The Lodestone Trilogy (Limited Edition) (The Lodestone Series) (6 page)

“This is to be your task and yours alone, Keris. You will report directly to me. When you return, I will bring your efforts to the attention of the Prophet and make my recommendation. I have every confidence in your success.”

Keris nodded. “I shall begin preparations immediately, my Lord.” She made to turn away, but something stopped her.

“Mordal?”

“Yes, Keris?”

“Does the Lord Prophet really ascend to the heavens?”

“Indeed,” Mordal replied. “I have seen it with my own eyes.”

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Chapter 3

The clouds had begun to part and were tinged with Ail-Mazzoth`s soft reddish glow as Shann urged her mount towards Lind. There were no lights visible from the town, which lay in somnolent shadow.

The apprehension she had felt during her flight from Corte had slowly been replaced by exhaustion, so that after a while, she no longer checked over her shoulder for signs of pursuit. She simply clung to the sides of her mount and rode on, as if she and the graylesh were the only things left in the world.

As she approached the edge of the town, she eased herself off the graylesh`s back, half falling off in the attempt. Her bad ankle hit the ground, and she went down on one knee, grimacing in pain. Gingerly, she eased herself up and checked her surroundings.

The street she was in seemed to consist mainly of stables, workshops or warehouses; it was hard to tell in the dim light. She did not have anything approaching a plan, but she knew she could not go on much farther and she didn’t know anyone in this town.
I need a place to hole up
,
at least until morning,
she decided.

She started towards an adjacent building, when suddenly there was a sound behind her. Footsteps splashing through puddles on the hard packed road. She saw an open crate and hobbled over to it as fast as she could. She climbed in and lay still. A smell assailed her nostrils. Lining the bottom of the crate was a layer of moba root and most of them seemed to have gone bad. She fought down the urge to gag.

As she tried to lie still, a light appeared at the corner of her vision. An oil lamp was casting a gentle radiance. She looked up and saw a freckled round face bending over the crate. The face was smiling disarmingly, and even more bizarrely, was topped off by a jauntily placed cap.

The lips on the face moved. “Good evening!”

I must have fallen asleep or passed out
, Shann concluded. But her ankle still hurt, so that didn’t seem right.

All of a sudden, the nose on the face sniffed and its expression screwed up. “Pooooohhhh, what have you gotten yourself into?”

A hand reached down and Shann grasped it without thinking, allowing it to pull her up. The hand and the face belonged to a short man, not much taller than she. He had wavy brown hair, and what seemed like a permanently amused expression. He appeared neat and well dressed, which made Shann wonder if he were a clothier.

The man spoke to her as if he were speaking to a lifelong friend, rather than to a stranger whom he had only just dragged out of a smelly crate. “I have a question to ask you, and I must apologise if it seems strange. Has anyone given you anything tonight?”

Shann had no idea what this odd little man was talking about, but then she suddenly remembered the disc she had been given. She reached into her pocket and grasped it. It pulled slightly against her in that odd fashion she had noticed before. She opened her hand and held it out in her upturned palm.

The man smiled again. “Do you mind if I borrow this? I promise to return it.”

Without waiting for a reply, he grasped the disc and secreted it about his person. His gaze turned back to her and became one of concern. “You look exhausted. Come, there is a meal and a bed awaiting you.”

He started off down the street but she merely stood stupefied, watching the capped figure. He stopped, turned to her, and extended a beckoning hand in her direction. “Don’t worry. You are among friends now!”

~

Shann was seated on a stool in the kitchen. The generously proportioned range was giving off a glowing heat which threatened to lull her to sleep. The man with the cap called out. “Hedda?”

Moments later, a middle aged woman entered, clad in brown work robes and white apron. Her freckled olive face was as round as the man’s, but unlike him, she seemed to bear a permanent frown. She looked at the man, then at Shann, then back at the man again.

“Is this her?” she enquired.

By way of reply, the man reached into his pocket and held the disc out for the older woman to see. She nodded once and turned her attention to the girl.

“Right then, I’m sure you are hungry. I’ll get you a bowl.” She went to the range and began to bustle with pots.

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.