It was dim in the store and I paused to let my eyes adjust. I heard a rustling behind the counter and watched as the proprietor rose from his seat. He was extremely tall and thin with a large hooked nose. He wore the dark robes of the merchants' guild and the tall pointed hat that went with it. I had only seen a member of that guild once before in Jaipers and that had been a merchant merely passing through from Port West. The guild members usually did not stray from the major cities and his presence here meant that Finnow Mines took this store seriously. He looked down his nose at me with open disdain. Proprietors in Jaipers would never take that stance with a customer, I thought and instantly disliked the man.
"May I help you, young man?" he intoned with a surprisingly high voice and I wasn't certain but I thought I heard a condescending tone that matched the look.
My eyes were now fully adjusted to the light, and I stepped over to the counter and looked closer at him. He had his head tilted back and with his height he was clearly looking down his nose at me. I felt heat flood my face and became tongue-tied. I didn't know how to respond to this man. I didn't handle confrontations well and so I opted to not answer and looked down to study the counter. The counter was made with a glass top framed expertly in fine woods. The glass was so pure it was like looking through water. Beneath the glass, large slabs of salt nestled in beds of the finest silks. I drew in a breath as I realised the amount of wealth that was displayed beneath my gaze. The price of the counter alone was the equal to the cost of a home in Jaipers. But, by the Word, the salt under the glass comprised more wealth than the entire town of Jaipers. My breath and thoughts escaped me.
I was about to turn and leave when I spied the slab of Life Salt. It was a brick that had to weigh about three pounds. I used my sight and examined it and its vibrant golden aura. It pulsed and swam with energy. I couldn't tear my eyes away from it. I heard the proprietor clear his throat.
"I-I..." I stammered, still staring. "That's Life Salt, isn't it?"
"Yes," he replied unimpressed with my deduction.
"M-might I enquire to how much this piece would cost?" I asked quietly.
A silence filled the air and after a second or two I looked up to see the proprietor looking past me to the guard at the door. I glanced over in time to catch the guard pointing at his own boots. I looked back to the proprietor to see him now leaning over to look down at my black boots and I watched as his eyes grew round in surprise.
An expression I did not recognise passed over his features. Just as quickly it was gone, and he wrung his hands in front of him. The change in his demeanour was startling, and I wondered how and why my boots would elicit such a reaction. The warning from the maker of my backpack returned and I felt a stab of fear.
"Sir," he said, "my apologies, I did not recognise you."
My mind whirled at that. Recognise me? I had never met this man in my life. I simply stared back at him, completely unsure of what to say. I felt an urge to bolt from the store and keep running until the store and the town were far behind me.
"You wish to enquire as to the price of the Life Salt, yes?" His voice had gone silky and groveling. The change was startling. At my continued silence, he spoke again. "Normally, the price of Life Salt, especially a piece as pure as this one, would go for the modest sum of twenty crowns per ounce. Precisely measured, of course, using the finest and most accurate scale south of the capital." He paused, and he seemed to be looking more closely at me. His voice was now thick with honey. "The entire block you see here is worth a modest six hundred crowns."
I couldn't help myself and I gasped out loud - the sound harsh in the quiet of the shop. The price was surreal. Dempster, the cook in Jaipers had given me at least one ounce, probably closer to two ounces, of crushed Life Salt. It had been a rare and expensive gift and I hadn't known its value. He had gladly given it to me and I had no way to return that gift. I had used up over half of the salt in my potions in Jaipers. Those are expensive potions I carry. My mind reeled and guilt descended on me. I gripped the counter for support.
"Sir?" he enquired when I did not respond. "Can I interest you in some of the Life Salt? I am sure we can accommodate someone of your position quite handsomely."
I looked up sharply at the man. Someone of my position? I thought. What in the Word was he talking about? And then it hit me: my boots. They saw only the boots. They knew what the boots represented. Did they now think me an assassin? Is that what they thought? How is that possible that a man of my stature could be mistaken for a trained assassin? Nothing made sense.
