Read Online The Rift Walker by Clay Griffith, Susan Griffith - Free Book Online
Authors: Clay Griffith, Susan Griffith
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communities. Very interesting.”
“Yes. I should say so.” The vicar tapped the traveler's rucksack. “Oh, I've arranged a supply of bluestone for our experiments.”
Selkirk stopped eating and looked down at the table a trifle embarrassed. “I don't know if I'll have time, Reverend.”
“Why? Well, no matter. We can do it when you come back next time, if you wish.”
The geomancer took a deep breath of regret. “I have to leave Britain.”
“What?”
“My commission is for two years. I hate to leave, but I must return to Equatoria to report my findings in detail. For the war.”
Dejected, Goronwy shook his head slightly. “Don't leave. There's so much more we need to discuss.”
“I'm sorry. I must. I may be back. But I don't know where I'll be sent next time.”
“I wasn't expecting this.” The old man sat back dolefully. “Well, you won't depart for a few days at least, will you? You need to rest.”
“I'll stay a while. Perhaps we'll get in a few experiments before I go.” Selkirk hated to disappoint his friend of these many months, but there was no way he could postpone his return home for long.
The Welshman smiled gratefully. “That would be grand.” Selkirk yawned and Goronwy said, “Sleep now, lad. My son's old room upstairs is ready for you, as always.”
The geomancer downed the last of the warm, foamy ale. “Thank you. I am tired. It's been a difficult trip. I'm grateful for all your kindness. You've made my time in Britain bearable.”
Goronwy replied, “You're welcome. I daresay I've gained just as much from our time together.” He laid his hand on Selkirk's rucksack.
Selkirk was shaken awake.
“Lad!” a voice called. “Rise up!”
Goronwy's whiskered face hazed into view. The old man shook him again.
“What's wrong?” Selkirk sat up with effort. “What time is it?” The window was still black with night.
“Stay quiet. We're leaving.”
“Leaving? Where? What are you talking about?”
“Quickly now. Get dressed.” The vicar pulled the geomancer up by the shoulder until Selkirk's bare feet touched the rough wooden floor.
“I don't understand. Are you in trouble?”
“I said get dressed!” The Welshman's voice was sharp, which was unusual.
Selkirk reached for his pants, not wanting to anger his friend. He saw Goronwy pick up the geolabe and study it.
Selkirk said, “Please don't. The settings are precise. I'll show it to you later.”
“Quiet! Hurry, will you!”
The door opened, and two burly men pushed in with short broadswords in their hands. Goronwy regarded the two men and pointed at Selkirk's rucksack. “Take that. And there are many more papers downstairs that he left here before.”
“No, I need them.” The geomancer shook his head in confusion while eyeing the two raggedy men. “I'm taking everything back to Equatoria.”
“You're not going to Equatoria, lad.”
Selkirk hit on the wild idea that Goronwy was going to keep him here by force, out of some twisted sense of camaraderie. It was frightening, yet oddly comforting at the same time. With a calming voice, he said, “Reverend Goronwy, I can't stay in Trellech.”
“You're not.” The Welshman motioned to one of the men who grabbed Selkirk's arm roughly, while the other leveled his sword at the geomancer. Selkirk was hustled from Goronwy's home by a small squad of soldiers. The vicar himself followed, carrying Selkirk's possessions, including journals, maps, and papers filled with all the geomantic information gathered in Britain over the last two years. As they hurried along a dark path between cottages, Selkirk grew overwhelmed by a sense of outrage and began to struggle.
“Don't!” Goronwy snapped. “There's a ship full of bloodmen nearby. I shouldn't like to order them into town.”
The geomancer grew passive again; no one should suffer on his account. “Where are you taking me?”
“My boy, you're going to London. To see the king.”
The stench of urine,
“Yes. I should say so.” The vicar tapped the traveler's rucksack. “Oh, I've arranged a supply of bluestone for our experiments.”
Selkirk stopped eating and looked down at the table a trifle embarrassed. “I don't know if I'll have time, Reverend.”
“Why? Well, no matter. We can do it when you come back next time, if you wish.”
The geomancer took a deep breath of regret. “I have to leave Britain.”
“What?”
“My commission is for two years. I hate to leave, but I must return to Equatoria to report my findings in detail. For the war.”
Dejected, Goronwy shook his head slightly. “Don't leave. There's so much more we need to discuss.”
“I'm sorry. I must. I may be back. But I don't know where I'll be sent next time.”
“I wasn't expecting this.” The old man sat back dolefully. “Well, you won't depart for a few days at least, will you? You need to rest.”
“I'll stay a while. Perhaps we'll get in a few experiments before I go.” Selkirk hated to disappoint his friend of these many months, but there was no way he could postpone his return home for long.
The Welshman smiled gratefully. “That would be grand.” Selkirk yawned and Goronwy said, “Sleep now, lad. My son's old room upstairs is ready for you, as always.”
The geomancer downed the last of the warm, foamy ale. “Thank you. I am tired. It's been a difficult trip. I'm grateful for all your kindness. You've made my time in Britain bearable.”
Goronwy replied, “You're welcome. I daresay I've gained just as much from our time together.” He laid his hand on Selkirk's rucksack.
Selkirk was shaken awake.
“Lad!” a voice called. “Rise up!”
Goronwy's whiskered face hazed into view. The old man shook him again.
“What's wrong?” Selkirk sat up with effort. “What time is it?” The window was still black with night.
“Stay quiet. We're leaving.”
“Leaving? Where? What are you talking about?”
“Quickly now. Get dressed.” The vicar pulled the geomancer up by the shoulder until Selkirk's bare feet touched the rough wooden floor.
“I don't understand. Are you in trouble?”
“I said get dressed!” The Welshman's voice was sharp, which was unusual.
Selkirk reached for his pants, not wanting to anger his friend. He saw Goronwy pick up the geolabe and study it.
Selkirk said, “Please don't. The settings are precise. I'll show it to you later.”
“Quiet! Hurry, will you!”
The door opened, and two burly men pushed in with short broadswords in their hands. Goronwy regarded the two men and pointed at Selkirk's rucksack. “Take that. And there are many more papers downstairs that he left here before.”
“No, I need them.” The geomancer shook his head in confusion while eyeing the two raggedy men. “I'm taking everything back to Equatoria.”
“You're not going to Equatoria, lad.”
Selkirk hit on the wild idea that Goronwy was going to keep him here by force, out of some twisted sense of camaraderie. It was frightening, yet oddly comforting at the same time. With a calming voice, he said, “Reverend Goronwy, I can't stay in Trellech.”
“You're not.” The Welshman motioned to one of the men who grabbed Selkirk's arm roughly, while the other leveled his sword at the geomancer. Selkirk was hustled from Goronwy's home by a small squad of soldiers. The vicar himself followed, carrying Selkirk's possessions, including journals, maps, and papers filled with all the geomantic information gathered in Britain over the last two years. As they hurried along a dark path between cottages, Selkirk grew overwhelmed by a sense of outrage and began to struggle.
“Don't!” Goronwy snapped. “There's a ship full of bloodmen nearby. I shouldn't like to order them into town.”
The geomancer grew passive again; no one should suffer on his account. “Where are you taking me?”
“My boy, you're going to London. To see the king.”
The stench of urine,
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