Where Serpents Strike (Children of the Falls Vol. 1) (30 page)

He dismounted, tied his horse to a hitching
rail, on the street, and instructed Awlin to wait with the horses.
She must have sensed his souring mood because she said nothing to
indicate that she heard him or that she would obey. Merek stepped
up onto the raised wooden walkway that fronted the clapboard shop
and went inside.

He shut the door behind him and looked
around. The store was empty of people, but crowded with waist-high
cabinets featuring pottery, brass, silver goblets, forks, spoons,
and knives, and jewelry enclosed in protective glass cases.

An oversized man with a double chin hobbled
out to the front desk to greet his customer. Unlike the humble,
working man vibes the town of Faltonia exuded, Nheto Stult reeked
of prosperity. His clothing was spotless, richly embroidered, and
made of only the finest fabrics. The man had more money than anyone
knew, and if Merek and he didn’t have a long history together,
Merek would’ve hit him up years ago.

When he saw Merek, he stopped, sighed and
shook his head. “Been worried,” he said. “Lots of talk going around
about you.”

“Like what?” Merek asked.

“I’ve heard different things. It always
seems to be about black vipers though. They’re looking for you
everywhere. They were even in here asking questions about you two
moons ago.” Before Merek could ask, the jeweler lifted his hands.
“Don’t worry. I told them nothing. They were asking about your
cabin though.”

Merek tried not to look as worried as he
felt. “What can I say? I’ve hit a rough patch.”

The man gestured with his massive chin out
the window where Awlin sat stroking the front shoulder of her
horse. “Can’t be too rough. That’s a mighty pretty girl.”

Hoping to keep his sister out of the
discussion altogether, Merek reached into his tunic and withdrew
the two pieces of the regenstern. He set them on the counter in
front of the jeweler and watched his eyes sparkle with awe. Few men
on Efferous were as gifted in recognizing the quality and value of
rare gems than Nheto Stult.

When Nheto saw the gems, he whistled. “I got
one question. Are these from Edhen?”

“Why?”

“Cause if they are I’m not touching
them.”

“My question remains. Why?”

Nheto sighed again, a heavy wheeze that
sounded painful. He leaned forward over his generous girth, resting
his elbows on the counter, and glancing out the window like he
didn’t want anyone else to hear what he was about to say. “A man
got murdered in Slavigo a few moons ago for having one of these
gems,” Nheto said.

“What man?” But Merek had a strange feeling
that he already knew.

Nheto shrugged. “Some rich nobleman. Was
showing it off to a bunch of folks one night when black vipers
started roughing him up, asking him where he got it. Some people
say the man got real nasty and started fighting and that’s why they
killed him, others tell it like the poor soul pissed himself in
fear as they wrestled the stone from his grasp and then stuck him
right then there.”

Merek remembered the obnoxious nobleman from
the slave auction who had fallen in lust with Awlin the moment he
heard that she was a virgin. It had cost Merek four pieces of the
regenstern to buy her back from him. If black vipers were so eager
to kill a wealthy man such as he to get the gems back, then surely
Merek and Awlin stood no chance at all.

“Do you know why they want this so badly?”
Merek asked, pointing to the gems on the counter.

Nheto sighed again, as though every question
Merek asked was a huge burden for him to answer, and for a man as
big as Nheto it probably was. “These are wizard stones, some call
them. These two have something magical inside of them. You can tell
by the rainbow colors in the center. You see?”

“What kind of magic?”

Nheto shrugged. “Could be anything. If you
hold it enough it might make you into a genius. If you have the
right words it might enable you to spit fire. If you twirl it
around your head it might make you dance the jaunty and bark like a
dog. If you—”

“I get it,” Merek said.

“A regenstern can even act like a spyglass.
They say if one is broken apart you can see what the others are
seeing when you cast a certain spell over it, or something crazy
like that.

“Whatever this has inside of it, the Black
King wants it bad. He’s a bastard, that one. He isn’t even king of
Efferous and yet the people here talk about him like he’s a
creature from all the hells. He isn’t anyone you want on your bad
side, Merek. So my advice to you is give these back to whoever or
wherever you got them from.”

