The Hekamon (13 page)

If he did, the news would reach Coralai of his capture.
It would be connected to the similar loss of the Eagle Standard. Not
only his failure to recover it, but suffering a humiliating arrest in the process.
The saceress would be sure to place the ignominious defeat at his
door. He had no choice, he had to prevent Tansley reaching the fort,
no matter the cost.

Realizing this might be his last chance to do so, he
started to move faster and was now less than fifty yards away, with just
one traveler between them.

Sweat was pouring from him, his
options seemed to be diminishing, he was going to have to strike
after all. He thought the last second change of plan on the highway
earlier had been a blessing but it had been a curse. He faced all of
the complications that attacking the tradesman would cause, only this
time with the certainty of being seen, and maybe by guards, too.
Decarius committed himself to the task, it had to be done, he would
make the best of a bad situation.

Just then Tansley turned.

Not to look back, but to step off the road and
into a street that lead off it. Decarius found himself almost
unbalanced by the merchant's sudden change of direction. Staggering
for a few steps, and drawing a quizzical look from the last pedestrian
he was walking by, he returned a manic grin. It took all his
willpower not to laugh with relief before his composure quickly
returned.

If not the fort, where?

The area Tansley had gone into was still mostly hidden
by bushes that lined the road but the smoke and sounds rising above revealed his destination, Serfacre.

Decarius slowed and took a few deep breathes, this made
more sense. The merchant would probably have an acquaintance among
the workshop owners, a way in to the legitimate trade among the
Demedelites. A better class of buyer would most likely be found here,
and a better price could be attained for the more finely crafted
armor that came into his possession.

Breathing a sigh of relief, Decarius composed himself once more but he couldn't relax yet. Tansley would
be heading for a workshop, the question now, which one?

The pick embedded a few inches into the coal face, and,
with a little leverage, Galvyn plied some of the coal away. The
precious earth crumbled to the ground around his feet, in a small and
scarcely noticeable rockfall. Satisfied he had enough, Galvyn then
swapped the pick for a shovel, scooped up the lumps and started to
fill a large coal tub.

It was dark in the mine but not pitch black, some light
trickled in from the side of the seam and the entrances that
connected the mine to the old moat road. It helped a little, but the
obstructing mass of wooden pillars, beams, ladders and the tangled
ropes that held it all together, meant he was mostly working by the
shaft of light that came down from above.

The light poured in from a
trapdoor in the floor of Croneygee's workshop. Galvyn could have used
a lamp for some extra illumination if he wanted, but the added risks
of a naked flame among the coal dust wasn't worth it, besides, he
could see well enough.

Next to him was the large coal tub he'd filled. It was
attached to a chain that hung down from a pulley forty feet above.
The pulley itself was fixed to a main beam of the workshop. The tub's
wheels and axles had been removed to reduce its weight. They were no
longer needed. It only traveled vertically now.

With the tub filled and ready for raising, Galvyn
climbed, firstly the rickety wooden stairs that rose up to a gantry
above, then onto the ladder that lead through the trapdoor into the
coal bunker. Once inside it was just a matter of turning the winch,
feeding the rope through the pulley and up, until the tub full of
coal hung inside the bunker, ready for discharging.

With a second
rope, Galvyn pulled the tub to one side, activated a lever and
emptied the coal onto the floor, from where it could be shoveled onto
the growing pile. He'd had made a dozen such trips this morning and
this would be his last. The amount he'd mined would suffice for a few
weeks.

The Croneygee armory didn't get through as much coal as
some of the other workshops here. Most tended to buy in their supply
from the specialist miners further along the seam. The area directly
under Serfacre was almost depleted now, and just a few dozen loads
were brought up each day from this disused part of the mine. Cold
embers and clinkers were now more likely to be discarded here than
fresh coal mined.

The sound of him opening the tub, and the last load of
coal rumbling onto the floor, got his boss's attention, and Enyon
Croneygee joined him in the bunker.

