by Brian Keller
Chapter 22
Reaching the Ruins, outside the main hall he saw a pair of horses tied up where they could reach a tub filled with water. They were both attempting to crowd the other out, head-butting and nipping in order to gain control of the water. Their saddles lay in the dust beside them and their bodies glistened with sweat. “One of the Journeymen teams have returned”, he thought. He quickened his pace and entered the main house. Gaff and Naro were seated, surrounded by a crowd. The boys tried to answer questions in between chewing and gulping the food and drink set before them by the cooks. Everyone became silent as they saw Cooper approach. He knew the silence wouldn’t last, so he asked quickly, “Well?” Gaff swallowed and replied first, “No one’s seen them in over five months, and no one’s expecting them any time soon. We did like you told us. We stayed a few days, hoping, but there weren’t any new reports or rumors in that time, so we hurried back.” Naro had swallowed the food he’d been chewing as Gaff spoke, but he simply nodded, having nothing to add. Cooper’s mouth tightened. He’d hoped that they’d at least have heard something, but if it had been five months, then that increased the likelihood of Loryn and Balat being successful.
He asked the Journeymen, “Have you slept?” They both paused their chewing, apprehensive. Gaff spoke past a mouthful of food, “Not much in the last couple of days. We’ve ridden the horses pretty hard. Why?” Cooper shrugged, “After you’ve eaten, brush down the horses. If they’re spent, then we’ll need to exchange them for fresh ones. Heavier ones. We can discuss it in the morning if you like.” Naro swallowed hard then replied, “If it’s all the same to you, I’d rather hear it now.” Gaff nodded his agreement. Cooper sat across from them and explained why they’d need at least two strong horses and a wagon. When he’d finished, Naro said, “We’re gonna need more than just the three of us.” Cooper agreed, “I’ll be speaking with a few of the stronger men that we rescued from the quarry. Through the combined efforts of the cooks and Miss Camilla most of them have recovered almost completely during the last month. They might not yet be as strong as they were before they were chained up but they’ve been underfoot, looking for things to do for the last week… or so Dailen tells me.”
*****
Iona woke the following morning earlier than normal. She still wasn’t entirely certain what was in store for her now that Yoren was dead, but after she'd read the message to the Prince, he had told her to return to her room while he considered recent events. She’d started to ask whether she’d be permitted to stay in the Palace, and if so, what her duties might be. He dismissed her inquiries with a wave of his hand and had told her, “While that’s one of the things I’ll be considering, it is not among the most imperative.” He saw her discomfort and added, “You’ll not be summarily thrown out of the Palace and onto the street. You may rest easy in that regard. I’ll think more clearly without a young woman nearby to distract me. Please return to your own chambers, or I’ll simply have to return to mine.”
She didn’t know whether it would be appropriate to seek out the Prince, or merely wait to be summoned. Since her immediate future rested entirely on his decisions, she’d begun to weigh her options. Her skills were limited to her Talent. She’d never been trained in a trade or learned a skill that she might depend on to feed and clothe herself. She began to feel frustrated and afraid, “When Yoren first ‘employed’ me, I only wanted to be free of the University and free to live my own life. Now I wonder what I had in mind. Who would employ me? Doing what?” This line of reasoning led her to another conclusion, “The Prince might decide to allow me to stay, but why would he?” It took only a few minutes to decide that her most likely option would be to go back to the University but she couldn’t face returning to the same circumstances. She needed to form a plan. She gathered several sheets of parchment, a quill and ink, and began describing her abilities and her own observations about how Talent worked. There was a group of mages that determined what was to be researched and assigned professors to the tasks. She thought, “If I can adequately explain what I know, I might sway them to assign me to a more able researcher. One that might allow me to more actively participate in how Talent is studied.”
