Page 29 of Apple Boy

“How am I supposed to find my brother when there are just so many people in this city? I fear—“

“You fear what?”

“I fear I may never see Evan again.” Adam slumped against the shop façade and held his face in his hands. I had underestimated just how stressful Adam was finding our journey. I wasn’t quite sure what to do if he broke down in public. We were already attracting suspicious looks from passersby.

“Adam, look at me,” I instructed. He lowered his hands from his face.

“Do you trust me?”

“Aye, of course,” Adam said without hesitation, and my heart fluttered at the swiftness of his response.

“Then you have to believe me when I say; the lost do not remain lost forever. I know you love your brother very much.” I gentled. “It will take time to find him, but find him we will.”

“I’d like to believe ye, I would, but this is pure madness, Winter. I’ve been wondering what the hell I’m doin’ traveling here with just a bag o’coppers an’ silvers to me name. If not fer you I’d have given up an’ got straight on the next coach to Mallowick.” Adam admitted.

I was surprised by the depth of Adam’s doubt. He’d always appeared quite determined and self-assured to me. But in a way, the fact that he shared his vulnerability with me meant something that I dare not yet put a name to.

“Look. You won’t give up on Evan, so don’t give up on yourself either.” I said sagely. “We shall find him, but it will take time, Adam. This city is big, but we will not give up until we have an answer.” I gripped Adam’s hand and gave it a swift reassuring squeeze, for even that small intimacy was too much in public.

“Come, the sooner I’ve visited the depository, then we can locate my uncle's house and rest a while.” Adam nodded decisively, and we stepped back out into the stream of people.

With relief, I spied the silver mage-light in the cobbles once more, and we continued walking until we passed through a tall cut stone archway that brought us into the Learned and Law district, commonly known as The Dells.

The silver light zipped ahead of us like a hound running on to ensure the way was clear for its master. We passed the imposing high grey walls of the university, and then the authoritarian black stone architecture of the Law buildings where wigged, cloaked men and women scurried carrying scrolls, their red ribbons fluttering in the breeze. Looking up I saw the Great Council’s tower and nearly tripped over my feet again. It was two or three blocks away, and I could imagine what a spectacular sight the Star-fall had once been when housed atop it.

As we made our way through the city, I’d noticed cast iron grates embedded at long intervals among the cobbles. I’d seen them in the market square too. Initially, I thought that they were just for rainwater run-off, but each time the ethereal silvery mage-light met one, it made the grate pulse and glow with a white-hot heat. As I passed, strange sigils were plainly visible on the cast metalwork and just as quickly as they appeared, they faded. I had no notion of what the sigils meant.

The city was affecting me in the strangest of ways, and I was now positive that unless our skin touched while I held the Star-fall gemstone, Adam was unable to sense the magical changes the city that were visible all around me, and he could not see what I saw. At that moment I could have opened my hand and reached for him. I could have shown him the wondrous mage-light that we followed, but I would not use sorcery in public, and certainly not while the cobbles beneath my feet buzzed with ancient energy I did not understand and sent forth power to lead me, hopefully, to my required destination.

The breeze from the Wide Sea became cutting as it rushed through the city streets. The weather was closing in, and I did not want us to be caught in a downpour, especially when we had no shelter.

We turned onto a wide thoroughfare lined with grand, tall buildings and minutes later the mage-light terminated and we stood outside the ornately carved double doors for the Percheval & Wrenfrey Depository. I was rather delighted that we had made such easy work of finding the place. The building was constructed from sparkling silver-grey stone, cut, carved and adorned with gilded details to ensure that all who passed by knew that this was a building of great wealth.

Percheval & Wrenfrey was the depository used by the Lords of the Empire since the city was founded more than six-hundred years ago. My father told me that our riches were safer here in Serein than anywhere else on the whole continent.

I was a babe when Serein lost its magic, so I knew no better. But my father told me that when my family discovered the magic was gone they considered moving our treasure trove home to Skraedig. However, the logistics of bringing so much wealth across the land was fraught with danger, not only from bandits but from the hazardous terrain of the Silua Montis Mountains. Father decided we could not risk such an endeavor, and it seemed impertinent to remove our wealth after so many years of service from Percheval & Wrenfrey.