"That looks like enough Galvyn, take a break now
lad," Croneygee said, maneuvering around the trapdoor and using
the rope to pull the now empty tub further out of the way, so the
trapdoor down to the mine could be closed again.

Thanking his boss, Galvyn went outside and over to a
water butt that rested against the south side of the building. Once
there, he washed the coal dust from his hands and face, before
rubbing some of the cool water around his hot neck.

Feeling clean again, Galvyn leaned against the wall of
the workshop and savored the warm and invigorating feeling of
sunlight. It had been a nice morning, but he'd missed it entirely. If
only Tansley had of showed up when he was meant to, he would at least
have been in the shop, instead of stuck in the mine.

The sun would become an increasingly rare sight over the
next few weeks, and for the two shortest months, would never make it
above the mountains. At this time of year, it just skirted the
ridge-line of the mountains, dipping out of sight only once, before
emerging from behind the highest peak shortly after midday.

"No sign of of him?" Galvyn asked his boss,
who had joined him outside.

"No, no sign. The morning, he said, well, it's
afternoon," signaling to the sun passing the peak. "Never was
very reliable though Tansley, his kind never are."

Galvyn agreed, although wasn't entirely sure what his
boss meant by, his kind. He guessed it was to do with Tansley's place
of residence and line of work. Most of those who lived and plied
their trade along the Regis Highway were viewed with suspicion by
people in general, and his boss in particular.

Chancers, grafters, fences with their mercantile
practices, it didn't sit well with an old timer like Croneygee. Still,
it didn't stop him dealing with Tansley, selling him a few things and
taking items in for repair. The man had been a regular customer for
years and was just respectable enough to be thought legitimate. From
what Galvyn had seen, Tansley was always careful not to knowingly
pass anything stolen on to his boss.

"I wouldn't mind his tardiness so much, but I
should have been meeting with Tregarron at noon, I have few things
for him."

"You go and see Captain Tregarron. I can look out
for Tansley, now I'm topside," Galvyn said helpfully.

"Aye, that might be for the best, Tregarron's not
one to be kept waiting." Croneygee said, easing himself up from
his reclined position and making his way to the door of the workshop.
As he did so, a visitor arrived.

"Talk of the devil and he's sure to appear."

"Good day Mr. Croneygee," Tansley said, a
little out of breath. "I've brought those items I told you
about. We did agree on today didn't we?"

"No, we agreed on this morning," Croneygee
said, entering his workshop.

Tansley followed, but raised a hand to him before he went inside, "Morning Galvyn."

"Afternoon, Tansley," he replied pointedly,
but smiling all the same and following the pair into the shop.

"Sorry for being a little late. I had to stay open
into the wee small hours, it has upset my plans. You know how it is."

"That I do, Tansley, that I do. I'm late for a meeting with Tregarron as it is, so I can't stay long."

Galvyn watched as his boss took the sack from Tansley
and opened it. One by one, he took each item out and gave it a
cursory inspection, murmuring to himself as he did so.

It looked poor
fare from where Galvyn was standing but at least it would give him
something to practice on for the next few hours if nothing else.

Make that the next few days, he thought, as he took a
closer look at the motley collection of pauldrons, scabbards, belts
and boots. There was a nice pair of wrist guards that needed some new
buckles but nothing would stay here once repaired. Instead, Tansley
would collect them and take them to his own shop, where he would sell
them to the less discerning buyer.

While his boss began valuing the cost of the repairs,
Galvyn sat at his workbench in readiness to start work on them. While he waited, he watched Tansley walking around the workshop and browsing
the items on sale, presumably looking for a makeweight for the deal
he had in mind.

Just then, a shadow passed by the door. Galvyn looked
across at the prospective customer, but whoever it was walked on by,
looking inside, but not stopping.

Almost immediately Tansley stepped back toward the
workbench, with a leather helmet he had picked up almost at random.

