Knight of Shadows, page 11
In the morning, he procured a horse from a trader who was reluctant to sell her for the price Rezkin offered. Having successfully negotiated the deal to his satisfaction, Rezkin left the city. He headed east along the trade route and found himself most often alone on the road. What had once been a heavily traversed path was now a desolate one with few merchants and even fewer travelers willing to brave the contentions between the two kingdoms. Rezkin remained vigilant and wary of patrols and often left the road to travel amongst the brush and trees that dotted the route. Unfortunately, he had little choice but to take the road since the gorge that separated the two kingdoms was spanned by a single bridge.
He eventually reached the gorge only to be greeted by a blockade occupied by Ashaiian soldiers. Rezkin donned one of the many illusionary disguises he had been practicing and approached the blockade as a wary traveler of twice his age and scarred by years of toiling in a smithy.
“State your name, country of origin, and your business,” said the patrolman who greeted him with the tip of a spear pointed at him.
Rezkin answered in broken Ashaiian and a heavy Channerían accent of eastern dialect. “I be Roscus Torrin of Channería, and I be headin’ home.”
“What were you doing in Ashai?” said the patrolman.
“I been ’ere fer years, but things bein’ what they be between the kingdoms, I be thinkin’ it’s ’bout time I’m headin’ home.”
The patrolman lowered his spear, “Smart man. I can’t say as I blame you. You’ll find the going rough in Channería right now. Very well. Get moving. They shouldn’t give you too much trouble on the other side, you being Channerían and all.”
Rezkin said, “Thanks be to you, sir. I’ll be headin’ on my way then.”
Once he was past the Ashaiian blockade, Rezkin started across the bridge, which was such a phenomenal feat in and of itself that it could not have been built without the arduous labors of numerous mages. It was wide enough for four wagons to pass and so tall that one could not spy the bottom from the top. The walls were ornately carved with scenes of peace and prosperity, an irony not lost on him as he approached the Channerían blockade on the other side from which a multitude of archers trained their arrows on him. In fact, there were so many archers that should they unleash their arrows, it would be impossible to avoid them all even with his skills. Rezkin prepared to erect a shield ward for the eventuality.
He was not fired upon, thankfully, but he was greeted at sword point by multiple guardsmen. The lead guardsman said, “Halt! Ashaiians are not permitted beyond this point.”
Rezkin tipped his hat and said in fluent Channerían, “That be very well, but I be Channerían. I be headin’ home.”
The sword points lowered a fraction, and the guardsman said, “A rockman, eh? You’ve a long way to travel through dangerous territory.”
“It be so dangerous, does it?” replied Rezkin.
“Aye, Prince Nyan has crossed the mountains, and he’s pressing in on the north while the king’s preoccupied with the fishers.”
Suddenly, one of the men raised his sword and shouted, “What’s that in your bag?”
Rezkin had felt Seena shifting about, but he had hoped the guardsmen wouldn’t notice. He was not so lucky. He reached down and flipped open the flap of the satchel. Seena rushed out and scurried up his arm to perch on his shoulder.
“She be me cat,” said Rezkin as the swords lowered again.
To the guardsmen’s eyes, Seena was indeed a cat, one that looked identical to the little tortie Rezkin had left behind in Cael. He had not been certain the illusion would work on the dragon, especially since Seena did not move like a cat, but the guardsmen appeared mollified. They waved for him to continue past the barricade, and Rezkin was satisfied that his first test of the illusions had gone well.
The journey to Londgrad, home of the Ashaiian spies in Channería, was long and relatively uneventful since Rezkin successfully avoided the patrols. The bandits he encountered were defeated with ease and hardly worth mention. There was quite a bit more movement on the trade route through Channería, however. Recruits and troops were heading north toward the conflict, and settlers were fleeing south away from it. Traveling merchants were still doing business as usual, and some were even turning a tidy profit thanks to the conflict. Although the supply was still regular, the cost of grain and other produce imported from the north had already risen. Those displaced by the fighting could not afford to take up residence within the towns, so tent cities had begun popping up on the outskirts of nearly every village.
Rezkin regularly strayed from the roadway to cross over the countryside and through the forests so that Seena would have a chance to get some exercise and continue their flying lessons. Although the illusion that she was a cat worked for short periods of time, it would have been disconcerting to see a cat soaring through the air. Seena was in good spirits for the most part, but Rezkin was having increasing difficulty keeping her from getting involved in his conflicts. Whenever he was locked in a battle, she became eager to participate. Although her tiny talons and teeth were effective against the rats and voles she hunted, they would hardly bring down something as large and dangerous as a man.
Rezkin was a few days into his journey to Londgrad, which was located to the north of Serret, when he stopped to camp in a cave beside a river. The cave was not very large, but it contained a fresh pool fed by a natural spring. The walls were dotted with chert nodules, and large crystals of calcite covered a sizeable cavity in the rear wall. As soon as Rezkin set down his packs, Seena hurried out and dove into the shallow pool. Although it was her first time in a body of water large enough to swim in, she took to it like a fish.
