The Record of the Saints Caliber (38 page)

“Let me ask you something, boy.” said Karver. He finished chewing and set down his knife and fork. His dark eyes fixed on Rook. “You think me cruel? You think my brother Garrot cruel? You think that freak Rennic Finn is cruel?”

Rook bit his lip and looked down at the table. He did think they were cruel. Yet, Rook had to admit that the first day, after Garrot had finished with him, something changed. Karver had burst into the room and pulled Garrot aside and yelled at him. Rook was only able to make out bits and pieces of the conversation, but Karver had made it clear that Rook and Ursula were not to be harmed. After that they had been given a warm change of clothes and a bed to sleep in. Even now Rook wore a fresh shirt and pants of warm homespun. The shirt was a drab green and the pants plain and brown, but they were warmer and nicer than anything he had ever worn before in his life. And he even had a new pair of leather shoes on his feet. He and his sister had been given all the food they wanted. It was not lost on Rook that the others he had seen them bring in didn’t fair nearly as well. Garrot had not touched him again since the first time, though he knew it was happening to the others. They were all kept down in the basement, chained. Rook knew they were fed, but only scraps and not nearly as much as what Rook was being given. Rook didn’t know if he should count himself lucky or be more terrified as to what the reason for this was. He shivered.

Karver huffed and then grumbled something in his throat. Then he said, “You’d think us all Angels of Aeoria if you met my cousin.” Karver stood up and walked over to the painting of Behemoth Kraken. “This ain’t a man you want to have cross your path.” said Karver. He stood there for several silent moments staring at the picture, as if in deep thought.

From somewhere beneath the floor there was a muffled cry and the crack of what Rook thought sounded like a whip. He could hear Rennic’s giggling and heard Garrot bark something. Then a baby started wailing. Rook cringed at the sounds.

Karver was snapped from his reverie and looked toward the half-opened door that led into the room which held the staircase down into the basement where Rook was told he was not allowed to go. He grumbled something in his throat and then he looked down at Rook. “Suppose you’re wondering why you and your sister aren’t down there with the others.”

Rook didn’t say anything. A part of him was terrified that if he ever did or said the wrong thing he
would
end up down there with the others. Rook had made it a point to stay as silent as possible, to keep Ursula fed and her diaper dry, and to stick to the dinning room, the latrine and his small bedroom upstairs where they had said he was allowed to go. He cleaned his plates in the kitchen when he was done eating and washed Ursula’s diaper in the warm, running water in the latrine’s sink. He did everything he could to remain as untroublesome as he could possibly be and steered well clear of Garrot and Rennic whenever they ventured up from the basement. Whatever fortune had put him and his sister into good favor with Karver, Rook wished to keep it that way.

Karver grumbled something under his breath, something Rook thought was to the effect of,
Maybe he knows the reason for the thing.
Then Karver walked to the back of the dining room where a strong, wooden door was shut and locked. Rook had never seen beyond that door and had been specifically told that he’d have his hands cut off if Karver ever caught him trying to sneak into the room. Karver fumbled with a ring of keys for a moment and then unlocked the door. He pushed it open and it squeaked on its hinges. He reached a hand into the room and Rook heard the clicks of an ignition switch as gaslamps started to life.

“Let me show you something.” said Karver, standing in the open door.

“You…you said I can’t ever go in there.” said Rook.

“Get up, boy,” said Karver, annoyed. “I’m telling you it’s ok right now.”

Rook got down from his seat at the table and held Ursula close to his chest, trying to make sure she stayed content and sleeping. He made his way slowly over to the door, the entire while Karver kept his dark eyes locked on him. From the room there was a musty, old scent; of ancient wood and metal and strange things. Rook walked up to the door and beyond there was a large, ovular room lit only by the gaslamps along the walls. He could see there were a handful of tall, slender windows obscured by drawn curtains of heavy, red fabric, but they provided only a little diffuse sunlight despite it being close to noon. The walls and floor were all of naked brick and chill air hit Rook as he stood in the doorway.

“In, boy.” ordered Karver, pushing Rook on the shoulder.