It was difficult to find the right words since much of what she'd learned through her Talent was intuitive. She needed to distill her own Talent into a description she could put on paper. It was nearly lunchtime and she had already discarded two sheets of parchment and was on the second sheet of her third attempt when she was surprised by a series of resounding knocks on her door. She hopped up and answered it immediately. The guard was raising his fist to strike the door again as she pulled it open, “I have been sent to bring you to the Council chamber.” She started to close the door as she replied, “I’ll just take a few minutes to-”. The guard put his hand on the door, resisting her attempt to close it, “The Prince said to tell you that he hasn’t yet made up his mind but that you should come as you are. I hope that makes sense to you, because that’s all I know. Now come with me.” She stepped through the doorway, pulling the door closed behind her while sorting through a jumble of thoughts, “If he hasn’t decided, that’s hopeful. It would be a simple thing to merely dismiss me. Then again, what could be the reason for summoning me so suddenly? Without giving me time to dress properly?” She unconsciously adjusted the folds of her robe and smoothed her hands over a few of the wrinkles that had formed from being seated during the last few hours.
The guard she was following didn’t pause at the doors to the Council chamber, nor did he knock; he simply worked the latch and pushed the doors open and stepped aside. The entire sequence of events suddenly felt odd, like she was in a boat being swept along by a swift current with no means to steer it. She entered the room, stopped and looked around. The Prince was seated at the central table, in a different chair than the one he’d been seated in when she’d left this room several hours ago. Another man was seated next to him and they were discussing something that the other man must have felt strongly about. The man was well dressed but somewhat less understated than was expected from a courtier. They spoke in hushed tones but the man poked his finger repeatedly at the pages in front of the Prince. As Iona drew closer she heard the man’s voice clearly as he stood, “My liege, you simply cannot ignore this forever!” The man gave the papers a push for emphasis as he turned and walked away. The Prince looked up from the papers with a faint smile on his face. The man passed by her, his state somewhere between irate and angry. The Prince had been watching the man leave but he now turned his attention to her. She had reached the table and was about to ask why she had been summoned so abruptly when she felt a surge of power from behind her. It felt like a sudden, immense accumulation of Fire, but perhaps that was because it was in sharp contrast to the previous calm. Iona turned to face the man who had passed by her, since there was no mistaking that he was the source of this power, and immediately raised her hands. The moisture in the air around her crackled as it coalesced into a fog and hissed at the periphery of her protective sphere, where it drew near the other man. The other man had an enigmatic smile on his face and his eyes flicked away from her, to the Prince. From behind her she heard the Prince’s voice, “Thank you, Mebin. Please return to you duties.” The man gave an abbreviated bow and his power dissipated with the abruptness of a sword being sheathed. Iona was slower to drop her own defenses, frost had begun to form on the chair beside her. She turned to look at the Prince. He was smiling at her, not quite an amused smile, but almost. Iona let her stored power fade, “My prince… what was this? Some kind of game? A test?”
Prince Lancaster’s smile widened, “A test. Yes.” He stood and continued speaking, “It occurred to me that with a Talent such as yours, you could show value in a way that you’ve likely never considered - if you had the instincts for it. And that’s what I needed to assess.” He paused to gauge her response. She struggled to remain impassive. He smiled again, “Yes. Indignant, curious…” He tilted his head as he studied her, “Not q
uite outraged, but more than just a little offended. Am I right?” Iona responded coldly, “I do not like being ‘toyed with’, my liege.” His expression grew serious, “No one does, but the only way to assess someone’s instincts is to surprise them. I am now prepared to offer you employment.” He paused to observe her response. Satisfied, he continued to speak, “On those occasions when I am meeting with someone I do not trust implicitly, or someone I do not know, I wish for you to be standing by, to provide warning in case they present a threat.” He paused to see if she presented some objection. She was too stunned to reply. The prince continued, “This position is not without some risk so I am prepared to pay you triple whatever Yoren was paying you, and you’ll be moved to quarters nearer to mine. These terms are, of course, negotiable; but I doubt you’ll find a more appealing offer anywhere outside the Palace. Questions?” Iona’s mind was whirling but she had the presence of mind to form the question, “So, I’m to be some kind of bodyguard, my liege?” The prince replied immediately in a slightly playful tone, “Well, I should think so. I can hardly be expected to continue to employ you if I’m injured or killed while you stand by and observe. Wouldn’t you agree?” She couldn’t find her voice to reply so she bowed her head. He added, “Besides, it’s my understanding that you have no desire to return to the University. Or have I misunderstood something?” She cleared her throat to reply, “No, my prince. You seem to understand things completely. I thank you.” Her last words almost came out as a sob.
