house. They crept upward with Ryle in the lead now, trying not to limp while he kept one hand on the hilt of his sword. This time when he cast out for his kenten, he found it ready and waiting. He held it close.

  As Casyne had indicated they emerged into a small pantry stocked with more dry goods and bottles of wine. From there a couple quiet steps took him into Delago’s kitchen. The room, like the pantry and basement, was tidy, and empty. Large clay tiles covered the floor, and copper counters lined the walls. Oil lamps set in wall sconces lent the room a warm glow. He started across the floor, when an idea struck him. Probably a stupid one, but he hadn’t come up with anything better so he spun back to the pantry, startling Casyne.

  “What are you doing?” she hissed.

  “Hold on.” He rummaged through the pantry shelves until he found what he was looking for then passed her a couple tins and a bag of floor. “Here.”

  She accepted them with a grunt. He grabbed a well-used wineskin from a hook on the wall and the oldest looking bottle of wine from the rack, and followed her back into the kitchen.

  She dumped the ingredients on the counter and scowled. “You baking Paundon a cake?”

  He sliced off the wineskin’s nick with his sword then set the skin aside. “Think it would help?” He dug around in a drawer until he found a corkscrew, which he used to jerk the cork from the bottle with a soft pop.

  “Not unless you shoved it full of coins, no.”

  “Then this will have to do.” He handed her the opened bottle of wine and started prying open the tins.

  She inspected the curling label on the bottle and her eyes went wide. “This is a hundred-year-old Lapaz!”

  “Sounds expensive.” He sliced open the bag of flour, sending a white cloud across the counter.

  “Smooth,” she said.

  He ignored her and scooped a handful of flour into the makeshift bag, then shook powder from both tins in after it.

  When he reached for the wine bottle, she pulled it back and held up a forestalling hand. “There are only a dozen bottles of this in the realm. I guess eleven now. And it is worth more than my father’s best horse. You have to give me a moment.” After holding the bottle reverently for half a minute, she sniffed at its mouth, wrinkled her nose, then took a tentative swig. Which she immediately spewed into the copper sink.

  “That good?” Ryle asked.

  She wiped her mouth with her sleeve, her eyes squinting, her lips curled. “Maybe for a salad. I hope all those collectors love vinegar as much as they do wine. Stuff must’ve turned a decade ago.”

  “Great! Pour some in.”

  Looking as if it pained her to do so, she poured a couple fingers of wine-vinegar into the bag. Ryle ripped a strip of burlap from the flour sack, tied the bag’s neck closed and gave it a good shake. The resulting contents felt decidedly, squishy. He nodded, slung the wineskin’s strap over his shoulder and gestured for the door. “You ready?”

  Casyne took a deep breath and sighed. “Is that ever possible?”

  He rubbed her shoulder. “In my experience? No, almost never.”

  She stuck her tongue out at him. It was still stained from the wine.

  He forced a smile. “Let’s get this over with.”

  She looked about a certain as he felt, but she followed him as he limped out of the kitchen.

  The light coming through the kitchen doorway was bright enough for Ryle to make out the hallway’s wood paneled walls and the threadbare carpets on the floor. A half dozen paces head, lamp light and voices floated through an open doorway. One of the voices belonged to Egan. “Open the damn book already.”

  Ryle gripped his sword tighter as he and Casyne peeked around the doorframe.

  The room was a large study or library. Tall wooden bookshelves crammed full of books and tied bundles of papers, lined two walls. A large bay window filled the third wall and in front of it sat a heavy desk. An ornate lamp occupied one corner of the desk. The rest of its surface was covered in papers, pens, and one familiar strong-jacket. Delago, wearing a striped shirt of greens and yellows that stood out against his dark skin, sat behind the desk, glaring at the two men before him. On the left, Paundon lounged in a stuffed chair, his cloak folded across its back. On the right, Egan stood with arms crossed.

  At least there weren’t any other guards.

  “Yes, enough stalling,” Paundon said. “It’s becoming rather tiresome. My men have your house surrounded, so you aren’t going to slip away.”

  “You still haven’t told me where you came across this.” Delago gestured to the metal book on his desk.

  “What does it matter? I’m not leaving until I get what’s inside.” Paundon tapped his fingers on the chair’s armrest. “So do get on with it already. Take my offer, it was very generous. I’d hate to have to force the issue.”

