The spider key, p.42
The Spider Key, page 42
“My pendant?” he echoed, clutching at his spyglass.
“We saw you using it,” a young guard remarked. “Some kind of charm, that is!”
“It’s only a reading lens, Captain, I assure you,” Harriet said, laying a hand on Jeremy's arm. “Not the least bit harmful.”
The captain stared hard at her, then stepped forward and pulled at the chain around Ink's neck, dragging the spyglass out from under his shirt.
“And do you all suffer from such poor vision? A shame. Especially as they don’t appear to magnify anything. I must also ask . . .” He looked at each of them in turn, his tone still friendly but his face becoming grave. “Do any of you claim Entrian blood? You don’t have the look about you but we have been deceived before. And believe me, it is far better to reveal it now than later. Such things, such . . . associations . . . are not permitted in Harroway.”
“We are not Entrians, sir,” Simon answered. “And these lenses were merely gifts from a friend of ours.”
“Then they too shall be returned to you,” the captain answered. “Upon your departure.”
He tapped the rim of the bag. It was too late to turn back now, even though the thought crossed everyone’s mind. No disguises, no means of bartering, no weapons, and now no spyglasses—their sole means of communication if separated from one another. Riva was now a liability, and the use of her enchantments was out of the question. They were being made blind and toothless. Ink snuck a glance at the young woman’s face as she dropped her spyglass into the bag. She looked ill.
“We appreciate the cooperation,” the captain said. “And now if you’ll follow me, we will escort you to your meeting with the mayor.”
“The mayor!” Abner said, half-laughing in disbelief. “What has he to do with us? I don’t suppose that’s customary with visitors here as well.”
“Not in the least, sir,” Captain Jarius answered. “Only for friends of Old Saul.”
No one was prepared for the sight awaiting them beyond the holding room. They had seen grand cities before, opulent architecture, ancient temples and noble halls. But never had they seen a place so steeped—so utterly infused—with sheer wealth. It was not a town of houses and shops but of mansions and emporiums. Everything gleamed and sparkled. If it was made of stone, it was marble. If it was made of wood, it was mahogany, rosewood, and ebony. Even the snowflakes drifting through the air seemed to glitter like tiny gems.
They were ushered into two fine buggies, driven by horses with curled manes and silver bells on their harnesses. The town seemed hardly big enough to warrant the need for such transportation, and though the streets were busy they were by no means crowded. Everyone wore fur, whether a cloak or a fine coat. Even the laborers they saw—the drivers, deliverymen, and washer women—were dressed very finely. At first, the Colonists could do nothing but stare at the place in amazement, so odd and beautiful as it was. But it wasn’t long before they began to realize the people were staring back, even stopping on the pavements, nudging each other and whispering.
The Colonists’ most immediate fear was that they’d been recognized. Ink even began to look for an escape route. But after a few moments, it became apparent they were not surrounded by expressions of anger and terror but of curiosity. They were eager stares. Earnest. Some were even smiling like the guards back in the holding room. One woman clasped her hands together as they passed, as if in hopeful prayer.
“Why do they look so glad to see us?” Harriet said.
Caradoc frowned at the small crowd gathering in the street. “It can’t be for the reward money. They don’t need it.”
“Maybe they’re cannibals,” Ink replied.
“Oh, shush,” Riva said, nudging his arm. “Only you would think of something like that. Maybe they just like to have newcomers in town. They mustn’t have them here very often.”
“Yeah,” Ink said. “Like I don’t have lobster very often.”
“Ink!” Caradoc and Harriet chided at the same time.
By the time the buggies pulled onto a tree-lined lane, ice glittering in the branches above, they learned they were not headed for any office or hall but to the mayor’s own mansion. It was a magnificent palatial estate, furnished with countless rooms, expansive grounds, and an impressive courtyard which boasted no less than five elaborate fountains. Ink was the first to jump down from the buggy, and as his boots scuffed aside the freshly-fallen snow he glimpsed more traces of silver in the paving stones underfoot.
“Welcome, my friends, welcome!” cried a voice ahead.
