Riddle of Fate (14 page)

“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.

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 plastered 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!”

“That’s unlike him.”

“Carleen said that she’d heard another man’s voice in there, but she didn’t see him. And no one saw him come or go.”

“How strange,” the girl said, her eyes alight. “You’ve always said there’s been some strange people around his house. The mystery deepens.”

“Or Phalio’s going crazy and Carleen is being fanciful,” Roi said with a careless shrug and she chuckled.

They chattered over a cup of tea like old friends. Roi then handed her the slip of paper without a word of explanation. He bowed and took his leave. He mounted the gelding and tipped an imaginary hat, making the girl giggle. She watched him go with a fond smile.

She walked back into the house. A man appeared in front of her as if out of thin air. He wore a long, black coat and his back was stooped. His thin nose seemed too long for his narrow face and his parted lips revealed a few rotten teeth. The smile slipped from her lips. “I thought the little rat was never going to leave,” he said. “Did you have to make him a cup of tea?”

“Yes,” she said, her face hard. She pulled out the note from her pocket, but hid it behind her back and held out her other hand, palm up.

The man slapped down a silver coin onto her hand and she relinquished the note. He snatched it from her and left through the back door. Behind an outbuilding, he collected his horse, mounted up and set off. This time, he travelled at a more sedate pace and Derrin followed easily.

He eventually emerged onto a gravel road broad enough to accommodate a carriage. A short time later, a town appeared up ahead. He rode up to a mansion. Sandstone pillars supported a slate roof above a decked terrace at the front of the house. The arched wooden front door swung open when the man knocked.

A woman stood in the doorway. Her grey hair was up in a tight bun and her eyebrows were painted on. Her bright red lips pulled down at the corners at the sight of the hunched man. “Darci, you always look so pleased to see me,” he said, a humourless smile spreading his lips.

Darci recoiled, her nose wrinkling. She put a gold coin in his palm and held out her hand for the note. The man cocked his head to one side. “What? Not a please, thank you, or a kiss?”

With a flick of her wrist, Darci produced a knife. The other hand, she still held out for the message, her fingers curling and extending, waiting impatiently.

The man’s pink tongue darted out and wetted his lips, but he handed her the missive. She closed the door in his face and he turned away with a grunt, muttering under his breath.

Derrin Leapt inside where Darci was making her way up a sweeping marble staircase. At the end of a long hallway, decorated with paintings of stately-looking figures, she knocked twice on the door before pushing it open.

Derrin started to follow, but sprang back when he saw who was sitting behind the oak desk. It was unmistakeably a Collector, although the brief glimpse he got didn't allow Derrin to recognise him. He shook his head, pursing his lips. What did this mean? How were the Collectors involved with the Company? Their strict ‘no interference’ law would not allow them to meddle with humans – Derrin had intimate knowledge of the consequences of breaking this law – not to mention direct an entire organisation!

And how was it that this maid could see the Collector? It shouldn’t be possible! Derrin leaned in closer to the door, trying to hear what they were saying. Most of it was muffled by the heavy door, but he caught a mention of Khaya’s name and something about Phalio as well.

Footsteps approached. Not knowing if it was the maid or the Collector, Derrin ducked into the closest room, standing behind the door and flattening himself against the wall. The maid walked away, the door closing behind her.

Derrin needed time to think. The first dawn rays were filtering in through the window of what he now noticed was a bedroom, and dust motes danced in the beams. Khaya would just be waking up.

From his hiding place, he Leapt back to the spot where he’d left her in the forest.

She was gone. 

∞ ∞ ∞ ∞

Brier kept his distance from Khaya. After the disaster of the previous attempt, he was going to take his time and make sure to do it right this time. Her last performance only convinced him all the more that she needed to die.

His window seat at the tavern afforded him a clear view of the market square and the alley beside the library. It was almost comical that Khaya chose to hide there. She might be hidden from those who enter and leave the library, but she was in plain view of anyone within the square.

She kept rubbing her head. Was that voices that she heard? Or perhaps her headaches were worse now that she had two abilities. Maybe that’s what was driving her insane. Brier didn’t care. Even if she wasn’t going mad, she was living a life that was never intended. What Derrin had done shouldn’t have been possible at all. Surely there should have been some system in place that wouldn’t afford a Collector that much power.

He itched to ambush her. Each time he got to the point of getting up, he reminded himself what it felt like when his body was out of his control. It had been like being locked in a cage inside his own skin. He’d felt her unseen touch spreading closer to his heart, like ice creeping ever nearer, threatening to seize his very soul.

He shivered.

He’d never thought her evil. In some ways, she was innocent in all of this. After all, what happened that day wasn’t her choice. Now, he was no longer sure. No one person should be endowed with that much power. To be able to snuff out a life with as little effort as it would take to blow out a candle. It wasn’t right.

That was probably why she was never meant to have this life. It was the natural order of things to prevent her from getting into this position.

The day was wearing on and Khaya sat on the ground, her hair dishevelled. She was unravelling.

The library door opened and Phalio strode out as a carriage pulled up in the street. Khaya sprang to her feet and said something which made Phalio turn around. For a moment, he looked bewildered before nodding and waving a hand for Khaya to follow him. He opened the carriage door and waved her in before getting in behind her.

Brier sat in shocked silence. Was Phalio involved somehow in Khaya’s escape? He’d been certain that Phalio was complying with the Echelon.

Heran needed to know about this. Brier would need to find Heran and then get to Phalio’s home. If they were quick about it, they would be able to catch Khaya tonight!

He smiled, excitement making him feel lighter. By tomorrow, he thought, it could all be over.

∞ ∞ ∞ ∞

Heran Leapt ahead to Phalio’s home. Brier couldn’t wait until he too was able to travel so quickly. He gritted his teeth as he spurred his mount on. His horse’s hooves beat steadily and finally, he could see Phalio’s palatial home at the end of the road.

The carriage was nowhere to be seen, but then the groom would have led the horses round to the stable.

Brier launched himself from the saddle before Loper had even come to a halt. He sprinted to the door and was reaching for the handle when it opened. A portly maid, hair pulled into a tight bun, stood inside. “Yes?”

“I need to speak with Phalio,” Brier said, craning his neck to look inside.

“He is not here.”

“Are you certain? You might want to go tell him that someone from the Echelon is here to speak with him.”

“I would, if he were here,” the maid said with exaggerated patience. “But as he is not, you will have to return later. I will be happy to tell him you stopped by –”

Brier shoved her aside, sending her sprawling to the ground. He stormed from room to room. Heran came down the stone staircase, followed by the other Collector who was always present, but never spoke. “He’s not here,” Heran said.

“What?” Brier said.

“I’ve checked the entire house and I’ve stayed here hoping they would arrive. Are you certain of what you saw?”

“Of course I am!” Brier swung round at a scurrying sound behind him.

The maid looked at him with wild eyes. Brier laughed. How ironic. She must think him mad; talking to himself. He shook his head and she scrambled from the room. “What do we do now? How do we find them?”

“You should have followed the carriage,” Heran said. “Why assume they’d come here? Where were they heading?”

“North. Out of town. In
this
direction. That’s why I assumed.”

“What else lies north of Arroe?”

Brier shrugged. “Not much. Woods and a lake and if you continue up the northern road, you’d eventually come to Trambell.”

“Go to the woods. Search for them. That carriage is large and won’t be able to travel off the main road. Find it and then you will find them.”

“Aren’t you coming?”

“I will see if I can gain access to the aura files. That could show me exactly where Phalio is.”

Before Brier could say any more, the two Collectors winked out from view.