Simon stood and paced the room as he continued. “I find it odd that so many people left Whitten Hall, yet there was no mention in our mission report of refugees arriving in neighboring towns. I find it odd that the chancellor and his men travel some distance to neighboring towns each day, yet I have seen no sign of horses in Whitten Hall, despite the hitching posts along the street.”
The Inquisitor stopped his pacing and turned toward his companions. “I find it odd that they went through so much trouble to give the appearance of disuse at the mine pit, yet only the cars removed from the tracks are in a state of disrepair. I, too, noticed that while weeds have grown unbidden around the rails, the rails themselves are free of overgrowth, as though they are still in use.
“Most of all, perhaps, I find it incredibly odd that for a town who has presumably closed their iron mine for the foreseeable future would continue to advertise open laborer positions and have train car after train car of willing applicants arrive. Speaking of which, have you seen any of the workers with whom we arrived? They were led away by the foreman and have not been seen in town since.”
“Do you believe they could be taking the iron for their own devices?” Luthor asked.
“Potentially, though we won’t know unless we examine for ourselves, will we?”
Mattie raised her hand politely, drawing Simon’s attention despite his single-focused enthusiasm. “To play the devil’s advocate, have we considered that they are merely performing general upkeep on the mine, under the assumption that at some point in the near future they will return to work in the very same tunnels?”
Simon arched an eyebrow and turned toward the apothecary, who merely shrugged noncommittally.
“It was the two of you who have drawn me into this investigation,” Simon chided. “You lost your right to be the voice of reason, madam.”
Mattie shrugged. “It’s only that I’ve often found the simplest answer to be the correct one.”
“Then are you insinuating we should not investigate the mine?”
Mattie smiled wickedly. “I’m insinuating nothing of the sort. It’s been far too long since I’ve enjoyed any sort of adventure. This sounds perfectly thrilling.”
Luthor stood from his chair. “Then I shall gather my things and we shall be off.”
Simon shook his head and placed his hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Not now. We’ll wait for nightfall.”
“Have you taken a leave of your senses?” the apothecary asked. “There is only a skeleton crew here in town now, with every other able body away from Whitten Hall. If ever there was a time to investigate the iron mine, now would be it.”
Simon continued to shake his head as Luthor spoke. “On the contrary, now is the absolute worst time to go. Where do you suppose the rest of the town is during the daylight hours? If we presume that they are not, as they’ve alluded, visiting neighboring towns, wouldn’t it be most likely that they are in the mine itself during the day and only return to the town during the hours of darkness?”
Luthor stroked his chin momentarily before pushing his glasses back up his nose. “You present a solid argument, sir.”
“Of course I do. No, we’ll wait until nightfall. It may be a bit more precarious to slip out unnoticed, but at least we’ll be certain that the townsfolk are duly occupied within the town’s limits. We should have free rein to investigate at our leisure, at least until sunup.”
Mattie frowned, obviously disappointed. “What shall we do until then?”
“Act naturally,” Simon advised. “We don’t want to alert anyone to our goings on until our investigation is complete. Go enjoy the sights and sounds of Whitten Hall.”
Luthor chuckled to himself. “That should take all of a half an hour at most.”
Simon smiled. “I’ll see you both back here in my room immediately after sunset.”
The woods were far more ominous on their own than they had been when the companions were in the company of the chancellor. The hooded lantern gifted by Martelus was clutched tightly in Luthor’s hand, its directed light pushing back, if not eliminating, the oppressive darkness surrounding them.
The hard-packed road was empty of other travelers, as it had been the night before when Wriggleton had guided them to the manor house. They had the road to themselves, though they walked close to the wood line, in case it became necessary to hide from other passersby.
As they rounded a bend, Simon could see the glowing lights of the manor house. He hastily motioned toward Luthor, who drew closed the screen on the front of the lantern. They were cast into darkness, and Simon was forced to blink repeatedly to wash away the dancing blue dots that lingered in his vision.
His eyes slowly adjusted until he could focus once more on the distant plantation home. The flickering lights from its outdoor lanterns provided enough illumination for the Inquisitor’s eyes to quickly adjust to the gloom. He could see the edges of the trail ahead as well as the domineering trees to either side, their limbs intertwined across the trail overhead.
“Do you see any guards?” Luthor whispered quietly to Mattie.
Mattie wiped the sweat from her brow as she narrowed her eyes and focused on the home. In the darkness, her pupils reflected the dancing orange flames of the lanterns, yet seemed to glow with their own inner light. The manor home appeared to grow nearer in her vision, and the shadows that clung to the building’s exterior faded away into shades of gray. She could see a pair of men pacing the upper balconies, watching only intermittently toward the road on which they traveled.
“There are at least two,” she replied, “though I wouldn’t be at all surprised if there were more concealed nearby.”
“We could try to sneak by unnoticed,” Luthor offered.
Simon shook his head, a motion noticeable even against the darkened tree line. “The risk is too great. We’ll take to the woods until we’re well past the chancellor’s home.”
The Inquisitor led them into the trees. They pushed past the initial undergrowth of thorny bushes and clinging branches. Beyond, the woods were far more hospitable and easier to travel.
