Strength of Fate - 13. Chapter Thirteen

With the sun in their eyes, the trio rode through Etton Crossing’s open portcullis. Nathan marvelled at the city walls of neatly chiselled stone, four metres thick. With well-worn cobbles underfoot, they threaded their way through dense foot traffic—citizens making their way in and out of the city. Beyond the entrance, an open plaza funnelled people toward a web of arterial streets leading deeper into the city.

“Do you know which way it is to the university?” Nathan asked Cormac.

“Yes, ’tis amongst trees. Easy to spot if we head in that direction,” he said, pointing southeast.

Cormac took the lead. Meanwhile, Nathan did his best to mentally map their location and make note of memorable landmarks. The first district they rode through was a marketplace. Sellers hawked their wares from stalls lining the street, followed by proper shops trading in higher quality goods. The farther they travelled, the more distinguished the storefronts appeared. Ahead stood another plaza, exhibiting busts of various people at its centre. Bronze plaques heralded each statue, but they didn’t pass close enough to read them. Perhaps they were commemorative in nature, or memorials. Nearby, a signpost pointed them toward the university.

“Hold up,” Brohm said. “Reckon we find a place to stay first.”

Cormac nodded in agreement. “Yes. We don’t want to be burdened by all our belongings.”

Brohm pointed at a building with a smirk on his face. “How about there? It looks pretty fancy.”

Nathan followed his finger to find an extravagant hotel at the far end of the plaza. Clad with a sleek marble façade and standing five storeys tall, each suite had its own private terrace. Nathan scoffed at the exorbitance of it all, imagining the suites must be equally ostentatious. Given his circumstances, this would be his only chance in his short life to experience how the privileged demanded this level of comfort.

“Very fancy,” he said with a wide grin. “Let’s do it.”

“Oh, no no no,” Cormac pleaded. “’Tis too much.”

“Don’t worry,” Nathan said. “We can afford it.”

Cormac raised his hands. “No, I thank you for the offer, but I cannot stay in such a place. I’ll find my own accommodations.” He turned his horse back the way they came.

“Wait! You don’t have any money,” Nathan called out.

“’Tis not a problem,” Cormac said over his shoulder with a smile. “I’ve lived many years without coin. I know this city. There are many places for those such as myself.”

“Suit yourself,” Brohm said with a shrug.

They approached the hotel’s covered colonnade, whose pillars were marble as well. As they dismounted, three porters hurried to their side.

“Good morning, sirs,” the lead man said. “We would be pleased to accept your baggage. Your horses will be well-tended to, of course.”

After the rude treatment they’d received at Remich, Nathan was taken aback by their aggressive politeness. He didn’t like the idea of their belongings out of sight in others’ hands, but he fought against it. This was how the other side lived.

“Thank you,” Nathan replied. “There’s just one bag I’ll take with me.” He unbuckled one of the saddlebags containing their wealth. Whether these porters were trustworthy or not, he wasn’t going to risk it.

“Of course, of course,” the porter said, bowing his head. “Please make your way in. Your effects will be delivered to your rooms.”

Brohm caught his eye, and judging by his expression, was enjoying the experience so far. They climbed the marble steps to the entrance and were ushered in by the doorman. A plush, crimson runner led them through an ever-widening corridor toward the front desk clerk. The man, immaculately dressed, looked on expectantly as they approached.

“Greetings, and welcome to the Amberley Hotel. Do you have a reservation?”

“No, we don’t,” Nathan said. “In fact, we don’t know how long we’ll be staying. It could be a while. We’ll just need one suite.”

“That’s no trouble at all, sir. We have guests who stay for months at a time.” The clerk presented a large registration book, an inkwell, and a pen. “Sign in, please.”

Nathan picked up the pen and hesitated a moment. He was exhausted pretending to be someone else. They were so far away from all the trouble of their past. He decided to risk it and sign his true name. He passed the pen to Brohm, who glanced at him wearily upon seeing the signature. Pen to paper, Brohm held still a moment before signing his real name below Nathan’s.

With a thank you, the clerk pulled the book away and stated the daily fee. Nathan nearly choked, but managed to force a smile. To give the appearance money was no object, he paid in advance for seven days. If the clerk had any hidden reservations about the two grubby men standing before him, he had no qualms now with their coin in hand.

“Do you have a place to take a bath?” Brohm asked.

“Of course, sir. Each suite has its own bathroom. Hot water can be pumped on request.” One eyebrow shot up. “Would you like that now?”

Brohm let out a laugh. “Definitely.”

“What about laundry service?” Nathan asked.