Ink glanced up to see a figure bound down the marble steps and hurry towards them. He was a small, gray-haired man somewhere in his fifties, with bright eyes and a broad smile which seemed to widen all the more as he came nearer. A servant ran behind him with a coat.
“It is such a pleasure to meet you all at last! I do hope the journey wasn’t too difficult. I know that mountain road can be perfectly beastly at times. Byron Kingsley.”
He held out his hand to Simon, who was just able to get over his bewilderment in time to greet him in return. The mayor went to each Colonist, taking their hands with a beaming smile and offering personalized words of welcome after hearing each name.
“And Captain Jarius, thank you for conveying them here. I hope you have shown them the utmost hospitality. It is only the best for friends of Old Saul!”
“Yes, sir,” the captain replied. “It seems they are interested in seeking out the Middling House. I have assured them they may depend upon our aid.”
“Of course they may!”
“Then the house is here, sir?” Simon asked. “You’re certain?”
“Well, I’ve never seen it with my own eyes, to be perfectly honest. The house is one of many mysteries these mountains are rumored to contain. But we are certainly more than willing to expend every effort to help you. All we can and more!”
“Thank you, sir,” Jeremy replied, looking dumbfounded. “We never hoped for so much.”
“Yes, it's very generous,” Harriet said.
“Not at all, my dear, not at all,” Kingsley answered. “Old Saul has been a great friend to this town. We’re more than happy to show any friends of his even half the kindness he’s shown to us. But come! Enough of standing out here in the cold. Come inside! You’re heartily welcome to stay here for the duration of your visit. As a matter of fact, I insist! It’s the best place in town! We’ll have your rooms prepared at once!”
Before anyone could answer, he sent his servant on ahead to make the preparations.
“Thank you, sir. That’s very kind,” Evering said as they followed him to the front door.
“No thanks necessary, my boy.” The mayor smiled as he put an arm around Evering’s shoulder, then Ink’s—who cringed. “I imagine you must all be dreadfully tired from the journey. Take your ease! Refresh yourselves! My servants will get you anything you wish and I will see you for lunch in a little while. Then we will give proper attention to planning this expedition of yours.”
The next thing they knew, they were climbing a grand staircase to the second floor. It had taken no time at all to prepare the rooms. Everyone was given a chamber of their own, complete with a roaring fire in a huge marble hearth, a giant four-post bed, and a wigged servant to wait on them hand and foot. Ink could hardly believe it. They were dangerous fugitives being treated like royalty in the richest town in Eriaris, and no one had the slightest clue. Did they?
“May I take your things, sir?” a servant asked after showing Ink to his room.
“You most certainly may not! Oh, you mean my coat. Yeah, sure.”
He handed his hat and coat to the servant, careful to note which wardrobe they were hung inside. Once the servant was assured nothing more was needed, he offered a slight bow and departed.
Ink crossed to the huge window at the back of the room and looked out. The guards were gone from the courtyard. A small crew of laborers worked to replace a cracked window in a shop outside the mansion’s gates. Many of the people on the pavement had begun to go indoors as the snowfall grew heavier. He chewed on his lip. The same thing that bothered him about his grand room was down there in the town. Though it was quiet enough, it was entirely without the peaceful easiness he was used to enjoying on Riverfall. He couldn’t say why.
Lunch with the mayor was not so much a light, casual meal as it was a full-blown holiday feast with all the trimmings. Evering actually let out a gasp of shock at the sight of it. Before taking their seats, they were introduced to the mayor’s wife, Gwenyth, who appeared to be a lot younger than her husband, perhaps by as much as two decades. She nodded at each of them politely upon introduction, a cordial smile on her face, and soon revealed herself to be a woman of very few words—as well as the occasional giggle.
After everyone was seated, the mayor bowed his head and led them in a short prayer before the meal. Riva took the chance to perform a small enchantment while everyone’s eyes were closed. When the prayer was over, the Colonists cast furtive glances at her, to which she responded with a small nod. The food and drink had not been drugged.
