Keystone (Gatewalkers) (13 page)

He had her there. Charlie wasn’t exactly a track star. “I need to go with you,” she said quietly, trying to make him understand.

“Be as it may – ” Rhys began.

“You aren’t going to let me come,” Charlie said flatly.

Rhys shook his head.

“What about the contract?” Charlie pointed out.

“I will be the only one required to go,” Rhys said, his face steely.

Charlie felt torn between disappointment and anger. “So you’re saying everything I’ve been through on this world amounts to nothing.”

“No,” Rhys said, unexpectedly. “If Maelyn is indeed still alive, she will have you to thank for her rescue. If it were my own inclination, I would still be hiding away in my basement. In any case, I believe I would have come to regret the decision.”

Charlie had no answer for that. She didn’t want to end up with regrets either. She would have to find a way to follow him herself.
All right then, Mr. I-belong-to-a-mercenary-guild-so-I’ll-be-the-only-one-going. We’ll just see about that.

“Do you have a bow?” Charlie said. “Preferably a recurve rather than a longbow.” Recurves were shorter than longbows, easier to cart around, and packed more power. A traditional recurve made of horn, wood and sinew was bound to handle differently than a fiberglass one, but all she could do was hope for the best. “I want to get back into practice. Especially if I’m going to be here alone for a while. Give me something to do.” And if he suspected what she really wanted it for, then maybe he would figure out she wouldn’t be left behind so easily.

Rhys looked at her narrowly, but nodded. “I can get you one.”

***

Some time later, Rhys led her to a stone building at the heart of the town that looked like a small fortress, complete with stocky square tower at each corner. A banner over the iron studded double doors showed a silver coat of arms on a blue field. A caller stood by the front door, shouting out the dangers of not having a well-trained troop of guards in dangerous times. The caller exchanged a nod with Rhys as Rhys pushed open the heavy door like it weighed nothing.

Lamps lit the foyer beyond, already cut off from natural light by the narrowness of the windows. Another banner hung on the wall, over the heavy desk that dominated the narrow space. A gray haired man with a stern, jowly face sat at the desk, several ledgers spread before him. He nodded at Rhys then looked over Charlie suspiciously.

“No women in the men’s quarters,” the man said.

“I need a contract written,” Rhys said. He pulled Charlie forward. “She’s my client.”

The man pursed his lips disapprovingly and clicked his tongue, but made a notation on one of his ledgers.

Good thing he didn’t know about the pixies hiding under Charlie’s hair. He might have tried to kick them all out or something.

“Guildmaster Scatha is in. She can see about your contract. I trust you will be leaving your client in the common room until the Sealing.” The man cast them an evil eye.

Rhys ushered her through a side door. He took her up a set of stairs to a large common area, set up as a library, study, and lounge.

“Wait here.” He continued across the room to ascend the staircase there to the third floor.

Charlie plunked on a nearby chair to wait. The moment Rhys disappeared from sight, the pixies left her shoulders to explore the room.

Charlie pulled out her pocket comp again and snapped a few pictures of the room. She could almost think of it as a movie set rather than the room right in front of her, but it didn’t have that fresh, shiny look to it. The furniture looked battered around, and though nothing was outright broken, there was a chair with a wedge propped under a short leg, and the colors of the cushions throughout the room were sun-faded.

Come to that, clothes in games tended to be more stylized than something that a person would actually wear day in and out. The dress she wore now definitely had a lived-in look to it, with wrinkles and worn places. It was made for wearing, not showing off.

A thud and a high-pitched squeal brought Charlie out of her thoughts. Tom had knocked over a heavy book and it fell squarely on Lallia. Neither pixie had the strength to lift it off.

Putting away her pocket comp, Charlie crossed the room and picked up the book. Lallia darted away, still ruffled. Charlie looked down at the tome in her hands, the cover made of thick, intricately tooled leather.
 

She couldn’t read the symbols inscribed there, but she flipped it open anyway. The writing inside looked as alien as the cover, but the borders were filled with flowing, spiraling lines that drew the eye. The longer she looked at them, she could start to see the images of animals.
 