"Accommodate me?" I repeated with a weak voice, not sure what else to say.
The man looked alarmed, and he looked back to the man at the door and back to me and then wrung his hands more quickly. "Sir, my apologies. No, no, not accommodate. A bad choice of words! I would be pleased, yes, pleased, to provide a donation, a tithe, to you as a token of Finnow Mines' continued respect."
This whole scene was beyond my ken. I had no idea what this man was talking about. His change in demeanour, his way of speaking to me, all rang alarm bells in my head. I reached out with my senses and immediately felt the fear that poured out of the man and the guard behind me. It was so thick I could choke on it. But the fear was not directed at me precisely - that much I could tell. They were afraid of something they felt I represented. These black boots were anathema to these people. Did they fear some sort of assassins' guild? I found myself wishing I could know what these men knew. I felt blindfolded. Like I was stumbling around in the dark.
"A donation..." I echoed and wondered what I was being offered. I really wanted to just escape this shop but saw no way out that wouldn't alarm these two men. I was determined to leave here without incident.
The man's eyes lit up with hope and he held up a finger. "Just one moment, kind sir. I'll return in just a moment." And he turned and disappeared through a curtained doorway behind him.
I looked over at the guard and he was now completely blocking the door but still facing me. My first thought was that he was blocking my exit but as he nodded respectably to me I realised that he was blocking anyone from coming in. I heard a murmuring behind the curtain and the sounds of drawers being quickly opened and closed. I reached out with my sight and saw the proprietor with another man standing together in the back room whispering urgently to one another. I didn't know anyone else was in the shop and berated myself for not using my senses to check the entire building. I did so now and felt no one else in the building.
Behind the curtain, I could sense that the large drawers that lined the back wall contained large slabs of quarried salt rock. A large machine stood in a corner that presumably was used to crush the salt. My vision was drawn to the large table lay dominant in the center of the room. It held a large elaborate brass scale with a tray of weights beside it. On one side of the scale were fine black velvet bags and cloths. Large glass containers lined the table and contained many hues of fine to rough crushed salt. The two men leaned their heads together and whispered to one another. The proprietor held the other's upper arm. I reached to hear what they were saying.
"I don't understand, Gearold, this is most unexpected!" said the proprietor. He released the man and moved over to one of the glass jars on the table and lifted a small silver measuring cup. He held it up to the light and squinted at it and then blew on it to remove some small contaminant.
"Yes, most unexpected," agreed Gearold. He was clearly the older of the two and carried a slouched posture. I could see that it pained him and I reached and eased his pain somewhat and he seemed to stand a little straighter. I could sense that his spine was bent and twisted and I felt for him. He rolled his shoulders and reached a hand up to massage his neck with a slight expression of surprise on his face. I smiled to myself. "We already gave our tithe. Just last week, remember Abram? Most unsettling, most unsettling." He sucked air through his teeth and picked up a weight and squinted at it before gently placing it on the scale. He repeated this again and watched the scale pan sink downw
ard.
The proprietor, Abram, scooped a measure of crushed salt from his jar and stepped to the scale. A small black velvet cloth had been placed on the other raised pan and the proprietor moved to empty his measure on to it.
"Careful now, pour carefully!" whispered Gearold, and I watched as Abram gently poured what I could see was Life Salt onto the pan. Light burst and sparked from the falling grains and the salt on the pan shimmered with all the colours of the rainbow. It was beautiful, but I realised with sadness that these poor men had no sight like mine and were blind to the beauty. For them it was a simple mundane task.
"Yes, yes! I know! Now hush, I must concentrate," he replied. As he continued to pour the crushed salt, the scale pan slowly lowered until it matched the level of the pan on the left that carried small weights. Abram stopped pouring and returned the scoop and salt to the jar. Gearold crouched down to squint at the scale and then rose and carefully dipped a pen in ink and wrote in a large ledger on the table.
"Do you think that is enough?" whispered Abram looking from pan to ledger.
