Мерседес Лэки - Passages

Jayan escorted Shasta and Timiyon into the tallest building along the main street, up to the third floor, and into Thayler’s office.

(This is where his housekeeper found Thayler this morning. He was lying on the floor beside the counting desk.)

Leaving Jayan to observe from the doorway, Timiyon motioned her into the room with his head, and Shasta nodded. There was only one door, an iron-banded oaken door, and only one window, a broad, barred stained-glass window of the Sun-in-Glory that was certainly illuminated by the first rays of the Sun, which, in turn, illuminated the large wooden desk before it. Two Karsite style padded benches instead of chairs were placed before the desk, and another bench was sure to be behind the desk. Shasta also noted the many lamps on each wall.

Timiyon pointed toward the window. (Weaponsmaster Alberich has something similar in his quarters in Haven. Very similar, indeed.)

Shasta raised a querying eyebrow in response. Of course he would know that: he probably even saw it.

Timiyon tapped Shasta’s hand. (Magic?)

Shasta focused herself. There was magic here, the feather-fall tingling sensation along her fingers that magic always had, but there were fraying tag ends of magic that felt like a spell was present. The closer she moved to the counting desk, the more present that feeling seemed to be, but she didn’t know enough about magic to tell what spell or how long ago, and she signed that to Timiyon.

Timiyon sighed. (Gold is notorious for holding on to bits and pieces of magic. Thayler holds monies for foreign merchants. Rethwellan strongboxes have strong protection spells on them, mine certainly did; it could have come from them.)

Jayan’s querying raised eyebrow was met with a shake of Timiyon’s head. Jayan hung his head slightly at the news, then shrugged his shoulders.

Moments later, Shasta and Timiyon were back on the street. There was a caravan mustering for departure, and Timiyon helped with the logistics, an interesting diversion in his semiretirement. Shasta, however, noted his distracted stare and was convinced he was thinking more about Thayler than loading caravan wagons. (If what happened to Thayler is not natural, then who? Why?)

Timiyon smiled. (First we find the how. Find the how, find the who. Find the who, find the why.)

Timiyon and Shasta walked into the mustering yard at the cartwright’s, and immediately into chaos. Several men in comfortable Valdemaran garb, severely plain Hardornan clothing, ostentatious Rethwellan finery, or richly embroidered Karsite tunics were either arguing among themselves or arguing with an exasperated man in a leather apron. A young student in shabby clothing leaned against a post and alternated burying his nose in a book in one hand and drinking from a flask in his other hand. A bald, blunt-faced man wearing gray velvet finery and a prominent Sun-in-Glory pendant sat on a bench nearby eating with birdlike precision, neatly slicing an apple and stabbing pieces to eat. A narrow-faced, slender-boned man in a severe gray uniform sat next to him, guarding a heavy iron chest and watching everyone through narrowed eyes as if he suspected each and every person there a potential thief, especially the Karsite family of two harried adults and four very active young children. Shasta wouldn’t trust any of them.

When one of the merchants happened to look away and notice Timiyon, everyone clustered around him, demanding his attention, much to the relief of the leather-aproned farrier. Timiyon quickly learned that Basidi hadn’t opened the business that morning and couldn’t be found; Merrow, Basidi’s partner, left for Karse yesterday noon to help with her cousin’s first childbirth. That left Timiyon as the only person in some measure of authority.

Timiyon convinced the merchants and travelers to follow him into his office, where he could sit and rest his ailing knees, then spent the rest of the morning and most of the afternoon answering questions, scheduling tasks, offering recommendations, and generally soothing frayed tempers. Shasta stayed by his side the entire time. It was no different from the interminable town council meetings Timiyon was forced to endure. Shasta sat meekly on his left, paying close attention to the participants, all of whom ignored her completely. When he wanted her advice on what their faces were saying, Timiyon would rest his hand on his leg, under the table, and Shasta would reach over and tap the lengths of his fingers in the precise location and order to finger-spell her comments. He would sometimes reply in the same manner.

By dinner time, the merchants and travelers were mollified, the cartwrights, blacksmiths, and farriers were finished for the day, and the caravan just might leave as scheduled in the morning once Timiyon sorted out all the paperwork tonight and if Basidi returned tomorrow to make the final approvals.

Timiyon walked up the double set of stairs to Basidi’s office, sat down behind the very messy desk, and went to work. Shasta followed him into the room and looked at the couch opposite the desk. The cushions were in disarray, one leaning against another and a third laying on the floor. She knew from Timiyon that Basidi sometimes worked late and slept there when the caravans mustered.

A vague feeling prompted Shasta to step closer and reach out her hand; the same fraying bits and pieces of magic she had felt in Thayler’s office were near the couch, but here, the only gold she saw was a golden Sun-in-Glory token on the floor next to the couch.

Shasta snapped her fingers, and Timiyon got up and walked over to look where she pointed. He picked up the token and lifted his lenses to peer at it more closely.

(This is a journey token, usually worn by followers of Vkandis who have made the journey to the Great Temple in Sunhame. There was one like it on Thayler’s desk.) Timiyon’s eyes held that same intense glitter he got when translating a difficult passage. (Two of the three richest people in town acting strangely, two of the three most prominent Vkandis worshipers, two of three involving something at their office, and two of the three . . . )

Timiyon closed his fist, then smiled. That left Merrow, the trade factor, Basidi’s partner, who matched the caravan merchants with goods and took orders from distant merchants. (Rules of three: Something unusual happens to two of the three, I suspect something will happen to the third, as well.)

Shasta could believe that—she had never trusted Basidi or Merrow. She also knew there was one slight problem: (Merrow is in Karse.)

(We can still check her office, just to be sure.) She followed Timiyon into the next room over. Unlike the messiness of Basidi’s office, Merrow’s was very neat and orderly; the only thing out of place was a small golden Sun-in-Glory token on the desk. Timiyon leaned over to peer at the token. (It is the same as the others. What do you think?)

Shasta didn’t reply; she didn’t need to reach out, she felt the magic tremble across her skin as soon as she came within arm’s reach. She stood next to Timiyon and reached out, slowly, with one hand. She felt a knot of magic there, pulsing, with a string playing out somewhere in the distance from the center. She reached closer and felt the knot quiver, then a tag-end of it lashed out at her. There was sudden implosion of air rushing inward, surrounding herself and Timiyon with darkness.

Shasta fought the urge to brush her hand across her eyes to make sure they were open. Even in the darkest of rooms, there was always some faint light her keen eyes could see. Now, there was only thick darkness. Then she noticed the pain of her left arm awkwardly pinned against Timiyon’s side and her legs and feet tangled underneath her. She twisted herself to free them, only to slide down, coming to rest on her back against Timiyon’s legs with her arms and legs above her like an overturned, pitiable beetle.