The Aduramis Chronicles: Volumes 1-3: The Definitive Collection

by Harrison Davies

  ‘Very well, seek out Lord Warital in his offices. You will find them five streets away. It is a large red-bricked building that flies the king’s warrant.’ The guard touched an emblem upon his tunic.

  ‘And how will we know this lord by sight?’

  ‘Trust me, you will know.’ The guard smirked. He clicked his heels and turned to leave. ‘Good fortune, gentlemen.’

  ‘May the gods favour you also,’ Jericho replied.

  The guard shrugged off the remark and clicked his fingers at his comrades, who followed him from the establishment.

  Marrok and Jericho exhaled heavily when the city guard had left.

  ‘I thought for certain we were going to jail yet again.’ Jericho sounded relieved.

  Marrok strode to the entrance door, swung it open, letting a blast of cold air into the tavern. ‘The day has only just begun.’

  ‘Wait. We should clean up before we venture outside.’

  ‘That’s a good idea. You do look awful.’ Marrok chuckled and closed the door once more.

  SONNY LAV’ER

  Coinin and Aniol trudged through a thick layer of rotting leaves, blown in by a strong wind that wend its way along the cobbled streets of the city. They gathered their cloaks about them protectively and scanned left and right for signs of young people with whom they could become acquainted.

  After some time in pointless wandering, Aniol stopped and rested against a low stone wall. ‘This is useless. It’s too early, no one under the age of twenty will be out of their beds at this hour.’

  Coinin, fond of his sleep, agreed. ‘Let us find sustenance and wait a while till there is more life in this city.’

  ‘Now, there’s a plan. I think I saw a place a few streets back.’ Aniol flicked a thumb behind her.

  Without a word, both turned and headed back the way they had come, seeking the food establishment Aniol had mentioned.

  ‘Just so I get it right,’ Aniol began. ‘We are seeking contacts for your father who is looking to start mining in the area. Correct?’

  ‘That’s the story we will use to convince anyone who may enquire, yes.’

  Aniol nodded and stored the information away.

  It wasn’t long before they turned a corner and spotted food being served from a simple covered stall, and upon approach, it at least appeared clean, unlike its owner, who’s clothing had seen better days. She wore an off-white cloth tunic heavily stained from food debris and filthy handprints. Her hair was a sickly lavender colour, coiled high.

  Coinin looked to Aniol and curled his lip.

  Aniol rolled her eyes and whispered, ‘As long as the food is cooked, I don’t care. I’m famished.’

  Coinin shook his head and waved a hand dismissively. He watched as Aniol stood in line to be served, and reluctantly joined her. He was not hungry, but thirsty, and at least with drink he could be fairly sure it would not poison him.

  With a jingle of coins from the patron ahead of them, it was their turn to be served.

  The stall-keep clucked her tongue and sighed impatiently. She beckoned Aniol forward with a wave of a pudgy finger and a glare.

  Aniol smiled uneasily and pointed towards a delicious looking crusty pie. ‘Two of those, please.’

  The stall owner grunted. ‘Fortunately for you, I know several languages, Wester among them, or we’d be here all day,’ she huffed in a deeply accented tone. She thrust two pies into Aniol’s waiting hands. ‘That’ll be two Rien.’

  ‘Oh,’ Aniol stuttered. ‘What’s a Rien?’

  ‘Let me guess,’ the stall maid began. ‘You are just travelling through the city on route to some far-flung land and don’t possess any local currency.’

  ‘You sound like you’ve come across this before.’

  ‘Oh, only every day,’ the woman said, and rolled her eyes.

  Coinin stepped forward and approached the stall. ‘We do have currency; we have this gold piece.’

  ‘As much as I’d love to take that off your hands, it’s too much for two pies. It wouldn’t be right.’

  ‘I thank you for your honesty. Is there, perhaps, a money changer in the city?’

  The stall owner sighed and withdrew the pies from Aniol’s hands. ‘You will need to visit the family Lav’er, their home is west of the city, near the bridge to the palace. You can’t miss it, big, made of red brick and flies a flag depicting a pile of gold coins.’

  ‘Thank you kindly. We shall return.’

