The Hekamon (23 page)

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.

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.

"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 impended 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.