The Hekamon Page 17

  Might the man be directly below? There was every chance. Galvyn brought the trapdoor down as quietly as possible and closed it, then leaned down and placed his ear against it. Listening for any noise the guard might make; a shout for him to halt, a call for assistance, or heavy footsteps on the wooden stairs. Anything suggesting a pursuit was in progress.

  There were no shouts, nor sounds of any kind, the mine below was quiet.

  They were out of the mine, they hadn't been seen and they were in the clear.

  "Close one," he said, exhaling with relief.

  He looked at Hayden, and by the dim light of the dust covered window they exchanged a rueful smile. Hayden gave him a pat on the back, he reached out and they shook hands, "Too close."

  The moment of relief was all too brief. Their problems were only just beginning.

  "Can this trapdoor be bolted?" Hayden asked.

  "No," he said, taking some deep breaths and wiping sweat from his brow. "The coal tub is sometimes rested on the trapdoor as a dead weight, but that's below, maybe we can use the chain instead. It won't stop the door opening but it will give us some warning."

  Hayden obliged, carefully lifting the chain onto the trapdoor, before standing and placing a hand on his shoulder.

  "Galvyn, I need to be going," he said, heading towards the door and taking his coat.

  "I'll let you out," he said, as the two of them left the bunker and walked into the workshop.

  "Just to be on the safe side, I'll lock this door, too," he said, taking his key and securing the workshop from access via the mine. He hesitated, what if Croneygee returns that way? He's unlikely to, but if does, he has his own key.

  With that done, Galvyn moved to the front of the building and looked through the window. Hayden did likewise and the two of them surveyed the street outside. There didn't seem to be anything unusual. At least, nothing he could see that would qualify as such, just the normal bustle of the streets of Serfacre.

  "Can you see any of the others?" He asked.

  "No, nobody I recognize." Hayden replied, but they both continued to look out through the protective bars. While recovering from the exertion, firstly of hiding Decarius and then hurrying out of the mine.

  After a few more minutes, with calmness restored and with no sign of any guards, Galvyn took the key and unlocked the front door. Hayden stepped outside and was about to leave when Galvyn stopped him.

  "Wait, what should I do now?" he asked, unable to keep his trepidation from his voice.

  "Stay vigilante, are you here on your own?"

  He nodded, "Mr. Croneygee will be back in an hour, maybe sooner."

  "Let me think," Hayden said, placing a hand to his head. After some contemplation, he spoke again.

  "Tell your boss, you saw someone hanging around and acting suspiciously. If you do that, he will be aware of the possible dangers should Decarius come back. He won't though, he's not the vengeful type," Hayden said, seeming to twitch as he did so, before continuing, "I'm heading to the Tivitay inn. Once there, I'll get my things together and go, good luck, Galvyn."

  Before Hayden could walk away Galvyn grabbed his coat and stopped him again.

  "Hayden, could I come with you? As far as Tivitay anyway, I have lodgings there and know the village well, I'll feel safer there."

  "No, I think we should go our separate ways." Hayden said, looking around warily. They had already been standing in the doorway for some time and it had got the attention of a neighboring craftsman. Galvyn leaned closer, keeping his voice just above a whisper.

  "It's just, nobodies tried to kill me before. I don't want to stay here on my own, not if that man had associates with him. I'll return when I know Mr. Croneygee will be here. I'll use the time to think and decide what to say to him."

  Hayden looked at him for some time before speaking, "I'm thinking of the first time someone tried to kill me," he said, relenting and with a hint of a smile, "come on, I'll buy you a drink."

  The two men left the armory and Galvyn locked the door. As they neared the neighboring workshop the proprietor there gave him a nod to say hello, and Galvyn returned the gesture. He thought he should try to look relaxed, but since he was sweating and shaking, he just looked away instead.

  The two of them continued through Serfacre toward the Demedelei Road, mingling in the busy streets as they went. It seemed to Galvyn that nobody took much notice, as they turned left, toward the village of Tivitay.

  46

  Tansley lay there, face down in the dust, his ears ringing, splinters of wood embedded in his face, and with his chest crushed by the weight of his attacker.

  Mercifully, the load on his back soon lightened. Less welcome was finding himself being dragged along by his feet, out of the woodshed and back into the rear of his store. He was brought to a stop in the middle of the room. A boot was placed on him and he was rolled onto his back.

  "We've been waiting for you," said the voice of the intruder, muffled through the fabric of a mask.

  "What do you want, why are you doing this?" he said, coughing out some sawdust.

  He was nervous but ordering his thoughts all the same. He had encountered difficult customers before, he had even been robbed before, although not for years. Still, he knew where his priorities lay once things had escalated this far, self-preservation.

  "We're looking for something and we think you know where we can find it."

  The man's melodic Coralai accent was unmistakable, even through the mask and when spoken with gruff malevolence. Tansley decided his best chance was to avoid giving any suggestion they would find what they were looking for here.

  "I swear, I don't know what you're talking about."

  "Don't lie to me. A man from Coralai stopped by here and you bought something from him, didn't you?" The intruder said, his head and face swathed in a gray cloth. Only his eyes and some wisps of black hair were visible.