  ‘Yes, well, don’t be too long, will you? My pies don’t last long around these parts.’

  Aniol nodded and gripped Coinin’s arm. ‘Come on, let’s hurry, those pies smelled wonderful, and now I’m hungrier than ever.’

  The pair hurried back the way they had come towards the bridge they had seen in the distance not five minutes ago.

  They waded through hummock after hummock of multi-coloured leaves blown around by an icy wind coming from the open shoreline opposite, and bent their heads against the same breeze that whistled tunelessly down the street. Coinin’s bangs flapped about his brow, whereas Aniol’s longer hair wafted in her eyes and she kept having to pull lengths of it from her mouth.

  A low rumble issued from ahead and caught the curiosity of the pair. From the far end of the street the mechanical conveyance Marrok and Jericho had seen not long ago, now trundled towards them, steam belching from its chimney. Like their friends, they too witnessed passengers sitting in comfort and envied them a little. Coinin and Aniol stepped back for safety, and their backs touched the buildings behind them. The two cars of the tram passed by slowly and all too soon it was gone.

  ‘I … I’ve never seen anything like that,’ Aniol said with a wide-open stare. ‘Where were the horses?’

  Coinin, too, looked awed by the sight, his mouth agape. ‘These are truly advanced people. We best be careful of our step. Who knows what other mechanical devices they may possess?’

  ‘I know I’d like to ride on one of those things; it looked thrilling.’

  ‘Maybe one day. Come on, the house can’t be far now,’ Coinin said. ‘It must be just around this bend.’

  Sure enough, upon rounding the bend they spotted the money changer’s house. The street there was lined with trees, tall and thin, and topped with a topiary ball of green and amber leaves. Handfuls of leaves fell from the trees and blew away instantly. The changing of the seasons had begun in earnest.

  To their right, a long, stone bridge spanned the lake and met a rocky island upon which a once beautiful palace had stood alone and proud. The structure had changed somewhat in the last twenty years to include a new assembly of constructions around it. Several chimney stacks released massive plumes of acrid black smoke and an equal number of tall, cylindrical, iron containers overshadowed the palace.

  Above the palace floated a tethered rock section of the island, held aloft by seven envelopes. Iron pipework fed the sacs with constant hot air. Aniol could just make out green lettering painted on the underside of the rock formation that read, “The King’s own Royal Guard”. A floating guardhouse, she mused. What a strange sight.

  Coinin nodded towards the guardhouse. ‘I guess we shall have to avoid that place.’

  ‘Let’s keep out of trouble then.’

  The rest of the street was bland, from its rusting railing that separated them from the lake that lapped away at rocks below the road level, to the very facades of many a house.

  Aside from the iron rails that helped propel the tram along the centre of the road, the road held not much more, other than a solitary stone bench upon which laid what first appeared to be a mound of rags but was in fact a drunkard sleeping off a solid night of revelry.

  A city worker, dirty and unkempt, carried a ladder that was wider at the base than at the top, and every second railing he would stop, prop his ladder against a light pole, climb a few steps and twist a brass valve near the base of an intricate glass lantern. Coinin and Aniol watched, perplexed, as the flame emanating from the interior of the lantern
vanished.

  Avoiding the sleeping man whose odour resembled that of a brewery mixed with a barnful of livestock, they arrived outside a four-storey dwelling.

  It towered over them majestically, easily the most attractive building on the street, and was apparently well maintained. The windows, many of them, gleamed bright and clean, with velvet drapes drawn to the morning sun. A deep blue and robust double door of oak barred the entrance, complete with a solid brass knocker, highly polished and shaped like the head of a wolfhound, which sat in the centre of the leftmost panelled door. Above, an awning of red cloth hemmed with golden tassels protected the entranceway.

  Flagpoles fastened either side of the canopy held a standard, each depicting a pile of gold coins, just as the stall vendor had told them. This, then, was the family Lav’er’s home and business dwelling. As they approached the house they passed stone pillars positioned either side of the grand railed wall that separated them from the front of the building. Each held a brass plaque with a series of words embossed upon them, sadly unreadable in its foreign tongue.