He gently slapped the table and seated himself again, “Feel free to return to your room and dress properly. You’ll start immediately.” He picked up the sheaf of papers and gave her a conspiratorial wink, “In the meantime, I’ll direct my attention to this banquet menu or Mebin could return before you have the chance to protect me.”
*****
It felt odd that he no longer had a specific target to hunt and kill. That obligation had ended. The fact that he hadn’t actually been the one to strike the death blow didn’t disturb him in the slightest, but he couldn’t get the circumstances out of his mind. The older mage had actually thrown lightning, or that’s what it looked like, and it had hit him squarely and the Spymaster was killed. He recalled there had been a young woman who’d grasped the older man just before the magical attack. Had they somehow pooled their Talent? Was that possible? He attempted to dismiss it as an event that he might never understand, and tried to simply accept that his target was dead, but he knew that his mind would return to it at some point.
He busied himself with polishing his blades and putting fresh edges on them before breakfast. During breakfast he got the attention of Gaff and Naro. They were seated together and they signaled that they’d seen him and would be ready. Cooper spoke with four of the men they’d released from the quarry and the men had all responded eagerly. He also convinced Dailen to come along ‘to inspect the workmanship’. After breakfast they set off, with three men sharing the load of a rolled up tarp.
By lunchtime they’d exchanged the horses, rented a wagon and had loaded the metal basket that Cooper had commissioned almost three weeks earlier from the smith at the south end of the Waterfront District. Dailen examined the entire workpiece and gave Cooper an approving nod. Even though there were eight of them, the smith and his assistant had to help them get the cage loaded into the wagon. As the men spread out the tarp to cover the basket, the assistant wiped his brow and commented, “I hope ya got some more people ta help ya unload it. Whaddiya need somethin’ like that for anyway?” The smith lightly struck his assistant’s shoulder and grumbled, “Ya oughta know better’n ta ask! Get back ta work!” The smith turned to Cooper, “Sorry ‘bout that, young sir. He’s jes’ bein’ nosy. He don’t mean nuthin’ by it.” Cooper shrugged as he handed a pouch containing the sum they’d agreed upon, then handed the man an additional thick gold coin and explained, “I recall offering a bonus. It’s only been three weeks.” The man raised a hand to his forehead, “I thank ye fer that, young sir. Any time ye need somethin’… custom, don’t fergit me!” The man’s grin revealed several gaps where there should have been teeth.
Gaff and Naro had already climbed into the front of the wagon, taking the reins, and the four men had climbed into the back, wedging themselves as comfortably as they could manage, considering the large basket took up most of the space. Cooper gave Dailen a brief wave, “I think we’ve got it from here. I won’t keep you any longer.” Dailen looked at the wagon, then back to Cooper, “Are you sure?” Cooper nodded, “You said its sturdy and well crafted… we’ll just use the horses to drag it off the wagon and get it positioned where we need it. We’ll be fine.” As Dailen turned north and walked towards the Ruins, Cooper wished he felt as confident as he sounded.
They turned the wagon south and crossed the Whitefoam into the Trade Quarter. They stopped long enough to buy food for lunch. Cooper bought bread, meat and cheese for dinner as well, just in case. It was fortunate that he had, the roads leading through the fields south of Miller’s Flats were none too regular and completely un-maintained. A few miles north of the Southern Cliffs, the roads ceased to exist. The terrain seemed to grow rougher the further south they traveled. On more than one occasion Naro mentioned that it had been a good decision to switch horses. The horses they had now were draft horses, meant for pulling rather than riding. They seemed to exert little effort dragging the wagon through all manner of ups, downs, and bumps. The same couldn’t be said for their passengers. They were still a mile north of the cliffs when the last man opted to hop out of the back of the wagon to avoid being pinned as the basket shifted yet again.
