Read Online The Book of Deacon: Book 02 - The Great Convergence by Joseph Lallo - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Joseph Lallo
Ads: Link
was
real, the fact that she knew him, filled her with a cold
feeling.
Soon it was the seventh day. Desmeres had
long since finished his preparations, the last of which was the
completion of some manner of sword for Lain. He refused to unveil
it to her, claiming that Lain ought to be the first. He slipped out
the entrance hatch, warning her that he would arrive back at the
end of the day and they would have to move quickly when the time
came. Until then there was nothing to do but leaf through more
books. She had worked her way backward through fifteen or so of the
years, and came upon a name she had known about already. Rinthorne,
the unfortunate man who had been in charge of Kenvard when the
massacre occurred. Dark memories filled her head at the glimpse of
the name. She’d lost her home, her family, everything that day.
Then something odd caught her eye. A line in the book was struck
out. It was clearly written in a different hand than the rest. With
a bit of effort the words could still be read, not that it did any
good. She still hadn't worked out what they meant. Something else
was odd. There was no indication for whom or to whom the job was
done. There was only one word that she did recognize. Kenvard.
Her mind began to stir. How? He had told her
of the job he had done for Rinthorne. It happened at the same time
as the massacre. How could a job have been done in Kenvard
afterward? Afterward there was no Kenvard. Kenvard the
nation had been absorbed, and its capital of the same name had been
razed. Was that why it was crossed out? And why no names? And no
price? Rather, not one that could be counted in gold bars. The word
that always preceded the number was present, but what followed was
only another word. Myranda cursed herself for not spending more
time in the warrior's section of Entwell. Had she, she might have
learned this language, and this would have been clear. A nagging
feeling burned at her. This was important. She couldn't explain
why, but she had to know what it meant. As she further pondered,
her thoughts were interrupted by the creaking of the trapdoor and
the whir blades through the air.
"Myranda! Quickly! I am not sure how long we
can keep the oloes at bay!" called Desmeres, struggling to yell
over a powerful wind that whistled in the opening.
Myranda slipped the book into her bag and
hurried to the entryway. The gold needed for the purchase had been
transferred into twenty or so small crates. Though each held only
four or five of the ingots, they were heavy as lead. A rope was
lowered for Myranda to secure to one chest at a time, and the
combined strength of Desmeres and Lain, top side, hauled each up.
Myn, interested in the activity on the surface, scrambled up to
them, and soon the chests were moving much faster. The little
dragon had quickly determined the purpose of this little game and
joined in, clamping the end of the rope in her jaws and lending her
deceiving strength to the effort. Soon the chests had been loaded,
and Myranda clutched the rope herself and was hauled out.
On the surface, it was night. She found the
ground around them covered with a thin haze that smelled strongly
of burning wood. The horrid brown creatures that guarded the place
were completely surrounding them, staying at the exact distance
that the mist faded to nothing. Waiting for them was a four horse
carriage. It was just as he had asked: elegant, but sturdy. Not a
gaudy showpiece, a well crafted vehicle. There was a very large
cargo compartment in the back that was filled fairly to bursting
with their precious load. In the front was a comfortable place for
the passengers to sit, and just in front of that was a sheltered
place for the driver. There was no one there. Desmeres approached
her, he was dressed as he’d been when he left, utterly cocooned in
winter clothing in an attempt to stay warm and hide his identity.
Lain was not disguised at all, wearing a lighter gray cloak with a
white lining and a plain tunic
real, the fact that she knew him, filled her with a cold
feeling.
Soon it was the seventh day. Desmeres had
long since finished his preparations, the last of which was the
completion of some manner of sword for Lain. He refused to unveil
it to her, claiming that Lain ought to be the first. He slipped out
the entrance hatch, warning her that he would arrive back at the
end of the day and they would have to move quickly when the time
came. Until then there was nothing to do but leaf through more
books. She had worked her way backward through fifteen or so of the
years, and came upon a name she had known about already. Rinthorne,
the unfortunate man who had been in charge of Kenvard when the
massacre occurred. Dark memories filled her head at the glimpse of
the name. She’d lost her home, her family, everything that day.
Then something odd caught her eye. A line in the book was struck
out. It was clearly written in a different hand than the rest. With
a bit of effort the words could still be read, not that it did any
good. She still hadn't worked out what they meant. Something else
was odd. There was no indication for whom or to whom the job was
done. There was only one word that she did recognize. Kenvard.
Her mind began to stir. How? He had told her
of the job he had done for Rinthorne. It happened at the same time
as the massacre. How could a job have been done in Kenvard
afterward? Afterward there was no Kenvard. Kenvard the
nation had been absorbed, and its capital of the same name had been
razed. Was that why it was crossed out? And why no names? And no
price? Rather, not one that could be counted in gold bars. The word
that always preceded the number was present, but what followed was
only another word. Myranda cursed herself for not spending more
time in the warrior's section of Entwell. Had she, she might have
learned this language, and this would have been clear. A nagging
feeling burned at her. This was important. She couldn't explain
why, but she had to know what it meant. As she further pondered,
her thoughts were interrupted by the creaking of the trapdoor and
the whir blades through the air.
"Myranda! Quickly! I am not sure how long we
can keep the oloes at bay!" called Desmeres, struggling to yell
over a powerful wind that whistled in the opening.
Myranda slipped the book into her bag and
hurried to the entryway. The gold needed for the purchase had been
transferred into twenty or so small crates. Though each held only
four or five of the ingots, they were heavy as lead. A rope was
lowered for Myranda to secure to one chest at a time, and the
combined strength of Desmeres and Lain, top side, hauled each up.
Myn, interested in the activity on the surface, scrambled up to
them, and soon the chests were moving much faster. The little
dragon had quickly determined the purpose of this little game and
joined in, clamping the end of the rope in her jaws and lending her
deceiving strength to the effort. Soon the chests had been loaded,
and Myranda clutched the rope herself and was hauled out.
On the surface, it was night. She found the
ground around them covered with a thin haze that smelled strongly
of burning wood. The horrid brown creatures that guarded the place
were completely surrounding them, staying at the exact distance
that the mist faded to nothing. Waiting for them was a four horse
carriage. It was just as he had asked: elegant, but sturdy. Not a
gaudy showpiece, a well crafted vehicle. There was a very large
cargo compartment in the back that was filled fairly to bursting
with their precious load. In the front was a comfortable place for
the passengers to sit, and just in front of that was a sheltered
place for the driver. There was no one there. Desmeres approached
her, he was dressed as he’d been when he left, utterly cocooned in
winter clothing in an attempt to stay warm and hide his identity.
Lain was not disguised at all, wearing a lighter gray cloak with a
white lining and a plain tunic
Similar Books
