‘Sorry.’ Griffin finished the last of his beer, a light foam moustache outlining his upper lip. ‘I don’t write the policies,’ he said wryly, ‘but I will buy lunch.’
Dusk came early to Idaho Springs as the sun disappeared behind the mountain peaks lining the west end of Clear Creek Canyon. It was 5.15 p.m., and already Steven could see its last rays shining in tapered rectangles across the floor. He switched on his desk lamp and took one last look through William Higgins’s account ledger. Monthly deductions for rent of the safe deposit box were the only noted transactions since the day Higgins opened the account in October, 1870. Although fees for the deposit box had increased over time, the compounded interest was more than enough to cover the cost. It was a forgotten account, the fees deducted as a matter of course without anyone checking to see if Higgins or his heirs had ever done business with the bank again. Steven looked up from his desk. A doorway led through to Griffin’s office and beyond that to the bank lobby. On the far wall, a collection of safe deposit keys, more museum artefacts than tools, hung on a small rack. There were three rows of twenty drawers in the old safe, though only forty-seven keys remained. Thirteen had been lost in the years since Lawrence Chapman brought the Bowles and Michaelson safe from Washington, D.C. in the 1860s, and twelve of those drawers now sat empty.
The safe had come from an English steamship that had piled up on a muddy shoal several miles downriver from Chapman’s Alexandria home. Chapman, ever the entrepreneur, had bought salvage rights, stripped the ship to the beam supports and sold much of her rigging to a local shipwright. He hadn’t been able to part with the old safe, however, so he arranged to bring it along as he worked his way west to open the first Bank of Idaho Springs.
As Steven stood examining the remaining keys he wondered about William Higgins. Had he met Lawrence Chapman that day in 1870? Had Chapman been the one to convince the miner to deposit his silver rather than taking it to the assay office? And what was in that safe deposit box? Steven, angry at Griffin’s intransigence, was certain it held information that would lead to Higgins’s family; he was determined to see it opened.
An empty hook hung from the rack under 17C. Steven thought for a moment about picking the lock – it surely couldn’t be that difficult – but he would have to do it quickly, because Griffin would see him disappear into the safe on the security screens in his office. He could claim to be cleaning the inside of the safe, dusting or sweeping it out. Yes, that was it; that was his ticket in. He would just have to find time to study the locking device first. He could stay late one night, slip in, open the drawer and be out before Griffin was any wiser. It would work. He just needed a bit of time to Steven caught himself. ‘My God, Steven, what are you thinking?’ He ran a hand across his brow and felt beads of perspiration emerging from above his hairline. ‘Let this go. You’re going to be the only overqualified, maths-loving MBA ever to get fired from an assistant manager’s position at a small town bank.’
He pursed his lips, reached out and turned the hook marked 17C one hundred and eighty degrees and said, ‘There, now nothing would hang from it, anyway.’ Steven donned his jacket, grabbed his briefcase and left the bank thinking about telephones and calculators. William Higgins’s account was safe, and his deposit box would remain locked in good faith.
THE FORBIDDEN FOREST
Last Twinmoon
Garec Haile stalked the deer from downwind. He had tethered his mare, Renna, near a pool in the Estrad River, two hundred paces south of the meadow. Despite the thickness of the underbrush, he made little sound and the deer continued feeding peacefully among the tall grasses growing along the edge of the field. He had already nocked an arrow, but his chances of making a shot from this position were slim. He needed to get closer without spooking the animaclass="underline" another ten or fifteen paces would be enough. Garec was lean and tall, and had to work to stay low enough, avoiding the sharp brambles. His strong legs and lower back, toughened by Twinmoons of hard riding, helped him hug the ground as he noiselessly approached his unsuspecting target.
The morning sunlight illuminated most of the meadow, but Garec’s copse remained dark. A few moments more and he would have a clear shot. He was still some forty paces from the edge of the meadow, but that range meant a certain kill for the skilled bowman. He practised often, far more than Sallax or even Versen: that’s how he had earned his nickname, the Bringer of Death – with avens and avens of practice. Few bowmen in Eldarn could match the young archer for speed and accuracy. A breeze blew from behind the deer and he was reminded the southern Twinmoon was coming soon. Far in the distance he imagined he could hear the sound of huge waves crashing into the Ronan coast.
Garec grinned, despite his efforts to remain still. He was in his element: Sallax would eat his words tonight when Garec served up fresh venison tenderloin. Sallax was convinced no hunter could penetrate the forbidden forest south of the river and actually bring out a deer without being captured by Malagon’s forces, but Garec had been crossing into the forest for much of his life: he knew he could.
He had considered everything as he planned for this morning’s hunt, even memorising the patrol schedule along the north bank of the river. He was sure the Malakasian soldiers knew Ronan locals regularly made their way into the forbidden region; periodically they hanged a poacher as an example, but a lot of the occupation officers frequently looked the other way. This morning’s problem was not getting into the forest, but getting out with a large deer strapped across Renna’s back. Garec reckoned if he could cross below the cliffs at Danae’s Eddy, he could be back at the tavern by the midday aven. He stretched out long under a low-hanging branch and for a moment lost sight of the deer. As he rose on the other side, he found his quarry and took aim along the shaft of the arrow. He drew a slow, shallow breath and steadied for the kill. He could not afford to be tracking a wounded deer all over the forbidden forest; this had to be a clean shot.
The attack was sudden, and came from three sides. Grettans! Garec gasped and dropped face-first onto the ground in the thicket. Grettans this far south, that was impossible! He fought the urge to turn and run back the way he had come, and silently promised himself he would never again approach any quarry except from downwind. The closest grettan had been crouching in the underbrush just a few paces away: if Garec had approached from the southern side of the field, he would be dead already. Now he had to get back to Renna – he prayed to all the gods of the Northern Forest she was still alive. There was no way he could outrun a grettan, even over the few hundred paces back to his horse.
Garec stole a quick look towards the meadow where several of the beasts were tearing into the deer’s corpse. As large as farm horses, grettans had powerful legs, enormous paws spiked with deadly claws and huge mouths with razor-sharp fangs, perfect for gripping their prey while they tore away strips of flesh with their forelegs. Their dense fur was black. Small ears jutted from their large heads, and their broad faces had horse-like nostrils and small black eyes set wide apart. Grettans rippled with thick muscle: they had few predators in the wild.
Garec counted eight of the beasts in and around the meadow, the largest of which was a bull looming over the deer carcase. The unfortunate animal was stripped clean in a matter of moments; bloody, steaming entrails had been cast about the thicket.
How could he possibly have missed grettan tracks – had he been too busy planning his escape from the forest? Forcing the questions from his mind, Garec focused on the problem at hand. He had to remain calm while he made his way, as silently as possible, back to Renna. She was fast: they had a good chance of escape if he could actually get to her.