“Yes. Any articles of clothing you would like laundered and pressed can be brought to the area to my right. Any other questions?”

They glanced at each other and then shook their heads. In a firm manner, the clerk raised a minuscule bell from the desk and daintily rang it. A servant appeared out of nowhere, and the clerk handed him a key.

“Please take our guests to suite 305.”

“Yes,” the servant said before addressing Nathan and Brohm. “This way, sirs.”

They were led beyond the front desk to an open and curved marble staircase. Upon reaching the landing of the third level, the marble floor gave way to lush carpet. Nathan glanced back in hopes they weren’t tracking in mud from their boots. With a flourish, the servant unlocked and opened the oaken door, and commenced a well-rehearsed speech describing the amenities of their suite, but Nathan was too awestruck to hear him.

The darkly primed wooden floors were covered by a series of carpets, intricately woven with subtly coloured designs. The walls, where not decorated by paintings, were adorned with deep burgundy fabrics—a faint reminder of their own bedroom back at the guildhouse. The four-poster bed was so large, it was more like a raised platform lined with endless pillows. The aforementioned bathroom, intricately tiled, contained a deep copper tub at its centre.

To Nathan, this was extravagance bordering on overindulgence.

“Any questions, sirs?” the servant asked, holding out the key to them.

Brohm glanced at Nathan, who was still glancing around in a daze.

“Nope, all good. Thanks,” he replied, digging into his pocket and handing the man a coin.

The servant left as swiftly as he came, leaving the two of them alone.

Nathan couldn’t help but chuckle. “This is crazy. I guess the price makes sense.”

Brohm waved away his concern. “Who cares about that? It’s ours to spend. Let’s enjoy it, yuh?”

Nathan proceeded to remove his boots in fear of ruining the carpets, and motioned for Brohm to do the same. Another knock at the door announced two porters with their belongings. They were quick to place their rucksacks and saddlebags on a table near the door, and once given their tip, disappeared just as briskly.

Nathan explored deeper into the suite, approaching the double glass doorway leading to the terrace outside. From their vantage point, they had an excellent view of the tree-lined plaza. The hum of the city from this height was peculiarly comforting.

Brohm came up behind him, loosely wrapping his arms around Nathan’s waist. “I could get used to this,” he mused.

“Let’s stay here. I mean, not here—we’re not that rich. But we could get an apartment in the city. We could be us again. Nathan and Brohm, not Whitter and Sid. I’m so tired of those names.”

Brohm laid his head on Nathan’s shoulder. “Yuh, I noticed that when you signed. But we can’t stay. We’ve got the guildhouse to run.”

Nathan turned to him. “We got it started, and it practically runs itself now. Do they really need us?”

“Dunno, but I don’t wanna abandon them. ’Sides, what would we do here? We’d get bored after a while, yuh?”

Nathan knew he was right. “A long vacation, then?”

“Yuh, that could work—”

Another knock at the door interrupted him, and he lumbered toward the door with Nathan in tow.

A short woman nodded in greeting. “Your bathwater is ready, sir.”

Brohm glanced up and down the empty hallway in confusion. No one was carrying any water. The woman smiled at his reaction.

“This must be your first visit here. May I enter?”

Brohm nodded, moving aside to let her in, and she led them into the bathroom.

“Hot water is pumped directly to each suite as needed,” she said while pulling a copper pipe down from above the tub and turned a valve. Steaming hot water gushed out.

Brohm watched with giant eyes. “Magick.”

A polite laugh escaped her lips. “Nothing of the sort. Just a steam-powered pumping system. When the tub is full, just close this spigot. You’ll find clean towels and soaps in that cabinet. When you’re done, there’s a drain in the floor. Enjoy.”

She left the two of them to watch the water cascade into the rapidly filling tub. Brohm turned to Nathan wearing a particularly serious face.

“Strip. Now!”

Nathan burst to laughter and undressed. Brohm practically ripped off his own clothes. With moans of pleasure, they settled into the tub. Water still showered from above, and Brohm manoeuvred to sit underneath the stream.

“Reckon I could get used to this,” he said as water cascaded down his smiling face.

◆ ◆ ◆

They finished their soak—ending in moans of a different sort—followed by a leisurely lunch and a nap. By midafternoon, they’d managed to get back on track with their initial plan. The clothing they’d changed into was cleaner, but not what Nathan would consider presentable. Nothing could be done about it, however, as their remaining clothes had already been delivered to the laundry.

In short order, they rode their horses south along a wide avenue lined with posh residences. Ahead, a cluster of massive trees forced the street to break off in two directions.

