The Hekamon Page 12

  Perhaps it was of greater purity than anything he'd seen before, he wasn't sure exactly, but there something about its ethereal glow. It almost seemed to reflect more light that fell on it. The patterns shifted in the light, too, more than might be expected, as though they floated a fraction above its surface.

  Galvyn allowed the pendant to rest on his hand and as he did, he heard a voice. It sounded so close that it startled him.

  He couldn't place where it came from, but it had such clarity and, more worryingly, it sounded familiar. It was the voice of somebody he couldn't possibly have heard.

  Remaining seated on his stool, Galvyn held his breath and listened. Several second passed, but he heard nothing more. He looked around the workshop but saw nobody there. Nor did there seem to be anyone outside, at least, not visible through the door or window. He thought about getting up and taking a look, but quickly dismissed the idea. He must have imagined it.

  Having spent the morning in the darkness and silence of the mine, his senses were now understandably heightened. Something like it had happened before, only not so profoundly. Realizing it was probably nothing, he relaxed and returned his attention to the necklace, and tried to determine its origin.

  While the chain could have been Coralainian, the patterns on the pendant were what he would have described as Fennrean. Not that he had come across much by way of Fennrean jewelry, or anything else Fennrean for that matter. It could just have easily been from further east, but was certainly from that way.

  The inscriptions were not in a language he could read, and certainly not from Demedelei.

  It wouldn't be that surprising if such jewelry did find its way here to Serfacre, what with Fennelbek being only a few miles to the north east. But the Fennreans themselves tended to stay there, at least, as far as he knew they did.

  With Galvyn immersed in his study of the pendant, a shadow passed across the threshold of the workshop. The door was set into the south-east corner of the building, and on sunnier days, an approaching shadow was usually the first sign of a potential customer. Especially when Galvyn was at his workbench, with eyes cast down at the job in front of him.

  Such was the level of his focus, that on this occasion, the figure was halfway through the door before he became aware of them.

  In one deft movement, he slid the necklace under a cloth beside him, drew the wrist guards across his desk and raised his head to greet the visitor. The man who had just walked in didn't look happy, but then, he rarely did.

  "Where is he?" The imposing figure demanded.

  "Captain Tregarron, good day to you, sir. He, er, Mr. Croneygee you mean?" he said, flustered by the sudden appearance of the Captain of the Demedelite Guard.

  "Of course Mr. Croneygee, who else would I be looking for?" Tregarron said, striding into the shop and looking around, seemingly for the master armorer but when it came to Tregarron, Galvyn could never be sure.

  What did seem apparent, was that if the captain had been looking for Mr. Croneygee when he'd entered, he was looking for something else now. The man gazed at the shelves of bronze armor, the racks of polished swords, the shiny metal shields that adorned the walls, before moving around the shop and stopping in front of a bronze shield.

  "He left a few minutes ago with—" Galvyn hesitated. He knew that Tansley either hated or feared Tregarron, or most likely both, and he wouldn't want him to say that he'd been in the shop, but it was too late. He'd hinted that he knew who his boss was with and now would have to say.

  Lying to Tregarron was dangerous and Galvyn wasn't a good liar, even at the best of times. And being in the presence of Tregarron wasn't a good time, even with his back to him, the man was intimidating. Tregarron could simply turn, fix him with a stare, and the truth would out.

  "Left with who?" The captain asked, calmly and seemingly disinterestedly, and yet Galvyn suspected he was neither. Still he faced away from him.

  "A tradesman from near the pass," and as he said it, Galvyn took the chance to position the cloth over the necklace to cover it more thoroughly, feigning to clean some pliers as he did so.

  The fake was unnecessary, since Tregarron was looking the other way. Yet, in the short time he'd been at Tivitay, Galvyn had become aware of the man's powers of observation. He saw, everything.

