For the second time, he had been disappointed. All he wanted was to earn his place as a Collector. Not for the first time, he wondered if he’d made a mistake. It was a year ago now that Heran had come to him. When Brier had wanted to end his own life. It was strange. The life he’d had prior to that night seemed detached from him. As though he’d never lived it. As if he had been a spectator to it. He tried not to think of that life.
Too many painful memories. Too many mistakes made. He was determined to make up for those mistakes. To earn his place…
No. He shouldn’t dwell on that now. He would get his chance. He needed to focus on his task. His mission.
Heran appeared and Brier bounded to his feet. “What did they say?”
“They were… disappointed.”
“But it wasn’t our fault. How were we to know the Betrayer would be with her?”
“Yes, they were surprised by that too. That is the only reason why we have not been assigned a penance.”
“How do we proceed?”
“Now that she is aware of your intentions, we are to take a more direct approach. We will track them and subdue him.”
“And her?”
“We have been given leave to kill her on sight.”
“I thought Meir said we were to do away with her without making it look like murder.”
“Yes, but the lawmen will find ample evidence with her body that she murdered Leena and Merrit. She couldn’t bear the guilt, so she killed herself.”
A smile slowly spread across Brier’s face. Yes. That fit. “When do we go?”
“We wait for other Collectors to come. Once assembled, we attack. This will all be over soon.”
∞ ∞ ∞ ∞
“They will be coming for us soon,” Derrin said. He’d been pacing up and down past the now-cold fireplace, his hand over the wound in his stomach. The sun was up, but the night’s chill still clung to the air.
Khaya looked around at the surrounding woods. Birds chattered and a breeze rustled the leaves on the big oak trees. It was so peaceful. It was difficult to imagine the storm that was brewing in the town beyond the forest. There was trouble coming. Of that she was certain.
Derrin had been calm and sure up until that morning. Now he looked like he wanted to do ten things at once, but was unable to do even one.
They’d stayed as close to town as they’d dared, hoping the forest cover would give them shelter from their enemies’ eyes. They would need to go to Phalio’s house as soon as possible – probably that evening.
Derrin would want to go alone again. She couldn’t sit on her haunches waiting for him to return. She’d never admit that it was because she felt safer with him – no matter where they were – than she would on her own. She tried to convince herself it was because she could be useful.
He stopped his pacing all of a sudden. “I think you should travel on,” he said. “Go to Larrendal or Notherai and I will meet you there. If you are on the move on your own, the Order will have great trouble in locating you. You’d be safer and I can get the information we need without having to worry about your safety.”
“It would take me weeks to get to either of those places and I have no provisions for a journey like that. Besides, I can take care of myself. You needn’t concern yourself with my safekeeping.”
Derrin barked a laugh, startling Khaya. “You are getting better at wielding your power, but the reason I am doing this at all is because I wish to keep you safe. I couldn’t change that even if I wanted to.”
She blushed, then cursed herself for it. “Did you know Brier was working with a Collector?” she asked, more to change the subject, but once she said it, she realised she’d been wondering about this.
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t you just tell me?”
“I didn’t want to frighten you. I told you he wasn’t to be trusted.”
“In future, don’t withhold information from me because you think me weak. It would have been safer for me had I known. Even if the truth hurt.” She had muttered the last. Suddenly angry, she stormed away. She had, of course, nowhere to go, but she didn’t want him to see her anger.
She wasn’t upset with him. At least, that wasn’t the worst of it. She was furious at herself for being duped – more than once! – by that man. She had been so convinced by his act. She shook her head and realised tears were streaming down her cheeks. She flicked them away.
Arms wrapped around her shoulders from behind and she stiffened. “It’s all right,” he whispered by her ear. “You’ve been through a lot.”
She turned towards him and leaned her head against his chest. His arms felt good around her. Safe. Honest. She cleared her throat and lifted her chin to look up at him. “I’m sorry. I’m usually stronger than this…” She meant to say more, but she saw such kindness and understanding in his eyes that she knew it wasn’t necessary.
