The Call (13 page)

“I asked the farrier to look after him for a bit.” Serdra stopped in a rather empty area. “Have you noticed anything?”

“There's... there's apparently another monster loose. By Longwater.”

“Yes, that's not hard to find out. That story seems to be overshadowing yours.”

“Is this,” Katja looked around. “Is this what's been calling us?” she whispered.

Serdra closed her eyes and stood utterly still.

“No,” she said after a brief silence, in a slightly distant voice. “I doubt it. I feel something hidden, approaching, and more dangerous than a minor demon who snatches the occasional person.”

She opened her eyes.

“Whatever is going on to the northeast is too small to cause what we've been feeling. Try to remember this, so you'll learn to tell the different aspects of the Call apart.”

Katja nodded a bit.

“So shouldn't we, well, do something?” she asked.

“Let's deal with something else first,” Serdra said. “What else have you noticed?”

“What else?”

Katja squirmed beneath her mentor's gaze and tried to think. What was worth mentioning?

“I've seen surprisingly few guardsmen,” she then said. “I've seen a lot of lucky charms, in windows, doorframes and belts. And I heard someone mention fresh hostilities between Amerstan and Kossus.”

Serdra looked slowly to the side and up. Katja followed her gaze to the doorframe of a carpenter's workshop.

“Careful not to stare for too long,” Serdra said quietly and looked away herself.

Katja ran her eyes quickly over the frame, again and again, and saw nothing. She looked away.

“What is it?” she whispered.

“On the top left,” Serdra clarified after looking around a bit.

Katja looked again and finally spotted something. Farmer Robert had been carved there. The chubby fellow was something of a good luck charm for homes, and was always shown with four wheat cobs in hand. This one however only had two.

“This has long been a symbol of our friends here in this land,” Serdra whispered into her ear.

Katja examined the carving better and now noticed that Robert was right between a carved circle and diamond shape. A diamond on top of a ring signalled a Shade dwelling.

Katja looked away again and felt a surprise surge of excitement. Then she once again looked around in case anyone was paying attention to them.

“Don't be too secretive,” Serdra warned her. “People notice that.” She leaned up against a wall and crossed her arms. “It's rather risky to put something like this up in the middle of a town. We best proceed carefully.”

“So we'll talk to the residents?” Katja asked. She was curious to meet these allies of the Redcloaks.

“Yes. We could use more information before we travel further.”

“What... do I do... anything... special?”

“You can ask anything you like,” Serdra answered. “But if you have no questions just pay attention.”

She knocked strongly on the door and walked in.

The insides were those of any other workshop Katja had seen. Tools hung on every wall, half-finished items stood on notched workbenches and sawdust and splinters covered the floor. In addition, skilfully carved and thoroughly used wooden men lay here and there, along with a dented toy sword.

A man in his twenties came walking down from the upper floor and was cleaning his face with a wet rag.

“Good day, ladies,” he said with good humour. “I am Markus Arelus, carpenter. What can I do for you? I am afraid it is difficult for me to accept more commissions.”

“Good day. We just came here to talk,” Serdra answered, and closed the door behind them. “
Vorsam uri tovaren hubra hjoma
,” she added and stared intently at the carpenter while she took the headscarf off.

'
We are Redcloaks, Shade, here to talk. There is no immediate danger
', Katja interpreted in her mind.

The man was stunned for a few moments.

“
Domi, fal obra
,” he then said quickly and didn't use the words as nimbly as Serdra. He stood stock still on the stairs and alternated his gaze between them, until it fastened on Katja.

“A young girl, with flint-black hair, narrow eyes and a hard build,” he said quietly, as if to himself. “So there truly was a Graycloak, by Brown Slope.”

“Yes. Apparently I'm... famous,” Katja said and half-smiled.

The carpenter nodded almost imperceptibly and still seemed taken aback.

Is he worried we'll eat him?

“I have never met one of you,” he said and finally walked down with slow steps. He looked away from them just long enough to take the lid off a wine carafe and pour into three mugs which he took down from pegs.

“We have been half-expecting a visit, after the stories began,” he said and felt for another carafe and added water to the wine. “But time passed and I started thinking it was just nonsense. You haven't been seen here on the Coast in years.”

“Not since I was here last,” Serdra said and looked around. “I once stayed a night in this house. As a guest of Peter.”

“My grandfather,” Markus said and smiled a moment. “He passed away a quarter century ago.”

Serdra walked up to him and received a wine mug and Katja was right behind her and accepted the third one. She found their effect on the man both uncomfortable and amusing.

“How have you fared around here since those days?” Serdra asked.

“Well, this is the Inner Sea area,” the man said awkwardly. “It is difficult for us to carry out investigations or get reinforcements from other lands without risking the Brotherhood's attention.” He sipped the wine slightly. “We had a sheriff among our ranks in Shaken County, and two of his guardsmen, but they were found murdered by a logging cabin. It was thought to be the work of bandits, but it could also have been the Brotherhood.”

“Hm. So how is your situation on the Coast?” Serdra asked.

“Poor, to tell the truth,” Markus said, and looked like he'd bitten into something sour. “We are four families here and around the town and we have men to the west, by the border, and several in Baldur's City. But we can't do much more than keep our eyes and ears open and send reports to the leader in Amerstan.”

“And who is that these days?”

“An old champion,” Markus said with respect. “He was a great warrior and traveller in his time. Maron Kalman.”

