Lodestone Book One: The Sea of Storms (6 page)

The man stood nearby, watching
them both. Despite the fact that they were inside and in a warm
kitchen, he still wore that absurd cap perched precariously on his
head. Shann wondered idly if he wore it to bed. Her body seemed to
be reviving slowly. Her throat was dry, but she found her voice and
rasped, “I’m sorry, who are you?”

It was the older woman who
answered. “By the grace of the Three, boy, did you not even tell
this poor girl who you were before dragging her in here? I’m sorry,
child; this is my unworthy son, Alondo. Alas, I have made my hairs
grey trying to instil a measure of civil behaviour in him, but he
remains as stubbornly boorish as ever.”

Alondo made a deeply wounded
expression, and then smiled sheepishly. “Yes mama.” Shann quickly
realised that this was a regular banter between two people who used
deprecation as a way of expressing their love for one another. She
could feel herself starting to relax a little.

Hedda placed a steaming bowl in
front of Shann, and then turned to Alondo. “What are you doing
standing there idle? Go make up a bed for our guest.”

Alondo gave a mockingly
exaggerated bow and left through the door. Shann lifted the bowl to
her lips. The stew tasted wonderful and began to warm her stomach.
She turned to the older woman. “Thank you.”

Hedda was still bustling. “It’s
the least we could do. You did a very brave thing
tonight.”

Shann felt confused. No-one had
ever called her “brave” in her entire life. What was more, she
could not think what she could have done to earn that title now.
She decided to change the subject. “How did you know where to find
me?”

Hedda smiled. “How many young
women do you think have arrived in a bedraggled state on the road
from Corte tonight? Alondo was sent to keep watch for you. A good
pair of eyes is one of his few attributes. We could not be certain,
of course, but the road east from Corte goes towards Chalimar, and
it did not seem likely you would head towards the serpent’s nest,
with the serpents after you. We also knew you had been given the
disc, so there could be no confusion as to who you
were.”

Shann`s mind
was still a little foggy, but she digested the implication.
“You know the man who gave me the
disc?”

“Yes, indeed.”

“Who is he?”

Hedda pressed her lips together.
“Enough for tonight. I can tell you are exhausted and the night is
well along. You need to rest. There will be time enough for answers
in the morning. And you will have another journey to make then, if
you are strong enough. Wait here. I will see if my fool of a son
has made up your room yet, or whether he has forgotten the task he
was sent to do and is instead composing another one of his airy
ballads.”

She got up and swept through the
kitchen door, leaving Shann alone for the moment. Shann suddenly
felt an all-enveloping sense of weariness. She pushed her bowl
away, folded her hands on the table and rested her head. Within
minutes, she was sound asleep.

~

Keris, diamond merchant and
traveller from the mines of Thalissa, deep in the mountains of
Tragar, entered the Inn of the Leaping Dagan just off the market
square in Corte.

The atmosphere within the Inn was
redolent with the odour of horge, a sweet liquor distilled from
kalash. The décor was sparse, a plain wooden floor covered with
sawdust and unadorned wooden walls. A shassatan board was laid out
on a table in the corner, but no-one was playing. There was a small
serving area, fronted by a loose scattering of tables and stools.
Behind the serving area stood a tall man with sharp features,
wearing an apron. He cast an appraising eye over his patrons as if
he were somehow weighing their coin purses.

It was early evening, and there
were no more than eight customers. Even so, Keris` limited
experience with places like these suggested that they were usually
far more raucous, even with a limited clientele. By contrast, this
establishment seemed positively subdued. Men and women sat hunched
together round tables, murmuring to each other in low tones and
sipping like gentlefolk. A few glanced in Keris` direction as she
entered and then returned to nursing their drinks, as if
disappointed.

Keris strolled to the serving
area, pulled up a stool and sat down. She sighed and shook her hair
loose, feigning the symptoms of a hard day’s work; then reached
inside her surcoat and tossed a collection of small coins in the
tall man’s direction.

“Horge.”

The man’s face lit up at the
sight of the coin. “How do you like it?” he asked.

“Hot and sweet.”

He swept up the coin with a
practiced sleight of hand and produced, as if from nowhere, a
steaming mug of horge. Keris cradled the earthenware mug and sipped
at the hot dark fluid. It was sweet, with a subtle aftertaste.
Horge was served at the Keep, but she was accustomed to taking her
meals at the refectory with water. Of course, to walk into a place
like this and order water would have only attracted amusement or
suspicion or both.

She surfaced from her drink.
“Nice,” she lied.

“Only the finest horge you will
taste in the whole of the Eastern Provinces,” he declared loudly,
as if advertising the fact to everyone within earshot. No-one
looked up.

“Would you by any chance have a
room for the night?” she inquired.

“You are fortunate,” he declared.
“I have but one room left, for the modest rate of one twelfth of an
astria, stranger.”

She took a further coin from her
pouch and pushed it towards the man firmly. It disappeared in the
same manner as the others. “Keris,” she affirmed.

“Welcome to the Dagan, Keris. I
am called Morran.” He began to busy himself behind the serving
area. “Will you be staying long in Corte?”

“That depends.” She started into
the cover story she had carefully rehearsed. “I need to try to
establish local contacts.”

Her garb had been chosen
judiciously so as to identify her to any casual observer as a
merchant, though not too prosperous.

“What is your business?” Morran
asked conversationally.

“Diamonds.”

“Well, they are a common enough
commodity.” No doubt he was expecting a sales pitch, and Keris was
ready.

