Nyrix laughed, and his laughter seemed to reassure Kelona. “That sounds pretty logical to me. No problem.”
“Agreed,” said Kelona, tone intense.
“I’ll figure out the wording,” said Scorio, and to his surprise a fluttering sensation of relief filled his chest, and he smiled his first genuine smile in what felt like a long time. “It’ll be good to have you both along. We recovered some coded texts from Bravurn’s office, and Xandera is digging a way to a hidden library here in LastRock that’s supposed to contain some other useful texts. Soon as we’ve got that squared, we’ll decide what comes next, and go from there.”
“Sounds good.” Nyrix stepped forward and extended his hand. “You can count on me for whatever needs doing.”
Scorio rose and shook.
Kelona stepped up as well and extended her hand. “You’re a good person, Scorio, far as I can tell. I’ll help you as best I can as well.”
Her grip was firm.
“I’ll introduce you both to Xandera soon. See to your business here in LastRock; I mean to head out if possible within a day or two.”
“Yes, sir,” said Kelona.
“Just Scorio,” he admonished.
“Yes, Scorio, sir,” she grinned.
“Meet me at the central ruin tomorrow at dawn,” said Scorio. “We’ll get you both sworn in and go from there.”
“See you then,” agreed Nyrix, and moved to the doorway. “I’m glad I met you, Scorio.”
Scorio waved, and then they, too, were gone.
Bemused, he moved to the window and watched them walk away. Kelona was turned toward Nyrix and talking animatedly. Scorio smiled and shook his head. It was strange how things worked out. Naomi wouldn’t have wanted them along, but then, that was Naomi’s downfall.
Trust had to begin somewhere. “I tried to go it alone. I failed. Don’t make my mistake. You can’t do this by yourself. Damn the odds. Do whatever must be done,” he’d written to himself via Jova’s journal. So he’d find ways to trust, even if it was tempting not to.
As always, his thoughts turned to Naomi. Where was she? Was she alright? Was she even still alive?
His moment of cautious elation crumpled and he sighed.
All he could do was hope.
Chapter 63
The next afternoon Scorio joined Moira and Krantar in a private study. Xandera was making slow but steady progress into the depths beneath the ruins, but other than smiling grimly from the bottom of a freshly melted well, had nothing yet to report.
Pulling his cart into the starkly decorated chamber, Scorio sized up Moira’s friend with a deliberately neutral expression. The man was slightly older, perhaps in his early thirties, but rose with an air of dignity befitting a man twice his age.
Moira remained seated. “Scorio, please meet Krantar, a Dread Blaze and adherent of House Chimera’s exploratory policies.”
Krantar was a stolid man, square-shouldered and deep of chest, his jaw heavy and shaved, his lips pursed as if in perpetual expectation of disappointment. His golden-brown skin was roughened as if by a life lived in harsh weather, and his gaze was shrewd to the point of skepticism.
“Scorio. I’ve heard your name repeated endlessly on everyone’s lips. It seems we have much to thank you for.”
“Krantar.” Scorio pulled out a chair and sat. “Moira says one of your gifts gives you a facility with puzzles.”
Krantar sat, his back stiff. “Puzzles, yes. Enough to realize that I have gone as far as I shall in this cycle. I’ve been a Dread Blaze going on twelve years now. I’ve no complaints. You have some cryptic messages that need decoding?”
“Yes.” Scorio twisted, hefted the first ledger, then slid it over to the older man. “I found these in the private study of a traitor to our kind. A Herdsmen, I believe.”
“Hmm. A Herdsmen. Sounds innocuous enough.” Krantar ran his fingers over the leather cover, then opened it with an air of delicacy. Peering down, he pursed his lips and began to turn the pages.
Scorio glanced at Moira. She sat indolently in her chair, eyes half-lidded, and raised a dark brow in response as if saying, what can you do?
For a while there was nothing but the sound of gently turning pages. Krantar’s expression remained focused. He scanned each page carefully but without pausing to actually read; after some five minutes he reached the back cover and looked up. “You have more?”
It felt like feeding logs into a fire. Scorio placed ledger after ledger before him, and Krantar repeated the process patiently. He glanced up and down each page then turned to the next, never changing his expression from one of polite curiosity.
Finally he pushed the last book aside, settled back, and interlaced his fingers over his stomach. “A moment,” he said, “while I consider what I’ve seen.”
And then he closed his eyes.
Scorio settled in to wait.
Time passed. Moira remained at ease, and Krantar didn’t move a muscle, until, abruptly, he opened his eyes and frowned. “I see. A subtle code, but simple, really. I suppose it had to be, if used extensively.”
And he opened the last ledger he’d looked at and frowned at it with a whole new level of scrutiny.
“You can read it?” asked Scorio, leaning forward.
“Yes. The difficulty lay not in the code itself, but the code within the code. All manner of substitute words are used that must have had meaning to the author. That delayed my own understanding. But this…” He turned the page and ran his finger down the columns of figures. “This is all trade information. Shipments of all manner of goods, prices paid, and how they’re to be divided. Hmm. Let me see.”
And again he moved through the ledgers, turning pages, skimming, and setting books aside until he nodded. “Nothing earth-shattering here. Bravurn was a very meticulous merchant. Everything is recorded in exacting detail. He was sending and receiving goods across most of hell, it seems, and much of it by covert means. The recipients, however, are coded; the Clam-Digger, the Broken Rampart, the Unfaithful Hound. Shipments of mana, of treasure, of blazeborns’ spire materials. Hmm. But now this one.”
And upon this he turned to what Naomi had thought was a journal. “This is much more interesting.”
Moira sat forward. “Stop being dramatic and just tell us what it is.”
“A personal account. Much of it in riddles. This passage here, for example: Received word from the Red Castle that the cog has turned three teeth counterclockwise. Unexpected, but seasonal migrations are in flux. Glints of green seen on the horizon presage a tumultuous return. The Red Knight assures us that his duties have been executed faithfully, but we all know how seriously to take his claims. Independent verification will be needed, and I shall advise the council of such.”
Scorio frowned. “I see what you mean.”
“And on and on,” said Krantar, turning the pages.
Scorio’s shoulders sank. “So it’s of no use?”
“Not necessarily,” said Krantar. “This is but a second layer of code. A more subtle and imprecise kind, but one that I can work on. This will take more time, however. If you left me the books, I could work on them… no?”
“No,” said Scorio. “The books don’t leave my sight.”
“Hmm. Well, then I suppose I can tackle it here and now.”
Scorio smiled grimly. “I’ve nowhere to go.”
Krantar huffed. He looked like a bird fluffing out its feathers. “Fine, fine. Moira? By the gods, at least serve me some tea?”
They settled in. More time passed. Krantar turned pages, went to one book, went back to another. Read some of the missives, took notes, and then, finally, smiled.
“Ah! Well, this is an elementary breakthrough.”
Scorio roused himself from the stupor that had almost become a nap. “Yes?”
“I believe that Bravurn refers to himself as the ‘Red Knight’.”
“Alain told me that he had three games going against himself at all times,” said Scorio. “But still. That’s a first step, I guess.”