In the town’s center, Vern could see a huddled group of townsfolk, and there stood a curious figure, leather-robed with a hood that obscured its features. It stood near the remaining survivors of Tekuda, silent and flanked by two more knights. It motioned at the knight who held Vern, and Vern gasped again as he was dragged along, his body bursting with pain. The steady but swift tread of the knight brought him quickly to the others. Vern did not have time to survey the survivors, for the journey stopped at the feet of the leather-robed figure.
Vern looked up, and gasped. In the dark expanse of the hood, glowing eyes pierced into his own. Not flaming, like the knight’s, instead simply glowing, with a shimmering golden hue. Vern could not see an iris or pupil, only shifting color that felt more sinister yet than anything he had witnessed. He felt himself lost in the gaze of the leather-robed person, endlessly adrift within a void. He felt small, in a big world that he no longer understood; menaced, as a cat does with a mouse. Transfixed, like the hobbyist’s latest cataloged butterfly, wings still twitching under cruel pins.
“For you,” rumbled the knight, letting Vern’s arm go to land limply on the ground. Vern heard the words as if from a great distance, muffled and vague. He was helpless, caught in the hypnotic stare of his captor.
Then the leather-robed figure spoke, and when it did so there was an odd harmonic, like two voices speaking in tandem but slightly out of sync, almost echo-like. “The strand of your pathetic life’s course has been without worth. Gaze into my eyes and receive your true path.”
The golden eyes filled all of Vern’s vision, a swaying, undulating wave that threatened to engulf him. He could not tear his eyes away, some other will, alien to him, kept his sight fixed firmly. The light was cold, golden though it was, and dimmed his other senses. He welcomed that, especially the pain receding from awareness. It would be easy, a voice seemed to whisper to him, to stay here forever. It would be right. Freedom from suffering and surety of purpose. In the ebbing flow, falling through the cracks in that light and deeper beyond, there was darkness. Vern felt suddenly aware of it, the darkness behind those eyes, the sounding bells of unending misery. It startled Vern into wakefulness, suddenly not so lulled by the gilded gaze that still filled his mind. The eyes brimmed brighter for a moment.
“Impressive, but futile,” grated the echo voice. The eyes turned from Vern, who, as he sagged achingly back into his reality, heard, “Take him with the others, he is not quite ready.”
Vern felt the agony of his broken body again as the knight towed him roughly, dragging him to where the other townsfolk were huddled together.
* * *
The smooth black stone reflected the light in sullen gleam as it was moved back and forth in the wizened fingers of Gavin. With one finger he traced the etched silver pattern. “This will do nicely,” said the old man, long beard waggling in appreciation. Gavin was sitting on his heap of cushions, cross legged and bright eyed in the dim light of his Grotto. His luxurious seat took up a whole third of the room, that he might languidly stretch out if he so chose. Currently he took up only a small space, coveting the treasure given to him by Reuben.
“You don’t mind not having the whole box?” said Reuben, who was sitting next to him on the plain floor nearby. Even if he had been offered a single cushion, which he had not been, Reuben did not need to be told that all the comfort here was not for him.
Gavin laughed and clapped his hands, “Oh my, you’re far too honest a man,” said Gavin with a wide grin, “I never dreamed I’d get anything back at all.” He picked up the small china cup from a low table at his side, nestled within the jumble, and took a sip. Vapors rose from the cup, filling the room with fragrance. Gaven breathed the fumes in deeply, eyes sparkling even more.
Noticing how calming the fumes were, Reuben tried to take the example of the Subrian, taking a deep breath. He felt the aroma of the pungent herbs fill his lungs, bringing with it subtle relaxation and slowing his pounding nerves. Gavin noticed and bowed his head at Reuben. It had not been easy, the run from the center of Entigria into the underbelly of the city. Thankfully, he had evaded the pursuing dock workers. He regretted having pushed that one fellow, but he dared not chance meeting the authorities again, not when he was an escaped prisoner. Besides, he desperately needed information, which is what made him think of his shadowy benefactor.