"This," he said placing the helmet down before
rummaging through his pocket and producing a small clay vial, "for
this, and the repairs."

Galvyn and his boss looked at each other disbelievingly.
Usually Tansley was hugely optimistic on what his ointments were
worth, but this time he was underselling himself.

"These repaired," Croneygee said, "and
that helmet, in return for the ointment? Done."

His boss had never let on to Tansley just how effective
the balm was on his skin condition. He was stockpiling it in case the
supply ever ran out. Galvyn had been sworn to secrecy on the matter.
He thought his boss might be prepared to pay ten times more than he
had been. Today it was half-price for some reason. Tansley, seemed to
realize he could have done better, and tried to pull the deal back in
his favor.

"And Galvyn here to bring them to me when they're
done. Good doing business with you Mr. Croneygee, as always."

Galvyn watched as his boss looked at Tansley for a while
before rolling his eyes in concession, indicating the trade was
complete. Tansley winked at Galvyn, it wasn't a bad deal for him now.

Whenever Galvyn was making his deliveries, his boss
would make a point of telling him to go and come straight back, but
Tansley always found him a couple of jobs to do while he was there.
It was in Galvyn's nature to be helpful, so he did them, but there was
usually something in it for him, too.

His business with Tansley complete, Croneygee started
looking around the workshop. "Now, where did I leave my
consignment for Tregarron? I'm late as it is. Have you seen my bag,
Galvyn."

"I haven't Mr. Croneygee." He said, as his boss went out to the armory at the back of the workshop and
disappeared upstairs.

Tansley watched him go as well, and with the old
man out of earshot, turned to Galvyn.

"I have something for you," the merchant said,
flipping him a small copper coin, which he caught
instinctively.

"What's this for?"

Tansley glanced towards the entrance of the shop,
causing Galvyn to do likewise, but it didn't look like any visitors were
about to walk in. Turning back to him, and reaching into another
pocket of his coat, the man took out an item of jewelry and held it
in front him. It was an object that sparkled and shone in the
afternoon sunlight and it got his complete and undivided attention.

Decarius turned right and entered the streets of
Serfacre, just in time to see Tansley take the next left. If he was
going to keep the merchant in his sights, he would have to stay
closer in these tight streets. It made trailing the man riskier, but
Decarius could see it wouldn't be a problem.

For one thing, there were many more people here. Serfacre was a busy and
bustling place, with craftsmen, vendors and customers all going about
their business. It wasn't just the people, there was also the smoke,
steam, dust and general disorder of the workshops. It all afforded
him better cover anyway, so he quickened his pace and kept the
merchant in view.

A right, a left, another right and then the man he was following was
outside a workshop talking to what looked like the proprietor. An
elderly, wizened fellow. The two met and spoke briefly, but Decarius
was too far back to catch any of the conversation.

Aware that he was
standing the middle the street looking like a spare wheel, he turned
to a nearby store front and started to idly browse some of the
equipment on display there, so as to look less conspicuous. When he looked
again, Tansley and the old man were entering the workshop, and a
younger man was following them in.

Through the large shop window, he could make out a
meeting of the three taking place, but he couldn't discern much more
than that. A protective iron grille covered the window obscured his
view from this position. Deciding that he needed to get a closer
look, Decarius walked by the shop.

From the view he got as he walked past the open door, it
was clear he was looking into an armory. There were shields, swords,
axes and hammers. There was a hint of more shelves of armor against a
wall he couldn't see so well, along with what looked leather curacies
stacked up near the door.

Further inside, he could see a
hearth and near to it an anvil, while above it, various tools hung
from hooks on a wall. In the middle of the workshop, the young man
he'd just seen enter, was now seated at a workbench, while the old man
was leaning over and inspecting something. The gauntlets maybe?

As he neared, it became apparent that he would need to
go inside if he really wanted to see, or hear, what was happening
there. He considered doing just that, but thought he would bide is
time instead.