The Archivist (15 page)

“Is that how you usually find things?” Danae asks. “Following up on rumors?”

“Believe it or not,” I agree, “some of the best artifacts are found that way. So it took me a couple of days, but I found this wagon of vagabonds camped outside a small village. I never figured out if they were some sort of family group or just a bunch of survivors that banded together. In any case, they had a palm-sized 3D printer that they used to turn sand into glass objects. They had no idea what else they could’ve made if they had the right material, and I wasn’t going to tell them.”

“So that was your journey?” Danae asks, quite unimpressed.

“That was where it began,” I say. “We haggled for over an hour, but they finally agreed to trade the printer for a set of small radios that would enable them to communicate over a distance of several miles. When we made the trade, they taught me one of the most valuable lessons of my retrieving career.”

“Take the goods and run as fast as you can?” Little Crow jokes.

“Almost,” I counter. “Check the goods, before I run as fast as I can. I got a few miles down the road before I realized that they swapped the working unit they showed me for a non-functioning one. That man could’ve been a master illusionist, because I was watching him the whole time. So I snuck back while they were celebrating their con job. Since they were a rather unsavory bunch, I decided to just climb in the back of their wagon, recover the working device and be on my way. At least the first part went well. I crawled in the rear and found a box full of defective printers, with the good one on top. Apparently I wasn’t the first victim they had swindled. It was when I slipped back out of the wagon that everything went very wrong.”

“They saw you?” Danae asks.

“Not quite. I was about to take off, keeping the wagon between me and their campfire, when one of them walked around the side. I only had time to roll underneath the wagon and lay there while the guy took a piss. He took his time, then my leg started stinging, and the pain was spreading up my thigh. I had managed to land on top of a fire ant nest, and my desert robe was swarming with them, so I did the only thing I could do. I slid out of the robe, grabbed the printer and crawled under the wagon to the back.”

“Then you ran like hell,” Little Crow says.

“I wish, but no such luck,” I say. “They started breaking camp, and we were out in the middle of the flattest, emptiest desert you could imagine, so they would’ve seen me running. I went the only way I could, which was up. I climbed the back of the wagon and hid on top. Fire ants were still biting me, so I used the only clothing I had left—which was my shirt—to scrape them off, and then tossed that over the back. So there I was, naked on top of that wagon when they hitched up their oxen and started rolling out.”

“How long were you there?” asks Danae.

“I spent two long days up there,” I answer. “One of my legs was covered with ant bites that developed pustules, right up to my privates, and I had the biggest…” I glance at Danae and stop in mid-sentence. “Never mind, the worst part was that by the time they stopped at an oasis the next evening, I had the worst sunburn of my life. The whole gang got falling-down drunk, so I climbed back down that night, grabbed some water and something to wear out of the wagon, and walked all the way back to where I had stashed my backpack.”

“Oh my God,” Danae laughs. “So tell me, was that printer thing worth it?”

“I haven’t found another working one since then, so it was a one-time opportunity. But I think it was the lessons I learned that were invaluable.”

We are all exhausted from several days of hard travel. I do not know who starts it, but soon we are all yawning. Little Crow assures us that with Malsum by our side there is no need to stand any watches, but he will keep the fire going, so he spreads out next to the small pile of wood I collected.

Danae and I spread our bedding side by side under the lean-to that faces the fire, careful to keep our bedrolls separate. Little Crow shoots me a quizzical glance, but says nothing. Once we settle down, Danae reaches over to give me a hug through the blanket, and gently kisses me on the cheek before she turns over and snuggles under her covers.

The next morning, we rise early. Little Crow was right about it not raining, but there is still a heavy layer of dew over everything, and the light breeze is chilly enough that we need to get a rousing fire going to warm us up. Malsum is gone, presumably to fetch her breakfast, and we munch on our own breakfast of biscuits and jerky.

“What are your plans, now?” Little Crow asks. “I’ll travel with you to Entiak, but then I need to get back to my village. After what you did for me, K’Marr, you know you are always welcome there. So if you two don’t have to stay in town, come with me.”

