Martin Hengst - The Darkest Hour

He squeezed past her and stopped in the hallway, turning to face her. “Stay put until I get back, Tiadaria. This is no time to be flaunting your independence.”

“Have I ever?” She asked sweetly.

“Oh, only at every turn.” He gave her a piercing look. “I mean it, Tia. This could get ugly. I’ll be back.”

With that, he disappeared from the doorway, leaving her alone in the office.

* * *

The library in Blackbeach was a large rectangular building that filled the better part of the entire northwest corner of the city. It was bounded on the north by the city walls, the east by the great eastern ocean, and the west by the Great Tower itself. Four stories were crammed floor to ceiling with books and scrolls, diagrams and paintings, from all over Solendrea. One of Tiadaria’s favorite things about the library was the way it smelled. The subtle combination of old paper, ink, and lamp oil was soothing no matter how frayed her nerves were when she arrived.

She slipped through the arched doorway and passed the prune-faced quintessentialist at the reference desk. Tiadaria had long ago learned not to let the disapproving glances at her collar bother her. There were many, both here and in Dragonfell, who didn’t approve of her unorthodox jewelry. However, since she was vouched for by not only her reputation, but also one of the most powerful quintessentialists in the realm, and the One True King himself, there weren’t many who would openly show her any blatant disrespect. No matter how they thought of her in private.

Tiadaria climbed the spiral staircase to the third floor and let herself into the map room. Large wide cabinets dominated the perimeter walls, while a series of tables were pushed together in the center of the room forming one large table that allowed even the largest maps to be spread out in all their glory. Small moveable steps were scattered around the table, allowing those viewing the maps to climb up and gain the proper perspective on the larger specimens.

Jotun, a quint so old that Tia suspected he had been present at the founding of the Imperium sat in one corner of the room. His head was pillowed on his arm and his snores were the only sound in the otherwise still and empty room. She let the old man sleep. Circling the map table, she read the neatly printed letters on each cabinet. Though she had come to the Imperium with a very basic understanding of written language, Faxon had drilled her time and again on both fundamentals and advanced concepts of language and record-keeping.

He expected her to be able to match the fastidious Captain’s records and notes, a task that Tiadaria loathed almost as much as research. Still, the records she kept for Faxon helped to document the tasks she performed in service to the quints and the realm as a whole, and so earned her a stipend from the king’s treasury for her service. That part, she had to admit, was rather nice and could be easily adapted to.

Finally she found the cabinet with the map she sought. It was painted on thin muslin but was so large that it was still rather heavy and bulky for her to move on her own. However, even if she woke Jotun from his nap, he wouldn’t be much help. The elderly mage was much more adept at reading maps and remembering forgotten details than he was at anything as pedestrian as physical labor. With some effort she got the map to the viewing tables and began to spread it out.

When fully unfurled, the map took up nearly the entire viewing table. It was easily twenty feet wide and three-quarters of that high. Tiadaria had to climb to the top of one of the step-stools to get the proper vantage point from which to gather her bearings. Dragonfell was easiest to locate, as the inset detail of the cavern palace and the large alabaster stonework was unmistakable. From there, it was a relatively simple matter to trace the trade road south, past Wheatborne and eventually to Blackbeach.

Tiadaria gnawed thoughtfully at her lower lip. Faxon had said that Ethergate was outside the Imperium’s border, so she followed the trade route north from Blackbeach, across the Dragonback Mountains through which she passed so often and out past King’s Reach. There was a large city far to the northwest of King’s Reach. It was unlabeled on the map, but marked with the hand-eye-and-triangle symbol that was the common mark of the quintessentialists. Certainly that had to be Ethergate.

“Have you found what you seek, young lady?” Jotun’s gravelly voice startled her so badly that Tiadaria jumped and had to clutch the handrail on the steps lest she fall down. He had gotten silently to his feet and shuffled around to where she stood on the stool, two heads higher than he.

“Is that Ethergate?” she asked, pointing at the dot on the map. Jotun nodded, scratching his stubbly white whiskers and looking at her thoughtfully.

“Aye, young lady, it is.”

“How long would you say it would take to travel there on horseback?”

Jotun shook his head. “The trade road ends outside the Imperium, Lady Tiadaria. That slows things up something awful. Once you get onto the lesser used roads in the outlands, it’s slow going indeed.”

“Yes, yes,” she said impatiently. “I understand. But how long to ride from Blackbeach to Ethergate?”

He peered at her with his watery brown eyes for a long moment before he replied. “I’d reckon about two weeks, My Lady.”

“Are there smaller versions of this map? One I could borrow perhaps?”

Jotun went to a cabinet and produced a roll of parchment. Tia slipped the ribbon band off the end and unrolled it. It was a perfect copy of the map she had laid out, right down to the bends of each river. The only thing it lacked was the rich colors of the original. She suspected that the copy was meant to be functional, where the original was obviously a display piece. She re-rolled the parchment and slipped the ribbon down over it.

“Thank you, Master Jotun,” she smiled at him and his eyes crinkled with happiness. “You’ve been most helpful.”

“My pleasure, Lady Tia. My pleasure.”

She lingered long enough to replace the map that she had spread on the table and then departed the library, going directly to the stables. Nightwind nickered as she approached and she clucked her tongue to appease the animal.

“Easy now, lovey,” she said quietly as she took down her saddle and bags from the pegs near the stall. “We’re off on an adventure.”

Tiadaria quickly fitted the accoutrements to Nightwind’s well-muscled body and eased him out of the stall, leading him by the reins until they were outside the stables. With the ease of much practice, she hefted herself from one stirrup, swinging her leg over and settling herself into the saddle.

It was nearing dinner time and the sun was sinking low behind the mountains in the west. Traveling in the dark didn’t bother Tiadaria, as sphere-sight was just about as good as being able to see in the dark, but Nightwind didn’t care for it at all. He hesitated at her spur, and then reluctantly trotted onto the cobble road that would lead them out of Blackbeach.

Tia smiled. Faxon would catch up with her at Ethergate, she was sure. That was if he didn’t catch up to them on the road. It served him right to be left behind, she thought, still smoldering over the incident with the fire. She leaned in close to Nightwind’s neck and spurred him into a run, delighting in the spring air that swept her hair back as they plunged headlong into the twilight.

Zarfensis sat on a rough-hewn bench outside the cathedral. Since being stripped of his rank and shunned by the pack council, he was no longer permitted to enter the holy places. Only his status and years of service to the Shadow Assembly had prevented him from being excommunicated from the Chosen entirely.