Westhaven by Rowan Erlking (best sci fi novels of all time TXT) 📕

Straightening up, the captain saluted. “General Winstrong, I’m Captain Reevs. We are sorry that we delayed coming, but I was injured in a gunfight, and I needed some time to recover. We both have news concerning those that helped in the prison break.”

“We’re from Wimanus,” the merchant added, bowing low repeatedly like a bobbing bird. His face was flushed as if he did not feel worthy to be in the presence of either General Winstrong or Governor Shillig.

The captain nudged the merchant to continue talking. “My apologies. I am still not fully recovered. If you would please hear this merchant out, he can tell you who is responsible for your troubles. I was only a witness to their escape at Wimanus. I tried to stop them, but the one in question was armed with a pistol, and he shot me before I could do anything.”

He then nodded to the merchant to finish what they came to say.

Turning to him, both the governor and the general waited for the merchant to speak. Luckily, the merchant was bursting to tell his story, and to gain their favor.

“I was in Wimanus at the inn when I noticed a party of men that had come from Kolden: an aristocrat, two bodyguards, and a porter. I didn’t think much of it at the time, though the Kolden man wasn’t anybody I recognized.” He then took a breath for relief, nodding to himself. “I do a lot of business in Kolden so I know most of the men there. This human was taller than a typical Kolden man. Bearded on his chin with a scanty mustache. Not a fop, though. He had more of an airy look to him. Anyway, he paused in the lounge where I attempted to engage him in a conversation to find more about him, but one of his bodyguards led him from the lounge off to one of the private rooms where I assume they were waiting company for business.

“I still didn’t think much of it, even when the same bodyguard came back out, waiting for their guests. And their guests arrived much later—two women: one quite succulent, the other much older. They didn’t appear like they were there for business of buying and selling. In fact, they reminded me of Sundri people. I had done business there before their revolt. The older woman seemed familiar to me, in fact.” The merchant then sighed. “The point is, my curiosity got up and I went to listen in at their door. I didn’t hear much before their porter, a bearded man much stronger than some ordinary servant, attacked me. The point is, what I heard was that they were intending to come here to Calcumum, and one of those women was a wizard.”

Gailert nodded slowly. “Did you get a good look at all their faces?”

“Did you hear any names?” the governor asked. “Locations where they would meet?”

The merchant sighed, nodding to the general. “I only remember a bit about each one. Both of the bodyguards had shaved heads. One was taller than the other—the one that shot the captain. He also fought with the sword in an unusual way, like he was dancing. The other was more forceful. Both of them were perhaps in their early twenties. Their master seemed close kin to the tall one. I did hear tall guard’s name. They called him Key.”

Gailert drew in a breath. He stepped closer. “Did you say Key?”

Both the merchant and the captain nodded.

The captain said, “Yes. I heard it too. They called the tall one Key. And I believe his master’s name was Tiler.”

“Yes,” the merchant agreed. “They had a brief argument because their master did not want to leave him behind.”

“Tiler and Key,” the governor murmured. He then looked to the general. “Weren’t you looking for a man named Key years ago?”

Nodding slowly, Gailert mused over what they had just said. “I was. We even thought his people had turned against him, and had him killed, though I never quite believed that man was the real Key.”

He lifted his eyes to the merchant, tilting his head to examine how observant this merchant was. “If I were to produce a picture of this man, could you identify him?”

The merchant gave a hard nod. “Of course. His face is burned into my memory.”

Smiling with a thought, Gailert nodded to himself once more. “This is very useful. Thank you.”

*

“Thank you, from the bottom of my heart.” Olev Taller said over and over again, hugging his child to his leg as his boy clung tight to his father. Both were sobbing in joy.

Key bowed. His ears had turned red from embarrassment, though they may have also been sunburned. They had walked through lake country, actually stopping to visit the ferrymen along the way rather than deferring it. Despite saying he didn’t care what others thought, in reality Key’s mind went over and over what he should have done and what he had put off because he had accepted the charge to free the boy. The trouble in Wimanus would have to be dealt with without him anyway. Too many people had seen his face last time. But his dealings with the lake people had really could not have been put off.

“Don’t mention it—and I mean that,” Key said, finishing one more bow. He looked the patriarch of Wendora in the eye. “I can’t go and personally rescue every slave that is sold in Westhaven. You are the one exception I’ll make, and please keep it that way.”

“That’s right,” Loid added, tugging on Key’s arm to move them on to where they had to go next. “We need Key off the front lines as much as possible. He’s already a wanted man.”

The patriarch of Wendora beamed, bowing again. “Of course. But thank you once more.”

