“No, My Lord.”
“You’re not a very good liar,” Grant said. “After Tyr threw his tantrum, I did some looking into you. It’s really quite odd. My wife told me that your sister, her new maid, recommended you, and yet your sister denies it. Normally, I would conclude that your sister is a liar, yet I detected no guile in her when I questioned her, so I enquired further. It seems that your sister was in the kitchen at the very same moment that she was also speaking with my wife about you. Now Tyr shows up demanding to buy you. Who are you?”
“Just a cowhand that got pressed into slavery,” Alexander said.
“So you say,” Grant said, eyeing Alexander the way a cat eyes a mouse. “You’re reassigned as my personal valet. I want to keep an eye on you.” He stepped into Alexander’s space, close to his face. “I will learn the truth of you.”
“As you wish, My Lord,” Alexander said, bowing his head and averting his eyes.
“Come with me,” Grant said. Alexander followed without a word. Grant led him toward the main house, but stopped suddenly when the city shook. A loud crack reverberated through the stone beneath their feet, followed by a rumbling that slowly diminished over the span of a minute or so.
Grant spun toward Alexander with a fierce smile. “Well now, this seems like the perfect opportunity to find out who you really are.” He touched his ring to Alexander’s collar. “Follow me and stay close or you’ll choke to death.”
“Stay close, Little One.”
“Always.”
Alexander followed Grant back to the riding stable. “That one’s yours.” He looked up just long enough to point out a dappled mare. “Be quick about it.”
Alexander went to work calming the horse and preparing her to ride. She was a fine animal, spirited and strong, but still a little skittish from the ground shaking beneath her. Alexander was ready to mount before Grant, but he waited.
Grant led him onto the road that ran along the cliff bordering the row of estates. When they reached the main road that ran down the central canal, Grant rode with all the speed he could coax from his horse. Alexander stayed right behind him. Each time they passed an overseer, the man would start to protest until he saw that it was Lord Grant, at which point he would abruptly lose interest.
Grant stopped at the mine entrance, dismounting quickly and surveying the yard. A number of horses were picketed nearby. He nodded to himself as he headed inside. Rather than take a direct path, he led Alexander to an office, gesturing for him to close the door once inside. Grant surveyed the room and smiled, moving a small table away from the wall and opening a secret panel. He motioned for Alexander to get the lamp and they entered the passage, closing the secret door behind them. The passage was low and narrow, unused and filled with dry, stale, dust-laden air.
After several minutes of choking on dust, Grant opened a panel at the other end of the passage and stepped into a large room, once the top of a mineshaft but now abandoned and sealed except for the hidden passage.
Grant led the way down a set of wooden switchback stairs leading down a very old mineshaft. Several minutes into their descent, he stepped through a broken board but recovered with remarkable dexterity, catching himself and pulling himself to safety without a word.
Alexander proceeded with greater caution, but the rest of the stairs were solid. Once they reached the bottom, Grant took the lamp from Alexander, raising it high to get a better look at the tunnels leading away into the darkness.
“Stay close and stay silent,” he said.
Alexander followed through the darkness, stretching to see as far as he could with his all around sight. The tunnel was old and cut through worthless rock and dirt. After twenty minutes, Grant stopped and doused the light.
“We’re going into the chamber behind that wall you found,” Grant said. “The overseers will try to stop us if they see us so we’re going to slip by without being seen. Just follow me and stay close. If they do catch us, keep your mouth shut.”
Alexander walked carefully, trying to avoid noise with every step. All the while his mind fumbled with what was happening. He was having a hard time understanding Grant’s motives, especially since he couldn’t see the man’s colors, but regardless of his motives, he was taking Alexander exactly where he wanted to go.
They reached an opening to the main shaft that led to the tunnel Alexander had helped excavate. Two overseers stood guard at the entrance almost fifty feet across the room. Grant stopped briefly, assessing the rest of the room carefully, before heading directly toward the two overseers. He walked across the room quickly, not bothering to hide in any way.
