Soulbinder (Book 3) (13 page)

Kendril nodded his head, lost in thought. “Three days?”

“If we leave right now,” Joseph clarified

“Ah, Vorten.” Maklavir strode out onto the porch, straightening his cap against the chilly drizzle. “The City of Light. Now that would be a rare touch of civilization in our lives.”

Kara followed Maklavir, pulling up her hood against the falling slush. She gave Kendril a wary glance. “Galla will have at least a day or two on us.”

Kendril turned his head back to the street. “I know.”

The woman tugged at the corner of one of her gloves. “What if he’s gone by the time we get there?”

The Ghostwalker swiveled his head back and gave her an icy look. “Then we follow him to wherever he’s gone.”

“Hmm, yes.” Maklavir clapped his hands together, rubbing them against the cold. “I suspect that’s the point Kara is making, dear boy. I mean, I’m just as much a fan of brutal revenge killings as the next man, but how far exactly are we willing to take this?”

Kendril glared at the diplomat.

“I’m just as angry at what Galla did as you are, Kendril,” Kara said gently. “But at a certain point it seems kind of…well, crazy to keep this up, don’t you think? We could end up following this Baderan halfway across Zanthora.”

The Ghostwalker turned, his figure dark against the snow behind him. He looked squarely at his three friends.

“I will follow Galla to the Third Fire and back if I have to.” His voice was low and cold. “And not for revenge.”

Maklavir tilted his head. “For what, then?”

Kara gave Kendril a probing look. “That pendant that Galla took, there’s something important about it, isn’t there?”

The Ghostwalker put one gloved hand on the snow-covered railing. He looked out into the street for a moment. “I don’t know,” he said at last. “There might be. That’s why I have to track Galla down.” He looked back at Kara, then at Maklavir. “This is something that I have to do. I can’t explain to you why. I’m not even sure I know myself.” He looked to the side again as a large wagon rumbled past through the snow. “My path leads to Vorten, and wherever else Galla goes after that. I don’t expect or ask any of you to come with me.”

Joseph leaned back against the wall of the Trading Post and crossed his arms. He said nothing, staring down at the floorboards of the porch.

Kara looked over at him. “You’re going with him?”

Joseph took a deep breath, scratching his chin thoughtfully. Finally he nodded. “Yes,” he said, looking up. “I am.”

The snowfall began to thicken, piling gently on the porch railing.

Kara looked at Joseph for another long moment, then back at Kendril. “I think this is crazy,” she said. “But if Joseph’s going, then count me in too.”

The pathfinder looked up, surprise on his face.

Kara caught his expression, and smiled. “As far as I’m concerned,” she said wryly, “you’re the only sane one in this little group of ours. If you’re going with Kendril then I figure there has to be a good reason.”

“The
only
sane one?” Maklavir gave a mock bristle, ruffling his shoulders. “My dear woman, I take deep offense at such a comment.” He looked over at Kendril. “Vorten is in Valmingaard, you know.”

The Ghostwalker nodded. “I know. Been there before?”

“Oh, plenty of times. Beautiful city. They have the Great Library there, of course. And the Ice Gardens.”

“I take it that means you’re coming too?” asked Joseph.

The diplomat smiled. “Don’t be silly, Joseph. Of course I’m coming.” He looked disgustedly out into the street of the small town. “I certainly have no inclination of remaining
here
for any longer than I absolutely have to.”

“Looks like we’re all agreed,” said Kara.

“Alright,” said Kendril. “Then let’s get moving.”

By mid-morning it was snowing even harder than before. Joseph gave the falling flakes a skeptical look as he stomped across the street. He stepped up onto the wooden porch of the Trading Post, then pushed in through the door, glancing at the sky one last time.

“Having second thoughts?” Kendril asked over his shoulder from where he stood hunched over the front counter.

The pathfinder stamped his feet on the front mat. “No. It’s coming down hard, but I don’t think getting to Vorten will be a problem. Not if we stick to the main road, anyway.” He walked up to Kendril, noticing that the Ghostwalker was writing on a piece of paper. “We still have the money that Galla gave us, plus the supplies from our last trip. It’ll be a cold hike, but I doubt we’ll freeze or starve.”