“Very well,” he said. “You may swim for now, but we cannot stay for long. We must get to Londgrad quickly. I have many tasks ahead of me.”
Rezkin watched her play for a while, feeling a sense of peace. Eventually, she leapt out of the water, shaking her body and wings. She hesitantly stalked closer to where he sat watching her then paused only a few feet from him. She stared at him with icy-blue eyes, and Rezkin got the distinct feeling she was trying to communicate.
“What is it?” he said. “What do you want to tell me?”
A presence brushed against his mind, and then he heard the softest whisper. “Go?”
Rezkin leaned back in surprise as the word clearly echoed in his mind. He said, “You want to go? We just got here. We have not yet rested.”
Seena flapped her wings excitedly, obviously pleased that he had heard her. She paused, stretched her long neck out, and tilted her head at him. A soft, lilting voice caressed his mind. “Go quickly.”
He nodded. “Yes, we must go quickly after we have rested.”
Seena turned in a circle then stopped in front of him again and stretched her body and wings upward. She closed her eyes, and Rezkin felt the presence in his mind again, this time stronger and more demanding. His first instinct was to fight back, to shut it out, but he resisted. Whether it was due to his bond with Seena or simply from having raised her since she was a hatchling, he trusted her, and he was curious as to what she was doing.
After a moment, a small glimmer of light appeared above Seena’s head. The lavender light gradually grew to the size of a horse, illuminating the cave so that the crystals set in the walls sparkled. Rezkin got to his feet as he stared at the brilliant confluence of light that created a rent in the air. He had seen something like it before. It was nearly identical to the portal in the pathways that Azeria created. To his amazement, Seena had somehow created a portal, but where would it lead? Azeria could only create a pathway to a place she had been. Seena had never been to Channería, and he certainly did not want to end up back in Ashai.
“Where does this go?” he said.
She replied, “Go quickly.”
Rezkin hesitated. He trusted Seena, but she was still an infant by dragon standards. Could he trust a dragon infant to create a portal to a place he would wish to go? For all he knew, this pathway could lead to another realm entirely. He looked back to Seena, who appeared to be struggling. Her breathing was coming rapidly, and her limbs were beginning to shake. He did not think she could hold the portal open much longer. It was a risk, but it might be one worth taking. If Seena could truly open portals to the places he needed to go, it would save him months of travel. He would actually be capable of completing all his tasks, and he could more easily manipulate events so they worked against Caydean. Rezkin took what Tam would call a leap of faith. He gathered the reins and his packs, picked up Seena, and stepped into the light.
When Rezkin stepped through the portal, he was released instantly back into the world, and, to his surprise, he knew exactly where he was. In fact, he had once stood in that very spot on a hillside overlooking the capital city of Serret. It appeared that Seena had taken the location for the pathway from his own mind, and her pathway had cut more than a week from their journey. After taking account of his surroundings and ensuring there were no witnesses, he looked down to Seena. She had collapsed into his arms unconscious. A spike of concern shot through him, but he pushed it down as he considered how to help her. He figured creating the portal must have drained her energy, so he reached into his bag and pulled out a chunk of dried venison. He waved the meat in front of her nose, and after a few sniffs, she snatched it away from him. He gave her a few more pieces then offered her some water before carefully tucking her into the satchel at his hip. As he did so, he noted that it would not be long before she could no longer fit in the bag, and then his skill with illusions would be pushed to the extreme.
Rezkin opted to forgo going into the city and instead set up camp on the forested hill. He would have preferred to have slept in the cave, but Seena had gotten excited and created her pathway before he could rest. He was still astounded and grateful that she had been capable of creating the pathway, though he did not know how to feel about the fact that she had access to his mind. Rezkin was many things to many people. His secrets and identities were plentiful, and he was not thrilled that there could be anyone, human or beast, who might know the truth of it all—the truth of him. He was not even sure he knew the truth of himself.
When he finally set out for Londgrad in the early hours of the morning, Seena was rested and just as eager to be on the road as he was. The entire way was crowded with travelers, and he was forced to keep his illusion in place constantly if he did not wish to be seen for who he really was. As such, he was spent for energy and had to trade often or stop to hunt to satisfy his hunger. Seena was eating more than usual as well, and Rezkin wondered if she was preparing for a growth spurt or if she was just feeling his hunger as her own. It did not take much more energy to extend his illusion to Seena, so she was able to ride out in the open as a cat rather than being stuffed back into the satchel.
On the day he arrived in Londgrad, the sky was dark and threatening. A storm was gathering overhead, which boded well for him. Although the rain was uncomfortable, it was an ideal time to skulk about the town with little worry of being observed. Londgrad was a utilitarian town with few amenities. The buildings were squat, mostly single story, with slate or wood shingles and bore no paint or trimmings. Being located on the open plain, it was not in want of space, and the roads were wide enough for three or four wagons to pass. There was little color to the town, and even the awnings and window coverings were made of undyed homespun cloth. The people were just as unremarkable as the town, and with their grey and brown tunics and frocks, they all looked pretty much the same.