“That must be it,” Nathan said.

The trees were unlike any he’d seen before. Their large and partially translucent fronds filtered the sunlight, bathing the university’s grassy grounds in a gentle glow. Stone benches beckoned passersby to stop and enjoy the ambience. Students sat and read, and others chatted privately in small groups. A gravel path cut through the middle of the park, leading to the university’s circular, multilevel building, supported by fluted columns.

They found stables around the far side of the building, but were at a loss where to find this scholar within such a large site. They returned to the front entrance on foot. Filtered sunlight passed through the massive windows, illuminating the expansive and open vestibule. At the far end were matching windows, revealing the university’s true shape—not a complete circle, but a ring, with another inviting park at its centre.

While they glanced around like lost children, Brohm pointed at what appeared to be an administrative wing. A woman sitting behind a desk watched passively as they approached.

“Can I help you?”

“I hope so,” Nathan said. “We’re looking for a scholar named Rabiah Charters. We’re not sure she’s here, though.”

An astonished expression crossed her face. “Yes, Miss Charters is here, but unless you have an appointment, you’ve a mountain to climb if you expect an audience with her.”

“Umm . . . could you be more specific?”

“She doesn’t receive visitors.”

“Well, if that’s the case”—Nathan pulled Lorne’s sealed note from within his jerkin—“I’m hoping this message will change her mind.”

“Very well. I’ll make sure it’s included with her messages.”

She held out her hand, but Nathan kept it out of reach.

“No, you don’t understand,” he said. “We need to deliver it to her personally.”

The woman shook her head and gestured with insistence to hand it over. Brohm nudged him aside and loomed over the woman.

“Just tell us where she is.”

She shied away from Brohm’s glare. “I trust Miss Charters isn’t in any trouble?”

Nathan surreptitiously touched the small of Brohm’s back, manoeuvring him to give some ground. “No. We’re in need of her help and expertise.”

The woman spent a dour moment judging them before finally rising from her chair.

“Follow me, then. She’s in H wing, but it will be easier for me to show you exactly where.”

She led them to a wide concourse, its passage following the gentle curve of the university. At regular intervals, doorways led into a deeper maze of corridors. Above each doorway were letters carved into stone tablets, denoting each wing.

“H is tucked away,” she said, “meant for permanent residents and scholars who receive funding from the university. Miss Charters studies the workings of magick. From what I’ve heard, she’s quite good at getting results. I suppose that can excuse her eccentricities, but if you ask me, good manners should never be above anyone.” That last statement was aimed at Brohm, but her point was lost on him. He was busy gazing at the architecture.

They passed through the threshold marked with an H. The stone hallway, narrower and darker, led to a series of entryways. Most of the wooden doors were closed, each denoted by a nameplate. The few open doors they passed exposed gloomy rooms, desks covered with tomes and parchments. Behind each desk sat a person deep in concentration.

“Here we are,” she announced with a small flourish of the hand. “Best of luck to you.”

Without another word, she turned and left them. The door was closed, its nameplate declaring Rabiah Charters. Nathan knocked, its echo travelling down the hallway.

There was no answer, nor any interior sound, but considering the wooden door’s sturdy nature, Nathan wasn’t sure he’d be able to hear movement from within. He knocked again with a touch more force.

Nothing.

“Miss Charters?” Nathan called out.

An aggravated growl replied from the other side, followed by the scrape of wooden legs on stone.

“Who is it?” demanded a woman’s voice.

“My name is Nathan, along with my partner, Brohm. We’ve travelled from the west in search of your knowledge and help. Could we speak to you?”

The answer was immediate. “No. Now leave me be!”

Nathan laughed in disbelief at her anger. Brohm traded places to try his version of diplomacy.

“We’re not going anywhere, lady. You know a guy named Lorne? He’s told us about you.”

“Lorne?” Her reply was skeptical.

“Yuh. Now open the door.”

A scowling man emerged from the hallway. “Some of us are trying to work. Keep it down or I’ll call the guard to remove you,” he said before returning to his office and slamming the door.

Nathan knocked again on Rabiah’s door. “Please let us in so we can explain things. We have a message Lorne wrote to you.”

“Signatures can be forged,” she said.

Nathan pulled the letter free again, touching the seagull wax seal. “This one isn’t,” he replied with certainty.

A heavy latch slid free on the other side, and the door opened a crack. The room was dim like the others. A face, hugged by shoulder-length hair, peeked out from the darkness. Rabiah was younger and more handsome than Nathan envisioned.

“Well, you’re a big drink of water,” she stated, looking Brohm up and down suggestively.

