The Hekamon (7 page)

This must have been what happened she realized
triumphantly, standing and clenching her first, certain of her
reasoning.

The last part of the journey to the hut she had
committed to memory, every step. She would continue to keep one eye
on the ground and walk slowly, taking care not to be seen, just in
case. But her focus now was on the trading post. Within in an hour,
her mother's final and most precious gift to her would be back in her
possession.

The path through the hills had brought the three
Coralainians out onto the Regis Highway, fifty paces south of the
trading posts. As they approached the first hut, Decarius could see
the highway was deserted, just as he hoped and expected it would be.

Leading them along the road toward the first hut,
Decarius could see that it was typical of those found in these
forested hills. A ramshackle, wooden, two story building. Visitors
were infrequent, and the merchants who lived here, were as much
trappers and woodsmen as they were shopkeepers.

He could see piles of recently cut logs stacked up
against the side of the building, being seasoned for next years
winter, while a number of dead rabbits hung forlornly from the
rafters. As he approached the first shop, he stopped and turned to
Gregario.

"Why don't keep a lookout to the rear of the
buildings, just in case."

Gregario considered the idea for a moment, before
nodding his agreement and moving off the road and back into the
forest.

"Why?" Aegis asked, watching Gregario
disappear into the trees.

"We came here to look, so let's look, front and
back."

This seemed to satisfy Aegis, but he was more concerned
at having his fellow militiaman out of view than anything else.

With Gregario now out of sight, Decarius walked up to
the door of the first hut and knocked. After waiting for a moment, he
tried the handle and the door opened to reveal the gloomy interior.
No sooner had he entered, than a large, bearded man carrying an ax,
came through a curtained doorway and into the shop front.

"Open
for business, sir?" Decarius asked, deciding to put on a polite
tone, not something that came naturally to him. He was more
accustomed to issuing orders.
Minimum
fuss
.

"The name's Darby. What can I do for you?" The
man said, in a businesslike fashion.

"Have we interrupted you cutting firewood?"
Aegis asked, seeming to think some small talk might be appropriate.

"Nope." Darby replied, offering no further
explanation.

Decarius
stared at Aegis for a few seconds, in a manner that said,
keep
quiet
, before
turning to the man, "We're looking for something in particular.
As anyone stopped by your shack, that is, your store, in the last few
days? A Coralainian heading north?"

"I've had some customers but I don't ask who they
are or where they're going though, now do I?" Darby said,
clearly irritated by the question.

"Someone selling, rather than buying,"
Decarius said choosing his words carefully.

"Selling something that didn't belong to him,"
Aegis added, not entirely helpfully.

The man looked from Decarius to Aegis, and back again,
"Am I being accused of something here?" he growled.

"No accusations, we're sorry to have bothered you,"
Decarius said, taking a few coins from his belt.

"Because I don't take kindly to people coming into
my store," the man's growl becoming a roar, "and accusing
me of handling stolen goods."

"Here's something for you trouble," he said,
placing the coins on the counter, "thank you for your help and
goodbye," he concluded, walking out and not waiting for his
young companion.

By the time Aegis had followed him out of the hut he was
already a dozen paces up the road, forcing the boy to run to catch
up. When he had almost drawn level, Decarius stopped and turned so
quickly that they collided. Grabbing Aegis by the throat, he looked at
him and hissed through gritted teeth.

"You're here to observe, is that understood? I'll
do the talking and you will do the listening. That way we will get
what we came for and you will still be in possession of your head,"
he let go and started walking towards the next hut.

"But how do we know he doesn't have them?"
Aegis asked, rubbing his neck.

Decarius stopped and calmed himself, before turning back
to face Aegis, "Some people are more reasonable that others,
we'll ask around and, if necessary, find them by a process of
elimination."

"But how can we be sure the gauntlets are even
here, with any of the merchants?"

"Leave the talking to me, I won't tell you again.
If they're here, I'll find them," he said, turning and walking
off again.

Reaching the next hut, he went inside and Aegis
dutifully followed.

Tansley rose late. He'd been listening for the sound of
potential customers for a couple of hours, but with there being no
sign of anyone, he'd stayed in bed.

Only now that it was late
morning did he stir. Since he'd been up late dealing with the
Fennreans, he thought a lie in was in order, but now a warm drink and
some freshly cooked bacon was proving more alluring.

While splashing some cold water on his face, he thought
about the series of trades that had taken place the previous day.

Firstly, he'd bought the beautiful but antiquated
gauntlets, from a Coralainian man heading north, for a surprisingly
small sum. Then he'd offloaded them for an equally large sum, to a
couple of eager young Fennreans. If he could get someone to pay over
the odds for the silver necklace too, it will have proven to be a
very lucrative few days. Pulling on his worn braccae and equally
threadbare tunic, he decided some new clothes would be first on the
list of how to spend his profits.

Once downstairs and in the kitchen, he took a joint of
salted pork and cut a few slices. The embers of his stove were hot
enough to fire a little kindling into life and a few logs were soon
alight. Some goose fat went into a pan, followed by the slices of
bacon and before long it was sizzling. The smell of it cooking was
only making him hungrier but his late breakfast would be a little
while yet. He cut himself some bread and made a drink while he was
waiting.

With the kettle boiled and pot stewed, he strained the
tea into a mug and took a few sips, before carrying his beverage back
upstairs. There, he made use of the view from the first floor
windows, and looked out see if anyone was in sight.

From this vantage
point, Tansley could see all along the highway and right up to the
High Gate. The most likely direction from which potential customers
would approach, but saw nothing to suggest his breakfast would be
disturbed.