She flipped a few pages, and the smooth lines took on the motion of ocean waves, writhing with fish and sea serpents. Charlie replaced the book on the shelf. Her fingers wandered across the spines of the others, searching for something familiar. There seemed to be several kinds of script, but none she could read. Funny, she’d been able to read things at Taryn’s shop. She hadn’t thought it was unusual at the time, thinking it was just a game.

Now what?
The question whispered in the back of her head. Accept her fate? As soon as the thought came into her head, Charlie repelled it. No. No way was she going to sit back and moan like a lost puppy. She had to do
something
or she would go nuts.

But the other option…. Was she really brave enough to make her way through a strange country on her own? She’d always loved the idea of traveling, but she’d never gone further from home than her college campus.

Charlie reached for one of the knickknacks on the shelf, but it scooted away from her fingers. Startled, she snatched her hand back. Yet another reminder that she wasn’t in her own world.
 

A thought occurred. “Tom.” Charlie rounded on the pixie. “You said that you’d ‘gone through all that trouble’ to find me. Why me?”

“I’m not the one to ask,” Tom replied. He stood on what looked like a chessboard, studying the pieces laid out in the middle of a game. “Lallia is the one convinced that you are the hero of Seinne Sonne.” He wrapped his arms around a castle and carried it diagonally across the board. “Checkmate!” he cried gleefully.

“Lallia?” But the pink ball of fluff was nowhere in sight. “Lallia!”

Charlie hunted around the room for the elusive pixie, but before she could find Lallia, heavy footsteps descended the stairs. She expected to see Rhys, but a dark young man with a puckered scar hooked across his cheek stood there instead.

“They are ready for you,” he said, gesturing for Charlie to follow him.

Charlie quickly gathered up the pixies and hid them before hurrying after him.

***

Rhys, his hood down, stood with a woman nearly as old as himself. Gray streaked her light brown hair, and her stance showed an easy self-confidence. Her garb was cut for practicality and comfort rather than style but didn’t hide that her body was athletic despite her age. Charlie guessed she must be Scatha.

Scatha beckoned Charlie to the desk in the middle of the spartan room. “This would be your first contract.” There was no question in Scatha’s voice.

Charlie approached cautiously, now wishing she’d asked Rhys what this “contract” involved. “I’m really not sure –”

“It is very simple,” Scatha said. “Place your hand on the parchment.” Rhys already had.

Charlie eyed the contract’s illegible script, thinking of all the fine print that could be in there.

“The terms are more than fair,” Scatha said dryly. “Especially for a suicide quest. Very gutsy of you, convincing one of my best spell swords to help you search for the missing princess.”

“I am your
only
spell sword,” Rhys said mildly.

Scatha grimaced. “Only because they’re so damn expensive to rent from the mage guild.”

“What exactly does ‘more than fair’ consist of?” Charlie didn’t like sounding suspicious, but even more she didn’t like the idea of a contract she didn’t know the details for.

Scatha pointed her chin at Rhys. “He gets a half share of any profits involved in the task, including but not limited to rewards, finder’s fees, and incidental acquisitions. The contract is voided if either of you die.”

Incidental acquisitions? To Charlie that smacked of looting, and/or treasure hunting. This was so weird.

Charlie placed her hand on the parchment. It felt cool and smooth.

“State your full true name,” Scatha said.

“Charlotte Marie Donahue.” The ink on the parchment quivered, taking on a fresh liquid sheen. Lines of script snaked off the page and wrapped themselves around her wrist. Matching lines wrapped around Rhys’.

“Hey!” Charlie cried, trying to jerk her hand back, but it felt anchored firmly to the parchment.

“Do you agree to be thus bound by contract,” Scatha intoned, unsurprised, “until Princess Maelyn and the Keystone are restored, or until death takes you?”

“I do,” Rhys said. He and Scatha looked to Charlie.

Did she really want to agree to this contract, whatever it was? Then again, it meant Rhys would help her get home. Worth it?

“I do,” Charlie whispered. The rest of the ink slid off the parchment, forming thin black bracelets of script. Charlie found that her hand would move again. Charlie poked at the script. It acted like a tattoo printed in her skin. She couldn’t move it or smear it no matter what she did. “Is this permanent?”

Scatha lifted the blank parchment and rolled it into a tube, stowing it in a rack of similar scrolls.
 