Rezkin stopped in front of a small, single-story building bearing a broken sign with a moon carved into it. He encouraged Seena to crawl back inside his satchel, secured his horse’s reins to the post outside, and mounted the creaky wooden steps that led to the front door. He tried the handle, but the door was locked, so he rapped against it a few times. From within, Rezkin heard the gravelly voice of a man moving toward the door.
“Dang it, who in the bloody hells could that be?”
The door abruptly swung open to reveal a man likely in his seventies with scraggly white hair and plentiful creases across his sun-weathered face. The man jerked upon seeing Rezkin standing at his door.
“Who are you and what do you want?” he snapped.
Rezkin lifted a finger toward the broken sign, “This is an inn, is it not?”
The old man’s expression soured as if he were tasting something bad. “Ain’t no one ever accused this dump of being an inn, but I’ve got a few beds for rent.”
Rezkin pondered this for a moment. “Do you have any private quarters?”
“I’ve got one room and five beds. There ain’t no one else staying as of yet. That’s the best you’re gonna get in Londgrad right now. The inn burned down last month. Do you want a bed or not?”
“I do,” said Rezkin. “Do you have a stable?”
“There’s a stable down at the crossroads. You can keep your horse there for a fee.”
“I see.”
“I get paid up front, and anyone you bring back with you has to pay up front too.”
“Fair enough,” said Rezkin as he handed over a few coins.
The man finally allowed Rezkin to enter the dim space that was truly shabby. Just as the man had said, five cots occupied a single room. On each cot was a wool blanket and a lumpy pillow, and at the end of each cot was a chamber pot and a small trunk with a pad lock. That was the extent of the amenities. Rezkin chose the bed in the corner closest to the door for ease of access. He wouldn’t be sleeping anyhow.
After securing his pack in the trunk, Rezkin placed a ward around the entire thing. He instructed Seena to remain hidden beneath the cot but left the cat illusion on her anyway. Then he went back outside and mounted his horse once again. He rode to the crossroads the old man had indicated and easily found the stables. Once he had taken care of the horse, he headed into the drizzle that was now precipitating from the gloomy clouds. Thanks to the thick, black cloud cover, the sky was darkening quickly, and although it was probably another hour until sundown, the streets had already succumbed to night.
Despite its humble appearance, the one redeeming feature that kept the city alive was the fact that it had a mage relay. Rezkin did not know the reason for its existence there, but it was responsible for the majority of the visitors who came to Londgrad. Rezkin decided that he would start his search for Caydean’s spy network there. When he arrived at the building that housed the relay, easily the tallest building on the street, the mage responsible for operating the device was locking the doors behind him. The mage’s hair was shaggy, his mage robes were wrinkled, and he walked with hunched shoulders and a vacant expression on his face. In fact, it appeared to Rezkin that all the mage’s hopes for a decent life had been dashed. He almost felt sorry for the young man.
Having already surveyed the surrounding buildings for witnesses, Rezkin hurried toward the mage relay’s doors once the mage had departed. The mage had warded the door, but it was no hindrance to Rezkin. He pressed against the ward with his will until it bent inward and folded away from him. Then he pulled a lock picking kit out of the pouch at his waist and made quick work of the lock on the door. Finally, he let himself into the building and closed the door so that no one passing by would see anything amiss.
Inside, the relay looked much the same as any other relay Rezkin had seen. The open space just inside the door had multiple seating areas that were separated from the relay itself by a long counter. Rezkin padded across the chamber and vaulted over the counter. He pulled a scroll tube from the pocket inside his tunic and withdrew several missives from it. Before he searched for information on the spy network, he would make use of the relay to send the messages to his own spies, thieves, and assassins scattered across the Souelian.
After finishing with the relay, Rezkin turned toward the desk situated to one side of the room. Beside it were several bookcases populated with old ledgers bound in dark leather and inscribed with gilded lettering. The ledger he wanted, though, was laying open on the desk. He began scrolling through the past few months’ worth of entries, making note of those that seemed suspicious. The ledger contained the names of the senders and recipients of the missives as well as a brief description of the contents of the messages. Finding the spies would be difficult since they were certainly sending their messages in a code that was not recorded in the ledger. Still, Rezkin was familiar enough with the process that he was reasonably sure that at least a few of those he noted were associated with the spy network. Now that he had their names—or at least the names they had provided—he just had to track down the individuals.
Rezkin finished his perusal of the ledger then exited the building the same way he had entered. The rain was coming down hard now, and thunder rumbled in the distance. He did not bother with a hood. He would be soaked in a matter of minutes anyway. As he stepped into the road and turned toward the city offices, he caught sight of someone watching him from within a darkened alcove. He gave no indication that he had seen the witness as he sloshed through the quickly thickening mud of the unpaved road in the direction of the building. As he neared the location where he had seen the witness, a man wearing an ankle length hide coat stepped from the alcove into the rain and hurried around the side of the squat building.