Rook stepped into the room and Karver followed him, shutting the door and locking it behind them. Rook looked about in awe. Every wall was lined with large, heavy shelves and cases, many with glass windows. They were full of artifacts and objects too numerous to take in. Rook saw swords and pieces of armor, clay pots and scrolls, scary looking masks, and books of every size and shape. There were skulls and bones, animals that had been stuffed and mounted, and upon the far wall was a tall, wooden sculpture of some kind. This room was cavernous, the ceiling high and vaulted, and that wooden sculpture reached all the way to the top. It was tall and straight and narrow with gruesome, bestial faces carved all up its length, each one looking a different direction. Rook’s eyes shifted again, and he noticed that before one of the walls was a short, ivory pillar bathed in gaslight from the lamp above it. Atop the pillar sat a piece of gleaming black metal; a metal blacker than midnight and it sparkled eerily in the yellow-green light of the lamp.

“These are my treasures, boy.” said Karver. “Me and my brother Garrot, we don’t just run slaves for my cousin Kraken. We collect things too. Some of this stuff we took from our slaves. Other things we’ve found along our journeys. But all of this, all of what you see here, came to me after I obtained one particular object.”

There was a long stretch of silence where Rook was looking around the room in awe before he realized Karver was glaring down at him.

“This thing, boy.” said Karver, producing a small object from his pants pocket. “This is what brought me my fortunes and wealth. And there’s something about you that it wants.”

In Karver’s pudgy hand was a small artifact, slightly larger than an egg. It appeared to be made of some sort of sandy, red stone and it carried a strangely molten smell, like scorched earth. It was a hand, but not quite human. The fingers were too long, the palm too wide. It was ugly, like a mockery of a human hand, and its slender fingers were all slightly bent. All of its surface was scrawled with strange symbols; a writing that held a beauty and terror about it.

Rook stared at it, his mouth opening. He almost dropped Ursula, so great was his desire to reach out and grab it. He wanted to touch it, to feel that strange, sandy texture it had. He wanted to feel its warmth—somehow he knew it would be warm to the touch. His eyes went wide, and he swore he almost saw the fingers bend a little more. Rook licked his lips. He started to set Ursula down when Karver’s hand abruptly closed around the thing.

Rook shook his head and felt as if he had just been shaken from a daze. He grabbed Ursula back to his chest, wondering what in Apollyon’s Hell he was thinking when he went to set her down on the cold floor.

“Nobody knows about this thing, boy. Just me…and now you.” said Karver, his voice almost a growl. “But it seems it knew you already.”

Rook looked up at Karver and the man seemed not so much angry, but upset. Rook was hesitant, but he had to know. Even now his eyes were drawn to the hand in which Karver grasped it. “Wh…what is that?” asked Rook.

“A Golothic.” said Karver, keeping the thing concealed in his fist. He glared down at Rook. “Very rare. Very powerful. Dangerous…once it fulfills its promise.”

“What…what does it do?”

“A Golothic is a demon’s promise.” said Karver. “A promise bound by a great sacrifice. There are some people in this world who have something of great value to a demon, and some demons who can offer great rewards for it. If the person sacrifices it to the demon, the demon binds them to its Golothic. Once the demon’s promise is fulfilled, the demon takes what was sacrificed. They say that’s how a demon unbinds itself from Hell. They take something from a mortal, and give something in return. The Golothic is the promise, and once it’s fulfilled, the demon becomes more powerful.”

Karver regarded Rook steadily for a moment and then opened his hand, revealing the strange thing again. Rook again was held in awe of it. He swore he could almost see the fingers reaching out for him. “When I first came by this thing, the hand was completely opened. All the fingers straight. That night I came by you, I noticed the fingers had bent.”

Rook peered at the Golothic, not speaking. He could almost hear the thing, like it was whispering to him. Then, out of the corner of his eye, Rook thought he saw something. A small, shadowy figure. His eyes darted toward the row of cabinets, but the thing slunk between them and was gone. Rook looked back at Karver, but the fat man was only looking at the Golothic. “Who…who is that?”