  "Which tradesman?" Tregarron started to turn and began moving the other way around the shop, looking at the items on the racks, out of the door, at the floor, anywhere except at Galvyn. Yet the apprentice felt like the man was seeing him clearly, and when their eyes met in the reflection of the window, he could see that he was, and not just via reflections.

  "Er."

  Tregarron turned and looked right at him, and right through him, "Was it Tansley by any chance?" The captain asked, walking over to the workbench and picking up one of the bracers Galvyn had been working on.

  Dilapidated military cast offs in for repair meant Tansley had been in, and he'd been evasive about the fact.

  "Yes, sir." Galvyn returned an apologetic look. At least he could tell Tansley he had not given his name up too easily, but he should have known better.

  Tregarron had been forced to ask three questions when one should have sufficed. The captain was Lord Jephson's chief interrogator, among other things, but interrogating was what he was reputed to do the best, and by some accounts, enjoyed the most.

  "It's Galvyn, isn't it?"

  "Yes, Captain."

  "Galvyn, I'm going to assume for the moment, that you thought it a good idea to apply some discretion out of politeness to a loyal customer, and in the process you momentarily forgot who it was you were talking to. You realize you have made a mistake, sincerely regret it, and will answer honestly from now on. Am I right?"

  "Yes, Captain."

  "Good," Tregarron said, leaning forward and fixing him with a stare.

  At the same time, and without breaking eye contact, he removed the cloth covering the necklace. Galvyn blinked disbelievingly. Nothing got past Tregarron and nothing surprised him.

  It was then that the captain looked down to see what he had been hiding, causing Galvyn to correct himself. Almost nothing surprised Tregarron.

  An expression crossed the captains face that he had not seen from him before, not just a look of surprise, or shock even, but a flicker of horror in his eyes and a gasp escaped his lips. It was a few seconds before his usual impassive expression returned. His gaze moved from the necklace to Galvyn, and when he spoke, his voice was edged with anxiety.

  "Who does this belong to?"

  "A customer brought it in for repair, the chain is broken." Galvyn found his own voice to be laden with anxiety.

  "I can see that, which customer? I want to know who owns it."

  "They didn't give their name," Galvyn even surprised himself with this answer.

  "Have you seen them before?"

  "Not that I recall," he felt compelled to say. What was he doing?

  "Was Mr. Croneygee here when it was brought in?"

  He hesitated, at what point could it truthfully have been said to have been brought in? "No, he was upstairs at the time."

  Galvyn knew he was playing a very dangerous game now, if Tregarron were to ask outright if it was Tansley, then he would have to admit it that it was, and there would be consequences. Excuses like, I promised not to tell, wouldn't wash with Tregarron. A sprinkling of truth among a lie was still a lie and maybe the most devious kind.

  Galvyn remained seated on his stool, not blinking and hardly breathing. Tregarron had leaned in closer as he had questioned him, and their faces were now only inches apart. They remained that way for several long seconds.

  Abruptly, Tregarron straightened and broke eye contact, lost in his own thoughts, seemingly satisfied that Galvyn had been telling the truth. He then suggested the matter with the necklace was closed, by turning is attention back to the whereabouts of the master armorer.

  "So, you said your boss left a few minutes ago?"

  "Yes," he replied, h
is relief at the change of questioning not well concealed.

  "With Tansley?"

  A bead of sweat formed on Galvyn's brow. He's going to speak with Tansley. "Yes."

  "Then why didn't I pass them on the way here?"

  "They left by the mine, Tansley said it would be a quicker way to get to the fort and Mr. Croneygee agreed."

  Tregarron considered this and seemed satisfied, before looking again at the necklace on the workbench.

  He then reached down, and lifted it carefully by the chain, before slipping it into his guardsman's uniform and tapping the pocket of his blue coat where it rested.

  "When the owner of this necklace returns to collect, tell them I have it and send them to me. I will be very interested to speak with them. Thank you for your help, Galvyn, good day to you." Tregarron politely concluded their conversation, turned and walked out.

  Galvyn sat, mouth open. He took it. Is he allowed to do that? He's the captain of the guard, of course he is.