Their faces were inches apart. She glanced at his soft lips and back up into those mysterious eyes.
He dropped his arms away from her and took a step back. Turning away, he said, “We'd best decide what we're going to do. I suggest you stay here tonight while I go after Phalio.”
Disappointment flooded through her. What did I expect? He isn’t even human! Fool. “I am coming with you.”
He gave her a considering look before nodding. “For now, let’s move further into the forest. I feel too exposed where we are.”
It seemed unnecessary to Khaya, but she didn’t argue.
Once they stopped again, Derrin made a fire and put a pan of water to boil. He handed her a cup of tea. Night was setting in and they would be leaving soon. She sipped her tea. It was an unusual flavour. She’d not tasted anything like it before. Pleasant enough. Phalio would be one of the last to leave the library after work and so they had a bit longer before they needed to set off.
∞ ∞ ∞ ∞
Derrin watched as her eyes started to droop. He lay his coat down on the ground, scrunching up the top to make a pillow for her head. He eased her down. Her brow furrowed and she tried to speak, but all she managed was garbled noises. “It’s for the best, Khaya. I hope you’ll understand.”
He pushed down the tang of guilt in his throat. It was for the best. The Collectors couldn’t find her when she was on her own. She’d be safe.
He brushed the long strands of raven hair from her face. He’d better finish this so that he could move on. Now more than ever, he didn’t regret what he’d done. No matter what they said, it had been the right thing to do.
He Leapt to the alley beside the library. There was still a lamp glowing inside. At the top of the stairs, he peered through the narrow glass panel in the door. There was no Collector in sight so he went inside. The light was coming from Peater’s office. He crept closer.
Low voices came from the room. “…no news. We have several of our specialist agents involved.”
“How much do they know?” a gravelly voice asked.
“As little as possible, of course. They know who they’re looking for, but they don’t know why. They’re soldiers. They follow orders.”
“Good.” A cup clinked against a saucer. “Report to me as soon as there’s any news.”
A chair scraped back. Footsteps approached and Phalio rounded the corner. He strode past Derrin who followed him out. When he reached outside, a carriage drew up and Phalio slipped inside. Derrin Leapt onto the driver’s seat. The driver looked around when Derrin sat down, likely noticing a shift in his seat, but shook his head and urged the team of two black horses on.
The carriage rambled down a narrow lane and up a long hill leading out of the town proper and onto a dusty gravel road. Derrin felt as if his head was about to shake off his shoulders and wondered if the carriage had any springs at all. The road narrowed once more and tall oaks lined it on both sides, their leaves reaching over the road and meeting in the middle.
A courtyard opened up before them with a fountain in the middle. The carriage came to a halt
between it and a whitewashed house. The front door was three times as tall as a man. What was the point of that?
Phalio waited for his driver to open the carriage door before climbing out and striding up the stone steps. The door opened and a servant stepped aside to let him in. Inside, a gold chandelier hung in the middle of the room. It sparkled and glinted in the light cast from the lamps suspended within it.
The servant who’d opened the door took Phalio’s coat and he continued on into a lounge to the right of the reception hall. There, a tray bearing a coffee pot and a plate of biscuits awaited him. An armchair stood beside it in front of a large fireplace. An ornate porcelain clock stood atop it, pendulum swinging rhythmically.
Confident now that there were no Collectors skulking about, Derrin stood in front of Phalio. He watched this man who so casually had been working towards murdering Khaya. What had they told him? Phalio was so pleased that his minions were working without full knowledge of what they did, did it not occur to him that he was working under the same conditions? Not that that would diminish his guilt in Derrin’s eyes. The opposite, even.
A mahogany desk with ornately carved feet stood against the wall at Phalio’s back. Derrin sauntered over, making his steps heavy. Taking a sheet of paper, he dipped the pen into the inkwell and scribbled a note.