"Hmm. Yes, I should think so. More than the last time. That should please them." Gearold placed the pen on the table and lifted a small velvet bag from the table.
Abram nodded and lifted the piece of cloth that the measured salt lay on. Gearold held the small pouch open and the Abram carefully poured the Life Salt into it. I watched fascinated again as the aura of the salt sparkled and burst out into the air. It was like watching the embers of a fire burst free into the night; only hundreds erupted up into the air as I watched. The tiny specks of the salt escaped with the air currents and floated upwards, free to light up the air with such beauty that I was mesmerised. Finished, the proprietor cinched the bag shut with the silk drawstrings and knotted it carefully closed. They looked at each other and nodded.
"He appears new to the organization. Young. Unsure of himself. I don't recognise him." He paused a moment. "Gearold, I'm sorry. I treated him like any other urchin. That worries me. You know how volatile they can be," whispered Abram.
Gearold nodded and placed a hand over Abram's and squeezed. "Yes, we do, don't we." With a shock I knew his back problem was no accident. Someone had beat him. Who could do that to a simple merchant? "Be nice. Let him know we appreciate their protection. It will be all right."
Abram nodded and moved back to the store front. I released my sight. The proprietor came through the curtain and hurried with poise to the counter opposite me. He laid the pouch gently on the glass counter and opened his hands on either side of it, presenting it to me. He smiled beneficially. "Sir, I am pleased to offer this generous donation. Please accept on behalf of Finnow Mines." And with that, he stood quietly but continued to smile at me. Fear tugged at the corners of that smile as he fought to maintain it.
I was uncomfortable and felt sick to my stomach. I knew not what to do and so, with few options, I reached out and picked up the pouch and expected him cry out 'Thief!', but he did nothing. He just continued to smile at me - that strange painful smile. This man was handing me a pouch full of Life Salt just because I wore these black boots? This was disturbing. I held the pouch in my hand and hefted it for weight.
"Sir, if I may," he said, "that is six ounces of our finest Life Salt, equal in purity to the prized piece you see here." He gestured to the slab of salt under the glass.
Six ounces, he said. Did I hear that correctly? I held one hundred and twenty crowns worth of Life Salt and he was just giving it to me. The fear was still strong in the room and I could almost now smell it but mixed within it I could now sense a spark of hope. It came from this man and Gearold, now hidden close behind the curtain listening in. They had hope that I would take the salt and leave them in peace. They wanted that more than anything and I realised with a sinking feeling that I would have to do just that. And so I nodded once and quickly drew off my backpack and stuffed the pouch on top of my belongings. It felt wrong to treat the salt so roughly but I had to get out quickly. I felt sick to my stomach. I felt very much a thief at that moment and guilt struck me in waves. I struggled internally to find justification for taking the salt. I thought of Daukyns and with sudden insight I promised myself to make potions from the salt and hand them over to the first man of the Word I found. That promise invigorated me and I hoisted the backpack onto my shoulders.
"Thank you," I said simply and nodded once and started toward the door. The guard moved quickly out of my way and I almost bolted right then at his sudden movement. I forced myself to stop at the door and looked back. Beads of sweat dripped from the brow of the proprietor and still that same smile remained frozen on his face. He licked his dry lips.
"Sir, please pass on our deepest respect to His Holiness," he said and bowed deeply.
I hid my astonishment, nodded again and quickly left the shop and emerged out into the bright sunlight of the morning day. His Holiness? Bile rose in my throat. The black shoes and the assassin were linked to the Church? The need to run almost overtook my common sense. I looked around frantically and expected to see all eyes turned toward me. Of course, no one even so much as glanced at me. I breathed out a deep breath when I saw that the guards that roamed the market took no notice of me and with an effort I walked out of the market and left town as quickly as I could, looking behind me as often as I could to see if I was being followed. The sensation of eyes on me grew stronger and my fear kept me moving quickly.