  He rested his head in his hands. Why had he lied? He hadn't lied, he had with held certain truths. But he never did that either, so why now? When Tregarron catches up with Tansley he might find out right there and then. Tansley had told him to keep quiet, but would he? No. Tansley would tell Tregarron so he could get the necklace back from him.

  He sighed. It couldn't be undone now, but why had he gone out on a limb for Tansley, it's not as though his visits here were a secret, or bringing in items for repair a novel thing.

  The more he thought about it the more he realized that it wasn't the tradesman he was trying to protect. It was the necklace and its rightful owner. When he'd held it, he knew it was stolen, he could feel it. And the thought weighed on him, that as long as he was in possession of it, he was party to the crime.

  When asked who the owner was, he'd been reluctant to say, not to protect Tansley, but because to say Tansley was the bigger lie. He didn't know who the rightful owner was, that was the truth of it. All he knew was they would be looking for it, and as strange as it might seem, Galvyn thought the necklace was looking for them, too.

  Chapter 6

  34

  The swift blow that he'd aimed at the back of the old man's head should have been enough. Enough to knock him down, dazed if not unconscious, but the old man was wily, sinewy and tough. He was a fighter, that much Decarius could tell immediately. The man didn't just make armaments, he'd used them, too. He was battle hardened and his parry and been that of trained soldier, redirecting the blow rather than resisting it.

  He'd dropped his bag to free his hands and shouted for help, forcing Decarius to use his whole body to subdue him. As a result, he found himself face to face with his victim. Fortunately, he'd disguised himself for just such an eventuality.

  His intention had been to simply steal the gauntlets back, by striking the man down and taking his bag. It hadn't worked out like that, but there were advantages to resolving the matter this way. He could restrain and subdue the man instead, then speak with him.

  He would have to wait for the man's resistance to subside first, and while he did, he would take the opportunity to catch his own breath.

  Decarius had become convinced that the merchant knew that the gauntlets were no ordinary item. The man had brought them to the more experienced armorer to confirmed his suspicions. The armorer had obviously understood their importance, since he was bringing them to the fort. The fact that Decarius had been asking after the gauntlets at the trading posts didn't matter now. Once the authorities here had established they were the Plautius Gauntlets, then they would know exactly who took them back and why. It was the Eagle Standard of Coralai, and it would serve any Demedelite right if they were party to its theft.

  But Decarius knew it was important how it played in Coralai, too.

  The brutal murder of a merchant on the Regis Highway? That was one thing, and it wouldn't play well. But saving them from falling into the hands of Lord Jephson? Rescuing the Eagle Standard at the last moment and doing so in the very shadow of the fort. That was another matter entirely. That scenario he couldn't have planned any better. He would be the returning hero.

  Even so, there was still the matter of returning. It would be preferable if he could deal with the armorer and bring closure to the matter. Decarius decided he would let the old man bargain for his life. He would wait for the man's struggling to end, then he would make him an offer.

  The gauntlets were stolen, he would tell him, and he would take them back into his possession. In return, the old man would live, only that, he would pay him. Call it a reward, a finder's fee. It was a very generous offer, the old man would have to agree, and no more would need to be said or done. The crime resolved and no further reason to consider the armorer had been involved in it. An amicable solution for all concerned. He was about to put this to the old man, once he'd stopped struggling, when he was interrupted.

  "Who's there?" The voice came form above. Decarius froze, before slowly raising his head.

  The armorer's shout for help had been neither loud, nor prolonged, but it had been enough. Almost directly above the east gate, and through a gap in the bailey wall, was a silhouette. The shape was unmistakable, it was a Demedelite guard.

  Decarius remained still. He was in shade and beneath the branches of some trees, if there were no more noises, the guard might lose interest. Just then, the guard disappeared from the gap and Decarius could hear footsteps. Might he be leaving already?