It was then he heard the sound of knocking, too quiet to
be on his own door. Turning to look down the highway in the
other direction, he saw two figures at the neighboring trading post,
fifty yards away.

Tansley knew right away they were Coralainians. It
wasn't so much the way they were dressed, although the boots strapped
high above the ankle was a clue, so too the white tunic. They did
tend to be the preferred style in Coralai but not uniquely so, since
there were a few Demedelites who would dress in a similar fashion.
Nor was it the black, closely cropped hair. Though that hairstyle was
much more common, in both color and length, for those from the south.

The giveaway for Tansley was the short pugio dagger and
its position on the belts of both men. Maybe it was because he was a
dealer in armaments that he found this feature so telling, but
whatever the reason, he knew where they were from. More worryingly,
he thought he knew what they were after.

The gauntlets that had passed through his store
yesterday had been unusual. Despite his experience with armor, he
hadn't seen anything quite like it before. They had been distinctive
and almost ceremonial. Not only that, the seller, a shifty and
taciturn man, had agreed to his first, and very low, offer for them.
He had never really doubted they were stolen and was happy to have
sold them on as quickly as he did. Tansley felt sure that these two
men were on the hunt for them.

There were clues to their intent. They were moving up
from the east, they'd come through the mountains not over the pass to
avoid detection. They carried no bags, travelers always had bags of
some description. These two didn't and so were likely visiting with
the view of returning the same day. More than that it was their
demeanor, especially the taller of the two men. He meant business.

Tansley watched as they entered Cox's trading post and
tried to calm his suspicions. Might he have jumped to conclusions?
Visitors were rare, could he pass up the chance of more custom? After
all, they may just be buying some things here, something they
couldn't get in Coralai. That was quite possible, but after his
recent dealings, he felt inclined to lay low. A quiet few days would
have been ideal, it would have meant no repercussions.

To almost immediately be visited by someone from Coralai
was exactly what he didn't want. Added to that, there was something
about these two that worried him. The younger one had an air of self
importance, while older of the two looked ex-militia, or maybe
just militia.

There was something about the way he carried himself. His right
arm resting casually at his side, yet the slight hook to the elbow
showed control, poise a readiness. They lacked the red uniform that
would single them out as militia, but then they could hardly come
this way dressed as such. Yet both wore identical clothes, white
tunics and black cloaks, like an unofficial uniform.

Going back downstairs he entered the front of his shop,
it was securely bolted and the wooden blinds closed, just as he had
left it the night before. If he was going to open for business he
would need to start unlocking things. He reached for the key on his
belt but hesitated, his inclination was to sit tight and wait for
them to leave.

With the smell of cooked bacon filling the hut and
providing a welcome distraction, Tansley went to the kitchen and
finished making his sandwich, deliberating as he did so, before
taking a bite.

He looked at the stove, his chimney would be billowing
smoke, they would know the building was occupied. Should he let them
in and bluff?

He went back into the shop front and looked around. With
the blinds closed it was dark but some light found its way from the
hallway and the windows upstairs. If they came in, what would they
see? Anything to indicate that he had indeed traded with some Coralainians
in the last few days, something he really didn't want to admit to.

It was then he saw the sack of damaged goods he had
packed the night before. It immediately jogged his memory, he was
supposed to be taking some things to Croneygee today. It had
completely escaped his mind, but now it seemed like sign. He took
another bite from his sandwich before placing it on the counter.

Reaching down and lifting the loose tile he took the
rabbit skin bag from the hidden compartment beneath. He opened the
pouch, took out the necklace and placed it in one pocket, three of
the clay vials went in another, before returning the pouch and
replacing the tile.

With that done, he put on his blue hooded jacket,
before carefully moving the sack of armor to the back of the store
and next to the woodshed.

No sooner had he done so than there was a knock on the
door.

It was the sound of the knocking, as much as anything
else, that made Tansley's mind up. Not the rat-tat-tat of an
inquiring customer but a slow rhythmic banging of an insistent
investigator.

Picking up his bag, Tansley quietly entered the woodshed
and closed the door behind him. He removed the logs from in front of
the hatchway, before opening it and going inside, pushing the bag
head of him as he went.

After a few seconds, he heard three more
bangs. They must have been loud for him to hear from inside the
tunnel. Insistent indeed, he thought, continuing along the dark
underground passage.

At
the sound of the men at the door, and the feeling of the earth
closing around him, Tansley felt memories being awakened.

It was a
few years earlier, in his old trading post further up the highway. He
could hear strange noises, there was movement downstairs, whispered
voices, the rattle of metal, the creak of floorboards.
There
were people inside
.
And when their clumsy noises brought no response, the intruders
became emboldened.

They'd scoured the hut and found him hiding in a
cupboard. They forced him to reveal the location of his most valuable
possessions, before leaving him, bloodied and bruised.

When this trading post became available with the death
of its proprietor, Tansley bought it and moved in. He'd learned from
the previous owner that it had a clever means of escape. He was
putting it to good use now.

Reaching the end of the tunnel, he carefully
opened the trapdoor, briefly looked around and climbed out. He stayed
close to the ground and lowered the door gently.

Although not far
from his hut, the combination of the trees, bushes and the embankment
made it impossible for him to be seen from the road. He would take no
chances though, and would remain crouched until he was a good
distance away.

Sweeping some soil and leaves over the door, he picked
up the sack and swung it over his shoulder, before heading down the
embankment and further into the woods.

Relieved to be out in the open, Tansley moved quickly.
He could shout for help if need be, but a look over his shoulder
showed that wouldn't be necessary, nobody was following him.

Stealing another glance behind him he was confident he
hadn't been seen and relaxed a little more.