Alexander hesitated momentarily until Grant looked back, beckoning him to follow. Alexander watched the two overseers, expecting a sudden reaction, mentally preparing for a fight, but Grant walked right between the two of them with Alexander a step behind him and they didn’t even notice. Alexander’s estimation of how much trouble he was in grew immeasurably as Grant strode down the tunnel like he owned it.
At the other end of the tunnel stood a wizard in the exact center of the magic circles. A hole had been blasted through the ancient wall by tremendous force, opening into a chamber larger than the wizard’s lantern light could illuminate. A number of overseers and wizards lay scattered around the magical circles—dead from some cataclysmic force.
Grant skirted the magical circles without hesitating, walking right past the wizard with Alexander in tow … the wizard didn’t even notice them. The room beyond the breach was a hundred feet on a side. Four stone columns supported the ceiling, each nearly a perfect replica of a fir tree.
The workmanship could only be magical. Each tree was beautiful, reaching straight and tall to the ceiling, each a work of art worthy of the greatest king’s hall. Grant walked between the trees toward the opposite end of the room. He seemed impressed by the pillars, yet not nearly as much as Alexander was.
Once across the room and into the opposite corridor, Grant lit the lamp and led on into a perfectly cut stone corridor that looked for all the world like two hedges that had grown together overhead. The branches were natural-looking, the leaves perfect in every detail.
Several hundred feet into the corridor, they came to a balcony with five broken bridges leading away into a black expanse. An enormous chasm several hundred feet wide and far longer and deeper than light could reach stretched out before them. Above and below were several balconies, platforms and buildings set into the walls, all separated by the open air and connected by bridges that looked more like ribbons of stone than viable pathways.
Grant lifted the lantern and started searching the platform. He went immediately to a nearby pile of dirt and stone. It looked like the beginnings of a stalagmite, but without its counterpart. He kicked it over and a crystal almost a foot long and two inches wide went skittering across the floor.
He picked it up and dusted it off, appraising it tenderly before putting it in a bag. What struck Alexander were the crystal’s colors—bright and vibrant, rich and multihued … almost lifelike. Grant found another mound of dirt and another crystal within it, then another. With three of the crystals in his bag and no more mounds of dirt on the platform, Grant left without a word, returning the way they’d entered.
Alexander suspected that the crystals were indeed what the Babachenko was after, but the discovery had only led to more questions. He wanted to delve further, look across the bridges, find some answers he could use, but he dared not get too far from Grant lest his collar start choking him.
Before he reached the entrance to the tunnel, Grant handed Alexander the bag, then stopped at the threshold, glaring at the wizard standing guard, who saw them immediately this time.
“I demand an explanation!” Grant said. “I hold the mining charter, yet this mine has been worked without my permission or knowledge and without the knowledge of the Miners Guild. I demand that you send for the Babachenko, the High Overseer and the Master of the Miners Guild at once. Serious crimes have been co
mmitted here and I will have justice.”
“How did you get in there?” the wizard asked, seeming a bit alarmed by their sudden appearance.
“We slipped past while you were napping,” Grant said. “The better question is, why are you trespassing in my mine?”
“I’m here by order of the Babachenko, as you well know.”
“Well, I guess you’d better send for him.”
The wizard seemed torn, but finally raised a horn to his lips and blew one long blast that reverberated down the tunnel. Grant gave Alexander a look of smug satisfaction and sat down on the edge of the platform to wait.
Not long after, one of the overseers guarding the entrance to the tunnel came trotting up to the wizard, giving Grant a suspicious look, before leaving with a note. Alexander sat down next to Grant.
“Now what?” he asked.
“Now we wait, and then I find out who you really are,” Grant said, smiling at him like he’d just sprung a trap.
“I told you who I am,” Alexander said.
“Stop talking.”