  So absorbed was he on the activity of the guard, that he had lost focus on the old man, who suddenly made an attempt break his grasp. Decarius countered, yet the man freed a hand, there was a blur of movement and he was hit, struck on the head by a rock. The impact was jarring and it was all he could do not to lose control of the man completely.

  Suddenly, he realized how dangerous the situation was. If the man were to get free, or call out, there would be guards here in moments. He would be captured without a doubt and both he and the gauntlets would be in the fort and at the mercy of Lord Jephson.

  Decarius saw no other option, he had to incapacitate the armorer, quickly and decisively. He reached for the rock that had fallen from the man's grasp, and withstood some punches as he did so. With the rock in hand, he raised the improvised club high above his head and brought it crashing down, through the old man's attempt to shield himself.

  Two, three, four times and with as much strength as he could muster, Decarius repeatedly struck the armorer about the head. Blood splattering across the stony bank and nearby bushes. The man became lifeless, his struggling ceased and his arms fell limp. The first blow had probably been enough, but he had wanted to make sure.

  With man silenced, Decarius slowly removed his hand from the armorer's mouth. He had been sure not to let him cry out again, not within earshot of the guard. Moving slowly, he carefully placed the rock on the ground, while making as little noise as possible, then remained still and surveyed the scene.

  There was blood everywhere. It was on the bushes, on the grass around him, all over the old man's face, head and jacket. Decarius could see he was covered in blood, too, and when he reached up to the side of his head, found that some of it was his own.

  "Anyone, down there?" The voice came again.

  Decarius looked up, once again he could see the silhouette of a Demedelite guard, standing in a gap in the wall above, the distinctive shape of the wide brimmed helmet clearly visible. And although he could see the guard, he knew the guard would have trouble seeing him from that location. The bushes and trees concealed him well, as did the shade, the guard by contrast was in sunlight.

  For the moment Decarius stayed where he was, sitting on the lifeless old man, waiting to see what the guard's next move would be. Whatever it was, it seemed the ensuing silence had not put the man off entirely.

  Decarius could hear the sound of him walking back and forth along the wall. The footsteps, continuing for a dozen paces or more, before stopping and starting back again. This happened sever
al times. Decarius was following the man's movements by sound rather than sight. Along the wall then back again.

  After what seemed an age, the guard momentarily reappeared at the gap in the wall, before moving out of sight once more. Only this time, his disappearance was followed by the sound of a door closing and then silence.

  The danger momentarily over, Decarius looked at the bloodied and bleeding old man lying on the ground.

  Whatever he did, he was going to have to be quick about it. Looking around, he saw the man's bag had rolled a little way down the bank and he moved to get it, being sure to stay in the cover of the bushes.

  Decarius reached the bag and grabbed it. The bag was heavy and jangled when he moved it, he had a bad feeling about it already. Looking closer, he could see that it was dark gray in color and had a strap. The bag Tansley had been carrying had been lighter, almost white, and had been tied with rope. It had been more like a sack or a bundle, while this one was held shut with a leather buckle.

  Decarius opened it, emptying the contents onto the ground and doing so slowly, because the items it contained made metallic clanking sounds as they rattled and fell.

  With the bag now empty he stared into it, and then at the collection of metal tongs, pliers and assorted tools lying on the ground.

  The gauntlets weren't there, and he knew they wouldn't be. It'd felt wrong from the moment he'd picked it up.

  Now what?

  He looked at the lifeless man, the empty bag and, a few yards away, the gate of the fort.

  35

  Tregarron left Serfacre and started along the Demedelei Road toward the fort. He had some things on his mind.

  Very few people lied to his face and those who did soon regretted it. He knew Galvyn was smart, or at least, not stupid, and Croneygee would have put him right about how things worked around here.

  Yet the boy's taciturn answers suggested he had not been entirely forth coming. Who was he protecting? Not Tansley surely, unless Tansley had threatened him. No, that wasn't the merchant's style, and anyway, the Fennrean necklace was not something that would easily come into the man's possession.