I take a deep breath as I consider his proposal. His offer is more tempting than he could imagine. If I did not have unfinished business, I would not even have to think about it.

“Kidnapping Danae wasn’t the only thing the Disciples did. They murdered my friend and stole an extremely valuable item I was retrieving. So I still have a long road ahead of me.” I quickly recount to Little Crow what befell Brannock. “I’m sure the Disciples are taking my artifact back to the temple in their capital, so I need to get Danae safely settled, and then I’ll continue on to Wolfengarde.”

Then I turn to Danae. “We’ll try again to connect with your uncle. I’m sure you’d prefer to stay at your tavern, but for now I think you should stay with a family member who knows the town, until this Disciple business dies down.”

“That makes sense, but I really think we should still take Little Crow up on his offer,” Danae urges. “You know my uncle may not be back for another week or two, so let’s just go to the village for a little while. We’ll meet with Uncle Franz when he gets back from his trip.”

This is one of those moments when I have to grit my teeth. Every hour that passes ratchets up a tension inside me as I feel my objective slip further away. Yes, that generator was the catalyst which started this whole chain of events and deaths, but what I wrestle with is more than my commitment to Doc—after what happened to Danae, I cannot risk something like that happening to her again. Recovering the space drive will have to wait as long as it takes for me to ensure that she is secure.

“Tell you what,” I negotiate with Danae. “We’ll swing by Entiak, since it’s more or less on the way, and if your uncle is back you’ll stay with him. If not, I was thinking to go to the village on the way to Wolfengarde anyway, so you can continue with us that far.”

After a moment Danae nods her assent, but reluctantly enough that I suspect we both dislike the compromise. We mount Saffron and Thorn while Little Crow swings up onto Malsum. It is late morning when we come out of the foothills into the broad valley and the first outlying farms surrounding Entiak.

“See that scar on the land?” Little Crow asks, pointing toward a light brown smudge on the distant horizon. “If you keep a good pace you’ll be in Entiak within a couple of hours.”

“You’re not coming?” I ask. “Malsum is perfectly capable of looking after herself.”

“Like Malsum, I prefer my air clean and untainted. Entiak has nothing I need.”

“I’ll see you later this afternoon, then.” I urge my mount forward in an easy trot and Danae follows without comment. The dry trail raises a small cloud of dust as we ride, so we stay abreast of each other, but keep our conversation to a minimum.

My thoughts keep returning, like an annoying fly, to what the Disciples will do to that generator if I do not get it back in time. The note I found on the first Disciple simply instructed him to bring it back untouched, without any indication of their intentions afterward.

Entiak’s gates stand open, and a pair of guards maintains a casual watch while we pass into the town. Just inside, I notice a small stable connected to a tavern called the Broken Pipe Inn. Danae says her feet are still tender, but she can walk for a short distance.

For a silver piece, the place agrees to water and groom our horses. At first the proprietor insists on a silver piece each, but I argue that we will be back soon, and the old man relents. Sometimes one has to draw a line at gouging, but mostly I am just irritable.

“We’ll be back in an hour,” I tell the stable girl as we pass the reins over to her, and I slip my pack onto my shoulders. We head out to the street, and Danae leads the way to the small marketplace where her uncle’s shop is located.

Fortunately for her feet it is just a few blocks away, and she has a good innate sense of direction. That is an important quality that not every retrieval partner has. It was something Wally always lacked.

The market district is fairly busy. We pause at a couple of stalls to purchase a small bag of fruit, and some pastries full of what the vendor claims is beef, but I have my doubts. Danae wants to stop at a clothing shop, but she takes one look at my expression and we move on.

The market crowd is light. We make our way to Kaufstetter’s Essences easily. The odor of lavender wafts through an open window. The shop is open for business, so we go right in.

The young apprentice we talked to the last time is organizing product on the shelves as we enter. There is no doubt that she immediately recognizes Danae, because the woman’s scowl would flay the hide off a cow if it stood there.

“You’re wasting your time, sugar. He’s not here. Why don’t you just go find a nice boy you can trick into settling down? You have time, you’re not even showing yet.”

Danae walks over to the apprentice and leans on the wooden box the young woman is pulling inventory from. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. Your boss isn’t my type.”

