The Legacy of Lord Regret: Strange Threads: Book 1 (10 page)

‘Captain,’ she turned to Jandryn, ‘I would appreciate being shown to my quarters.’

‘This way, my lady.’

Loppolo stood watching them go. Once they were out of earshot, he clicked his tongue thoughtfully.

‘And what use,’ he said, ‘have I for dreams, I wonder?’

Several of his companions sniggered.

Forger left the cottage the next morning feeling like a new man. He was taller, for a start, almost tall enough to pass for
normal. He knew he wouldn’t keep growing at such a rate, that after a while the growth would become more internalised – a
growing of
power
, indeed! – but it was nice to know that no trapdoor spiders were going to burst out of the ground and try to eat him.

He closed the door on low sobbing. Quite a puppet show he’d performed last night – he the master, the boys his marionettes.
Look how they play, Mother, rolling a ball to each other across the floor. Oh dear, it’s rolled into the fire! No little man,
don’t reach in after it! Dear oh dear, look missus, how his little hand is scorched, look, right down to the bone. That will
teach you to reach into the fire, little man
…

And when the father had eventually come home, well, they had all had dinner together, hadn’t they?

‘Pass the salt,’ he chortled, remembering. A boy with knife and fork in hand-and-melted-hand, his mouth dumbly opening and
closing, and Forger doing a high-pitched attempt at his voice. ‘Pass the salt, Father, pass the salt. Would you pass the salt
please? Father, look at me – would you pass the salt?’

He spied a large tub of rainwater, and stood over it, splashing blood off himself. He might, he decided, have to dress differently
to appear normal. His patchwork leather clothing would probably draw attention, and he wasn’t sure he wanted that yet.

‘Not until,’ he muttered, ‘I know what the blazing piss is going on.’

Three hundred years, he had learned during the night, since he had died. He thought about the very moment of his reawakening
– staring up at towering grass was his first new memory, but it held no clue as to why he had been returned to the world.

‘Oh well,’ he said. ‘First things first.’

He wanted to get to Tallahow – where he had trained as a threader and which had eventually become the seat of his power –
but didn’t think he was strong enough yet to threadwalk.
Besides
, he contemplated,
might be nice to see some of the land – see what has changed!

Pleased with that merry thought, he turned back to the cottage. He would take some of the father’s clothes, and perhaps there
was even some coin lying around.

There was also the final question.

Banging through the door, he re-entered the cottage.

‘All right, you two. I have one more thing to ask.’

Bound to a chair by rings of warped metal that had once been a teapot, the woman’s head remained downturned, while at the
head of the table the man raised his red-rimmed eyes.

‘It’s a question for each of you, and I suggest you think carefully about your answer. Do you understand?’

The man gave a jerky nod, and the woman whimpered an affirmative. They had learned the price of not responding.

‘Very well, here it is: do you wish to die, or,’ he moved towards the woman, who flinched, ‘live with pain,’ he slipped his
fingertip under her chin and made her look at him, ‘or live
without
pain?’

They were confused, suspicious of a trick. Really, where was the trust these days?

‘Decide quickly,’ he said, ‘or I’ll decide for you.’

‘Live …’ The man had trouble speaking with his jaw swollen.

‘Yes?’ said Forger. ‘With pain? Or without?’

‘W … without,’ the man managed.

The woman began sobbing again.

‘Honestly,’ said Forger, ‘it’s a simple question.’

‘And for her too,’ said the man.

‘All right, Father answers for you both. A shame, really, after building all this. It’s like kicking over a sandcastle, isn’t
it? Oh well.’

He made a motion as if gathering something up, and, just like that, took their pain away. They blinked their last
tears as he gestured at their bonds, the metal unclasping to drop away.

‘Now,’ said Forger, ‘make sure you clean those cuts and scrapes, else they might turn bad. And get those bodies out of here
before they fester.’

‘Of course,’ said the woman, rising. ‘I’m not an idiot.’

Forger laughed. ‘Sorry, my dear, I shouldn’t tell you how to keep your own house. In fact, I should really get out of your
way, and on mine. Oh, but I need some clothes, and a pack – fetch those for me will you, Father?’

‘I think you’d better just leave,’ said the man, glaring around his cottage angrily. ‘You’ve already caused us enough trouble.’

‘Oho! Don’t think that just because you no longer feel pain doesn’t mean I can’t give it all back.’

The man baulked at that, at least. ‘Very well,’ he said dourly. ‘I will get you something. It might be a little big on you,
though.’

‘Not for long, I hope.’

Soon Forger was walking away from the cottage, dressed in brown trousers and a loose cloth shirt, whistling cheerfully and
leaving behind a couple who no longer cared that their children had died.

Forger wandered along the road, taking in the lush green landscape. He passed other cottages, and many a field of crop or
beast. No doubt there was a township around
somewhere, though he did not come across it. Whenever he saw people, he gave them a friendly nod and a tip of his new hat,
of which he was very proud.

Then, all of a sudden, someone was walking beside him who hadn’t been there a moment before.

‘Hello, Forger.’

Forger lit up with pleasure. ‘Salarkis! My goodness, I’d hug you if I didn’t think it would bruise me. I was just wondering
if I was the only one.’

‘You aren’t.’

‘But you seem very serious, my dear. Aren’t you happy to see me? Are you not pleased to live again?’

Salarkis shot Forger a look which was hard to decipher, given his pebbled eyes. ‘I haven’t come to talk,’ he said. ‘Not yet.
I just wanted to see if you were here too.’

He began to unravel.

‘Wait!’ said Forger. ‘Salarkis, don’t go! Which of the others are back? Have you seen Karrak?’