  "Yes, that's right," he answered, with forced enthusiasm. "The customer traded me a dagger in exchange for some sturdy boots and a warm coat. He said he was going north and wanted something for the journey." Tansley stuttered, panicked but happy he could tell them something. Co-operate as much as possible.

  The man hesitated and looked at his younger cohort, before turning back to him, "What else?"

  "Nothing else."

  "He sold you some gauntlets, didn't he?"

  "No, I swear, he didn't," he said, feeling he could handle the situation as long as he told the truth. It was only if he had to lie that things could get complicated, he would avoid that if at all possible.

  The two intruders exchanged glances.

  Tansley took the chance to assess the other one. He was younger, around twenty, with his face less well obscured, just a red scarf covering the lower half. That one was holding back and observing. While the main inquisitor, the man who had been standing over him, now knelt down closer and grabbed hold of him. His manner becoming more aggressive as the questioning continued, only this time he tried a different tack.

  "We came by your hut and you made a run for it, why? What were you taking with you?"

  "I came into possession of a very valuable necklace last night, but the chain was broken and I was taking it to be repaired."

  "You were carrying more than a necklace. What else did you have in your sack and where did you take it?"

  "Some damaged stock, boots, bracers and the like. I took everything to an armory, Croneygee's in Serfacre, the apprentice there repairs things for me."

  The man stared at him without speaking, and while he did so, Tansley returned an earnest look. He had been telling the truth, and he sensed the man pinning him to the floor knew it, yet it didn't seem to satisfy him. Did the man know he was withholding some important details?"

  "Find some rope," the senior of the two Coralainians barked to his companion, "and see what's burning."

  Tansley could smell burning too, the smell of charred bacon. Under normal circumstances, ruining a perfectly good meal
would have irritated him, but he'd lost his appetite.

  With the younger man in the front of the store looking for rope, something Tansley knew he would be able to find without difficulty, the older man leaned in closer and whispered menacingly.

  "You're going to tell me what you did with the Eag…with the gauntlets, I can assure you of that."

  Eag? Was he about to say egret, or eagle maybe? "

  I don't know anything about them," he whimpered, but he was having to consider a change tack himself.

  The men seemed certain the gauntlets had passed through his store, but how could they know? How ever they'd found out, it changed things. It meant he would have to tell them that he'd already sold them on.

  He knew he would have to reveal the fact sooner rather than later, but his tactic of initially denying any knowledge of them had made his situation more dangerous. If he told them about the young Fennreans, might they think he was lying again? Would they think it a ruse to get them to leave.

  If that wasn't enough, there was something else was on his mind.

  Egret? Is that what the man was about to say? There was an Egret Stockade in the marshes.

  Might the intruders already know Fennreans were involved, had they been watching his store. And now he came to think of it, how had they got in? The doors were locked, they must have used the tunnel, but how could they know about it? Could the young Fennreans have betrayed its location. If they had, he would return the favor. He would point the masked intruders in their direction in a heartbeat.

  Within a minute, the young man had returned with some lengths of rope and report from the kitchen, "It was just some bread, toasted to a crisp."

  Eagle? The leather bag the gauntlets were in was embroidered with an eagle.

  The Eagle Standard? No sooner had the realization struck him, than he immediately tried to dismiss the idea. The Plautius Gauntlets were a legend, they weren't real, it was just a myth. A folktale of how they empowered the wearer, giving them strength greater than that of an ordinary man. What was the phrase associated with them? Strength from courage, or something like that.

  "That gives me an idea," his interrogator said, "tie him up."

  Tansley found he couldn't dismiss the idea so easily. Myths were often based on some of element truth. He knew the Eagle Standard was the emblem of authority at the Halvyon Temple, but had always assumed it to be a seal of office. He tried to make sense of how the legendary gauntlets might be real.

  If the bearer of the gauntlets was the holder of high office, then being in possession of them may well mean power. The command of the temple, its treasury and vaults, command of the militia. If someone could claim legitimate ownership of the Eagle Standard, then they really would have power. Perhaps it just required the courage, or bravado, to take possession of them.

  "Hold still," the younger of the two Coralainians said, grabbing him, pulling his hands in front of him and starting to bind the rope around his wrists.

  Tansley had been laying on his back, prone on the floor of his store, his mind working, the scale of his predicament becoming clear. If the gauntlets were, what he now thought they were, something was going on in Coralai, something serious.

  His mind turned to the man he'd seen earlier, he wasn't one of these two. He had been followed. The man he had seen walk by Croneygee's had walked with authority, with purpose, two strides was all he needed to see. He was a militiaman and a senior one at that. Tansley felt the ropes start to tighten. He felt a knot in his stomach too, perspiration forming on his brow.

  He could not tell them he had sold their Eagle Standard on to Fennreans. However keen he might be to divert his attackers towards a different target. Coralainians hated Fennreans. It would not be an acceptable answer, he wouldn't be rewarded or shown mercy if he revealed the truth, he would be punished.

  Just then, he heard a metallic rattle from the kitchen, he knew it to be the sound of the poker being taken from the rack.