It was embarrassing. Key didn’t know how to react with that man bowing and his son weeping. Somewhere in the back of his mind he knew that he had wished the same for himself and his father, but his father was dead along with his mother and grandfather. A part of this reunion stabbed at him. And perhaps Loid had noticed it, gently steering Key away with Tiler to where General Dalis Holbruk was training their soldiers. They did it before Key would break down and cry himself.

When he saw Key, Dalis laughed loudly and opened his arms for an embrace. He left his soldiers. The large man grabbed Key and slapped him hard on his back. “Ha! I heard something about you on the wire!”

Key groaned, extracting himself from Dalis’s grip as his friends stood back and snickered. “I hope not. I’m tired. Where can we sit so we can rest?”

Waving the trio of young men to some far split log benches with his usual wide grin, Dalis walked with them. He could read so much in Key’s weighed steps. “Traveling all day?”

“All week,” Key muttered, sitting down. He pulled off his boots almost immediately, rubbing his sore ankles.

“So, you would be happy to hear the good news before the bad?” Dalis said with a nod, glancing to Tiler who had taken off his pack and dumped it to the side. Tiler reached back to rub his own shoulders and neck. Loid also undid his pack and belt.

Key lifted his eyes and frowned. “There’s bad news?”

“Don’t you want to hear the good news?” Dalis asked, tilting his head.

“Later,” Key said. “Save it to cheer me up.”

Nodding, Dalis drew in a breath. “Ok. The bad news is, I have heard about you on the wire. It appears someone has identified Key and Tiler in Wimanus—though they describe Tiler to be Loid. I suppose they just heard a name drop and pegged it on the important looking one.”

Tiler shot Dalis a glare.

But Loid shrugged, knowing he did play the part of an aristocrat at the time.

“So they have descriptions of us?” Key asked, his frown deepening.

Dalis gave another nod. “Yes. You are a bald, tall, fierce man.”

Key blinked. “That’s it?”

“They’re planning on issuing a poster within the week,” Dalis added.

Rolling his eyes, Key wondered what the bounty on his head would be this time. Perhaps now they would offer gold instead of silver.

“What’s the good news?” Loid asked.

Grinning, Dalis also lifted his chest. “The good news is that the gunsmith spies have returned and set up shop for us. We arranged a fake raid on the place where they worked and then burned it down. We got rid of several blue-eyes in the process. The other good news is that our men can make every kind of gun for us now.”

“No more stealing them,” Key murmured with relief. He pulled his boot back on then rose to his feet. “That isn’t just good news. That’s great news. Any word about those for the auto factories?”

Dalis shook his head. “Sorry, no. From what I gather, all the workers have picked up is how to assemble the automobiles and drive them. They don’t quite know yet how to make the actual pieces. The good thing is, we have learned how to destroy them. Inside every automobile is a container that holds a flammable liquid called petrol. If we ignite that container in each vehicle we can destroy their automobiles.”

“And trains?” Key asked.

Grinning, Dalis nodded. “In that, some progress has been made. Ten of our men are with the builders. About twenty are spread out among different rail houses learning to run them. In actuality, repair of trains is more troublesome than anything. The rest, I am told, is quite simple.”

“So then everything is progressing as it should.” Key nodded to himself. He glanced to his friends. “Then why should I care if my face is on another poster? It probably looks all wrong again anyway.”

Tiler and Loid shared a look, clearly hoping that was true.

*

“No. That is nothing like him,” the merchant said, waving away at the poster. “Key was bald. Clean shaven head. His eyebrows were black and his face was longer here. His jaw was stronger there and his chin somewhat more defined there. And the look in his eyes was like death.”

Gailert sat back. Of course. That explained why they had not found him that last time. This time would be different. They had a sketch artist draw up the face of the Kolden aristocrat as the merchant remembered him. They also did the face of the porter. But when they had finished, they did not look like they were true natives to Kolden at all. It was obvious to Gailert now that Key was traveling with mercenaries. The raiders of Herra had obviously expanded to the east.

“Alright,” Gailert said, nodding to both the merchant and the sketch artist. “Describe this Key in detail to my man and we’ll send out posters, calling for his retrieval.”

The merchant turned to do just that as the general walked out of the room. Gailert’s mind went over and over the last challenge that Cordril had made at him. Key wanted to kill him to avenge the death of his father, and yet Key had yet to come to Roan to try it. Key had obviously been in contact with that Cordril, but the man was traveling through other cities with wizards and warriors. Whoever he was, he was a man who did not do things in haste but carefully planned. It was clear the discovery of Key in Wimanus was singularly rare, and their hasty retreat from that town was a contingency the rebels planned for. Key was not a man who usually allowed himself to be seen. And the day when he would face Key, the general was sure that he would die, for only then their meeting would be premeditated and so would be Key’s attack.