Читать книгу Night Study - Maria Snyder V. - Страница 11

6

LEIF

“Nope, haven’t seen anything like that before. Good day.” The glassmaker hustled Leif from his shop, closing the door right behind him.

At least he didn’t slam it, Leif thought. He wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. Between the heat pumping from the glass factory’s brick walls and the unseasonably hot afternoon sun, his tunic was soaked. Leif returned the small square of glass with the miniature holes to his pack. He’d cut a couple of pieces from the glass house’s ceiling for him and Devlen to take along and show to the glassmakers.

He scanned the street. A few people walked along the row of factories and businesses in Whitestone’s small downtown. Over the past nine days they’d been checking with every glass factory and workshop in ever-widening arcs from Owen’s farmhouse. They hadn’t been back there in the past four days, and Leif planned to return after this stop. There hadn’t been any messages from Yelena, and that worried him.

Whitestone was located two days southeast and about a half day from the border with the Cloud Mist’s lands.

Devlen rounded the corner. Hard to miss the tall Sandseed among the paler Moons.

“Any luck?” Leif asked when his brother-in-law drew closer.

“No. You?”

“Think I’ve found something.”

“Oh?”

“Guy in there showed me the door faster than I could eat a slice of apple pie.”

“That is an impressive amount of speed,” Devlen agreed.

“And he smelled like black licorice.”

“Which you do not like.”

“Not at all.” He’d always hated it. The candy tasted of fear and deceit.

“Shall we go talk to him again?” Devlen asked.

“Thought you’d never ask.”

They entered the thick air. Five kilns roared, masking the sounds of the glassworkers who sat at benches and shaped the molten slugs of glass gathered onto the end of their pontil irons. Assistants scurried, fetching tools, cracking off pieces and filling the annealing ovens to cool the piping-hot glass slowly. The open windows did nothing to dispel the force of the heat.

The older man Leif had spoken with earlier directed the traffic, but once he spotted them he hustled over with a scowl. The spicy scent of red pepper burned the inside of Leif’s nostrils. Anger had replaced the man’s fear.

“Get out,” he shooed. “I’ve no time for your nonsense. I’ve orders to fill.”

“This will not take long.” Devlen projected his voice through the noise. “Your office.” When the man hesitated, he leaned closer and said, “Now.”

The man bolted for an open door to the left. Nice. And it’d been the reason Leif waited for Devlen before confronting the lying glassmaker. They followed close behind. Leif shut the door on the din.

The neat and utilitarian office lacked personality. No pictures hung on the walls. No decorative glass lined the shelves.

Devlen laid his square sample on the desk.

The glassmaker jabbed a finger at it. “I’ve told you—”

“Look again,” Leif said. “Closer this time.”

The man huffed with annoyance and picked it up, pretending to inspect the piece. A fog of black licorice almost gagged Leif. The man was terrified.

“The person who ordered those panels is no longer a threat,” Leif said in his most soothing tone, letting his magic mix with the words. “We’ve halted his operations and are in the process of determining how extensive it is.”

“We who?” he asked.

“Me, Leif Zaltana and my colleague, Devlen Sandseed.”

The man’s fear eased only a fraction. Leif would have been insulted, but unfortunately he’d dealt with Owen and understood just how much of a scary bastard the magician could be. And with the size of this operation, Owen couldn’t erase all the staff’s memories—too many people.

“Also the Sitian Council and the Master Magicians,” Leif added.

“Have you arrested him?” the man asked.

“Not yet. He’s on the run, but every city and town has been alerted and he’ll be caught soon.” Leif hoped.

“Then he remains a threat.”

“I’ll order the local security forces keep a close watch on you—”

“Not me. My family.”

Typical. At least Owen stayed consistent. “Your family, then.”

“And in exchange?”

“A list of locations where you delivered those special glass panels.”

The silence stretched and Leif sensed a variety of emotions. The bitter tang of fear dominated.

Finally, the man pulled open a drawer and rummaged through the files. He handed Leif a stack of papers. Leif scanned the pages and counted enough panels to construct at least ten glass houses. Delivery dates and locations had been written on the orders. The closest one was about a day’s ride west. The others were scattered north and east, up toward the Sunworth River.

“Can I keep these?” Leif asked.

“Yes.”

“Thank you. I’ll inform Captain Ozma of the situation right away. We talked to her this morning and none of her forces have seen anyone matching Owen’s description in this area.”

The man’s relief smelled of sweet grass. “Good.”

They left and stopped by the security offices. Captain Ozma sent a detail to the glass factory to collect more information.