Phalio rose from the chair and moved closer uncertainly, frowning. Derrin stepped aside from the desk as he approached. Phalio ran a hand over his bald head as he picked up the note. His lips moved as he read. Looking around the room, he said, “I’m guessing you know who I work for already. Isn’t that why you are here?”
Derrin picked up the coffee cup and threw it. It missed Phalio’s head by a hair and smashed against the stone wall, leaving a trail of dark liquid. Phalio ducked out of the way, his mouth pulling into a snarl, his eyes narrowed. “I work for the Company. As you well know. You, I presume, are the one who’s been helping Khaya escape justice. She will turn on you. When the madness takes her. She will kill you. It’s happened before.”
Derrin chuckled, allowing Phalio to hear him. His eyes snapped to where Derrin stood. “Reveal yourself, coward!” Phalio roared.
“I’m not one of your pets.”
“Not yet. We can train you yet. Prepare you for a greater purpose in life.”
A servant came bustling in, brush and scoop in hand. “Not now!” Phalio growled at her. The portly maid’s eyes widened and she hurried out of the room.
“What if I’m not alive?”
Phalio snorted. “Are you telling me you’re a ghost? Don’t be ridiculous. I’m not a fool.”
“I am not a ghost. Ghosts can’t hurt you.” Derrin dropped his voice at the end, menace lacing his words. He overturned the tray, spilling its contents over the thick carpet. “Now, we both know you don’t take your orders from anyone within the Company. Who ordered Khaya’s death?”
“Those orders came directly from the top of the Company. With her second ability it was inevitable.”
Phalio was far too calm and composed for Derrin’s liking. Derrin stalked to the fireplace, picking up the fire poker. “We both know that’s not the whole truth,” Derrin said, seeing with satisfaction a flicker of fear crossing Phalio’s face. “What are their names?”
“I don’t know,” Phalio said.
Derrin pointed the poker at him. “You can tell me now, or when you’re bleeding. Your choice.”
Phalio held up his hands, taking a few steps back, eyes flicking every which way, no doubt looking for something to defend himself with. “I’m telling the truth. I don’t know their names. I get my orders delivered. I’ve never met them and they don’t sign the orders.”
That last part Derrin knew to be truth. After all, they found one of those papers and it hadn’t been signed. That didn’t mean the rest of what he said was true. Tiring of the game, Derrin closed the distance between them. He slashed across Phalio’s chest with the poker. It tore through his vest and soon, crimson stained his shirt.
Phalio put a hand to his chest, his face pale, a bead of sweat tracking down his forehead. Not so brave tonight, was he? Derrin thought back on seeing him leave the prison after telling Khaya she was sentenced to death. The smile that had curled his lips. Derrin wouldn’t let Phalio’s fear on this night overshadow that. He would not feel pity for this man. He leaned against the wall beside the fireplace, watching him cower.
“P-p-p-please,” Phalio stammered, “I don’t know who they are!”
“Think harder,” Derrin said, swinging the poker and shattering the porcelain clock. Phalio looked towards the door, as though hoping a servant would come at the noise. None did. “Time is running out…” he said, swinging the poker.
“They call themselves the Echelon.”
“That doesn’t help me much, now does it,” Derrin said, taking a few steps closer to Phalio who backed away from what must have appeared to him to be a floating poker, until he was trapped in a corner. His eyes were wide, flicking between the door, window and the approaching fire poker.
“Come now,” Derrin said, voice dangerous, “you must know something useful.”
“They never before sent us any communication. I knew the Company had overseers, but they always let us run things ourselves. Until Khaya’s second ability manifested. I guess they needed to ensure that we deal with it in the correct way.” When Derrin kept coming closer, Phalio sputtered, “Um, I’m pretty sure they are based in Arroe.”
Derrin paused. “What makes you think that?”
