Barb Hendee - Through Stone and Sea

Wynn, Chane, and Shade were on the move again, but along separate ways.

The scroll case had also caught his attention. But it was only one text among many, a paltry resource compared to others. Clutching his conjured creation, Sau'ilahk slid out toward the mainway.

In the distance, Chane and Shade headed toward Sea-Side's entrance cavern and the lift down to its lower port. The conversation regarding one called Ore-Locks had confused him. But he had forgotten all about the Iron-Braids once he heard mention of the duchess.

An Âreskynna—"Kin of the Ocean Waves"—if only by marriage, was here in the seatt. This good fortune was almost unbelievable. Duchess Reine had acted for the royals in Calm Seatt, and they were directly connected to the guild superiors and the translation project.

Sau'ilahk half submerged into the inn's wall, pulling his servitor with him. He waited there, watching for Wynn to emerge. When she did, he merely blinked along after her, slipping in and out of dormancy as his servitor scuttled and swam high along the mainway's walls.

Wynn finally paused on the next level down and peered into a side passage.

Reine Faunier-Âreskynna stepped from a shop.

Sau'ilahk knew her face. She had helped protect his interests at the guild, keeping that city captain at bay in his investigation. The nature of the texts had remained secret, in the guild's control. The translation folios had remained scattered about the city's scribe shops.

Until Wynn had intervened.

But he no longer needed her … not if the duchess could lead him right to the texts.

Sau'ilahk would soon be finished with one troublesome little sage.

Chane overtook Shade and led the way to Sea-Side's outer cavern. Passing the turn into the tram station, he headed for the main entrance. Unlike Bay-Side's larger one, there was no true market here, only a few scattered vendors with carts servicing patrons on their way in or out.

He stepped out of the huge archway and onto the mountainside street, and Shade pulled up silently beside him. The pair found themselves in the settlement's surface district overlooking the vast western ocean.

Sea-Side was less developed than Bay-Side. The narrow main street switch-backing up the mountain appeared steeper and more haphazard by comparison. Still, it was lined with varied buildings of stone, built in thin-line fitted blocks or carved from the mountain's rock. Directly ahead at the narrow plateau's edge was another crank house and lift station.

Shade began rumbling as Chane steeled his resolve. These dwarven contraptions were the most unnatural method of travel he had ever experienced.

"Come on," he rasped.

Shade's ears pricked over a wrinkled snout, and Chane realized he had picked up Wynn's habit of talking as if the dog understood.

He pulled out his pouch, pouring dwarven and Numan coins into his palm. He had no idea how much was proper for the trip down to shore level. As they approached the station, an impossibly wide dwarf waddled out of the crank house. How this whale of a stationmaster even fit through a dwarven doorway was a wonder. Wild hair tinted like redwood bark swung around his face, and a like-colored beard was dotted with oats. Perhaps he had been sharing a meal with his mules.

"Down?" he grunted. "How far?"

Chane held out his coins. "To the port."

The stationmaster grunted again and plucked a dwarven iron "slug" from Chane's palm. When he glanced at Shade, with a twitch of his bulbous nose he pecked out a copper one as well. He waved Chane toward the lift, not bothering to escort one lone passenger.

No one else waited to descend and Chane saw no passenger lift as at Sea-Side. There was only one large cargo lift, and he stepped quietly aboard. As he turned, about to close the lift's gate, Shade was lingering on the stone loading ramp.

Her head hung low. Rumbling, with every slow paw pad, she finally followed. Chane had barely closed and pinned the gate when metal clanks sounded from the crank house. At the lift's first lurch, he grabbed the rail with both hands, wood creaking under his fingers. An instant later, mountainside crags and gashes began rushing by.

Speed built quickly—too quickly—until they dropped far faster than the ride up to Bay-Side. Thunderous racket rose under the platform from its massive wheels boring along the granite road's steel-lined ruts. It was not just the sound—the vibrations shuddered through Chane's whole body. He felt as if he were being thrown down the mountain at the waiting rocky shore below. He thought he heard Shade gag over the lift's raucous noise.

He did not want to look.

The lift passed two lower settlements, but neither had a station where passengers transferred to another lift. Sea-Side's one cargo lift went all the way down, and those brief settlements blurred by in a rush.

Chane's only comfort was in knowing that—one way or another—the lift would eventually stop. When it finally slowed, then bumped into a wall-less station at the port's back, he shuddered in the silent cloud-laced night.

No one came out to check on arriving passengers. Perhaps on this side of the mountain fees were collected only above. Chane unbolted the gate with shaky hands, stepped down the loading ramp, and then stopped halfway.

Shade still stood at the lift's center. With her ears flattened and her head low and her legs splayed in a braced stance, a stream of drool trailed from her panting jaws to puddle on the platform's boards.

"It is over," he said. "Come."

Smelling sea air, he looked upward along the steep granite road. The peninsula's ocean side was more sheer and rough than the bay side. But the slant down into the open ocean was likely why full-size ships could dock here.

Other than a few warehouses framing a main avenue to the docks, buildings were sparse and deeply weathered. The shoreline, however, could never be called a beach.

Endless waves pounded and sprayed upon jagged rocks at the mountain's base. And Chane wavered at the chance of finding some small, hidden entrance in leagues of sea-battered rock. Just which way—north or south—should he begin?

Shade growled and then sniffed sharply, as she too gazed along the shore.

"A room first," Chane said, more to himself than the dog.

Shade stared upward toward Sea-Side's main settlement, probably still doubtful of leaving Wynn alone. Chane snapped his fingers to gain the dog's attention and stepped in between the warehouses.

Only a few dwarven dockworkers were about. A cluster of human sailors languished beneath a dangling lantern. He spotted only two single-masted vessels until he cleared the buildings and reached the heads of the piers. One larger ship rested farther out, near the end of the leftmost dock.

Its two masts were as tall as those of larger vessels he had seen in Calm Seatt. With all sails furled, it appeared to be quietly waiting. This had to be the duchess's vessel. If she stayed in Sea-Side, then her ship would have docked here. The other two smaller ones did not seem fitting.

Shade huffed once.

She trotted past the docks' heads, and Chane turned and followed. She finally dropped to her haunches to wait. When he caught up, she sat before a stone building, squat-looking though it was still two stories tall. Peering through the outer windows, Chane saw people inside, some with tankards in hand or seated for a meal at tables. With two stories, it might be an inn, or something like it among the dwarves.

Chane scrutinized Shade, though the dog ignored him. Perhaps she understood his intention, if not his words. It should have been a small relief, but it only made Chane warier.

What else did Shade know or understand?

Wynn returned to her room after making certain that Duchess Reine had retired for the night. Alone for the first time since Chane had reentered her life, Wynn crawled into bed early and slept hard. She needed to be up and alert by dawn, if she was to follow Reine's movements by day. In the morning, as the innkeeper's knock came at the door, she awoke feeling more herself.