  Aniol grinned. ‘We’ve found it.’

  ‘Is it too early to knock, do you think?’

  ‘The drapes are open. I don’t see why not, besides, we’re being watched.’

  Coinin looked to where Aniol nodded. A laced material on the other side of a window twitched, and a hand disappeared into the gloom of the room beyond.

  ‘That settles it then; we best knock before they become suspicious and call the guard,’ Coinin decided.

  Aniol led the way and climbed several stone steps to the imposing doorway and gripped the knocker. With a clang that echoed through the space behind the door, she brought the knocker down hard. Twice, for good measure.

  They heard a scraping of chairs and a clatter of feet. Then half a dozen locks and bolts were drawn or unlocked before, finally, the right-hand door opened silently. A stooped and white-haired old woman stood at the threshold looking suspicious. She wore a long black whalebone farthingale, a kind of hooped skirt that made the wearer appear to have improbably sized hips and an impossibly thin waist. Her diminutive frame was propped up by a short, thin cane and her limbs trembled with age. Her craggy face furrowed in impatience. ‘Nus?’ she croaked.

  Aniol and Coinin looked at each other, confused.

  ‘I’m sorry, but we don’t understand,’ Coinin said slowly and deliberately.

  The old woman huffed and held up an index finger to advise the pair to wait. She turned aside and collected a pewter bowl. It wobbled and sloshed water as she held it out to them.

  Coinin looked at the woman, perplexed, and was just about to grip the bowl and drink from it when the old lady sighed deeply and tossed some of the water over his face. Coinin coughed and spluttered and wiped his face.

  ‘What are you doing, old woman?’ he cried.

  Aniol, who had been laughing, stopped suddenly as she, too, received a face full of water.

  ‘Now who’s laughing?’ Coinin smirked.

  ‘The water helps you understand our language. Without it, you may as well talk to that tree over there, for all the good it would do you. Now, what do you want?’

  Aniol stepped forward and tried to smile, despite her soaking. It was important that they kept these people onside, notwithstanding the oddity of having water thrown at you on the street. ‘I’d forgotten about the water. I apologise for the intrusion, but we require the use of your services.’

  ‘Pah, money, is it? Always money it is.’ The old woman spat.

  ‘As a matter of a fact –’

  ‘No-one ever comes to see old Grent,’ the woman cut in. ‘Shall I take your cloaks? No? This way then.’ She turned slowly into the hallway, deposited the bowl aside and threw a towel at Coinin. When he and Aniol had dried their faces, Grent inched her way inside and led the pair along a dimly lit corridor. Either side, spaced equally apart, a dozen or so paintings of well-dressed men and women accented the ornate furnishings and wall coverings that lined the hall. After an extreme amount of time following the old woman, they arrived at the furthermost doorway. The old woman turned and addressed them shakily. ‘The master is inside.’

  ‘The master?’ Aniol quizzed.

  ‘The master of this ‘ere business. The money changer in these parts. Go inside now, quickly.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Aniol nodded and knocked on the panelled door beside the old woman.

  ‘Come,’ a gruff voice sounded behind the door.

  Aniol turned the round brass handle situated in the centre of the door and entered, followed closely by Coinin.

  Aniol was, of course, immediately on guard, but she had no need to be. A spacious and opulent room lay behind the door, with several soft couches, tables, and chairs furnishing the room. A glowing fire crackled at one side of the room, and the decor was magnificent. Striped burgundy wallpaper adorned every wall. An expansive chandelier hung majestically from the ceiling and lit the room with a soft, warm light that shone through crystal droplets. Old and faded paintings of the owner’s family adorned what space remained on the walls, alongside the stuffed heads of strange creatures, never the like seen by the visitors.

  On the far side of the room, a large and well-used oak desk hid a small, grey-haired, balding man. Seconds later, the tiny man jumped down from a chair far too tall for him and waddled his way around the desk and towards his new guests.

  A genuine smile lit his face as he approached, his ample waist bouncing as he held out a small hand in greeting. ‘Welcome, friends, to Lav’er’s Money Changers. No finer exchange rate will you find within one hundred leagues. I am Sonny of the house Lav’er. With whom do I have the pleasure of addressing?’

