The Broken Key (02) - Hunter of the Horde (12 page)

Maybe I should look in just to see if he’s alright. Leaving the bug to its dance on the wall, he stood up and turned to face the door he had been resting against. “I hope he doesn’t get the wrong impression,” he said to himself as he pulled forth his knife. Moving the point to the lock, he took the handle of the door in the other hand and inserted it in until he felt the metal within.

He started to attempt to pick the lock when the handle of the door turned in his hand and the door swung open an inch. It wasn’t even locked! Riyan grinned at himself as he replaced his knife in its scabbard.

Slowly pushing the door open, he said, “I’m here as you requested.” Opening the door just far enough to stick his head in through the opening, he said, “Hello?” The interior of the room was dark. Faint light filtered in through the few windows giving the room an eerie feeling. “Hello?” he hollered a little bit louder. Pushing the door open further, he took one step into the room then stopped.

In the gloomy light, he could tell that the room was just as it had looked during the brief glimpse he had of it that last time he was here. He scanned the room but there was no indication of any source of light at all. Obviously, Stryntner wasn’t there.

Disappointed to say the least, he stepped back out of the room and shut the door.

Standing there in the corridor, he wasn’t sure what he should do. His stomach knew exactly what it would like him to do, and let out with a particularly loud indication of the course of action it wanted him to take. But if he left, would that reflect badly on him?

He finally gave into hunger and left the Archives behind as he headed down to the mess. The place was crowded as usual and he took a moment to see if Chad and the others were still eating but failed to locate them. They must have already finished and returned to their room. He did find Tad eating at a table by himself, so once he received his food, headed over to join him.

“Mind if I sit down?” asked Riyan as he came to the table.

Tad looked up and shook his head. “Go ahead.”

“Thanks,” replied Riyan. Taking a seat in a chair opposite Tad, he was quick to still the grumbling of his stomach with a large piece of roast beef.

“Where are the others?” asked Tad.

“They came to eat right after we were finished for the day,” replied Riyan. “I went up to help Stryntner in the Archives.”

Tad nodded. “That’s right,” he said. “Heard about that. How did it go?” Riyan sighed. “He wasn’t even there.”

Chuckling a little, Tad gave him a grin. “He’s a little scatterbrained,” he explained.

“Probably forgot all about you coming up there.”

“You think so?” asked Riyan hopefully.

“Yes,” replied Tad.

“What should I do then?” he asked.

“Maybe I can help you there,” offered Tad.

“How?” Riyan continued eating as he looked at his instructor with renewed hope.

“I’m not helping out with the drills tomorrow,” he explained. “So I’ll ‘delay’ him and keep him in the Archives until you arrive.”

“You would do that for me?” asked Riyan.

“Not entirely for you,” he replied. “Stryntner’s a good friend and I know he needs help.” He lowered his voice and leaned closer to Riyan as he added, “He’s getting on in years and his mind’s not what it once was. But don’t tell him I said that.”

“I won’t,” assured Riyan.

“There’s been talk of replacing him for years but no one’s had the heart to do it,” said Tad. “He’s been here longer than anyone can remember.” Riyan nodded. “I’ll do what I can.”

Tad gave him a grin. “I know you will,” he said.

The next day after drills, Riyan again cleaned up and hurried to the Archives. Unlike the last time, the door was open and light was coming through. Just before he reached the door he glanced to the wall where the bug had been crawling around yesterday and was glad to see the bug had finally made its way elsewhere.

“…she’s been trying my patience for years now,” Riyan heard Tad’s voice coming through the door. “What should I do?”

Riyan came to the opened door just as Stryntner replied, “Tell her…” He stopped in the middle of his sentence when he noticed Riyan standing in the doorway. “Can I help you?” he asked as he turned his full attention towards him. From his tone of voice and facial expressions, it seemed as if he didn’t know who Riyan was.

Riyan was a bit confused by the question until he saw Tad grin, nod, and wave for him to enter. Stepping into the room he said, “I’m here to help you transcribe some of the older tomes.”

Stryntner stood there a moment as if he wasn’t sure what Riyan was talking about.

Then Tad said, “This is the Recruit whom you asked to help you.”