“There’s a problem with that,” Merek said.
“I need money. What can you give me for these?”

“Ha! I’m not buying those, my friend. No
way.”

“Please, one last sale for old time’s sake.
And I do mean that. This is it for me, Nheto. I’m done. I need a
ship to get me home, and then I’m never coming here again.”

Nheto sat back on a stool much too small for
his wide posterior. He folded his arms and regarded Merek
thoughtfully before saying, “I have a friend who runs a ship called
the Choir Girl to Thalmia every day. He owes me a favor. He can get
you as far as the west coast first thing tomorrow. You can stay
here for the night, but in the morning you have to go. That’s the
best I can do.”

“You sure the wife won’t mind?” Merek
said.

“That walking pair of shackles is at our
home in Velia. Spends most of her time there actually. I hardly see
her anymore.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Are you kidding? It’s been great!”

Merek returned to Awlin, delighted to give
her news that didn’t involve disappointment for once. In the four
months they had spent traveling from Slavigo, they had encountered
one problem after another that delayed their return to Edhen, but
now home felt like a possibility once again.

What Merek didn’t tell her, however, was
that something still felt wrong.

Above Nheto’s shop was a practical
two-bedroom home where the jeweler lived with his mother and his
wife—whenever she came to visit, that is. The place was small, but
its furnishings were quite extravagant, a clear sign of Nheto’s
successful business savvy.

Merek let Awlin have the padded sofa, in
spite of how comfortable it looked, while he slept on the floor. By
the time the light of the sun had woken them the next morning,
Nheto had prepared some hot tea and some buttered muffins akin to
Edhen’s cornbread.

Nheto handed Merek a note to give to the
captain of the Choir Girl while a stable boy fetched their horses,
which had been saddled with supplies for their journey home.

Awlin’s spirits were high, but as delightful
as it was to see his sister happy, Merek shared none of her
jubilation.

“What’s wrong?” Awlin asked him while their
horses carried them down a wide dirt road that tunneled through a
thick jungle canopy.

Merek shrugged. “Nothing,” he lied. “I’m
just… just happy to be putting this place behind us.”

“I know what you mean,” she said.

Awlin started to talk at length about her
life as a servant to Adairous Dolar, but Merek wasn’t listening.
His mind kept returning to his cabin and the black viper he had
seen standing on the front deck, occupying one of the most secret
parts of his life. If they could find him there, then surely they
would find him anywhere.

Merek kept a close eye on the surrounding
foliage of the woodsy tunnel, looking for signs of watchful eyes,
though he tried not to make a show of it for Awlin’s sake. By the
time they reached the harbor she was well into her fifth
anecdote—or was it her sixth? Merek couldn’t remember. He glanced
behind them to see if they were being followed, but aside from
fishermen wandering to and from the harbor, a woman carrying a
basket of greens, and a couple peasant children playing a chasing
game, he saw nothing out of the ordinary.

Emerging from the green tunnel of jungle,
Merek saw that the road split. The main path continued straight
along a line of storefronts that included an inn and a small
tavern, while the left branch of the road sunk down a dirt hill
into Faltonia’s harbor. The waterfront looked busy with many small
fishing boats floating out over the ocean inlet, and several large
flat-bottom cargo ships loading up for voyages to various
shores.

From his vantage point high upon the main
road, Merek looked along the docks examining the ships for signs of
danger. He saw the Choir Girl on the far right and noted the six
men lugging cargo up onto the deck.

“Are you coming?” Awlin asked. She had
drifted down the road leading toward the boats, no doubt driven by
eagerness unencumbered by no sense of caution.

Merek smirked, wondering if he was being too
paranoid. He led his horse down the road to the Choir Girl, a wide
brown ship roped to a rickety wooden pier on its starboard side,
its name scrawled across the back in a decorative Efferousian
text.

A man standing on the pier next to the Choir
Girl noticed Merek and Awlin looking over the ship. He asked in
sloppy Efferousian, “Can I help you?”

“Are you the captain of this vessel?” Merek
asked.