The trio moved slowly, avoiding as best they could the fallen branches and dried leaves on the forest floor. Even so, each step brought an unnaturally loud crunch and an involuntary cringe from every member of the party.
After a few hundred paces, Simon broke from the group and moved back to the edge of the road. He crouched behind the thick bushes and peered across the road. No sign of the manor’s lanterns could be seen, nor any sound of pursuit heard. He stood slowly and returned to the other two.
“We can make our way back to the road, if you’re both ready.”
Luthor nodded, but Mattie held up her hand pleadingly. “If it’s all the same, gentlemen, I could use a rest. It seems my constitution is not at all suited for this humidity. I’m absolutely parched and could use a moment to myself.”
Simon noted the sheen of sweat on her brow and nodded. He motioned a few feet ahead where the canopy seemed thinner and moonlight filtered through to the forest below.
“We can rest in the clearing just ahead. Can I offer you my arm?”
Mattie shook her head but smiled. “It’s very gentlemanly of you, Simon, but I’m not yet an invalid. I can walk on my own.”
The trio walked into the clearing and took seats against the thicker trees. Though the walk had not been overly taxing, even Simon admitted the humidity felt oppressive. He removed his top hat and wiped the accumulated sweat from his hairline.
“A good spy you will never make,” Luthor chided. “Our discreet traipsing through the woods has left you vexed.”
“Subterfuge was never my forte,” Mattie admitted. “My one attempt at infiltrating civilized society ended in absolute failure when our good Inquisitor spotted me from across a crowded ballroom. I’m more of a hands-on sort of woman.”
Simon smiled. “Admittedly, embarrassing though it is to admit, I have brought our fair maiden along to serve as our muscle.”
“Our conscience,” Simon explained. “Every good adventuring crew needs the one honest man to serve as its moral compass.”
Luthor arched an eyebrow. “With you in our group, you may want to consider finding yet another honest man. You need two times the moral compass as most men.”
“Do either of you have a drink?” Mattie asked.
Simon pushed aside his jacket and patted his pockets but could only produce a flask. Neither of his companions had to ask its contents.
“It seems none of us will make good spies,” Simon admitted. “We planned our adventure without taking into consideration the basic necessities of life. Forgive us, Matilda.”
Mattie waved her hand dismissively before leaning back against the cool bark of the tree.
As they rested in silence, the quiet was interrupted by a bird singing overhead. Simon tilted his head backward and peered into the branches. High above the trio, a bright yellow canary perched on a narrow branch, its vibrant feathers noticeable even at night. It opened its beak once more and sang into the night air. In the distance, another canary, hidden from their view, answered its cry.
“What sort of bird is that?” Mattie asked.
“A canary, I believe,” Luthor answered as he stood slowly to get a better view.
“It is a canary,” Simon confirmed as he watched the little yellow bird.
“I presume from both of your surprise that they’re not indigenous to this area?” she asked.
“Not at all,” the Inquisitor replied.
“They use them in mines to check for noxious fumes, though,” Luthor explained. “It might have escaped.”
The distant canary sang out, which was answered by their bird overhead.
“Both of them might have escaped,” Luthor corrected.
Simon stood abruptly, startling the canary. The bird took to wing and disappeared amongst the trees.
“We must be off if we expect to be back in our beds before sunrise.”
Luthor and Mattie nodded. The apothecary offered his hand and helped pull the redhead to her feet. With a sigh, they pushed through the woods until they had rejoined the road.
With a twist, Luthor removed the screen from the lantern and the nearby woods were filled with a brilliant light once more. They squinted against its glow until, once again, their eyes adjusted to the change.
Simon led them through the covered bridge and up the incline, which led to the lip of the mining pit. Even from a distance, he could hear the hum of the generators. The electric floodlights filled the quarry with a strong yellow glow, so much so that even upon their approach the pit glowed like a city at night.
Luthor doused their lantern, its light seemingly insignificant against the electric lights nearby.
Simon lowered himself to a crouch before finally placing his hands firmly on the ground and practically crawling to the lip of the pit. The other two, likewise, crawled forward until they could peer into the wide shaft before them.
Along the rocky floor, two men pushed heavily laden mine carts along the rail. Tarps were draped across the tops, blocking their contents from view.
The carts rattled along the rail, the sound of the metal wheels echoing along the rock walls until it reached the ears of the companions, perched at the crest of the quarry.
The two men paused at the mouth of the iron mine and lit lanterns on the front of the carts before continuing into the mine itself. The light from the lanterns reflected off the rocky walls of the entrance before quickly fading from view.
Simon slid back from the lip of the pit, followed quickly by his two companions. The Inquisitor sat in the grass and chewed on his bottom lip.
“I guess this proves that the mine hasn’t been abandoned,” Luthor said.
“Indeed, you’re right,” Simon replied, “though I doubt any of us believed it was.”
“What do you suppose they were pushing into the mine?” Mattie asked.
“That’s an excellent question, my dear,” Simon answered. “I have every intention of finding out.”
With the quarry cleared of the workers, the trio cautiously made their way down the perimeter road. The trail descended steeply, hugging the edge of the pit as it circled toward the stony floor below.