They were encouraged to eat as much as they liked, and no one was happier about it than Evering, who often had to be reminded to slow down and breathe between bites. Gwenyth proceeded to stuff herself with multiple servings of almost everything, and even took special care to keep the gravy bowl within reach until the end of the meal. Ink wondered how she could possibly be so thin.
“So, where is it you’ve all come from?” the mayor asked.
“A small college in Gallswell, sir,” Simon answered. “In the North Country.”
“Ah yes, I’ve heard of Gallswell. Farther north than even this town, is it not? I daresay this weather is not so unfamiliar to you as most visitors. You must be very hardy travelers indeed, and to take your children with you no less.”
“We like to give them the opportunity to get away from town once in a while,” Abner replied, nodding towards Evering, Riva, and Ink across the table. “Open up their world a bit. Good for growing, curious minds.”
“Oh, indeed. Indeed. No argument here,” the mayor said with a small chuckle. “I never had that sort of thing growing up myself. Rarely ever set foot out of town. In fact, I ended up taking over management of my grandfather’s shop. Would’ve been a good enough life for some, I suppose, but I always yearned for broader horizons. A wider view.”
“How’d you end up here, sir?” Jeremy asked.
“Well, I always kept my ears open, you know. And you hear a lot of things when you run a store in the center of town. Rumors started up about hidden treasures in the Kurna Mountains across the gulf, but no one was brave enough to test the territory. At first, I didn't think much of it, but over time the thought began to grow in my mind until I finally couldn’t stand it any longer. I simply had to find out for myself. I’d had enough of stocking shelves and filling out orders. It was time for a stab at something new. And that was it really. I got lucky. As lucky as a man can get. And especially once Gwenyth here agreed to marry me.”
He cast an adoring look at his wife and kissed her hand. She giggled.
“Fate and fortune took my hand from there,” he continued. “Of course, it hasn’t always been easy. None of our family members wanted to follow us out here, so we were quite alone at the beginning. But such sacrifices are part of great endeavors. In the end, it meant I was able to put all my heart and soul into building up this modest empire you see around you.”
“It’s a beautiful place, sir. We’ve never seen anything like it,” Harriet said. “Is it precious metals or stone which founded it?”
“A bit of both, Miss Welch. These mountains contain a wealth of different resources and materials—copper and lead, some marble and granite as well—but mainly a vast supply of silver. Indeed, there are no less than thirty silver mines in operation as we speak. It is an unprecedented enterprise for our time. Some even call this ‘the Silver City.’”
“I imagine a place like this invites its fair share of conflict,” Caradoc said. “I’ve seen men fight over half a dozen silver pieces. How much more thirty mines worth of it?”
“Ah, yes,” the mayor sighed. “That is the unfortunate truth, alas. You see, the wall around Harroway had to be erected out of principle. It was necessary I be absolutely vigilant in guiding the growth of this town. Straight and true we must be, with no exceptions made. No room for those too greedy, too ambitious or quarrelsome. That’s also why we endeavor to keep our beloved town a secret as best we can, allowing entry only to those worthy enough while avoiding the presence of undesirables.”
Abner poked Evering in the ribs to stop him from slurping his soup, then looked at Kingsley with narrowed eyes. “Undesirables? Like the Entrians?”
The look on Mayor Kingsley’s face grew uncomfortable. “Well . . . yes, Mr. Fleck, now that is an unfortunate thing, to be sure. You see, we simply cannot be certain of their intentions. And with all the strange spells and dubious abilities they possess, who is to say they would not seek to topple this town by those means at their very next chance? We’ve had some close calls in the past. Even threats of violence. I shudder just thinking about it. But that is why such measures are necessary. We simply do not wish to incur any unfortunate effects of their greed or wrath.”
“Not least because this town falls squarely in their territory,” Caradoc said.
A nervous chuckle left the mayor’s lips as he squirmed for a moment in his seat. “Disputed territory, sir. Disputed.”
Ink frowned as Kingsley's words pricked at something in the back of his memory. He had heard them before. But where? As he pondered this, a servant breezed through one of the doors and addressed the mayor with a nod.