Katja saw some reaction in Serdra and felt she herself had heard the name before.

“And where is his seat?” the woman asked without anything unusual in her voice.

“On the Flint homestead, in the east of Amerstan. There he oversees the training of young Sh... of young members. I will send my son there next year.”

“The same old place,” Serdra said. “I know the way.”

She sipped the wine, and Katja realized she had forgotten her own mug and took a good gulp. It was sweet apple wine, and a welcome change from water and tea.

“What news from the east?” she then asked. “We just came into town, but I've heard of trouble with Kossus.”

The carpenter nodded.

“Kossus men have apparently been making raids across the strait. At first they were thought to be outlaws, from either land, but then witnesses started speaking up. We are headed for a war.”

“I hadn't heard that,” Katja said. She had heard curses directed at Kossus, but that was nothing new. And she had heard something about raids, but those did happen from time to time.

“The truth tends to get obscured as it moves away from its origin,” the carpenter said. “I was careful to seek news from people coming from the eastern reaches.”

War
.

Katja looked to her side at Serdra in search of some kind of confirmation. Could this have something to do with the premonition? It was hardly supernatural or mysterious. Not a war between the Amerstan-lands and Kossus. But what could be going on that would be more important?

“What about the monster?” Katja asked aloud. “Do you know anything of it?”

“Yes, of course. I asked around about it as well as I could without arousing suspicion,” Markus said. “It has killed three. The first attack was eight days ago, and the latest was two days ago. People either didn't believe tales of the first one or thought it an isolated incident, but after the second one a search party was dispatched. They found nothing and after that people grouped tightly together, with weapons ever at the ready. It didn't save the third victim.”

He took a short break and looked at them alternately.

“I think it's some sort of mist demon,” he said, rather hesitantly. “The first victims weren't found, but the third one was the morning after the attack. I spoke to a man who took part in the search. The victim had been torn apart, but not eaten. And people saw tracks leading into the forest, which grew more shallow with each step until they simply vanished. The man I spoke to said the blood which had dripped from the monster continued for a while after that. A trail of blood but no footprints. It reminded me of the tales of Artur the wise, of mist demons.”

Katja looked at Serdra. She seemed to be giving his suggestion due thought.

“What about the attacks themselves?”

“The first was on an isolated farm, where lived a widower with three children. The facts don't seem to be entirely clear. The children were the only witnesses and they were too distraught to tell a coherent tale. But the door had been smashed open and the father killed in his bed, judging by the blood.”

“The second was at the lake itself, just after sunset. Two men were passing on horseback, and the horses were suddenly startled. Terrified. When the demon came out of the foliage one was thrown from the saddle and tried to flee out onto the water. But the ice wasn't strong enough to bear his weight and the demon chased and caught him. The other man fled on horseback and said both had vanished under the ice.”

“What did it look like?” Katja asked in a hushed voice and thought of the demon she had felled back home.

“The man's description was by accounts rather vague. He claimed he couldn't focus at the time, or think clearly. It was two-legged. Big, with enormous paws. But quiet. The third attack was just before sunrise, the victim a man driving an ox-cart. A group of people heard the noise and came running just in time to see him being dragged away, into the forest.”

“Has the sheriff done nothing?” Katja asked.

“He led a big hunt after the second killing. But he did a clumsy job of it and wound up complicating matters more than helping. He also received his position immediately after a previous sheriff was murdered. I find it suspicious.”

“And the governor is presumably calling fighting men to the east,” Serdra said.

“Yes. Sheriffs have fewer men to call on and people fear banditry. I would advise you to take care while travelling, but... well...” He looked at them and their swords and smiled a bit awkwardly.

“We'll manage,” Katja said.

“Yes. Of course.”

“What news of the Brotherhood around the Inner Sea?” Serdra asked.

“They are still divided, from what we can tell. Maron sent a team straight into a showdown between two covens three years ago, and they slew the winners. Since then things have been quiet, from what I've heard. But, well, you know what they are like.”

Well not really
, Katja thought but kept it to herself.

“Indeed,” Serdra said. “But can you tell us how to find these brethren of yours in Baldur's City?”

“You should seek out Baldur Marks by Slab Square, or Oram Ingstad across from the hospital. They are the ones I communicate with.”

“Do you know of any other useful people?” Katja asked.

He thought for a bit before shaking his head.

“No. Can you tell me what is going on? Why are you here?”

“Conflict is coming,” Serdra said. “It may be that the Brotherhood is leaderless, but they are nonetheless putting something into motion. Something big. And that is all I know at the moment. Thank you, Markus Arelus,” she said formally, inclined her head and walked out. Katja waved at him a bit and followed.

“Well,” Katja whispered as they walked. “He seemed quite struck at meeting us.”

“They don't all have adventures,” Serdra said. “Some have the task of observing society around them and bringing up the next generation. Which is of course important, but not terribly exciting.”

“And just what is a mist demon?” Katja asked.

“It's a name this Artur the wise attached to those demons who don't quite enter the world of man. Those who can take on a physical existence to attack, but in between drift about as fleshless spirits. I feel his approach of cataloguing such things overly simplistic, but the name is used quite a bit. In any case, demons who behave in this manner aren't as strong as more 'solid' ones, but this feature also makes it especially difficult for mortals to deal with them.”

“So it's up to us,” Katja said and smirked evilly. She'd faced demons twice, but then she hadn't possessed the skills she did now.