“They respond to my messages within a few hours usually. Once even, about thirty minutes after I sent my messenger boy, he was back with a response.”
“Where does your messenger take your missives?”
Phalio’s mouth opened and closed several times before he responded. “I’m not sure. I think he hands it to another messenger who carries it on.”
Derrin Leapt to the writing desk and scribbled a note: ‘Matter in hand. She will soon no longer be a problem.’ He folded the paper and turned back to Phalio, still cowering in the corner. “Summon the messenger. Have him deliver this message.”
With a trembling hand, Phalio took it. “Now?”
“No time like the present.”
The bald man nodded and on unsteady legs, went to pick up a bell that lay on the floor – where it most likely landed when Derrin upended his tray. He rang the bell and the maid from earlier stepped into the room. She must have been waiting just outside. Her darting eyes confirmed this. She would have heard Derrin’s voice and now was looking for him.
“Fetch Roi for me,” Phalio said, standing amid broken crockery and the shattered porcelain clock. The maid stood frozen in place, staring at the mess. “Carleen,” Phalio said, “fetch Roi!”
His tone snapped Carleen out of her stupor and she scuttled from the room, dustpan and brush clutched to her breast.
Phalio stared at the note in his hand and started to unfold it. “No peeking,” Derrin said, his voice low, making Phalio jerk.
A boy of about sixteen with short, blond hair and narrow eyes came puffing into the room. Phalio held the note out and the boy ran up to take it from him. Apparently, there was no need for explanation and the boy shot off, note in hand.
Chapter Twenty
The Impossible and the Unexpected
Derrin resisted the urge to give Phalio a parting smack in the face before following Roi. The boy ran to the stables and bridled a gelding. He jumped on, bareback, and heeled the horse on to a run.
Derrin didn’t bother running, choosing to Leap from one point to the next to stay with them. They raced down the gravel road by which the carriage had arrived, but took a narrow, barely visible, path to the right. The boy had to duck low to avoid the branches of the oaks lining the road and encroaching on the path. He kept himself flat against the gelding’s neck, urging it on faster.
The path dwindled and disappeared. At an apparently arbitrary point, the boy swung the gelding to the left. Sweat plaster
ed Roi’s fringe to his forehead. He was showing complete disregard for his and his horse’s safety. The moonlight was dim and the boy would have no chance of spotting a rabbit burrow that would easily break the gelding’s leg.
Roi reined the horse in to a trot before following a faint footpath that curved to the right. It lead to a dilapidated cottage. Several windows were missing. The wooden porch, pocked with holes, wrapped around the front of the house. It had probably once been a lovely home.
As Roi neared, the front door, which was hanging on by one hinge, creaked open. “Power in Knowledge,” a girl’s voice called from within.
“Authority in Wisdom,” Roi called back.
The door swung open and a girl of about fifteen stood with a beaming smile, a sword in her hand, tip resting on the ground next to her foot. Her brown hair hung to her shoulders and framed a round face.
“I’ve almost forgotten what you look like, Len!”
Roi chuckled and leapt from his horse. “What are you doing with that toothpick?” he asked nodding at her sword.
“I’ll have you know this ‘toothpick’ would have skewered you if you’d forgotten your phrase.”
Roi waved a dismissive hand and followed the girl into the cottage. Inside it was clean and swept, but a smell of mould clung to the air. She led Roi into the kitchen where a small cookfire crackled with a black pot bubbling away atop it.
Roi went to take a seat, but the girl caught his arm, “Not that one, it’s spilled me to the ground twice today.” She swung the pot off the flames and replaced it with a pot of water, adding tea leaves.
How strange that he would race here as though every second counted only to sit there and make small talk. “Phalio was in a right state today,” Roi said.
“Oh?”
“Looked like he’d been throwing things around. That clock he was always so fond of lay in pieces on the ground!”
Riddle of Fate Page 13