Grant didn’t say another word, apparently content to wait in silence while the wizard resumed his post in the center of the circles as if nothing had happened. Nearly an hour passed before a group of men came parading down the corridor flanked by six overseers, all carrying lanterns.
“Here we go,” Grant said, getting to his feet but remaining on the platform just behind the shattered wall. “Don’t say anything unless you’re asked a direct question.”
“Lord Grant, what is the meaning of this?” the Babachenko said, his eyes flicking to Alexander and his colors rippling with calculation and deceit.
“I must ask you the same question,” Grant said. “As you well know, I hold the mining charter. You have no right to do mining work without my knowledge or sanction. Further, you have no representatives from the Miners Guild, whom I see have not been summoned.”
“Please, Lord Grant,” the Babachenko said, climbing up onto the platform where he could face him on level ground, “I understand your anger, and it is warranted, to a degree. By the letter of the law, you are correct. However, the decree of war issued by the king could be construed to supersede your rights, in very limited circumstances, of course.”
“Is that a precedent you want made public to the other charter holders?”
“No, no, of course not,” the Babachenko said. “They’d be impossible. I’m sure we can work something out.”
“I was hoping you would say that,” Grant said, taking the bag from Alexander. “You see, I think I’ve found exactly what you are looking for.” He held up one of the crystals.
The Babachenko’s colors surged with excitement and the promise of power. Even his face gave him away, though he tried mightily to hide it.
“Perhaps you have, though I would have to do some tests,” he lied.
“Of course,” Grant said. “I stand by the product of my mines. As a show of good faith, I’ll give you these three crystals for your testing. Once you’ve confirmed their value, we can have a chat about price. After that, I can have a crew working day and night by week’s end.”
“About that,” the Babachenko said, looking intently at Alexander. “There are some security concerns that need to be addressed, starting with him. Who exactly is he?”
“Oh, him? He’s just a slave I picked up at the auction a few weeks ago,” Grant said offhandedly, while scrutinizing the Babachenko carefully. “Although something strange did happen today with this particular slave. Tyr came to buy some horses from me. Then he decided he wanted to buy this slave … and all without cutting you in. Of course, I refused. I wouldn’t dream of infringing on your business rights.”
“Well, you know Tyr, always trying to violate the rules,” the Babachenko said, his eyes never leaving Alexander. “Perhaps it would be best if I took this slave into custody … for security reasons.”
“If he’s a security risk, then he needs to be put down,” Grant said. “If not, then taking him into custody is just taking my property.”
The Babachenko bored into Alexander with his grey eyes. He was sure the man knew exactly who he was so he kept his head down and avoided eye contact.
“If you’re really concerned about it, I’ll put him down,” Grant said, touching his ring. Alexander’s collar began constricting around his neck, bringing him to his knees in moments.
“I’m coming, My Love.”
“Wait! But stay close.” Alexander fell over on his side, struggling for a breath, the world starting to go dark. In the distance, he heard the Babachenko.
“Stop!”
Grant released the collar at once. “So he isn’t a security risk then?”
“No, I don’t believe he is. We will speak about price tomorrow.” With that, the Babachenko turned on his heel and strode away trailing his overseer guards.
Grant looked at Alexander as he regained his feet, still struggling to breathe past the violence done to his throat. “Now, I wonder why he did that. Care to shed any light?”
Alexander shook his head, rubbing his throat.
“No? I didn’t think so. Stay close. I’ll never hear the end of it if I’m not home in time to hear this new minstrel my wife is pining over.” He led the way out of the mine, this time taking the main shaft and the counterbalanced lift to the surface.
When they returned to the manor, Grant showed Alexander to a small room adjacent to the master chambers, telling him to get cleaned up before dinner. Then he was taken to the kitchen and assigned the task of bringing Lord Grant his meal courses during a formal dinner his wife was hosting for nearly twenty guests.
He spent the evening keeping his head down, except to wink at Anja once when no one was looking. Jack ate with the guests, regaling them with stories of events that Alexander was quite sure had never happened about people that Alexander had never met. All of the stories had a single theme in common—the heroes were always Lancers, overseers or the Andalian King himself. For the entire meal, Jack never once looked directly at Alexander.
