Stephen Lawhead - The Realms Thereunder

“Fairly urgently-I think my friend is in danger.”

“Ah, then it’s important that you leave as soon as possible. There are things that I can do to help you . . . but . . .” Lokkich looked sad.

“What is it?” asked Daniel, sensing a hustle.

“I’m afraid that the cost would be far beyond the means of a poor wood-burner.”

“You obviously have something in mind. Let’s hear what it is without the whole drama.”

The merchant smiled. “Ah, you see through me. I see I have misjudged your cleverness. Forgive me, I meant no insult, it is just that sometimes a softer touch is needed with clients. No matter. We will talk as equals and lay everything on the table before us. Yes, there are things I can do to help, but they are expensive. In short, it means loading you up with some of my wares, which I have appropriated from your own world. These will act as forces to draw you closer your destination-all things wish to return to their place of origin. However, you cannot buy them, as you have no money. Nor can I just give them to you, as that would make you beholden to me and increase your ties here. No, you will need to earn them.”

“How?”

“By doing a job for me-working for me, in short, like you work for the collier. I do not wish to trap or ensnare you-remember, it’s in my interest to see you safely home. But the type of work will be determined by the value of the objects you need.”

“Alright, let’s see these objects, then,” Daniel said, not too happy to be dealing like this, but if it meant he could get home faster, it would be worth it.

“Of course. Please, take a seat,” he said, rising and arranging a few cushions opposite his own pile. Daniel settled on these as the merchant waddled over to a display cabinet. “Think of yourself as a magnet-and the more things you possess from your own world, the greater your pull back to that world will be.” He fiddled around behind the cabinet and took out a drawer, carrying it carefully-almost reverently-and laying it on the floor between them. “The objects that are most recent will have the strongest pull and will be more worth carrying. The oldest ones will be almost useless to you.”

Daniel laughed when he saw what the drawer from the cabinet contained-it was just full of junk. There was a bundle of pencils of varying lengths and sharpness-some even bore teeth marks- all tied up in a silk ribbon. There was a gardening fork lying inside a glass case. A jar containing coins, bottle caps, ring pulls, paper clips, and brass tacks. There was a pair of binoculars, something that looked like an oven knob, a bottle of ink, and more besides.

“It is up to you to choose the most recent or valuable to you.

Tell me, do you recognise any of these items?” the merchant asked.

“I recognise all of them. How did you find them?”

“I have my sources,” the merchant said guardedly. “Tell me, this manuscript, what is its nature?” The merchant reverently handed him a bundle of decaying papers.

“This is a comic book.”

“I have studied it closely but do not understand the writing. Is it a history of one of your heroes?”

“It’s a story-none of this really happened.” He handed it back. “It’s not so old. It was printed about twenty years ago.”

“What about this?”

“That’s more recent-it’s a video cassette tape.”

“What is it used for?”

“Amusement. You stick it in a machine and it plays a story for you. We have lots of them where I come from. This one is Doctor Who .”

The merchant looked at him blankly.

“It’s a science fiction TV show. That would probably help me out, if I had it. As would this, I suppose.” He picked up liner notes from a CD and flicked through it. “And that, definitely.” He pointed to a cell phone charger.

“So, these three items, the . . . vidosette tape , the small booklet, the wire with the weight on it . . . and the manuscript as well?”

Daniel shrugged. “Sure, the comic book as well. Why not?”

“What about these? Can you tell what they are?” He handed Daniel a rectangular red box made out of thin cardboard. It had “.38 SPECIAL 130 GRAIN FULL METAL JACKET” printed on its side.

“These are bullets,” he said, turning the box around in his hands so that they were the right way up. He opened the box-it was full. “They can be quite dangerous.”

“Would you take those?”

“I’d rather not.”

“So,” the merchant said, businesslike again. “Four items from your world, and valuable ones at that.”

“And if I have these, I can go back tomorrow night?”

“Very likely.”

“Can you guarantee it?”

“Not absolutely, but with my experience as a traveler between worlds, I can offer you near certainty. As certain as anyone can be in these matters.”

“Okay, what do I have to do?”

“That moneylender,” the merchant said, nodding at the tent flap, “Agrid Fiall, is a vile and detestable creature who has the throat of this nation in his grasp. He is a disgusting leech who holds entire cities to debt and squeezes them as dry as if they were in a vice. Families starve because of him, and yet he blithely carries on, squeezing and squeezing every debtor as dry as a bone. Due to his power, he has risen to a high position in court and as a shameless flatterer to the princely brothers. He is here in attendance with Prince Lhiam-Lhiat at this Fayre.”

“I’ve heard of him already. What do you want me to do?”

Daniel asked, already having an inkling.

“Kill him.”

Daniel considered. “Would that be hard?”

“I have already devised a plan that will put you at minimum risk-one blow, and an easy escape. I must protect my investment, after all.”

Daniel thought a little longer and then said, “Very well, I’ll do it. But I’ll need those bullets after all. And also,” he said, pointing to a black, metallic object in the centre of the tray, “I’ll need that to put them in.”

“Are you sure you are up to this?” Lokkich asked. “Can I really count on you to complete this task?”

“It’s not the first time I’ve assassinated an evildoer.”

She lay in bed, tired, weak, and confused. Her body felt . . . wrong. It was almost too much of an effort to move. So many things felt . . . wrong. It was hard to think. There was something important she had to do. She had to rescue someone? Who? Herself?

Professor Stowe-Felix-was sleeping next to her. She could see his back and arm-pale, flabby, and it disgusted her. Repulsed, but still with a tremendous effort of will, she pushed herself up and swung her feet out of bed-dizzy, and she wasn’t even standing up yet.

She pulled the covers off and hoisted herself to her feet. Gripping the side of the bed to steady herself, she made her way to the door. Catching sight of her reflection in a full-length mirror, she halted. She looked old. Much older than she used to look. Her face was gaunt and eyes sunken. Her lips were thinner-even her hair looked tired. It no longer displayed the black sheen that she was secretly proud of. She shut her eyes. This wasn’t her. She was someone else.

A soft squeal from the corner of the room made her jump. The baby. She needed to escape. Should she take that with her? It didn’t seem right to leave the child, and anyway, the crying might wake the professor.

Gathering strength from she didn’t know where, she crossed the room and took the baby from a small white cot. Holding it against herself, she rocked it gently and staggered out of the room.

She was in the hallway. The air was cold and through the window, she could see it was snowing. Should she make her escape now? In this weather?