“I did?” Stryntner asked. “I don’t recall…” He thought about it for a second then it seemed as if understanding came and he said, “Riyan right?” Inwardly sighing with relief, Riyan nodded. “That’s right, uh…” He stumbled as he tried to come up with the proper form of address.

“Just call him Crusty,” Tad said with a grin.

At that Stryntner turned on him and said, “I told you never to call me that!” Tad grinned at him all the more then turned to Riyan, “His official title is that of

‘Keeper of the Archives’. So it is proper to address him as Keeper if you like.”

“Keeper,” murmured Stryntner,” yes, that will do.”

Tad made to leave and said, “I’ll leave you two to get acquainted.”

“Don’t forget what I told you about that girl,” Stryntner said before Tad walked out the door.

“I won’t,” he replied. Then with a wink to Riyan he was gone.

Several candles burned in different spots around the room giving sufficient light with which to see. Stryntner indicated a table upon which three of the candles were burning and motioned for Riyan to go and take a seat in the chair.

Once Riyan was seated, the Keeper produced parchment, ink, and quills. He brought them over and set them upon the table before him. “Now, let’s see how well your hand is,” he said. “Write something.”

“What should I write?” Riyan asked as he took up a quill.

“Whatever you want,” he replied.

“As you wish,” Riyan said. He took one of the parchments off the stack and laid it before him then moved the inkwell into position. Nervousness welled up just as it use to in the Sterling Sheep when he practiced his letters while someone was watching. Taking a deep breath, he quieted the nervousness and dipped the end of the quill into the ink.

Once he scraped the excess glob of ink off on the inside of the inkwell’s lip, he started writing; A shepherd’s life is boring. Sitting and walking, walking and sitting. Oh, for the...

“Hmmm,” Stryntner mumbled as he was reapplying ink to his quill. “You have a fair hand.”

“Thank you,” replied Riyan. “Would you like me to continue?”

“That won’t be necessary,” the Keeper said. Without a word, he turned about and moved to a shelf with several scrolls and removed one. Returning to Riyan he handed him the scroll and said, “Copy this for me.”

Taking the scroll, Riyan set it on the table before him. He first moved aside the parchment he had already written on and replaced it with a fresh one. Then he took the scroll and carefully unrolled it. Placing it beside him, he saw that it was a list of over a score of very mundane items; rope, shoes, leggings,
etc.
Not the sort one would expect to be kept in a place like this.

Once he had it placed in a good position, he lifted the hand he wrote with and the scroll immediately rolled back up. He looked up at Stryntner but he offered no advice. So he took matters into his own hand. First he lifted the edge of the candelabrum and slid the upper edge of the scroll under it then set it back down. For the bottom edge of the scroll he used the inkwell. When he was sure the candelabrum and the inkwell would keep the scroll from rolling back on itself, he glanced up at Stryntner. But again, he offered neither advice nor criticism, merely watched.

Taking up his quill once more, he began copying the words onto the parchment before him. All the while he worked, Stryntner stood over his shoulder without comment.

When he finished the last word, Stryntner broke his silence.

“You do in fact have a nice hand my boy,” he said. Then the Keeper indicated two drops of ink that were now upon the original scroll. “You want to avoid that as much as possible.” He then moved to the table next to the one Riyan was seated at and removed two small, domed rocks. He brought them over and handed them to Riyan. “These work well at keeping the scrolls in place.”

Riyan replaced the candelabrum and inkwell with them. “Thank you,” he replied.

“Come with me,” he said as he turned and walked away from the table.

Riyan quickly came to his feet and followed him through the Archives to a section in the back. Stryntner came to a stop before two of the free standing bookshelves, both were heavily covered in a layer of dust. From the looks of them, no one has removed the tomes and scrolls upon their shelves for some time.

Stryntner turned to Riyan as he pointed to the tomes on the two bookcases. “These are the tomes which require transcribing,” he explained.

“That’s quite a lot,” stated Riyan.

“True, but it needs doing nonetheless,” replied Stryntner. He reached for one of the tomes and removed it gingerly from the shelf. Blowing the dust off, he opened it carefully and looked at the writing on the inside. The way he held the tome was just as a mother would hold her newborn infant, careful and lovingly.