It was too late. Cursing in frustration, Forger turned back to the road.

Where had he been on Salarkis’s list? Who had the other Warden visited first?

As a mortal, Salarkis had never been able to threadwalk.

In the change, however, he acquired the talent, becoming the best threadwalker Aorn had ever seen. For the other Wardens such
fast travel remained a difficult thing that
required time and concentration, but for Salarkis it was as easy as flinging fish off a cliff. Not only that, but all he needed
in order to find someone was to know their name. And there were other things he could send after names he knew too. Knives,
blades of any kind – told a name by him, they would fly in search of its owner, no matter the distance between. He could not
harm other Wardens that way, at least – there were strange limitations on what they could and could not do to each other,
which Forger found rather tiresome – but he could track them nonetheless. No Warden hid from Salarkis.

‘You’re the brightest light in a sea of sparkles,’ he had once told Forger, by way of explanation.

Forger kicked a stick along the road. ‘Who have you seen, damn you?’ he muttered.

Why the unfriendly tone in Salarkis’s voice? They had always done well together, hadn’t they? Made for an excellent pair of
tricksters!

Admittedly they had never been as close as Forger and Karrak – dual kings of Tallahow and Ander, their cities twin centres
of an ever-expanding empire. How wondrously cruel they had proved together, once they had realised their new common interests
– how much fun they had had! And then, for no good reason, suddenly and without explanation, Karrak had completely disappeared.
Even his crows he’d left behind, circling Ander as they called for their master – and Forger had called for him too, in his
heart.

Forger had, in fact, become obsessed with finding Karrak, and had ranged far and wide but never once caught a whiff of him.
Distressingly, Salarkis could not find him either – how Forger had shivered to hear that Karrak’s ‘bright light’ had gone
dark. He suspected that Yalenna, Braston or Mergan had killed him, but never figured out which of them it had been. Maybe
all of them, together.

Then Yalenna and Braston had come upon him, that night he’d spent in a little cottage not far from here.

‘
What did you do to him?
’ Forger had roared above the howling wind, a thousand shards of broken wood narrowing to points in a swirl around him.

‘
Nothing!
’ shouted Yalenna. Forger suspected a lie, and sent the shard swarm whizzing at her. She had swept her arms forward, channelling
the wind to blast them back at him.

‘Ah yes,’ Forger said, finally kicking the stick away. ‘Of course I could not see the cottage – we destroyed it to pieces!’

There came a clip-clopping on the road behind, and he glanced about to see a horse pulling an empty cart, being driven by
an old man. The man pushed back his hat, revealing a kindly face and proud moustache, and Forger had fun tipping his own hat
in return. He liked the man right away, if only because of the distraction he provided.

‘Where you heading?’ the man asked.

Forger gestured up the road. ‘Tallahow.’

‘Me too. Want a ride?’

Forger grinned. ‘That would be marvellous.’

‘Name’s Hanry,’ the old man said, holding out his hand to help Forger up.

‘Ah …’ Forger wasn’t good with lies. ‘I’m Hanry too, actually.’

‘Really?’

‘Indeed.’

‘I haven’t met another Hanry in a good long while.’

‘Well it’s a good strong name, not to be given out lightly, eh?’ Forger winked, and Hanry chuckled. He took up the reins and
they rattled onward.

‘So,’ said Hanry, ‘is Tallahow home?’

‘I think so.’

‘You think so?’

‘Well,’ said Forger, ‘I’ve been away. I’m not sure how much it’s changed since I was last there.’

‘How long you been away, son?’

Forger didn’t think Hanry would believe three hundred years – he almost could not believe it himself, found it incredible
to think about. If the Spell had wanted the Wardens back, why had it taken so long going about it? Then again, maybe such
a time frame wasn’t long at all to the Spell.

Forger had been in his mid-thirties when the change had stopped him ageing, and with that in mind he tried to think up a believable
answer.

‘Over ten years,’ he said.

‘I suspect you’ll find it much the same, then,’ said Hanry. ‘Ten years isn’t much to a place like Tallahow.’ He winced
a little and his hand went to his stomach. Forger watched the movement with interest.

‘You’re in pain,’ he said.

‘Mmm?’ said Hanry. ‘Oh. Yes, trouble in my gut. Reckon I got a death lump. Not too bad most of the time, but … well, it ain’t
getting better, let that be said.’

‘That’s bad luck.’

‘I’m not complaining, I’ve had a pretty good run. Managed to avoid any wife or children, unlike most fellows I know.’

Forger chuckled.

‘Got family yourself?’ asked Hanry.

‘Me?’ Forger found the idea confusing. A few skerricks of memory wafted through his thoughts, but failed to settle. ‘Not really.
I have a friend or two who are very dear to me. One of them I haven’t seen in a while.’

‘Oh?’

‘He’s like a brother, though not by blood.’

‘I understand.’

‘He went missing, though, and I haven’t been able to find him.’

‘Hmm,’ said Hanry. ‘Chance he’s in Tallahow?’

‘Maybe,’ said Forger.

Where would
Karrak go first?

‘Well, I hope you find him.’

‘Thank you.’

They crossed a bridge over a lively stream, where a father was teaching his son to fish. Fleetingly Forger
toyed with the idea of sending the son plunging under the surface, but he resisted. He was having too much fun playing the
part of the simple traveller, and so he simply tipped his hat.

‘How far is it from here?’ he asked.

‘Oh, not too far. Should be there before nightfall. Assuming night doesn’t suddenly fall in the middle of the day.’

‘What was that?’

‘Pardon?’

‘What did you say about night falling in the day?’