The temperature dropped as they descended, as did the stifling humidity that had plagued Mattie since their arrival. Water seeped through small fissures in the rock, dribbling miniature waterfalls down the poorly worked strata of stone that they passed.
Within minutes, they had reached the mineshaft’s coarse floor. The base of the pit seemed far wider from the bottom than it had appeared from above. The wooden crane that had stretched its arm barely to the lip of the quarry seemed enormous when viewed from below, its outstretched arm rising like a dagger toward the night sky above. The stagnant pool of water sat motionless to one side of the pit; the walls of the shaft blocked the wind, leaving the air still.
Mattie walked away from the two men and approached the edge of the pool. With the back of her hand, she wiped the sweat from her brow before dipping both hands into the cool water. As she raised it toward her lips, Simon quickly approached and knocked her hands aside. Water sloshed from between her fingers, painting the dry stone with its droplets.
“You had better have had a very good reason for doing that,” Mattie threatened. “Neither of you thought to bring water along on our adventure and if I don’t drink something soon, I’ll most certainly faint from exhaustion.”
Simon shrugged. “Drink at your own risk, but know that the pool is contaminated with cyanide.”
Mattie looked to the small puddle of water still cupped in the palm of her hand. She tilted her hand, letting the water splash on the ground below, before quickly wiping her hand dry on the hem of her skirt.
“Who would put cyanide in the water?” she asked. “Is the chancellor and his kind really that devious?”
Simon shook his head. “It wasn’t meant for you, or any of us, for that matter.”
“Assume some of us have not been initiated into the ways of science, sir,” Luthor remarked.
“In iron mining, cyanide is often used to dissolve the ore for easier extraction from the mine. Run off, like the pool at your feet, gathers nearby. Therefore, the poison wasn’t meant for anyone in particular, though you would have been a most unfortunate victim had you drank from the pool’s waters.”
“You never cease to amaze me, sir.”
Simon glanced toward the apothecary. “You’re not the only one who does his research before an assignment.”
Mattie stood from beside the pool and motioned toward the entrance to the mine proper.
The hooded lantern, which had seemed so unnecessary amidst the stunningly bright floodlights on the quarry floor, was still covered as they made their way into the mine. Simon was hesitant to uncover the lantern, knowing its light would illuminate the tunnels much as the workers’ lanterns had. Upon entering the mine, however, he was forced to reconsider. The darkness beyond the reach of the floodlights’ glow was impenetrable, as though dark tendrils actively sought and consumed the meager light from the real world beyond its borders. The further they dared enter, the more they were swallowed by its gloom until Simon could no longer see his hand when held before his face. Begrudgingly, he told Luthor to remove the cover from their lantern.
Simon squinted as the light filled the broad tunnel. Moisture on the walls reflected the illumination like gemstones. The Inquisitor glanced cautiously around the mineshaft, ensuring the trio was alone.
The tunnel continued forward a short distance before turning abruptly. The metal rail, which had begun in the base of the quarry, followed the curve of the mine and disappeared from view.
As Simon was examining the curving, worked-stone wall, ensuring neither of the workers they had seen previously was observing them, the light turned startlingly aside. Simon was left in darkness, as was the tunnel be
fore him.
Irritated, Simon turned to see what had caught Luthor’s attention. The apothecary and Mattie were examining a long, wooden table pressed neatly against the side of the wall. The wood itself had seen better days. What had clearly been years of exposure to the elements and the humidity of the mine had left the legs of the table partially rotted. Simon would not have trusted placing any significant weight upon the table, sure he was that it would collapse shortly thereafter.
Much to his surprise, there were items upon it. A series of small birdcages rested on the table’s surface. Each was empty and the doors to the cages were left open, as though long abandoned.
Luthor pushed gently on the door to one of the cages, and it creaked ominously. The apothecary quickly withdrew his hand as the sound reverberated through the mine. Simon cringed and gently shook his head.
“Sorry, sir,” Luthor whispered.
Simon glanced over his shoulder. “No worries, Luthor. What have you found?”
“I think we’ve solved the mystery of the non-indigenous forest canaries. I don’t think they escaped. It looks like they were intentionally released.”
“Odd,” Simon replied, as he furrowed his brow. “Yet we know this mine hasn’t been abandoned. Why release the creatures that warn of deadly fumes?”
Simon glanced past Luthor and noticed Mattie’s pale pallor. She bit her lip as though fighting the urge to vomit. Luthor noticed the Inquisitor’s concern and turned the lantern fully toward her.
“Mattie?” Luthor asked.
She shook her head and coughed softly. “Can’t you smell that?”
Simon closed his eyes and sniffed the air, but could discern nothing other than the underlying pungent aroma of stagnant water and chemicals. “What is it that you smell?”
She swallowed slowly. “Forgive me. I forget that your senses aren’t as sharp. There’s a smell of… of rot and decay, similar to what I sensed in the outpost itself, only significantly stronger. Something has died in these tunnels, something most foul.”
The Blood Thief of Whitten Hall (A Magic & Machinery Novel Book 2) Page 17