Kendril gave a satisfied nod. “Good.” He whipped a quill pen along the bottom of the paper, flourishing his signature. “Are Kara and Maklavir ready to go?”

“Yeah. They said they’d meet us at the gate.” Joseph looked down curiously at the paper. He saw it for only a moment before Kendril began folding it, creasing it evenly on the wooden counter. “A letter?”

Kendril nodded absently, reaching for a nearby vial of red wax that was being heated by an open candle. He poured it onto the white paper, then began fumbling in his trouser pocket.

“No offense,” said Joseph, the curiosity still burning inside him, “but I thought a Ghostwalker was supposed to be dead to all his family and friends.”

“This isn’t to either,” Kendril said briskly. He pulled a small, golden seal from his pocket.

“Then who is it to?”

Kendril stamped the seal into the wax, wiggled it slightly, then pulled it up again. The image embedded into the cooling wax was that of a sword, flames burning along its length.

“An acquaintance,” the Ghostwalker responded elusively. He looked up at the store owner. “When’s the next coach heading south?”

The man thought a moment. “Probably tomorrow, though it might be the next day.” He shrugged. “This weather makes things hard, you know.”

“Fine,” said Kendril with a noticeable level of irritation. He set the letter down before the man, along with a couple coins. “See that this goes out with the mail.”

The store owner nodded, tucking the letter back behind the counter. “Right, then. Anything else?”

Kendril shook his head, turning for the door. “No. Just make sure that letter gets out.”

Joseph followed after his friend, his face betraying his confusion. “So are you going to tell me what the letter’s for?”

Kendril walked out onto the porch, and into the swirling snow. “Just in case.”

Joseph quelled an exasperated sigh. “In case what?”

“In case I’m right,” said Kendril without stopping.

The snow continued to fall at a steady pace throughout the morning and mid-afternoon. The four adventures plodded silently through the whiteness, their heads down and hoods up against the blowing wind and snow. The road they were on wound north through the forest, and they followed it closely, struggling and slipping through the foot and a half-deep snow. The animals didn’t seem very happy either. Simon was particularly moody, his back piled high with equipment and supplies. Kendril traveled beside him, giving the beast an occasional reassuring pat.

The going was hard, and they found themselves taking frequent breaks, searching for what little cover they could in the trees by the side of the road. They never stopped for long, however, and the road northwards always beckoned to them.

“At least in Vorten we’ll be able to find a decent place to stay,” said Maklavir as they walked. “There are some excellent inns there.
The White Rose
was always one of my favorites.”

Kendril tried to smirk, but his face was too stiff from the cold. “Take many young women there?”

Maklavir turned in his saddle and gave the Ghostwalker a nasty look. “Yes, if you must ask. Vorten can be a very romantic city, actually.”

Kara shuddered as a cold wind began to blow. “Hard to believe that any place in the middle of all
this
could be romantic.”

“It’s the globes,” the diplomat responded. He brushed some snow from his cap. “They’re set all around the city, you know. Utterly remarkable. Beautiful at night.”

“I’ve heard of those,” said Joseph from where he was riding up front. “The glow-globes of Vorten. They light the whole city, right?”

Maklavir chuckled. “Yes. Quite amazing, really. They’re made from a very rare mineral found in the nearby hills. Each piece of rock is painstakingly carved into a perfect sphere. The process can sometimes take years. There are whole families of globe-carvers that have been around for generations.”

“How do they glow?” Kara asked curiously.

“As best as I understand it,” said Maklavir, turning in his saddle, “the globes absorb even the tiniest bit of heat and reproduce it as brilliant light. Throw one in the fire, and it will shine like the sun itself.” He ducked as Veritas passed under a low-hanging branch. “About a century ago a local inventor figured out a way to connect them all by underground piping.”

Joseph glanced over his shoulder, half-interested. “Piping?”

The purple-caped diplomat beamed. “Steam. Ingeniously simple, isn’t it? Just a little bit of steam piped to each globe keeps them lit all night long. That old inventor, oh, what was his name…?”

“Talor Zachari.” Kendril glanced off to the side of the trail, the rifle he always carried when out in the open in his hands.