“One of these portalled me back to Entigria. Did you know that it would do that?” Reuben asked. It had been bothering him, wondering how Gavin had guessed he might return to Entigria when they first met.
Gavin grinned, “Not in so many words, no. But I suspected the blacksmith in Tekuda had been dabbling with Karthild.” He took another sip from his cup, “They’re researching, those tinkerers I mean, all the time. Madness I say, but not without its uses.”
“I don’t really know what happens when you break it. It’s similar to what they do with regular portaling, but where it will take you, I don’t have a clue,” said Reuben, “Maybe to the palace like it did for me, maybe somewhere else.”
Gavin listened, still turning the stone over and over in his hands, “That is not a concern. The fact that it’s new is what makes it important.” Finally he set it down on his low table. Focusing on Reuben again, “And now I am guessing that you need my help again?”
Reuben nodded, he was no longer surprised at this old man’s ability to ascertain a situation; Gavin might be as frail looking as a reed, but the mind behind those quick eyes was exceedingly keen. “I have to see Tekuda. Or whatever is left of it. But I can’t go back, of course, I just need to know what happened there,” he said.
The beard waggled in the air, wispy ends moving back and forth, “Hmm,” said Gavin, “Yes, I can help you with that, I think.” After a pause, within which Gavin whistled softly a few bars, he said, “Far-seeing is very rare. Very difficult and expensive.”
Reuben groaned, he had no money, and hated the idea of being in debt again. He admired Gavin, in a way, but that was not the same thing as wanting to work for him. He had been lucky, if you could call it that, even to be able to pay back this man of goods and information even once. It went against his nature and grated against his moral upbringing, to associate with even a polite smuggler.
The laugh of Gavin brought him back to the moment at hand, “But I like you Reuben, you amuse me. I will help you.”
“I amuse you?” said Reuben, puzzled.
“Oh yes,” Gavin replied, “Perhaps its your rarity value. Honest men avoid Subria. And not many folk in the world seem to care as much as you do.”
Reuben let that sink in, as Gavin continued, “Anyway, I’ve my own curiosity to satisfy as well. If what you’ve told me is true, and why would you lie, then it’s a matter of enlightened self interest to get to the bottom of it, wouldn’t you say?” Gavin laid back against his pile of cushions, closing his eyes. Without looking, he stretched out his hand and rapped on the low table, twice.
Reuben was going over the statement when someone entered the room, he looked up at the figure and was surprised to see a familiar face.
Gavin, still reclining with his eyes closed, “I’d like you to take along someone you’ve met before. Pim will watch on and report back to me.” Then, to the newcomer, “Take this gentle soul along to Ambril’s; I’m calling in the favor she owes.”
The situation was getting a little out of his grasp, Reuben was caught between the unexpected gift and whatever ethic this man ran by, “What about me, what will I owe?” he struggled to say.
Gavin’s teeth shown white in the dim light as he smiled again, “See what I mean, Pim? What a gem.” He clapped his hands, “Okay, let me think on that one. We’ll find something that you can do that won’t be too arduous.”
Reuben looked between the two; Gavin, eyes still closed and that insufferable grin with his beard waggling in the air, and Pim, whose nonchalant indifference was almost as annoying. With little choice, and not feeling at all comfortable, Reuben sighed and said, “Very well.
”
* * *
Reuben and Pim walked along the damp street. He felt as if he was being politely escorted, rather than merely accompanied with a liaison. In truth he did not mind, he would not have to worry about inquisitive bystanders. Although, the fact that many would not meet his gaze revealed to him that news of his first visit here had gotten around already. Still, it was nice to have company. Despite keeping an eye out for trouble, Reuben had noticed that Pim did not seem as feisty or fiery as when they first met, “Where’s your friend, Tibs, wasn’t it?” he asked out of curiosity.
Pim didn’t respond but Reuben noticed the way she turned her head away from him. “Sorry, did I say something wrong?” he asked.
Pim stopped walking and turned to look hard at Reuben, “He’s gone,” she said, the anger in her voice edged and brittle.