  With his two fists already clenched, and held close to his chest, he looked at the masked face of the young Coralainian leaning over him. Looming over him also, was the feeling of being bound, the sense of being trapped, the smell of burning flesh in his nostrils, the clanking sound of the stove opening, the feeling of heat he associated with it. It was now or never.

  Tansley extended his two arms directly upwards with has much force as he could muster. There was the satisfying sound of hard knuckles against soft flesh, the jolt through his bones telling him the blow had landed squarely. The young man was knocked upwards and fell away. Suddenly, the way became clear.

  Tansley repeated the move, this time into thin air, generating some momentum to lift himself. His bound hands were not coming free easily and the climb to his feet was hindered by the restraints, but eventually he was up. Once standing, he staggered towards the open woodshed door.

  Looking to his left, Tansley could see the stronger of the intruders had only now become aware he was fleeing. Poker in hand the man started after him, but Tansley had several yards head start. He would make it this time.

  Tansley knew, with the back door locked and key on his belt, the intruder couldn't get out and beat him overground to the trapdoor at the other end. The man would have to follow him through the tunnel. Tansley would be faster through it and be outside screaming for help in seconds.

  Now into the woodshed, hands working loose the bonds, his escape well practiced, the catch was open, the hatch door, too. He braced himself for the need to kick and stamp away grasping hands that would try pull him back. He was into the tunnel, he was out of the tunnel again, recoiling, horrified and disbelieving, his escape was blocked. He was trapped.

  And yet, in the very same moment, he realized he was not trapped, far from it. He was liberated. No longer the object of their interrogation, that burden would now fall on someone else. Now he could tell the intruders the truth of what had happened, reveal to them who he had sold the gauntlets to. They would believe him, the evidence would be before their very eyes.

  They could then continue their questioning, find out where their precious Eagle Standard was and how they could recover it. The way wasn't blocked, the way was now clear. He turned to the pursuing man and signaled to him with hands raised and eyes conveying a simple message, I surrender.

  47

  "That gives me an idea, tie him up," he said, moving away from the merchant and watching, as Aegis placed a knee on the man and began to bind his hands.

  While his companion set to work, Gregario walked through the hall and into the kitchen. Once there, he looked around. On the table was a chopping board, and on that, what looked like the smoking remains of Tansley's lunch. There was a bread basket in a corner, some jars of pickle, a joint of pork hanging from hook and next to the stove, a cast iron rack holding some utensils. He decided to make use of the poker and lifted it from its place. This will get him talking, he thought to himself, opening the stove and prodding the charred logs and dying embers.

  Just then, and from the other room, there came a crashing sound and the hut shook. Stepping to the doorway of the kitchen, Gregario could see through the hall and into the store beyond. Suddenly the merchant came into view, running and looking back at him as he did so. The man's look of terror turned to one of determination and Gregario understood why. He was making good his escape.

  Gregario knew from how quickly the hatch had opened last time that the merchant could be through it and into the tunnel beyond in seconds, the head start he had was enough. Gregario launched forward, bounding out of the kitchen door and through the hall in two strides. He almost discarded the poker right there, he would need both hands free to drag the man back out and that was the best he could hope for.

  His mind raced ahead to the prospect of the dark tunnel. He had to go through again but this time in a rush, this time there would be two of them, crawling, hurrying, crashing into posts, earth falling around them, with the risk of a collapse much greater. He staggered unsteadily at the i
mpended chase, and grabbed for the door frame to support himself as he reached it. The tradesman would be faster. He would escape and he would get help. If the man got into the tunnel, he would be as good as gone.

  Stumbling into the woodshed, Gregario was in a blind panic, but as he entered, he saw that Tansley had not been faster this time but slower. Instead of just the man's feet to grab, the tradesman was kneeling before the hatch, his whole body a target. He wasn't escaping instead he was turning, facing him.

  Gregario raised the poker high. Gleeful at the chance to halt the escape. To avoid the scurrying chase through the dirt.

  He began to bring his weapon down through a high arc as the kneeling man begged, with raised palms and plaintive eyes. Immediately Gregario responded, checking himself, reeling in his rage, the glinting brass rod slowed as he eased back. He must not, he told himself in briefest of moments he had to act, hit him, measuring his strength, too hard, as the poker found its target.

  He needed him alive.

  The glancing blow sent the man down face first. Ending the chase as quickly as it had begun, with the merchant lying unconscious in the entrance to the tunnel. Gregario leant against a wall and caught his breath, puffing out his cheeks at the close run thing. By stopping Tansley reaching the tunnel, it meant he had avoided it too, he didn't know what relieved him more.

  He reached down to the tradesman's belt, took the keyring and went to the door that lead outside. Finding the right key, he tried the lock. It was stiff but turned and the door creaked on its hinges as it opened. Satisfied he would be leaving on his feet, and not having to crawl out as he had crawled in, Gregario closed the door and placed the keys in the pocket of his tunic.

  Taking the merchant by a limp leg, he turned and dragged the man through doorway and into the store room. As he did, he could see that Aegis had made it to his knees and was holding his face.

  "Aegis, what happened?" he asked angrily.