Cooper had walked the entire distance, often falling far behind while waiting and watching the path they’d taken. He would then run to catch up, only to wait and watch again. He had no reason to suspect that the smith would report such an odd commission to authorities, but if any other customer had seen the huge basket as it was being formed, it was bound to have generated some curiosity. ‘Curious things’ often became the stuff of rumors, and rumors found eager ears in many walks of life. It made sense to make sure they weren’t being followed.
The sun was already over halfway to the horizon by the time they’d reached the Cliffs. They pulled the wagon as close as they dared to the edge and unhitched the horses. They used large rocks to block the wagon wheels and tied the horses to the basket and led them away from the wagon. The cage hit the ground with a resounding ‘clang’ and Cooper told them, “Turn it right side up. Check the welds as you do. We’ll need to use the horses to draw up the chains.” Gaff unhooked the horses and one of the men asked, “What chains?” He looked uncomfortable as he realized he might be asking a question that he shouldn’t. One of the other men tried to cover for him, “We’ve all been wondering what this is all about. If it’s something we shouldn’t be askin’ about, just forget it. We’re all just glad to be helpin’ out.” All the men nodded in agreement and the first man added, in a plaintive tone, “It isn’t like we’re gonna rush off an’ tell someone. Guards’re still lookin’ for us, I’d wager. From the quarry, I mean.” Naro had finished checking the welds on one side of the basket. He made a low noise, almost a grunt, then looked at Cooper and added, “He’s got a point...” Cooper shrugged and told them, “We’ll be bringing cargo off a ship and we don’t want to bring it through the port. There are chains hanging down the cliffs to the water below. We’ll be bolting this basket to those chains so we can lower the basket to the water’s edge, load it, and raise it up here. Clear enough?” The men looked from him, to the basket, and then to the edge of the cliffs and the water beyond and below. Their expressions varied between disbelief and awe. One of the men seemed to sum it up, “Well, I ain’t never heared of such a thing.” Naro had his back turned while he checked the remaining welds so Cooper couldn’t be certain, but he thought he heard Naro chuckling.
It took most of the remainder of the day to pull up the chains, determine where best to secure the basket and then stretch out the chains
so they could use the horses to control how it was lowered back into position. If they simply rolled it off the edge of the cliff, any number of things could go horribly wrong. The bolts could shear off if they had bolted it too high, or one of the chains could snap or worse yet, the chains could be pulled from their mooring points and everything could disappear into the churning water below.
By the time the basket was in position, the shadows were already growing longer. As they returned to the city, they passed around the food Cooper had bought earlier. Each man sliced off what he wanted and everyone ate in silence while they were jarred and tossed around in the back of the wagon. Cooper wondered how many of his own teeth he might lose before reaching a road that would lead them to Miller’s Flats.
After returning the horses and wagon, Cooper collected the coin they’d been required to provide as collateral. From that he counted out a generous day’s wage for a porter and paid each man. The men were reluctant to accept payment at first, until Gaff mentioned, “Now that you gents have recovered, you’ll need to work to ‘pay their own way’. You’ll earn a ‘stipend’, so to speak, but anything you want beyond what the Guild provides, you’ll have to pay for yourselves.”
By the time they’d returned to the Ruins, it was dark and the work crews had finished for the day. Areas near the cistern had been walled off as temporary cubicles for bathing. They took turns drawing water from the cistern to wash off the accumulated sweat and grime. Cooper had just dumped a ladle of water over his head when he heard the clatter of hooves on cobblestones. He slicked back his hair and dressed himself without drying off. He stepped out into the open in time to recognize Balat trying to tether both horses with his one good hand. His other arm was still in a plaster cast. Loryn was nowhere to be seen but he could hear her voice from inside the Main House. Cooper walked straight to Balat and asked bluntly, “Well? Were they there? Did you deliver your message? How’s your arm?” Balat opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted as Loryn burst from the Main House, saw Cooper and blurted, “Are they already here? Why are you dripping wet?” Balat was torn between trying to maintain control of the horses and trying to answer Cooper’s questions. The horses were agitated and still breathing hard, grunting from their exertion, with their sides heaving like a blacksmith’s bellows. Balat ended up simply looking sheepish and a little defeated as he tilted his head toward Loryn, “They were. We did. I think it’s healed. Are we too late?”
