Rob Scott - Lessek_s Key

Gilmour gestured for Mark to lower his bow and, reluctantly, he complied, saying as he returned the arrow to its quiver, ‘If I get even the faintest hint that you are thinking of me or of my race as anything other than your equal – your better – you drug-dealing piece of mooseshit, I will drop you in your tracks. You will have no idea death is coming, but it will be final. Do you understand?’

Rodler nodded, still sweating.

Gilmour indicated he should join them around the fire. Mark bent to his coffee and tried to ignore the conversation.

‘How much do you carry?’ Garec asked.

‘Just this,’ Rodler indicated several pouches along the bandolier; it looked like they ran round his back as well, but he pulled his cloak close again.

‘We’re not here for your drugs,’ Steven said. ‘None of us are interested.’

Rodler calmed noticeably. He looked again at the hickory staff and asked, ‘That magic, then?’

‘I can get hockey games on it when the wind is right, but sometimes the audio is fuzzy,’ Steven said. Mark, in spite of himself, barked a laugh as Garec looked quizzical.

‘Not willing to tell me, huh? Well, what’s that language you and your- your friend speak? Asshole? Hockey? ’

‘It’s the language we speak where we live. ’ Mark had used too many slang terms for him to believe they were anything but foreigners now.

‘A different place? A different world?’

Steven nodded. ‘You don’t seem surprised.’

‘My great-grandmother told my mother all about the Larion Senate – although I think they were all dead before even she was born. But she never forgot the stories about when magic and mystical things happened all over Eldarn. It wasn’t just the dark prince’s nonsense, but real magic, and fascinating inventions and ideas and innovations the senators had brought back here from- well, from somewhere else.’

‘Your great-grandmother was right,’ Gilmour said. ‘It was a magical time.’

Rodler smiled for the first time since joining them. ‘You sound as though you were there.’

Gilmour raised his eyebrows.

Rodler gave up. ‘So did you plan to cross tonight?’

‘We had thought about moving further east, at least across the Merchants’ Highway, and crossing there,’ Garec said, and then regretted divulging that much information, but neither Gilmour and Steven seemed upset with him for it.

‘You could do that, but there’s no need,’ Rodler said. ‘Right here is fine. There’s a big encampment back about a half day’s ride-’

‘We saw it yesterday,’ Steven agreed.

‘But that’s it until you reach the highway and the border stations.’

‘How do you know?’ Garec asked. ‘I thought you said you only make these deliveries from time to time.’

‘Sometimes more frequently than others.’ Rodler sniffed the air. ‘What is that? Burned tecan?’

Garec answered, ‘It’s called coffee and I recommend you try it barefoot.’

‘All right.’ Rodler shrugged and began pulling off his boots.

Steven didn’t attempt to explain. ‘What can you tell us of Sandcliff Palace?’

‘So I was right. That’s where you’re going.’ No one responded, so Rodler continued, ‘I think there must be some old Larion magic still working in that place, because you would never know it had been abandoned for so long. The grounds are a tangle and the forest has just about swallowed the place, but it doesn’t look at all run down. It’s as if its heart is still beating, and with a few folks to clear the brush, it would be back to the glory we all heard about as kids. It’s not falling down, or even dusty. The windows aren’t broken – well, one big one above the main hall, but that’s the only one I remember seeing – and the inside is as clean as my mother’s bedroom.’

Gilmour grimaced at the mention of the broken window, but quickly hid his embarrassment. ‘How did you get inside?’

‘I was in a hurry one morning after a business undertaking unravelled-’

‘Tried to sell to the wrong people?’ Garec interrupted.

‘No. It wasn’t a fennaroot deal. I was at the university.’

Steven frowned and Gilmour explained, ‘There is a small university near Sandcliff – the Larion Senators did much of their work there.’ He chose his words carefully: Rodler appeared to have been honest with them and it was clear he was not Nerak disguised, but he had yet to prove himself trustworthy.

‘So you were there trying to enrol in a class?’ Garec asked pointedly. ‘The universities have been closed since Prince Marek took the Eastlands.’

Rodler cast his eyes down towards the fire. ‘I make a number of trips up here. Some trips are more lucrative than others. Often I’ll stop by the university-’

‘Books,’ Steven interrupted. ‘You’re stealing old books.’

‘I do a bit of book business in Capehill, yes.’

Garec shook his head.

‘What?’ Rodler defended himself, ‘I have to make a living. How do you feed your family?’

‘I’m a farmer in Rona,’ Garec said.

‘You’ve come a long way from home since harvest, then.’ The quick-witted smuggler didn’t miss much. ‘When did you get all the crops in? A few days ago? You’re quite a speedy traveller.’

Garec didn’t back down. ‘I cover some ground, yes.’

‘You were saying-’ Gilmour interrupted.

‘What? Oh, right, Sandcliff, well, I was at the university and I ran into some Malakasian officials whose business ethics did not entirely align with my own and I had to run like a raving madman to get free. I figured they would assume I made my way back into town; so instead, I headed up towards the old palace. When I reached the lower gardens, I thought I was clear, but there they were, waiting.’

‘I understand they’re thorough about such things,’ Garec said.

‘So I moved through the lower garden – well, the brush – trying to find some cover. They’d fanned out and were hard on my heels when I found a grate, like a drainage grate for rain runoff, or melted snow, maybe, running through the gardens – I’ve never seen anything like it, it was a simple idea really, just an underground trench to allow for excess water to run down from the garden-’ He broke off, as if to rhapsodise further about the Larion drain, but a look from Mark brought him back on track.

‘There was nothing covering the opening now – I guess it might have been wood once, or maybe metal that rusted away, but either way, it was gone, so I crawled inside and made my way up the trench.’ The way he told the story, it sounded as if eluding Malakasian patrols was something he did every day. ‘The trench ran through a narrow breach in the wall into the scullery, just about wide enough for people to empty water pots or old beer barrels in, I guess, but I managed to squeeze through.’

Gilmour shook his head wryly. ‘I’m quite sure the Larion leadership never thought of that opening as a potential breach in the palace’s defences,’ he murmured.

‘It wasn’t much of one, I tell you,’ Rodler said, ‘it would take a rutting Twinmoon to get a decent-sized fighting force through there. The palace wouldn’t ever have been under any real threat from that trench, but we were always told it was hard to get into Sandcliff via the main entrance, what with all the spells and such, so I was surprised that I could just crawl into the place.’

‘So what did you find inside?’ Gilmour wiped a few beads of nervous sweat from his forehead.

‘Nothing,’ Rodler said, ‘I wasn’t raiding the place. Well, I did try to find the library – but really I just went in to hide while the prince’s squad tore the gardens up looking for me outside. I waited until they were gone and then thought about going back out.’