“Mr. Castor for you, sir.”
“Ah, William!” The mayor rose from his seat and went to greet the man who entered. “At last! How good of you to join us!”
“Yeah, sorry I’m late,” the man said, sniffing through his reddened nose as he removed his bowler hat. “Had to settle a bit of a muck up with a delivery. Hey there, Gwenyth.”
The mayor’s wife nodded in return before downing a gulp of spiced cider. Kingsley showed the newcomer to his place and began to introduce each of his visitors.
Ink couldn’t believe his eyes. He knew this man. Knew his voice and manner. Blunt, loud and determined, but always with a degree of politeness. William Castor. He’d seen him only a few days ago, standing in the Great Hall, begging the Assembly to grant his petition to open another mine. Another silver mine. Ink glanced across the table to confirm the truth, and was just in time to catch Simon and Caradoc exchange a look of horror.
“Oi, top me off here, will you?” Castor said, raising his glass to one of the servants.
“Ladies and gentlemen, this is Mr. William Castor,” Kingsley announced. “Not only a very good friend, but one of my top advisors, and—most impressively—Harroway’s sole representative and ambassador. We couldn’t go a day without him.”
“Good to meet you,” Castor replied, hardly glancing at them as he dug into his plate.
“They’re interested in finding out what they can about the Middling House, Mr. Castor,” the mayor said. “I don’t suppose it would be too much trouble to round up a crew for such an excursion? And one or two of our mountain guides?”
“Naw, no trouble at all,” Castor answered with his mouth half full. “We can be ready to go at dawn. No horses, though. Trails are too steep. It’ll be all walking.”
“We can manage that,” Simon said.
The mayor’s exuberant smile beamed again. “Excellent! The search begins tomorrow!”
Ink stared hard at Castor. He didn’t seem to recognize them. At least not while he was stuffing his face. They could only hope his ignorance wouldn’t end with his meal.
“Any news, William?” Gwenyth asked as she buttered yet another bread roll.
Castor grunted. “Nothing much. Snow’s closing off trade routes. Lost a wagon full of sugar and flour coming up the mountain. Nothing we can’t handle, though. Traders say there’s a bit of fuss and to-do down in Vaterra. Some Entrian mischief.”
“Oh yes?” she said, obviously eager for any small amount of new gossip.
“They even called that witch of theirs up north to look into it.”
“Witch?” Riva asked.
Castor nodded after a long draught from his cup. “Yeah. Their chief officer. Say-reen, or whatever she’s called.”
Every Colonist felt their insides drop, each glass or utensil pausing halfway in the air.
“What kind of mischief, Mr. Castor?” Harriet asked, managing to keep her voice steady.
He shrugged. “Some doctor and his wife got killed a few days back. Murdered, they think. They found a message pinned to the man’s coat saying ‘Colonists, arise’, whatever that means. Hey, can you top me off again here?”
The mayor frowned across the table. “My goodness, Mr. Douglas, are you all right? You’ve gone quite pale.”
Simon tried to smile. “Fine, sir. I’m fine.”
Kingsley leaned over and touched his wife’s hand. “Now you see, dear, this is why I prefer not to hear any outside news. It is never anything but distressing. Let their business be their business. And we to our own.”
“Do you know anything about these Colonists, Mr. Castor?” Caradoc asked.
Ink nearly gasped aloud. Not only had it been Caradoc to raise the question, but he’d directed it to the person who was most likely to identify them. Everyone held their breath, waiting.
“If it don’t concern me, I ain’t likely to know about it,” he answered. “There’s always some group or other causing trouble. These people ain’t nothing to me so long as they don’t stir up any in this town.”
“We try not to concern ourselves with the evil in this world, Mr. Rawlings,” the mayor said. “We’re well aware of its existence, no denying that. But you won’t find anyone here with an interest in dwelling on it. What edification does it bring us, after all?” He leaned back in his chair and clasped his hands together. “Now! I think we’ve had enough of this depressing talk. There is still dessert to be had! And there is nothing so worthy of our attention as that, eh?”