  Egan hitched his shoulders making his sword rattle.

  Delago looked more angry than scared. The spy might even have a plan, his sly cunning was legendary, but Ryle wasn’t about to leave him to it. Not after what Egan had done to Korvey.

  Ryle gauged the angles and distances in the room, and gritted his teeth. Only four paces separated him from the pair. If not for the needles of pain dancing up his left leg he was sure he could’ve reached them before they knew what was happening. Tonight though would require a more direct approach. At least he was sure the Professor would approve.

  He found Casyne’s hand and squeezed it. Perspiration coated her palm. Her eyes shone wide in the lamp light. With his other hand, he motioned for her to stay put. She forced a smile and nodded.

  He took a deep breath, readied his kenten, and stepped into the room. “I have a better idea.”

  Paundon attempted to leap to his feet, failed, and fell back in the chair. Egan spun around, grabbing for his sword.

  Ryle took some satisfaction in their reactions.

  Delago showed about as much expression as a portrait by one of his less skilled students. Though Ryle thought he caught a flicker of annoyance cross the spy’s dark features.

  Paundon, ever one for appearances, adjusted his position as if he’d meant to remain sitting all along, before speaking. “How the hell did you get past my guards?”

  Ryle screwed his face up as if pondering the question, and took another step into the room, trying to hide the pain in his leg. “Guards? You mean that bunch I cut down outside?”

  Egan’s eyes narrowed. “Not likely with that limp. He snuck in from somewhere. I bet his conniving bitch of a girlfriend helped him.”

  Anger boiled up from Ryle’s guts, but he remembered his training, and made himself smile. “She outsmarted you easily enough as I recall.”

  “When I was about to kill your sorry ass.”

  “After you jumped me from behind.” Ryle took another step forward. “Try it face to face. See how that goes.”

  “Gladly.” Egan drew a hand span of steel over his shoulder.

  “Now, now.” Paundon waved his hand dismissively. “I appreciate the aggression, but really. There are coins enough for everyone. Let me have a look inside that book and you can all come out ahead.”

  Delago looked past Egan and Paundon. Ryle took a breath and grabbed his emotions tight before speaking. “His men killed Korvey. They tortured him first.” Even after preparing himself, pain still rushed up the back of his throat.

  Delago’s jaw clenched.

  Paundon rubbed his hand across the armrest. “An unfortunate mistake. My men got out of hand. I do apologize, but if y
our student would’ve only cooperated all this could’ve been avoided.”

  “Student, that’s rich!” Ryle heard Casyne step into the room. “You called him ‘a silly poof of an artist.’” Paper rustled “You told your men to make him talk.” Delago’s gaze shifted to her. “The broke his fingers, Del.” Casyne’s voice cracked. “Every one of them. And then he killed him.” She jabbed a shaking finger at Egan.

  Delago’s eyes flared.

  Paundon gripped the armrest of the chair, but his voice remained conciliatory. “As I said–”

  Delago’s hand slapped down on the desk, and a soft twang sounded. Paundon yelped and jerked his hand to his chest. Where it had sat on the armrest a moment before, something small and sharp glittered. “What the hel–” He got no further. His head fell back against the chair with a thump and his hand dropped to his lap. A single drop of crimson colored in the inside of his wrist.

  Egan whipped his sword out and stepped back toward the wall, his eyes sweeping around the room.

  Delago took in the swordsman and then looked to Ryle. He pursed his lips. “You’re Casyne’s man? You’re Mero’s student?” he asked.

  “Yes, sir.”

  Delago’s cheek twitched. “Don’t make a mess.”

  Deep inside, Ryle smiled. If the expression had made it to his face, it wouldn’t have been pretty.

  Egan glared and brought his sword up. “I spared your life last time. I won’t be so generous again.”

  “Your mistake.” Ryle drew his sword. “You should’ve finished the job when you had the chance.” While he spoke, he shrugged the wineskin off his shoulder and caught it in his left hand.

  Egan’s thumb moved and an all too familiar hiss filled the room followed by blossoming blue fire. Despite Ryle’s best efforts, cold fear crawled up his spine. “Oh don’t worry,” Egan said. “When I’m through with you, you’ll wish I had simply killed you.”

  Soft steps behind Ryle, then Casyne’s breath, warm against his ear. “Kick his ass.”