“Oh.” It wasn’t an elegant response, but Reuben was caught off-guard. He stood there, trying to figure out what to say next. Ought he ask how? And what did Pim mean by gone?
Pim turned back with a sigh. “He’s in prison,” she said, as she started walking again while talking over her shoulder, “It happens, down here. Job went bad, he paid for it. I got away.”
“Oh,” it was all Reuben could think of to say. It probably was not a good idea to ask what had happened, he reasoned, and after all, this one seemed ready to vent on someone. He had to hurry to keep up with her pace as she stomped against the cobbles like a personal vendetta.
“Gavin was right about you. You think too much.” Her voice turned suddenly harsh, all anger and fire, “But I’ve already paid those as were responsible for the screw up. Paid them back and more for what they did.” Then in a more normal tone, “That’s why it’s me walking with you down this road.”
Reuben could understand, in a way, foreign though this world was to him. “All right then,” he said. He didn’t want to provoke her further, neither did he want to come across as callous.
“Okay,” she said in return, a half-smile on her face, “Come on then.”
The air of tension seemed to clear as they continued down the street towards their destination.
* * *
“You do realize that this will take a full month’s use of jasper lined with copper?” Negotiations were not going well. “Do you even get what this is costing me?”
Reuben was sitting in quite a different room now. This place was full to bursting with devices and contraptions, wires and small tools. Racks of different chisels and hammers lined the walls and many chests bore labels that he could recognize as various minerals and rocks. Reuben and Pim had gone through the very unassuming front display room, which held merchandise of this eclectic Karthild user, and into the workshop that was their birthplace. Reuben was sitting on one of the two stools in the room, the other being occupied by Ambril, who was not at all pleased with Reuben’s situation. She was even less pleased with Pim, who had put on her carefully blank face as she was watching Reuben clumsily explain his need and Gavin’s promise of help while leaning against the doorway.
Reuben tried again, saying, “Yeah, I get it. But that’s what calling in a favor means, now come on.”
Ambril licked her lips, dry and cracking, resilient in the prospective face of a sale, “I tell you what, I’ll help you, that’s the favor. But it’s still gonna cost ya.”
“But this is important!” Reuben said, not quite yelling but quickly running out of patience.
“Yeah, they all say that. If you want the goods you have to pay for them, rules of the trade, sonny.” Ambril’s face wore a self-satisfied smirk. Reuben was out of his league and she knew it.
Pim pushed herself forward from the doorway, hands loose and flexing, “How ‘bout the rules of crossing me on a bad day? You care to see how much that will cost?”
Ambril looked like she might bolt for a moment, then sagged in her stool, “Fine. You win, just let this be the last time you reclaim Gavin’s favor, will you?”
Pim slapped Reuben on the back, “Glad you have me around now?”
Ambril got up from her stool, “Might have least let me have fun with him, let me believe for a moment I wouldn’t be working for free.” But if she was actually sour from Pim’s leaning, she did not show it. Instead, she began rummaging around with instruments, probably most of them for show, Reuben thought. Bits and pieces were collected from around the room, a large sheet of metal here, a hollow cylinder of wood there. Ambril motioned for Pim and Reuben to move aside as she started piling the stuff in the middle of the floor. They did so, Reuben feeling lost again, Pim watching the proceedings with a wary eye.
After a few minutes, what was on the floor looked to Reuben like a pile of junk. Still bemused, he watched as Ambril began taking piece by piece, assembling some eccentric puzzle. She started small, with a hollow globe of thin silvery metal, held in a series of wooden arced brackets. When this was able to turn and pivot freely, she mounted it upon the metal sheet. Next came the wooden tube, into which several pieces of green rock lined with copper were tipped, rattling like a rain stick, and the ends then sealed with beeswax. Ambril took some time here, using a knife heated from the small stove in the back corner of the room, to burn symbols into the outer wood. Reuben thought maybe a couple of them looked similar to the runes he saw on the portal stones, but slightly modified, with extra lines in some places, and missing ones in others and made in all of bronze and wood intricately carved with symbols. Next, Ambril hung bits of quartz on string around the globe in a frame of metal bars that formed a large cube around the whole thing, carefully muttering and adjusting lengths until she was satisfied.