“Ah yes, but
you see with diamonds, it is all about the quality.” She produced a
pouch and emptied it out. A dozen raw crystals of assorted shapes
tumbled onto the wooden counter. Morran picked one up between his
thumb and finger and regarded it closely from all sides.
He hasn’t a clue what he’s looking at,
she thought, amused

“These are from Tragar,” she
continued. “My brother and I recently inherited a mine. Our uncle
who owned it died after a long illness and the place has been left
sadly neglected. However, it was known for producing top quality
stones, and my brother is convinced it can become a going concern
once again. He is back there trying to reinstate production and it
was left to me to establish contacts with diamond cutters in
Chalimar and the lowland towns, possibly even an investor or
two.”

She smiled at Morran hopefully.
Morran looked at her, and quickly returned the stone he was holding
to the others. She shrugged, still smiling, and scooped up the
stones into the bag once more.

She had led the conversation
skilfully to this point. Now it was time to make her move. Taking
another sip from her mug, she added casually, “These really are the
finest quality diamonds. Several of the cutters in Chalimar said
they were the finest stones they had seen. Good enough even to
grace a Keltar`s staff weapon.”

A large man sitting at the table
nearest the counter jerked his stool back so that it scraped
against the wooden floor, and slammed his mug down on the table.
Horge slopped over its sides. Keris glanced back, but the man was
looking straight ahead and not at her.

Morran leaned over the counter
towards her and lowered his voice. “Careful, friend. The Prophet’s
servants are not well regarded here at present.”

“Has something happened here?”
Keris asked innocently. However, it was the big man at the table
who answered.

“Nothing but
the wanton murder of a good man.” The man’s voice was a bass rumble
with a hint of menace. Keris` expression of shock was
genuine.
Sallidor had been sent to
investigate, nothing more. What had gone wrong?

She turned to face the man at the
table. “Forgive me, friend; I did not mean to give offence. I deal
only with the cutters. I am a simple merchant, arrived in your town
but late this afternoon. I had no idea something so ill had
transpired here.”

Then something
quite unexpected happened. The figure sitting next to the man
cuffed him squarely on the shoulder. The big man flinched. The
figure spoke up, and it was a woman’s voice. “
Jadar!
” She was easily half his
size, which made the scene appear that much more comical. She had
delicate features, and her dark hair was combed straight
back.

“I apologise for my partner.” She
glanced in his direction, but he had assumed a morose silence.
“What has taken place here is no excuse to resort to suspicion and
bad manners. Please, won’t you join us?”

She gestured to a third stool at
their table. Keris took the opening gratefully and sat down. “May I
get you a drink?” she offered.

“You are kind,” the woman
responded. “But as you can see for yourself, Jadar has had quite
enough for one evening.”

The big man was
still staring straight ahead. “Poltann was a
good
man,” he repeated more to
himself than anyone else.

“That was the man who died?”
Keris asked the other woman.

“Executed,” continued Jadar.
“Strung up and left to die by the Prophet’s soldiers.”

“Why? What did he do?”

Keris learned that he was the
owner of the Wayfarer, another inn fronting the next street over.
It was where the girl who was involved with the incident three days
ago had worked. That explained the connection, but not why the man
was now dead.

She listened to the parts of the
story she already knew, registering shock and concern in the
appropriate places. A strange man impersonating a Keltar had tried
unsuccessfully to set free the tributes and then fled. She listened
closely to the description of the impostor. A few people had caught
a glimpse of him, but it seemed he was unknown in these parts. The
couple seemed sincere, and Keris had no reason to disbelieve them.
That left the girl as her only lead.

The girl had worked in the
kitchens there. It seemed unlikely that such a person could be a
part of an insurgency movement, but it could be part of a cover,
Keris supposed. In any event, her next move was clear.

The woman, who she had learned
was named Fallon, had a kind, easy manner. Even Jadar seemed to
have shaken himself out of his black mood and smiled slightly.
Keris found herself drawn to the two of them and would have liked
nothing better than to have whiled away the evening in their
company, but she had work to do.

She excused herself on the
pretext of retiring for the night and located her room. Once the
door was closed behind her, she located her flying cloak, black
tunic and black trousers. Moments later, Keris the diamond merchant
was no more; in her place stood Keris the Keltar. She opened the
window latch, climbed onto the window sill and glided to the street
below. Moving between pools of shadow, she headed for the
Wayfarer

~

The rear of the Inn was quiet,
with no lights showing. That was unusual. Innkeepers normally kept
late hours, although the owner of this particular establishment was
dead, so perhaps the guests had taken rooms elsewhere. That would
make her task rather easier.

She approached the kitchen door
silently. A simple catch on the inside. She reached inside the
pouch at her belt and felt for an oval shaped lodestone. It
resisted her pull on it slightly. Taking it out, she placed it
carefully against the door, a little way beneath the catch. Its
repulsive force was enough to push the latch up. In a single fluid
movement, she slipped inside and closed the door behind
her.

The stairway to
the left would lead to the staff chambers. She ascended and came to
a hallway with three doors set in them.
All
right, we do this one by
one.
The first door was unlocked. She
entered and shut the door behind her. A brief search turned up
nothing of interest. She was about to turn to go when she heard a
scraping sound. A split second later, the door to the room flew
open and two silhouettes burst in, weapons drawn.

Without taking the time to turn,
she jabbed her elbow backward. She heard a satisfying “Ooomph” as
she made contact with the intruder’s stomach. As the body doubled
up, she jerked her fist upward, feeling her knuckles make contact
with the face as it descended. She spun around in time to see her
attacker stagger backwards and fall to the floor on his rump. The
other was advancing, weapon raised. She crouched down and launched
a spinning kick which took out her opponent’s legs from under
him.