Regret's Shadow (Sins of Earth Trilogy) Read online

  The markets of Galloway were many and always busy. Near the docks, the Water Market was the largest, and saw the most activity. Goods from across the Realm were haggled over and distributed in hasty fashion. More inland were the Green Market, the Gold Market, and the Widow’s Market. All traded a vast variety of goods, but each had their own specialties.

  Wielder Duln walked the stalls of the Widow’s Market, looking for trouble. He’d been dispatched to secure supplies for the contingent, but he also had a personal reason for choosing this particular venue.

  He’d already made the necessary inquiries to ensure that foodstuff would be delivered to their warehouse front, and so he was stalking the lanes of the bazaar with an eye toward larceny.

  Making note of pickpockets and bilkers had been easy; old habits die hard. It was the more hardened criminal he was looking for, someone who could put him in touch with the Old Badger.

  As he was beginning to think that he should head back before the baroness got suspicious, he realized he’d picked up another tail.

  This one didn’t appear to be a street waif or down-on-his-luck pickpocket. No, this one was far too skilled at his trade to be as blatant as all that. Still, Duln hadn’t lost his footpad’s instincts, and the memories were coming back enough to allow him to use some of the surroundings to his advantage.

  He ducked through a baker’s stall, startling the portly woman who plied her goods there. He knew that directly behind this stall should be the entrance to a basement bath house.

  Luckily, his memory didn’t fail him. He was down the small flight of stairs and had ducked into a linen closet in short order. He slowed his breathing, listening for any sounds of pursuit. He was rewarded a minute later with the sounds of furtive footfalls coming down the steps.

  The cutpurse was taken completely by surprise as the big man leapt from his hiding spot. Duln wrapped his victim in a bear hug, ensuring that his arms were pinned down to his sides. He then hammered the man against the closet door, satisfied to hear a yelp. Another slam for good measure, and he was sure he had the man’s attention.

  “You don’t strike me as the bathing type, Dirtbag,” he hissed in the skinny man’s ear. His dark hair was greasy, and the smell of sweat and the street was strong on him.

  The thief gave a twist and grunted with the effort of trying to wriggle free, but the warrior’s hold was like a vice.

  “C’mon, man. Lemme go! What’re you, Watch?” The smaller man’s voice had an irritating nasal quality, and Wielder resisted the urge to bash him against the door again.

  He threw a quick look over his shoulder and saw no one had taken undue interest in the scuffle. At least, not yet.

  “You’ll wish I was Watch if you don’t do what I say.” The statement was made with such menace, such matter-of-fact callousness, that the waif immediately stilled. He’d spent his life on the streets, and knew when he was dealing with a mark, and when he was up against a trained killer.

  “That’s better,” Duln growled, and set the man on his feet. After a final rib-bruising squeeze, he released the thief. The waif turned and immediately his eyes went to the gloved hand that rested on Wielder’s sword pommel.

  He got the message.

  “I want you to do me a favor, Gutter-Rat,” if the cutpurse took offense at the name, he didn’t show it. Duln liked that.

  “I need a message given to the Old Badger,” he rumbled.

  The thief’s eyes widened for a moment, before he quickly regained control. It was enough for Duln’s attention to detail. He pulled a gold coin from his purse, and the other man unconsciously licked his lips. Wielder couldn’t help but flash a toothy grin.

  “This coin is yours if you let him know that his old chain man is back in town. Tell him I’ll be at the Pit and Pickerel most nights, should he decide to get off his ass and take a walk. I won’t be in town long.”

  With that, he flipped the coin to the thief and jerked his thumb over his shoulder.

  “Now beat it before I think better of letting you go without more lumps.”

  The other man didn’t need to be told twice. He was gone in the blink of an eye, and Duln stood alone in the dim foyer of the bath house. He rubbed his stubbly chin and thought about what he was doing.

  His years as a cutpurse in Galloway hadn’t been the most pleasant of his life, or career. Yet, somehow here he was, looking to fall back into his old routine, even as he knew that he wouldn’t be in town long. It couldn’t be helped, he supposed.

  He turned and made his way back through the baker’s stall, falling in with the flow of humanity that coursed through the market. Before long he found himself back at the entrance to the warehouse.

  The building was nearly indistinguishable from the other storehouses around it. This of course, was precisely the point. He entered through the front doors, which were never locked and left slightly ajar. It presented the idea that there was nothing of value to be had inside was all part of making sure their little operation didn’t attract the wrong kind of attention.

  There were two offices and a boardroom that he walked through, boards creaking under his boots, before he entered the massive warehouse proper. It was largely devoid of the trappings of a storeroom in use; there were a few empty crates here and there, some boards and hand tools scattered about in the dust, but nothing that said the place was part of a successful shipping operation. Only the footprints in the grime showed any clue as to what was going on.

  In the back room, the one in which contraband had been haggled over and smuggled through during the building’s heyday, there was a trap door. Following orders, he walked over the trapdoor as if it wasn’t there, and walked out the back door.