The contraption was complete. Reuben could not even begin to understand how the thing worked. Ambril, holding a rod of iron inlaid with a pattern of gold lines, traced the metal frame and tapped the hanging quartz. Slowly, the wobbly frame began to vibrate in place, emitting a low humming sound and the quartz began to glow with a soft light, like small candles. Ambril’s long fingers turned the arches of the inner globe carefully, adjustments were made while she muttered. The words were in another language, mixed in with arch and arcane phrases that poured forth from her mouth, like phase of the moon or day of the week and which signs of the stars above were in prominence. Reuben had no idea whether these actually mattered, so he was content at getting his time’s worth of a show if nothing else.
Finally satisfied, the merchant gave a contented grunt. “Now then, to test if this still works. I’ve any number of good places for viewing, my good lord and lady,” Ambril was putting on a show, returning to sarcasm now that the hard part of calibrating her device was complete. “The ladies’ boudoir at the theater is especially popular this time of the year.”
Pim walked over and slowly extended her hand, grabbing hold of the merchant’s shirt and reeling Ambril in until they were face-to-face. “I’d knock you on your head if I thought that wouldn’t interfere with your ability to control this damn thing.”
The merchant’s eyes widened in fright, “Enough, okay? I’ll stop messing you about.”
Pim released her, but did not move back from her.
Reuben decided to press on, “To the east in the badlands, ten days past the last outpost is where you’ll find Tekuda.”
Ambril made a few more adjustments of her device. Then she went back to her bench and opened a small drawer, careful to keep the contents hidden from view. Reuben heard the clink of stones shifting, then Ambril closed the drawer. She turned around and broke the Karthild stone in her hand before Reuben got a good look at it. The stone fell from her hands, burning up in sparks before it hit the floor. The light from the sparks did not fade however, it was drawn to the crystals and held there, pools of ambient glow burning bright. Ambril took the iron rod again touching the sphere and moving it about, first a large tilt of one arc, then another. On the surface of the metal below the sphere, light pooled from the crystals, a silvery glow like a mirror lighted from within. It cleared suddenly, revealing a scene of arid rock and dust.
“This look right?” Ambril asked, “I’ve never been out that way.”
“You’re in the right part of the world at least,” said Reuben, “Look for smoke.”
“Precise control isn’t really possible, especially out this far, but I’ll try,” said Ambril. She went back to her bench, pulling another rod from a rack, it looked like a wooden dowel to Reuben, but carved and lined with yet more runes. Ambril tapped the globe carefully, trying to manipulate the wire arcs carefully. As she did so the image below shook a bit, but remained steady. With gentle tapping and a nudge here and there, the image slowly panned around. It was if they were a bird, perhaps a hawk, hovering on the thermals from the land below. There was a sense of movement in the picture, but sedately, far slower than any flight.
As the image turned, something was coming into focus on the horizon. “What the hell! Are you kidding me?” Ambril said. Affixed to the surface of the shining metal was the image. Although the place had always been dry, the change was obvious to Reuben, he’d seen the same type of landscape before. Black haze and clouds absorbed light in the distance, but even below Reuben could notice the change happening. The grasses that sprouted haphazardly were already drained of color, breaking off at the stem in the slightest breeze. There was more grey and black than normal in the usual red and brown soil.
“Just as I thought,” Reuben said.
The shopkeeper was sputtering, shifting the image around in jerking motions. Ambril tapped the arcs urgently, and the image jolted forward, towards the smoke. With a bump the view was surveying the carnage that was below. Tekuda was, for all intents and purposes, gone. They could see where it had been, the forlorn spars of wood rafters hanging crooked, the scattered and blackened rubble. But all was in ruin, all consumed by the ever advancing cinders. Faintly, they could still see small movements below. Reuben did not need to have a closer view to know that the awkward shuffling forms were imps.
Litany of Wrath Page 14