“‘Until Princess Maelyn and the Keystone are restored, or until death takes you,’” Rhys said. “When the contract is fulfilled it will fade.”

The princess rescued and Keystone restored. Her only hope of going home.

CHAPTER SIX

Protege Moi

“Your majesty?”

Edouard threw up a quick illusion of himself continuing to walk down the hall, while diving through a doorway. He’d had enough of problems for one day. Any new disaster had to wait its turn.

Edouard had found white in his black hair this morning. Only a few strands, but they were bound to multiply. Two years shy of a full score and already turning into an old man.

A quick jog and careful timing brought Edouard to the palace’s third library unnoticed. He slipped inside with a quick glance to be sure he was alone. Edouard had more than his fill of people today. Toadying, consoling, watching, entreating, demanding, and most of all fearing. Fearing that the entire kingdom would crumble around their ears and it would all be Edouard’s doing. The last of High King Gwalchmai’s blood.

No. Edouard wasn’t the last. He couldn’t be last and he had to stop thinking as if he were.

“You could start a panic that way, you know.” Archmage Taliesin’s voice was mild and unconcerned. He had studied so deeply into ancient languages that it tinged his speech with a formal, archaic accent.

Edouard tensed at the first sound but relaxed when he recognized the archmage’s voice. He should have looked more closely at the deep, wingback chair by the hearth. Archmage Taliesin was a tall man, but it was easy to forget because he was most often to be found sitting with a book, as now.

“Had to get away,” Edouard said. The third library had been his sanctuary since boyhood. The odd-shaped room was in the oldest portion of the palace, and over the centuries various additions and alterations had produced a host of odd nooks and crannies.

William hated the place because he always lost at hide and seek.

Archmage Taliesin took off his thick-glassed spectacles and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I fully understand the occasional need for escape, but now is perhaps not the best time. After all, the Keystone’s vault lies empty several floors beneath this very room and your sister…. Well, I’m sure you do not need a fresh reminder. Though you mustn’t think that she is lost to us. There is hope yet for her return.”
 

Deep collections of lines at Taliesin’s mouth and the corners of his watery blue eyes gave evidence to his ready humor, but at the moment his expression held nothing but concern. He kept his snowy white hair cut short so it would not fall into his face while reading, and kept clean shaven though a beard would add fullness to his thin face. He also never wore the formal robes and heavy chains of his office except for state occasions. He loved haunting the marketplaces for books and also enjoyed the moment when someone realized that the unassuming human man they spoke to was the Archmage of Seinne Sonne.

“I’m going mad with their conflicting demands.” Edouard said. “‘Do this; no, do
that
.’ And Mae. There’s been such delays that it seems impossible to mount a search at all much less find her alive.”

Archmage Taliesin leaned forward, grey brows furrowing. “You mean the expedition hasn’t left yet?” He released a colorful epithet in ancient elven that was nearly too obscure for Edouard to grasp. “What are you doing here then? Why haven’t they gone?”

Edouard gritted his teeth. “Apparently there is some debate over the use of dogs in the mountains, and whether it would be too cold for them to be of use.”

“Edouard… my lord, you must be decisive in this,” Taliesin said, punctuating his words with waving his spectacles. “End the debate. Send the expedition on its way before it is too late for more than your sister.”

Edouard had heard so much end-of-the-world talk that he thought he’d become numb to it, but something in Archmage Taliesin’s voice sent a shiver down his spine and a spike of dread through his soul. “You believe there is some truth to the stories of Ard Ri?”

“My dear boy, even
I
sometimes muddle what is history and what is fact, but I know this for certain: the breaking of the Keystone is merely the catalyst in greater events to come. Anyone who isn’t concerned is a fool.” Archmage Taliesin paused. “Be sure that the expedition consists of only volunteers, and allow none whose family relies upon them for sole support. The Northern Reaches are dangerous in the best of times and twice now they have failed to be sealed within the borders of Seinne Sonne by Gwalchmai’s blood. I fear… no, I
know
that the ancient protections are failing.” A wistful sadness overtook his face. “A great part of me wishes to go along myself, but I fear it is unwise. Perhaps… perhaps my adventuring days are behind me at last.” His expression hardened. “Send Master Mage Dragus with the expedition. That should smooth any further obstacles.”