A confused grunt was all he offered in reply.

“Big and dumb? Okay, we’ll have some fun later.” She turned her attention to Nathan. “Let’s see this letter.”

He handed it to her. Upon seeing the seal, Rabiah’s expression changed. The door she’d been holding was forgotten, and it slowly swung open. In contrast to the other offices, this room was orderly despite being stacked with books and artifacts. Candles and strangely coloured glowing baubles fought against the dark.

“Where’d you get this seal?” she demanded, pointing at the letter.

Nathan shrugged. “I told you. Lorne wrote the letter.”

Rabiah gave them a suspicious glance while breaking the seal. She read the letter, stared at them with widening eyes, then read it again.

“We’ve travelled a long way. Please tell me you can help us,” Nathan said.

With surprising strength, she grabbed the two of them and pulled them in. The door slammed shut, and she bolted the lock into place.

“Reckon that’s a ‘yuh’,” Brohm said, straightening his shirt.

“Damn right,” she said. “What this says is true? You’ve got”—she whispered conspiringly—“you’ve got a daemon here? In our realm?”

Nathan gave a sober nod.

“Gods!” she exclaimed as she held the letter over a candle, waiting for it to catch fire. “Who knows of this?”

“A few people,” Nathan said.

Rabiah dropped the letter in a nearby bowl filled with ashes. “And you trust them?”

Nathan licked his lips. “Trust is a decisive word. If you mean, do I trust them enough to keep the knowledge to themselves? Yes, I do.”

Rabiah pursed her lips. “I suppose that’ll have to do.”

“Can we trust you?” Brohm asked pointedly.

“Yes,” she replied, cocking her head as though it were obvious. “So, when can I see it?”

“See? What?” Nathan asked.

“The daemon,” she whispered.

“We don’t have time for social calls. It needs to be sent back to the hells where it belongs. These small creatures have been appearing out of nowhere—”

“Iratxos?” she asked excitedly.

“Yes,” Nathan drawled. “How do you know of them?”

“You could say I have . . .” Rabiah pondered a moment. “I have a fascination with the many worlds beyond our veil. I’ve studied many historical accounts of daemons and other creatures that exist on other planes of existence.”

“Okay. So I assume you’re aware as long as this daemon remains here, iratxos will continue to invade our land? They’ve already hurt a lot of people.”

Her excitement shifted to suspicion. “Really? I wasn’t aware of that. But yes, I’ve read accounts of those beasts. Animalistic in nature, and they hunt in packs. Quite dangerous.”

Nathan found himself scratching at his arm again and forced himself to stop.

“So where are you holding this daemon?” Rabiah asked with renewed enthusiasm.

“We’re not holding it anywhere,” Nathan said. “It’s free to do what it wants, but instead decided to follow me.”

A veneer of jealousy washed over her face. “Why you?”

“It’s a long story, and not important.”

“I beg to differ,” she said with a scoff.

“All that matters is it told us of the iratxos and the reason they’re here. It asked for our help. Brohm and I are part of the Adventurer’s Guild, but we’ve taken it upon ourselves to get this daemon home. In doing so, we’ll save a lot of lives.”

Rabiah nodded, but seemed unconvinced. “As much as it pains me to agree to such a thing, I’m willing to help.”

“Pains you? Why?” Brohm asked.

She blinked at him, laughing. “You’re saying a daemon is following you around like a pet—a daemon of untold power—and instead of using that to your advantage, you want to take its hand and send it home?”

“People are getting killed because of it,” Brohm said.

Rabiah tsked and waved a hand. “Just peasants, I’m sure. They fuck like rabbits. They grow back.”

“That doesn’t make them any less—”

“Anyway, I agreed to help. But before anything happens, I demand to meet this daemon.”

Brohm huffed and deferred to Nathan.

“Fine, but we’ll need to meet outside the city at night,” Nathan said. “That’s when it comes out of hiding. I think the bluffs to the north would be our safest bet.”

“Reckon we need passes to get through the gate at night, yuh?” Brohm said.

Nathan cursed under his breath. “What’s involved in getting those passes?” he asked Rabiah.

She raised an eyebrow and offered a shrewd smile. “You’re in luck.”

From a small drawer at her desk, she pulled out two small bronze tokens and handed one to each of them. Rectangular in shape, they were stamped with an encircled cross. Below were the words: Etton Crossing Gate Pass.

Nathan hefted it in his hand. “Why do you have these? Is this even legal?”

Rabiah shrugged noncommittally. “I think you’ll find it’s best not to ask.”