He must’ve detected a hint of Merek’s accent
because his expression became suspicious. “What’s it to you?”

Merek sidled his horse close enough to hand
the man Nheto’s handwritten note. The captain unfurled the
parchment and read it silently to himself.

“You’re a friend of Nheto’s?” he asked.

Merek dipped his head.

“Pleased to meet you.” The man took out a
bright green rag and wiped his forehead. “Uh, if you want to
dismount I’ll bring your horses on board for you. Let’s go, miss.
Off you get.” He reached up to Awlin to help her down.

“Wait,” Merek said.

There was something about the captain’s
green rag that wasn’t right. It was too bright and clean for a hard
working sea captain, and not a color common to the region. Merek
guessed it was given to the man for the express purpose of
signaling someone else.

“Shall I load your horse, sir?” the captain
asked.

Merek looked at him, studied him, saw the
sweat on his brow and the nervous twitch of his upper lip as he
reached for the reins of Awlin’s horse.

“No,” Merek said. “Awlin, follow me.”

“Well, hold on now,” the captain said. “Uh,
any friend of Nheto’s is a friend of mine.”

“What’s wrong?” Awlin asked.

“I’ll explain later,” Merek said. To the
captain he added, “Let her go.” The man released the reins.

Shouts from up on the main road beckoned
Merek’s attention away from his sister where he saw a contingent of
black vipers charging along the line of storefronts. They were
galloping toward the split in the road and would soon be charging
down the slope into the harbor.

“Move!” Merek shouted, and he kicked his
horse into a furious gallop. He tried to gauge the speed at which
the black vipers were moving and guessed that he and Awlin could
reach the fork in the road before they did, but then what? They had
no place to go but straight, and that would take them back into
town, back toward Nheto’s shop, where escape would be almost
impossible.

Merek glanced behind him to see Awlin just
over his right shoulder, hands on the reins, head low, galloping
her horse like an experienced rider. He smiled, proud.

Their horses pounded the ground as they made
their way up the slope, narrowly beating the soldiers to the
split.

“Go!” Merek shouted. “Faster!”

They galloped back through the tunnel of
jungle trees with the company of black vipers close behind. Merek
could hear their excited shouts echoing after them.

How had they found him? Merek refused to
believe that Nheto had sold them out. If he had, the soldiers
would’ve come for him during the night. No, it wasn’t Nheto, Merek
concluded. The black vipers had been waiting at the harbor just
like they had been waiting at the cabin. They knew he might come
this way. They knew he might try to board a ship and flee the area.
He had foolishly walked right into their trap.

Merek took a sharp corner down a side street
with a row of cramped buildings on the right and jungle foliage on
the left. He knew such a maneuver wouldn’t throw the soldiers off
their trail, but it would force them to slow and cause those in the
back to fall behind. It wasn’t the entire company he needed to
outmaneuver, just the rider in the lead.

“Stay close!” he shouted to Awlin. “Left,
then left, then left.”

“Right!”

They came upon another sharp left turn and
Merek used the position to ready his right hand and hurl a dagger
at the black viper closest to them. The blade landed flat against
the side of the soldier’s head, causing the man to almost lose
control of his steed.

The distraction gave Merek the precious
seconds he needed to make a second sharp left, followed by a third
that wheeled him and Awlin through the doors of a large gray barn.
Merek had picked out the structure last summer as a prime hiding
spot in Faltonia. It’s large stable bays provided easy access and
its high lofts were a honeycomb of nooks and crannies.

Merek jumped off his horse, at the same time
ordering Awlin to do the same.

“Up the ladder!” he whispered.

While Awlin went for the ladder, Merek led
the two horses into one of the stalls.

A black viper went charging by the barn’s
entrance, shouting to his comrades.

Merek raced up the ladder and pulled Awlin
into a corner of the loft packed with hay. He ripped apart one of
the hay bales and buried them both in golden straw. From the loft
he peeked through the space between the clapboards at the street
outside. Two horsed soldiers were congregating below, muttering to
each other just quiet enough that he couldn’t hear.