Once clear of town, I ran down the road as fast as I could and then turned off to hide in the bushes under a large group of trees. I expanded my senses and searched for anyone following me out of the town. I ripped the boots from my feet and stared at them with new insight. These belonged to very bad people. They marked them as belonging to the Church of the New Order. Men that extorted merchants, punished them, and even killed for Church. I felt exposed and vulnerable. My quest to reach Jergen seemed that much more important to me.
One thing is certain, I need to be more careful and more invisible. I wrapped my feet in rags and grimaced at the old feeling. I had grown so used to having boots and the feel and speed they gave me over the ground. I would need to buy boots in Laketown, the next town down river. I could afford them and had herbs to sell. As I held the boots in my hands I was certain that I could never wear them again. I tucked them into the bottom of my backpack and tried not to think of them.
I remained stationary and hidden and reached out with my senses to try to discover if I was being followed. After an hour of sensing nothing, I finally composed myself and returned to the road. Laketown was a few days away, but I felt I could reach it sometime the day after tomorrow if I pushed hard and I was determined to do just that. I had to get Belger and the salt shop behind me.
The fear of being watched was still strong and the urge to run kept trying to push me from behind. I tried to rationalise the involvement of the Church in all this and failed. It made no sense to me. I had never encountered the Church of the New Order. The little I knew of the Church was their loss at the Great Debate and that the Archbishop resided in Munsten. They had no presence out west in Turgany, but Daukyns had told me they were experiencing a surge in popularity. He had word that small churches were appearing in the larger towns and small cities across Belkin. The Word had little interest in the Church but I could sense that Daukyns had been alarmed for some reason. It was all beyond my ken. Certainly nothing that should concern me, I thought.
I determined that I would need to send a note to Reeve Comlin in Jaipers. He had to know that the Church was behind the murder of Bill Burstone. Perhaps he could make sense of it. A warning was the least I could do.
End of Volume One
Part Three: Flight
Prologue
Archbishop's Office inside Munsten Castle, 900 A.C.
ARCHBISHOP REGINALD GREIGSEN sat at his desk reading the missive from Seth Farlow. All it said was: "Praise to the Lord". It was enough, and the Archbishop smiled to himself. His plan was in motion and he could see the path it would
take. He raised his eyes to the icon of the Lord hanging on the opposite wall of his office and murmured his thanks and prayed for Seth to be successful. The Sect was in motion and would soon descend on Jaipers. The Target would be destroyed and the Church of the New Order would rise to place the bastard of the dead King on the throne. He smiled and turned in his seat to toss the missive into the roaring fire behind him. The heat from the fire soothed his aching joints.
He grasped the edge of his desk with a trembling hand and steeled himself. With a lurch he forced himself to stand despite the desire to remain still. Agony blossomed like fire through his hips and back and he swore he could feel the bones in his knees grinding against one another. His arthritis was almost unbearable. He couldn't sit still for too long; mere moments being stationary would seize his joints and getting them moving again was proving harder and harder. The only thing that seemed to dull the pain somewhat was wine, but it was no longer an option as it burned his gut with fire. He knew all his pain was a reminder from the Lord that life was fragile and to appreciate each day. He understood the message and tried not to complain. But some days it was so hard not to find anger simmering in his daily thoughts.
He was expecting a visitor soon. A boon from the Lord Protector who seemed oddly pleased with him these days. While the Archbishop moved around his desk to get himself ready to receive the man, he thought back to the strange meeting with Healy two days ago.
* * *
"You'll enjoy this, Greigsen," said Lord Protector Healy as he moved to pour the wine. They were seated in Healy's luxurious outer office in his private quarters at a small dining table.
"I'm afraid I must decline the wine, Lord Protector," said the Archbishop. His stomach was already on fire and the thought of wine on top of the acid was too much.
Healy sat back with a look of disbelief. "Refusing wine? How strange. Pray, tell me what is wrong my good friend? Is it your stomach? I had heard it would not settle."
Leaf and Branch (New Druids Series Vol 1 & 2) Page 34
