lost.
Lugan had sold him the fuck out.
Lugan was in deep shit when Ecko got outta here.
He shook his fingers and the last flakes of ash drifted to the floor.
The woman said, “What did you do to my table?” It was the same voice that Ecko had heard earlier.
“Karine.” The Bard stood up. “Meet Ecko. All things considered, he’s adjusting remarkably swiftly. Perhaps, when you have a moment...?” Roderick left the question unfinished but the young woman seemed to know what he meant.
“When do I ever get a moment?” She put the tray down on the arm of the couch, then straightened up to treat Ecko to a broad wink. “I run this building, and don’t let him tell you otherwise.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Roderick said, eyeing the rafters.
The tray contained some sort of pottery bowl that steamed with a surprisingly rich, meaty scent, and a hunk of something that looked like real bread, grainy and rough. Ecko had an odd urge to pick the bread up, break it, understand its texture. His belly growled, distressingly human.
Karine chuckled. “Don’t worry, you can eat it safely, we’re not going to try and poison you or anything.” She treated Roderick to an arched brow. “Though you are going to have to haggle for the table. And when you’ve picked up the bits, you can turf out the big room under the roof. You know the one. It’s got all your souvenirs in it.”
The Bard grinned at the gibe.
She harrumphed at him, then said, “There’s also more news... But that can wait for now.”
Roderick shot her a look. Her responding gesture was tiny, but Ecko’s targeters tracked it like prey. He picked up a second piece of paper from the desk, and turned it between his fingers.
Karine said, “I’ll come back in a bit, make sure you’re settling in okay, let you meet the others. In the meantime, don’t let this one talk your ears off. He’s a good man, but he is a bit crazed.”
With a twitch of her hips, she was gone, hooking a foot to pull the door shut after her.
After a moment’s quiet, Ecko said, the words biting, “‘Crazed’ huh? Maybe you’re the one in therapy.”
The Bard picked up a piece of the table, then threw himself down on the couch.
“I was given this building because I believe in a certain future – a vision, I suppose. And when I found you, I brought you in here because I believe that you’re a part of that vision. That future.” He held Ecko’s black eyes for a moment. “I’ve seen you before.”
...A path or a puzzle, something he had to solve or piece together...
A chill of inevitability skittered down Ecko’s spine, then a flare of anger like panic, like the closing of a trap.
“Fantastic. So – what? You gotta prophecy that says I kick the ass of the God of Evil? A Major McNasty that’s about to wake up? How ’bout a World-Shaking War?” His sarcasm was vicious. “Where do I start?”
With a wry chuckle the Bard replied, “Sadly, it’s not that simple. There is no ‘prophecy’ – I wish there was. There is no ‘God of Evil’ – no ‘Major Nasty’ – not really one that does house calls. And the last World-Shaking War was a very long time ago.” He stood up, shot a rueful glance at the remains of the table and then shrugged. “If it’d been that easy, this would already be over.”
“ What would be already be over?”
“That,” he said, “is what I’ve spent my life finding out.”
“Jesus shit.” Ecko stared. His stomach grumbled again. He ignored it. “You dunno, do you? Loremaster, my ass.”
Roderick said, “I know enough to know how much I don’t know – and with every return, it becomes clearer. Look, like this...” With a dextrous flick of his fingers, he was holding a flash of metal. “Is this familiar?”
Ecko’s targeters flashed, he was away from the desk in an eye blink. He snatched it from Roderick’s hand. His flicker of inevitability – helplessness, almost claustrophobia – rose to a thunder. A wash
Lugan had sold him the fuck out.
Lugan was in deep shit when Ecko got outta here.
He shook his fingers and the last flakes of ash drifted to the floor.
The woman said, “What did you do to my table?” It was the same voice that Ecko had heard earlier.
“Karine.” The Bard stood up. “Meet Ecko. All things considered, he’s adjusting remarkably swiftly. Perhaps, when you have a moment...?” Roderick left the question unfinished but the young woman seemed to know what he meant.
“When do I ever get a moment?” She put the tray down on the arm of the couch, then straightened up to treat Ecko to a broad wink. “I run this building, and don’t let him tell you otherwise.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Roderick said, eyeing the rafters.
The tray contained some sort of pottery bowl that steamed with a surprisingly rich, meaty scent, and a hunk of something that looked like real bread, grainy and rough. Ecko had an odd urge to pick the bread up, break it, understand its texture. His belly growled, distressingly human.
Karine chuckled. “Don’t worry, you can eat it safely, we’re not going to try and poison you or anything.” She treated Roderick to an arched brow. “Though you are going to have to haggle for the table. And when you’ve picked up the bits, you can turf out the big room under the roof. You know the one. It’s got all your souvenirs in it.”
The Bard grinned at the gibe.
She harrumphed at him, then said, “There’s also more news... But that can wait for now.”
Roderick shot her a look. Her responding gesture was tiny, but Ecko’s targeters tracked it like prey. He picked up a second piece of paper from the desk, and turned it between his fingers.
Karine said, “I’ll come back in a bit, make sure you’re settling in okay, let you meet the others. In the meantime, don’t let this one talk your ears off. He’s a good man, but he is a bit crazed.”
With a twitch of her hips, she was gone, hooking a foot to pull the door shut after her.
After a moment’s quiet, Ecko said, the words biting, “‘Crazed’ huh? Maybe you’re the one in therapy.”
The Bard picked up a piece of the table, then threw himself down on the couch.
“I was given this building because I believe in a certain future – a vision, I suppose. And when I found you, I brought you in here because I believe that you’re a part of that vision. That future.” He held Ecko’s black eyes for a moment. “I’ve seen you before.”
...A path or a puzzle, something he had to solve or piece together...
A chill of inevitability skittered down Ecko’s spine, then a flare of anger like panic, like the closing of a trap.
“Fantastic. So – what? You gotta prophecy that says I kick the ass of the God of Evil? A Major McNasty that’s about to wake up? How ’bout a World-Shaking War?” His sarcasm was vicious. “Where do I start?”
With a wry chuckle the Bard replied, “Sadly, it’s not that simple. There is no ‘prophecy’ – I wish there was. There is no ‘God of Evil’ – no ‘Major Nasty’ – not really one that does house calls. And the last World-Shaking War was a very long time ago.” He stood up, shot a rueful glance at the remains of the table and then shrugged. “If it’d been that easy, this would already be over.”
“ What would be already be over?”
“That,” he said, “is what I’ve spent my life finding out.”
“Jesus shit.” Ecko stared. His stomach grumbled again. He ignored it. “You dunno, do you? Loremaster, my ass.”
Roderick said, “I know enough to know how much I don’t know – and with every return, it becomes clearer. Look, like this...” With a dextrous flick of his fingers, he was holding a flash of metal. “Is this familiar?”
Ecko’s targeters flashed, he was away from the desk in an eye blink. He snatched it from Roderick’s hand. His flicker of inevitability – helplessness, almost claustrophobia – rose to a thunder. A wash
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