Music followed the meal. Jack performed a number of traditional Andalian songs, most praising the courage and sacrifice of kings past. While his lyrics were, no doubt, sanctioned and approved by the authorities, his musical embellishments and fluid, easy play captivated the audience. He switched from a lute to a whistle and back again, enjoying each song as much as his audience did.
After the musical entertainment, spirits were served and the nobles spent an hour or more talking very seriously about nothing of consequence—affairs, scandals and other safe but unimportant topics. Alexander followed Grant around and made sure his beverage was regularly replaced even though he rarely took a drink. In due time, Grant came around to a circle of people talking with Jack.
“You play quite a song, Minstrel,” Grant said, bowing ever so slightly.
“You’re too kind, My Lord,” Jack said with a deliberate, formal bow.
“And where are you from?”
“In truth, I don’t even know where I was born,” Jack said. “I’ve traveled the Seven Isles for my whole life, picking up stories and songs along the way, but I must say, Andalian music has a charm all its own.”
“Indeed,” Grant said. “What brings you to our city at such an historical time?”
“Why, it’s that very history you speak of, My Lord,” Jack said, leaning in slightly and lowering his voice before continuing. “First, wars are fought by better men than me, so I thought it prudent to be on the right side when everything settles down, if you know what I mean.” Grant smiled without humor and a few of the women tittered. “Second, this great city will be right at the heart of the war that decides the next age, and I mean to be the one who sings that story for all the world to hear.”
“How very … plausible.”
“Dear, don’t be rude,” a very attractive woman said, stepping up next to Grant with a gracious smile. She was tall and held herself with deliberate poise. Her eyes were blue and her hair
was red fading to brown and tied back in an elaborate braid with strands of silver woven through it.
Grant smiled at her with genuine, unguarded joy. Since Alexander had met the man, every action, every word, every gesture had been calculated and deliberate, yet the smile he gave his wife was spontaneous and real.
“Forgive the inquisitiveness,” Grant said, bowing in deference to her. “With all that’s been going on, I’m afraid I’m a little uneasy.”
“There’s nothing to forgive, Lord Grant,” Jack said with another bow. “You are right to be vigilant.”
“I have some friends who need to leave but haven’t had a chance to meet you yet, Master Colton,” Joss Grant said. “May I steal you from my husband for a moment?”
“With your permission, Lord Grant.”
“Of course,” Grant said, giving his wife’s hand a squeeze as she turned to leave with Jack. He watched them go for a moment before commanding Alexander to follow him with a look. He took him inside and downstairs, deep under the manor house, until they reached a large, bare room with a magic circle inlaid into the floor. Grant dropped the bar on the door and pulled Alexander into the circle with him before saying another word.
“Nobody can hear us here,” he said. “Tell me who you are. Tell me why Tyr wants you. Tell me why the Babachenko didn’t let me kill you … that’s … that’s just unheard of.”
Alexander stood mute, weighing his options.
“Here’s how I see it,” Grant said, starting to walk in a circle around Alexander. “Something about you is important, and that means you have value. Since I paid for you, I want to maximize my investment, which means I have to know what you’re worth to make the best deal I can. I would prefer to come to some kind of agreement with you, but you should know that I’m not above bringing your sister down here.”
Alexander couldn’t help but smile, just a little.
“Something about that funny?” he said, stepping close to Alexander, invading his space, then stepping back deliberately and reining in his hostility. “Let’s consider other options, shall we? Now, we both know you’re not the pretender. He’d be a fool to come here … and besides, he has bigger problems, if I hear right. So that leaves a whole range of options. You could be Acuna, but Tyr wouldn’t care about that. In fact, he wouldn’t care if you were a spy from any organization on Andalia.
Linkershim (Sovereign of the Seven Isles: Book Six) Page 14