Leif studied the sky. “We won’t be able to reach the closest hothouse today, but, if we leave now, we can make it to the town of Marble Arch in time for supper.”

“Let me guess, there is an inn there that serves some type of delectable dish that you cannot find anywhere else.” Devlen’s tone rasped with smugness.

“Wrong, Mr. Know-It-All! It’s a tavern, not an inn.”

“A thousand apologies.”

“Can you say that again without the sarcasm?”

“No.”

They had stabled their horses in the guards’ barn. Devlen had picked a sturdy cream-colored horse with a dark brown mane and tail. She had lovely russet eyes and she watched Devlen’s every move. Leif had teased him that it was love at first sight. Devlen named her Sunfire, which was a heck of a lot better than Beach Bunny.

Mounting the horses, they headed east and, as predicted, they sat at a table in the corner of the Daily Grind tavern just in time for supper.

“Lots of stone carvers come here.” Leif explained the name to Devlen. “Marble and granite fill this whole area of the Moon Clan’s lands. These people earn their living either quarrying it from the ground or chiseling, shaping and grinding it for use.”

A server approached and Leif ordered without consulting Devlen. “Two ales and two extra-large portions of pit beef, please.”

“Pit beef? Sounds...unappetizing,” Devlen said.

“Have I ever steered you wrong?”

Devlen groaned. “You have been spending too much time with Janco.”

While they waited for the food, Leif spread out the pages they’d received from the glassmaker and they marked the locations of all the glass houses on a map.

“My father will be here in roughly five days.” Leif traced a route with his finger. “We have enough time to check three of them on the way back to the farmstead.”

* * *

Late-morning sunlight glinted off the glass panes of the hothouse. Leif stopped Rusalka before drawing too close. No need to tip anyone off that they were nearby. The long, thin structure sat in the middle of an open clearing along with a small wooden building. Forest surrounded the complex. This was the first of the three they planned to check on their return to Owen’s ex-headquarters.

From this angle, it seemed as if the place was deserted. No greenery stained the inside of the glass house and, after an hour of observation, no one appeared.

Devlen returned from doing a reconnaissance. “Nothing. All’s quiet.”

“Suspiciously quiet?” Leif asked.

“No. Abandoned quiet.”

They ventured closer. Leif tasted the wind, seeking the flavors of past intentions. He drew in deep breaths, sensing the echoes of emotions. The trees rustled and the dry grass crackled under Rusalka’s hooves. Otherwise, all remained undisturbed.

Peering through the glass of the house, Leif confirmed that nothing grew inside. A crate filled with an assortment of objects sat in the center.

“Perhaps there is information in the box,” Devlen said next to him. He strode to the entrance.

Leif followed. When Devlen opened the door, stale musty air puffed out. They entered.

“Looks like they yanked the plants in a hurry,” Leif said. He bent to grab a handful of soil, testing the moisture. He freed a root that had been left behind. It was brittle. “It’s been about two weeks since this place was in use.”

“That fits the timeline,” Devlen said. He knelt next to the crate.

“There’s...something...off.” Leif wiped the dirt from his hands.

Devlen paused. “Off?”

“I can’t pinpoint it. It’s...subtle.” Leif joined his brother-in-law. “Is there anything in there of value?”

Devlen reached into the box.

“Malice,” Leif said. “That’s what’s off. The air is tainted with malice.”

“Considering Owen was in here, I am not surprised.” Devlen pulled a broken shovel and tossed it aside. He dumped the rest of the contents—mostly old gardening tools.

“Let’s check the other building,” Leif said, exiting the glass house.

The oversize wooden barn door gaped open.

Leif halted. “The air reeks of death. And there’s nothing subtle about that.”

“I smell it, too.”

They exchanged a glance. Leif yanked his machete from his belt and Devlen brandished his scimitar. Devlen eased the door wider and signaled him. Leif held his breath and crept inside with the Sandseed right behind. Dim sunlight trickled through the dusty windows. The large single room contained furniture and gardening supplies and a dead body.

Leif cursed aloud. Then he gagged on the rotten stench. “Check.” He motioned to search the room. “Quick.” Covering his nose with his hand, he took the right side while Devlen went left.

Not much to see. An old frayed couch, a couple chairs and a desk. Although the stack of files piled on top might be interesting. Leif sheathed his machete. He opened the first file.

A loud pop sounded. The sharp, acrid smell of malice sliced right through death’s foul odor. Inside the file was a single piece of paper.

“Run,” Leif yelled, just as a whoosh vibrated through the air.

The barn’s walls ignited. Flames ripped up the sides, surrounding them.