“Uh, yes, that’s it,” said Maklavir, briefly taken aback by the Ghostwalker’s reply. “Mad Zachari, they used to call him. Anyway, he developed the whole underground piping system that Vorten still uses today. With glow-globes placed on every street corner and even in some of the private residences, the town literally glows at night.” The diplomat swiped some snow off his trouser leg. “There are several large underground furnaces that supply the steam.”

Kara pulled the hood a little closer over her head. “Sounds really incredible.”

“That’s not the end of it. The piping and the furnaces also provide some nice side benefits.” He gave an impish grin. “Like hot and cold running water.”

Kara eyes widened, and her mouth dropped open.

From the rear of the procession, Kendril scowled under his raised hood. “It’s mostly just the nobles who can afford luxuries like that.”

“There’s also the bathhouse,” said Maklavir, nonplussed at Kendril’s comment. “
That’s
open to everyone. The central bath there can easily hold a couple hundred people.”

“What’s that?” Kara asked suddenly, peering ahead through the falling snow. A large building stood a little ways ahead by the side of the road, smoke fluming out of its chimney.

“Looks like an inn.” Joseph glanced up at the sky. “It’ll be dark soon. Might as well stop here for the night.”

“Great Eru, you mean we’re not sleeping out in the snow?” said Maklavir with a dry smile. “How terribly disappointing.”

Early the next morning all four travelers were on the road again, a hot breakfast in their stomachs and a good rest under their belts. The snowfall had dropped down to a few scattered flakes, though the wind was still stiff and cold.  The trees to either side of the road were thick and menacing, smothered white with snow and dangling with icicles.

It was mid-afternoon when Joseph halted them. Curious, Kendril left Simon for a moment, trudging through the snow towards the front of the column.

The beast instantly started snuffling around in the snow, looking in vain for a blade of grass.

“What is it?” the Ghostwalker queried as he moved up.

Joseph gestured with his hand to a large wooden post to one side of the road. A carved wooden eagle sat atop it, painted black.

“Just thought you might like to know,” he said, “once we’re past this we’re officially in Valmingaard.”

Kara rubbed her red cheeks with her gloved hands, looking around them. “That’s it? I was expecting some guards, or something.”

Joseph shook his head. “The border here is pretty relaxed. Besides, it’s in the middle of nowhere. It would cost more to defend it then it’s worth.”

“Merewith doesn’t have the organization or the manpower to invade Valmingaard anyway,” Kendril noted. “Especially not in the dead of winter. Alright, enough sightseeing. Let’s get going.”

He turned back, but stopped as soon as he saw Maklavir.

The diplomat was staring at the post with a strange expression on his face.

“You all right?” Kendril asked.

Maklavir closed his eyes, shaking off whatever had possessed him. He gave a low chuckle. “Oh yes, yes, quite fine. Just—” He hesitated. “It’s been a while since I’ve been back, is all.”

Kara turned in her saddle and gave the diplomat a sympathetic look. “Are you sure you’re all right, Maklavir?”

“Yes, quite sure.” The diplomat gave his horse a kick forward. “Now let’s get moving. I can’t wait to show all of you Vorten. I remember one time, when I was younger, when…”

His voice trailed off as he rode ahead.

Kendril gave Kara a shrug, then grabbed Simon’s bridle and pulled the reluctant beast back onto the road.

“You’re certain the mercenaries you hired are dead?”

Galla took another sip of his wine, then set the glass carefully down on the tabletop. He looked at the woman across from him, but her face was shrouded in shadow beneath the large hood that she wore.

“Yes.” He paused for a moment, remembering the gaping hole in the temple floor. “There’s no way they could have gotten out of that temple alive.”

The woman didn’t move. Her hands resting lightly on the table before her. “I hope for your sake that you are correct.”

Galla swallowed. He reached for the wine glass again, trying to keep his hand from trembling. He glanced behind him out of habit, but the area of the inn they were in was empty except for them. The nearest people were sitting several tables away, laughing and jeering together.

“All I’m interested in is the money,” he said quickly. “I don’t care what you want the…artifact for.”

Galla sensed more than saw the woman smile under her hood.

“It will take time for me to get the money,” she said, her voice low and even. “How about tomorrow night?”

Galla nodded. He finished off the last of the wine. “Tomorrow’s fine.”

“Where shall we meet?”