  This put him in a tight alleyway, with weeds already beginning to grow up along the bases of the surrounding warehouses. Seeing no one, he stepped back inside and closed the door. The idea was to make anyone that came into the warehouse think that folks were merely using it for a shortcut to someplace where the real action was taking place.

  He descended the staircase under the trapdoor and, after closing it behind him, he grabbed the lantern he’d left on a nail when he’d passed by earlier. He made his way through the basement, noting as he did signs of the group’s passing. He had a habit of looking for trouble, even in familiar surroundings, and this place was no different.

  He’d developed a game that kept him on his guard, one that had saved his bacon more than once back in the day. He simply pretended that each room he was entering contained several men to whom he owed money. It hadn’t been unheard of, and it was better than assuming everything was fine.

  This ensured that he was never jumped, never taken by surprise if someone was indeed waiting for him just around the corner. He’d avoided more than one slit throat or knife in the back that way, and he saw no reason to change any time soon.

  Under where the center of the main storeroom lay above, there was a nondescript chamber. Some dried out pallets in one corner concealed another trapdoor. This one had seen less use when they arrived, and it still creaked when he yanked it free.

  He could only assume that at one point this section of the buildings sub basement had been used as access to the sewers. There was a time when the sewers of Galloway were used for smuggling, before the baron had instituted “pest control” policies that involved redirecting many of the infantry’s training patrols into its subterranean passages. That had been a particularly effective deterrent, and Duln frowned at the memory.

  Nowadays, the tunnels were not all connected, but this particular set of passages lead to an ancient crypt beneath the warehouse a block away. He had figured that the place had once been a temple or church, and the catacombs had been long forgotten by the city planners.

  He encountered the first sentry, and barked out the password. It had hardly been needed down here, and Emberlock had chided him for his surplus of caution. Just the same, Duln hadn’t lived as long as he had by being lazy. The sentries bought them peace of mind t
o complete their mission.

  “Well it’s about time, Captain,” the baroness’s harsh tones bounced off of the bricks all around. He had a feeling listening to her rave down here would get old in a hurry.

  “I’m sorry, M’lady. Was there something I missed while I was out?” his tone was completely innocent, but they both knew that not a damn thing had happened since he’d left.

  Calistra had been growing more and more edgy as the moment of their gambit’s completion neared. He just wished that she had a better handle on it.

  “Set-up is complete,” she said. Walking over to the field table that had been set up, she beckoned him with a black-gloved hand. He followed her and placed the lantern upon the edge of an old map, yellowed with age.

  “This is the catacomb layout that Tolwyn managed to dig up in the library. It shows us the antechamber in which Drejth believes the device will need to be placed.”

  Duln frowned at the mention of the wraith. He was a man of steel and blood, man against man, not ghosts and sorcery. While he didn’t like dealing with the shade or his minions, the baroness was confident in the plan, and he’d been forced to swallow his disgust.

  “Does the ghost know when the device is supposed to arrive,” he asked, trying to sound intrigued. He only half succeeded.

  “I haven’t spoken to him since we left,” Calistra looked over her shoulder at the covered mirror that had been set in one corner.

  They had set out from Moonrest over a month ago, and despite her attempting to use the mirror to contact Drejth, Calistra had not gotten any new information during the trip. It had disquieted her more than she wanted to admit.

  “It matters little, at this point,” she went on, turning back to the map, “The stoolies from the temple will be here before long, and my man at the gates will inform us as soon as they arrive. Don’t worry, Captain,” she smiled a crooked smile, “The headmaster is an old friend, remember?”

  Again, he was forced to fight the growing frown he felt. When they’d made the trip to the Temple six months ago, Calistra had made a point to seduce the fat, arrogant waste of a man that ran the show in the up-jumped library. The thought of it had turned his stomach at the time; now it only made him slightly queasy.

  “Your man can’t be at the gate at all hours, M’lady,” he said, feeling the need to be contrary.

  She waved a hand, irritated, “Believe me, Colius will come running as soon as he’s able. He won’t be able to help himself. It’s not like the fat bastard has been covered in ladies since last we met.”

  Duln was forced to turn away from the baroness’s lascivious grin. She chuckled at his discomfort.

  “I’ll recon the chamber, then,” he said.

  “Excellent,” she purred.

  “Take Tolwyn with you. He said something about getting a feel for the emanations of the place before we put the artifact in place. Something about disruption of the ritual or some such.”

  Reassured by his return, she was back in command. She snapped her fingers at a guard.

  “You! Head topside and await the arrival of supplies.”

  As Wielder Duln made his way deeper into the catacombs, in search of Calistra’s pet wizard, he wondered not for the first time, if this whole venture would likely end in disaster.

  Chapter 20

  Dramus had to admit that the view of the city from two miles out was well worth the travel time it had taken to get there. They’d stayed in a few towns that were larger than Akilo along the way, but the sight before him took his breath away.

  Galloway was vast, spread along the sea for as far as he could see in both directions. The buildings were larger and taller than in any other town he’d ever seen. In the center, at the crux of the bay was a large rock formation, upon which had been built the palace of the baron. It shone in the sun like a spire of light. Dramus wondered how much magic had gone into its construction.