He closed the tome and handed it to Riyan. “You should be able to read this,” he said as Riyan took it.

Riyan opened the cover just as gently as Stryntner had and saw that the writing was indeed in his language, just a slightly archaic form of it. “I can,” he admitted.

“Good.” Stryntner said then returned to the table where Riyan had worked. “Use this table and stack the finished pieces of parchment here.” He pointed to the top left corner of the table which was currently bare. “Once you have finished, I’ll have them bound into a more permanent form.”

“When should I start?” he asked. Just then, his stomach let out with a loud growl.

Stryntner smiled. “Tomorrow will be soon enough,” he replied. “Go down and get something to eat. I remember how hungry you get after one of the Guild’s drills. We must keep our strength up.”

“Thank you,” replied Riyan. “I’ll do that.” He set the aged tome carefully on the table. “I’ll make sure to copy this with the utmost care.” Stryntner patted him on the shoulder. “I’m sure you will my boy.” Then he turned and began rummaging around amongst some aged books on a nearby shelf.

Riyan waited there for a moment, unsure whether he had been dismissed or not. Then he remembered what Tad had said about his mind going and quietly slipped out the door.

With a lilt in his step, he went downstairs to the mess.

Once Riyan headed up to the Archives, Chad had a quick meal at the mess then went out to spend time in the foyer. Bart was overdue by a day and he was getting anxious about what may have happened to him.

Out in the foyer, he saw some of the regulars that made it a habit of dropping by from time to time to catch up on news and visit with old friends. As it turned out, Barin was there talking with an older man. When he saw Chad standing there looking about he caught his eye and waved him over.

“Chad, I’d like you to meet my father,” Barin said, indicating the man sitting with him.

It was easy to see the resemblance between father and son. Barin’s father was a man of middle years to whom it looked as if life had been very good. Riyan gave him a slight bow and said, “Good to meet you sir.”

Barin’s father returned his nod without reply.

“What brings you out here?” Barin asked.

“Hoping to meet a friend,” replied Chad. “I’ve been expecting him for some time.”

“Nothing wrong I hope?” his fellow Recruit asked.

Chad shook his head. “I doubt it,” he said.

“Barin tells me you are from Quillim?” the father asked.

“That’s right,” Chad said. “My father owns the mill there.”

“A miller’s son?” he said. “How did you manage to arrange entry into the Guild if you don’t mind my asking?”

Barin indicated the vacant seat at their table and Chad sat down to join them. “Thank you,” he said. Turning his attention back to the father he answered his question. “A friend and I came across some money and gained entry that way.” The father’s face frowned slightly at that. “I see.” Chad sighed. It seemed that was always the reaction he received when he told someone about how he had entered the Guild. To many, it seemed a less than honorable means by which to become a member.

Just then Chad caught sight of Bart walking in through the doorway and felt great relief to have an excuse to leave Barin and his father. Standing up, he said to them, “If you’ll excuse me, my friend just arrived.” He nodded over to Bart who was heading his way.

“Nice to meet you young man,” the father said.

“You too, sir,” he replied. Then to Barin he said, “Talk to you later.” He left the father and son behind as he headed towards Bart.

By this time Bart had crossed half the distance between them. Chad noticed an empty table over in a corner and indicated for Bart to meet him there. “I was getting worried about you,” he said as the two came together.

“Where’s Riyan?” he asked.

Chad grinned and pointed to the ceiling. “He’s up in the Archives helping to transcribe some old tomes,” he explained.

“He actually did it,” said Bart as he took his seat.

“Not sure how much free time he’ll have to hunt for the information we need though,” he said. “Did your search turn up anything?”

“More than you’d guess,” Bart told him. Lowering his voice, he continued. “We should talk about this someplace more private, like Kevik’s estate.” Chad saw the way Bart’s face grew grim and asked, “Anything wrong?”

“You might say that.” He glanced around and then leaned forward. In a voice so low as to be almost inaudible he said, “A group of rather ruthless hunters for the you-know-what has discovered who it was that fenced the coins to Thyrr.” After a sharp intake of breath at the news, Chad glanced around the foyer nervously.