Karver looked in the direction Rook was pointing. Near the cabinets was a full suit of black armor set upon a mannequin. Karver frowned. “It’s nothing. Armor from Duroton, the forbidden lands of the north. Now pay attention, boy.”

Rook wanted to correct him, to tell him he wasn’t referring to the armor, but thought better of it now. Perhaps it had been nothing but a trick of shadow from the armor.

Karver closed his hands around the Golothic and dropped it into his pocket. He looked at Rook. “The hand of the Golothic closes as the time approaches for the demon to collect his ransom. Me coming into possession of you made its fingers bend.” Karver cast his dark eyes directly into Rook’s. “Boy, you tell me what you have to do with this thing, and you tell me now.”

Rook stood there aghast, unable to speak.
He
made the Golothic close? What did he have to do at all with a demon’s promise or a sacrifice? He had never seen a demon before in his life; never even heard about a Golothic. “I…I…I don’t know. Honest.”

Karver scowled. He grumbled something under his breath and then said, “I suppose you wouldn’t.” He stood there silently for a moment, his eyes wandering as if in calculating thought.

“Did…did you get that from a demon?” asked Rook, his curiosity getting the better of him, and a part deep within his mind hoped that Karver might produce it from his pocket again. There was something alluring about it. Something that made him want to look upon it, and perhaps even hold it.

Karver looked down at Rook and frowned. “No.” he grumbled. “I found it long ago. It was in the bottom of a crate of old swords and armor I came by from my cousin. Gatima had given it to him, and he didn’t want the old stuff so he gave it to me.”

Karver paused and looked at Rook steadily. “My cousin Kraken and his family are all favored by Gatima, but not me or mine. Me and my brother were down on our luck. I was thankful that Kraken had given me the old weapons, but I only intended to sell them. I found it in the bottom of the crate. I had no idea what it was, but something about it told me not to get rid of it. I kept it a secret. It was my secret, and I carried it with me everywhere, and I started getting lucky. Finding wealth. Meeting the right people. The thing blessed me. Blessed me good. And then my cousin let me in on his slave trade, and after that I was a made man.

“I tried to find out what it was for many years, but nobody ever knew. Eventually when I had money enough I found a Jinn and took it to him. He knew what it was right away, and charged me a pretty penny to tell me about it. He’s the one who told me it was a Golothic, and what they are. And he told me to beware if it ever starts to close. He said the Golothic brings fortune first, and then tragedy when it closes into a fist.”

Karver stared down at Rook. “You made it close.” he grumbled. “You might mark the beginning of the end to my fortune. Somehow, someway, you, and maybe that sister of yours, are connected to this Golothic.”

“Is…is that why you’re keeping us up here instead of with the others?” asked Rook.

“Aye.” said Karver. He looked away from Rook. “I don’t know if I need to kill you or keep you. If I kill you I might hasten its closing. Maybe that’s what it wants. Maybe its fingers bent when I had Garrot take you. Maybe it thought I was going to have you killed.” Karver shook his head in thought. “But if I keep you I might hasten its closing too. Maybe it started to close just because you came around. Maybe it wants me to keep you, in which case, I’d have to kill you.” Karver looked back at Rook and grumbled. “But killing you and your sister’s a thing I can’t take back, so for now I figure I’ll keep you. See what you mean to this thing. See if it closes any more.”

Rook looked down and shivered. Ursula stirred in his arms and let out a contented sigh, made a sucking sound, and dove right back into sleep.

“All this you see,” said Karver, waving his hands about the room. “The Golothic brought me. It’s blessed me with all this.” Karver paused and then huffed a laugh. “All this but that right there.” he said, pointing to the small pedestal that held the gleaming, black, metallic object. “That was a gift from Kraken. A warning to me should I ever betray him.”

“What is it?” asked Rook.

Karver looked down at him, smiling wickedly. “A piece of Star-Armor from a Saint.”

Rook gasped. “R…really?” Rook had always wanted to meet a Saint. He had heard rumors that their armor was strange and heavy. That it was actually forged of the heavens and stars. Father Tarask at the church had once said that its weight was symbolic of the burden they must carry to protect the kingdoms from Apollyon’s evil.