  “It’s really something, isn’t it,” Erick breathed next to him on the bench of the wagon. The normally laconic aide was in a good mood this morning, as the headmaster had decided to sleep off his hangover in the back. Things had been positively lovely all morning.

  Dramus didn’t take his eyes away from the skyline, but smiled just the same.

  “That it is, Erick…that it is.”

  The two young men had finally begun to form a bit of a bond during the trip, one forged from their mutual dislike of the headmaster. While this rarely manifested overtly, both men felt the commonality between them and had talked more and more as the trip had worn on.

  “I wonder what kind of library they have,” Dramus said, as Erick snapped the reigns and got the cart moving again. They were in a long line of carts, horses, and people on foot that was making its way to the main gate of the city. It was a journey of stops and starts.

  Erick shook his head, “It must be vast. Perhaps they have more than one?”

  The thought hadn’t occurred to Dramus, but it gave him a happy chill to consider the possibility. The idea that a city might have so many books, maps, and scrolls to fill more than one library was positively fantastic.

  “I hear they have a wizard’s school here too,” Erick managed before having to bring the horses to bear as the troupe in front of them stopped suddenly. After the wagon had come to rest, he smiled at Dramus.

  “Maybe you could sign up, find a way to expand that gift of yours.”

  He hadn’t thought of something like that before. Seeing the city, the massive amount of people just on the road, and smelling the salt air for the first time all contributed to the growing feeling that anything was possible.

  He wasn’t cooped-up in the temple and its environs now. He was out in the world, about to enter the largest city ever made no less! Who’s to say he couldn’t try and make a go at becoming a wizard. Maybe his ability would give him an edge!

  He turned to say as much to Erick when a gurgling moan erupted form the back of the wagon.

  “It’s hard enough to sleep with all this jerking around,” came the headmaster’s pain-filled warble, “But to have to listen to your endless prattle makes me want to swallow a dagger. Keep. It. Down.”

  Dramus cast a frown toward the flap that separated them from Colius, while Erick covered his mouth to stifle a giggle.

  “I just happened to have a dagger right here,” he whispered, snickering quietly.

  Dramus suppressed a guffaw. He turned his head sharply to the side and chuckled into his sleeve. He’d been thinking the same thing.

  The close proximity the two young men had shared on the road could have forced them into conflict, and for a time that was what Dramus feared would happen. The last thing he needed was to be traveling with the headmaster while the man’s aide annoyed him as well. Luckily, Erick had come to the same conclusion.

  While they kept their budding friendship low-key around Colius, they had time during the increasingly long hangovers of the headmaster as well as after the man passed out at night to commiserate. They found that they shared a lot in common, both having been raised in the temple.

  Dramus would have liked to say he was surprised by how badly Erick was treated by Colius, but the aide’s stories of casual cruelty hit close to home. In turn, Erick was shocked to learn that Colius treated Dramus badly, as knowledge of his gift was common among the monks.

  Erick told Dramus that while the headmaster was usually mum regarding Dramus and his work, many of the other monks that he met with were thankful for the young scribe’s abilities. They were excited to have someone that would grant them access to knowledge thought lost, and any jealousy they felt was subsumed by their gratitude. Dramus was flabbergasted, but happy.

  They rode in stops and starts in silence for a while, each of them contemplating what their lives would be like without the temple, without the order, and yes, without the headmaster. What would their lives have amounted to if they’d grown up in this massive city? It was an exciting and scary thought.

  Eventually they made t
heir way through the massive gates. Dramus craned his neck to look at the parapet that arched over the massive wooden gates, and the murder holes and channels that would allow boiling oil to be rained down upon an invading enemy. He suppressed a shudder as he saw shadows of the soldiers above flicker in the small passageways and turned back to admire his first look at the city proper.

  The gate opened onto a wide avenue that was teeming with people. Peddlers of all kinds choked the sides of the way, eager to ply their wares on pilgrims from all over the Realm. The noise was something new for Dramus; a cacophony of voices raised in urgency.

  The smell changed as they trundled through the crowded lane. While they had approached the city across a wide field, the smell of the salt water had been bracing. The spring air was crisp, but not uncomfortable, and Dramus thought he’d never smelled anything so fresh.

  Inside the city, however, the sea breeze was overwhelmed by the scents of unwashed bodies, dust, horse manure, and cook fires. It was an unpleasant, yet vaguely exotic mixture. It actually added to the heady excitement he was feeling.

  They made their way through the streets in slow progress. Several times they were forced to make way for guards on horseback, passing nobles, or a vendor’s cart that had been stalled by stubborn pack animals. They were making their way downhill, Dramus noted, although the grade was slight. All the while, the raised palace loomed larger and larger, and he was able to glimpse the masts of ships between buildings.

  At some point, Colius had awakened and come to the front of the wagon.

  “Alright, Erick, I’ll take over.”

  His voice was thick, and he reeked. Dramus scooted even further to the edge of the bench while the headmaster and his aide switched places. Looking away, he made eye contact with an elderly street vendor behind a bench that displayed trinkets and jewelry of common make. Too late, Dramus turned his head from her eager expression.