  Coinin offered a slight bow in reverence and shook the money changer’s hand. ‘I am Coinin, and this is my fellow traveller, Aniol,’ he replied, sticking to their pre-arranged story. They were travellers, seeking their fortunes.

  ‘How delightful. It is a pleasure to meet you. Please, do take a seat.’ Sonny gestured to two rather luxurious and comfortable-looking brown leather chairs opposite his desk. ‘May I offer you refreshment?’

  Aniol flicked her head to Coinin, seeking a response. Coinin nodded. ‘That would be most welcome.’

  Sonny turned to a side cabinet and withdrew a crystal decanter and busied himself pouring a hot red liquid into three small glasses sat atop it. All the time he muttered about the change in the weather and how business had been slow of late.

  Finally, he turned back to face Coinin and Aniol. He smiled politely and proffered a glass each to his guests. They both took the tiny glass and thanked him.

  Sonny nodded and returned to his chair behind the great desk and hopped on it with the aid of a wooden step. Now that he was at the same height as his guests he felt more comfortable. ‘What brings you to our fair City of Rodine?’ he asked.

  Aniol dropped her head to hide a grin. The city was far from fair. There weren’t many more grime-ridden than this. Coinin was able to disguise his own mirth quite easily by taking a sip of his drink. It was mouth-puckeringly bitter and made him slightly dizzy, pleasantly so.

  Coinin licked his lips free of liquid. ‘We are here to look for mining opportunities for my father, and I’ve been asked to seek out information about the culture and local area.’

  Sonny nodded and looked intrigued. ‘I assume, then, that your father has need of certain business contacts in the city. People who can provide appropriate services and goods.’

  Coinin smiled inwardly; he had sown the seed of greed. He had seen it there in the old man’s eyes, just briefly, an opportunity to make some quick gold. ‘That’s correct. My father will be arriving in a few days, and he will have need of a building in which to conduct his business.’

  Sonny beamed widely, the potential for high profit foremost on his mind. ‘You have come to the right man. I will see that your father gets all that he needs. I am quite influential and well connected.’

  ‘Perhaps, then, we could discus
s our needs today. We are seeking information.’

  ‘Certainly, my boy. I say, why don’t you stay for breakfast? Cook, I’m sure, won’t mind preparing two extra plates.’

  Aniol and Coinin looked at each other, quite unsure how to react. Coinin mouthed, ‘the pies,’ and Aniol grinned. They had completely forgotten they were supposed to be buying pies that very minute. Would it be rude to decline and would it draw suspicion? So unused, as they were, to being shown courtesy these last months, it had altered their outlook. A flurry of eyebrows ensued with barely subtle nods between them, and they reached an accord.

  Without feeling too guilty about their deception, Coinin replied, ‘That would be most welcome, Master Lav’er –’

  ‘Please, call me Sonny. After all, if we are to do business together, let us dispense with the formalities.’ Sonny hopped from his seat once more and paced to the corner of the room. He reached up and yanked a long, tasselled bell pull. They could just make out the high-pitched “ding” beneath them, coming from the servant’s quarters.

  Aniol, uncertain of what was happening, feared for Coinin’s safety. Standing, she gripped the hilt of her sword beneath her cloak and faced the door. Sonny had signalled somebody and was this now a trap?

  She needn’t have worried, for two minutes later, a knock at the door disturbed the quiet. The double doors opened and the elderly woman they had met several minutes ago stood there, puffing and panting. ‘Yes, Master?’

  ‘Ah, Grent, where is Dorn?’ Master Lav’er asked.

  Grent bowed low and reverentially, except her aged back seized, and she was unable to rise. ‘Master, a little help please,’ her muffled voice cried in obvious pain.

  Coinin responded first and rose to quickly cross the room and aid the poor woman into a more comfortable, upright position. Once she was relatively pain-free, he guided Grent to a nearby chair and sat her down.

  Aniol noted that Sonny appeared not too pleased with his servant’s behaviour, nor Coinin’s actions. ‘I asked where Dorn was, did I not?’