“What is your type then?” The apprentice smirks at me like I’m a creeper.

“Maybe I’m into girls,” Danae leers at the shopkeeper, then straightens up. “Actually, Franz is my uncle, so you don’t have to continue covering for him.”

“Really?” The woman crosses her arms as she responds with a skeptical look. “He never mentioned you. Anyway, I wasn’t kidding when I said he isn’t here. Read for yourself, this just came this morning.” The assistant hands Danae a scrap of parchment. After scanning it, Danae passes it to me.

‘Unexpected supply problems, waiting for another source. Returning overland, back by the full moon. – Franz’

I hand the message back to the apprentice, and Danae tugs on my sleeve and nods toward the door. Taking her cue, I follow her out onto the street, and we find a bench where we can sit, and Danae can rest her sore feet.

“So now it’s back to the stables, I guess,” Danae says.

“We just have to come up with another plan. You can still stay at The Smugglers’ Cove,” I reply. “Or whatever you want to call it. Your door just needs fixing, and I have some items I can trade to hire a pair of full-time guards for you.”

Danae seizes my duster by the lapel. Her eyes are hard as titanium when she spits out her response. “Forget it, mister. The agreement was that if my uncle isn’t back, I go to Little Crow’s village. The village,” Danae points toward the outskirts of town, “is that way.”

I take a deep breath, shocked as much by the strength of her words as by their suddenness. The woman is intractable, and as much as I want to be on my way to get the generator, I am not willing to use force to keep Danae here. At least not yet.

I stand up to leave, and my snoop alert sounds in the back of my mind.

“Fine,” I say as I take her hand. She tries to jerk her hand away while she stands up, but I maintain a firm grip, leading her down the walk and whispering, “Just go along with me, I think we’re being followed.”

We reach a corner and turn down a quiet side street that is thankfully short. We reach the corner of an alley and I pause before we turn again, just long enough to confirm that our tail is still with us.

A rather short, scarecrow-like young man hurries around the bend onto the street, sees us and abruptly slows down. He would be comical if he were following someone else. I point Danae to an alcove about ten feet down the passage and tell her to wait there. Then I pull out my knife and wait just inside the alley.

The tail does not keep me waiting long. He dashes around the corner and practically impales himself on my knife, which startles a scream out of Danae. I have to pull back a bit to keep from slicing the tail’s throat. Then I hold the blade to his neck while I grab his coat and press him back against the wall.

“What do the Disciples want with us?” I ask him, adding a little pressure to the knife as well as my words.

“I don’t know, please, I’m not one of them. You have to believe me!” the man protests.

“Actually, I don’t have to believe anything,” I tell him, but in fact I do believe him. This man is not dressed in the black garb and Amish hat which the Disciples favor, nor does he have the shaved head common to true believers. Plus, he does not have the arrogant righteousness that seems to be a prerequisite.

“My name is Jared Hanlin and I wasn’t spying on you, I swear it!” The man is practically groveling. I let him drop to the ground as Danae walks up beside me.

“So you just follow people you don’t know for the fun of it?” I ask.

“No, no, not at all. I was following her. You,” he says, turning on his knees to Danae. “I work for your uncle, and he asked me to keep an eye on you if you came. I don’t know why, but for some reason he was expecting you.”

“What do you mean, he asked you to watch for her?” I punctuate my words with the knife.

“Just that. He told me to keep watch outside the shop, and he described Miss Danae very precisely.” He looks at me. “But he didn’t describe you.” Then he turns back to Danae, “Actually, he said you would be coming alone. So when I saw the two of you go into his shop, I followed, but before I could make contact, you jumped me.”

He knows Danae’s name; that is a point in his favor. I frisk Hanlin and find nothing more dangerous than a dagger, which I take for safekeeping—mostly his, in case he is tempted to do something stupid. I pull him to his feet and toss the dagger as far down the alley as I can.

“Here’s a message for your employer, then,” I say. “Tell him that we will meet him for supper at the Broken Pipe Inn, at twilight on the full moon. He’s to come alone, and when we meet, God help you if I even see you on that side of Entiak.”