As far as I recalled from the stories told to me as a child, the vaults held powerful wards and any living creature who obtained items from the vaults of Percheval & Wrenfrey that did not rightfully belong to them would find their ill-gotten gains turn to dust in their hands and that dust would then eat into their flesh. There was no way to prevent death after that. It sounded like a horrible way to die, and I’d had nightmares about that horrific scenario when I was a youngling. Suffice to say; no one has dared test that the magic in the vaults was truly gone.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

THE DEPOSITORY

Gods. Why is it so bloomin’ cold in here?” Adam grumbled as we entered the depository building to be met by a fragile, cutting chill in the air. It was as if we’d stepped into an underground cavern. Mirroring Adam, I tugged my cloak in tighter for warmth. I had no answer to offer, but it was curious that the shards golden of sunlight darting through the domed glass ceiling above provided no warmth and did not reflect the oncoming rainstorm that we’d seen approaching outside. It confused me to have frigid sunlight upon my skin, and neither the clerks nor guards appeared to be affected by the chill. I concluded that there must be some kind of magical ward remaining in the stones of this building, as there was no other explanation for an alternative sky-scape and cold sunlight.

The floor of the central atrium of the depository reflected the legendary beauty and artistry of Serein that I’d barely scratched the surface of. It was an intricate blend of tessellated mosaic created in a bright array of colors. There were words mingled with birds, vines, and symbols but I had no idea what the symbolism portrayed and would have needed to study it closely to understand the meaning. The covered atrium accommodated a large semi-circular dark timber counter with six stations for coin clerks to serve patrons, and behind, porticoes appeared to lead to other areas of the extensive building. I looked up and took in the vast space above our heads. The cold sun shone brilliantly through a domed glass ceiling. I saw two colorful birds fly high up inside the dome and perch on a supporting strut. The peculiar sight made me smile.

Directly in front of us, an elderly desk clerk sat at his station, flanked by two guards. With no one else queuing at the desk and with Adam by my side, I stepped up.

“Good day, Sir. My name is Winter Aeling, Count of Skraedig. I am here to speak with Mr. Percheval and Mr. Wrenfrey as a matter of urgency.” I announced.

The clerk was in his latter years with thinning grey hair combed over his bald, yellowing, liver-spotted pate. He was willow-switch thin with spidery, long-fingered hands and his skin sagged around his bony jawline. He did not look in the best of health, his complexion sallow, nearly matching the faded grey tint of his hair. The nib of his dipping pen scritched and scratched across the printed line in his ledger, then he placed his carved bone nib pen on its rest and glanced up considering me over half-moon spectacles. From the discerning look he gave me he did not appear to like what he saw. I envisaged myself reflected in his eyes. It was not the most attractive sight, in fact, to my chagrin I imagine I appeared quite disreputable with my shabby clothes and Gods, I was appalled to realize I reeked from the days of traveling.

“And you are—?” His voice had a nasal rodent quality to it, and the beady, yellow-eyed glare told me I had no business here, but it did not prevent my increasingly insistent response. I had traveled so damn far to get here. I’d suffered betrayals, hardships, and humiliations I could not think of, let alone share. His attitude vexed me. The clerk had most definitely heard me introduce myself the first time and so the burn of irritation began its ascent to tighten my throat.

“I told you, sir.” I took a breath to compose myself. “I am Winter Aeling, Count of Skraedig, son of Brioc, Duke of Thorn,” I repeated, trying to constrain my anger. I always hated giving my full name and titles, it sounded so pompous and overblown, but my title is my calling card. In Thorn, the surname of Aeling made all leap to their feet and do anything they could to assist me, and there was no conceivable reason why it couldn’t do the same here in Serein. Folk in the city were more knowledgeable than those in the country. They knew that Thorn was a real province and not merely from tavern fairy stories. This man sitting sneering at me damn-well knew my family had a vault in this depository. Adam shifted uncomfortably from foot-to-foot by my side. He seemed unnerved to be in such a richly adorned establishment. The clerk pursed his thin lips.

“BOY, do you think you are funny?” He said dryly. My brows arched in alarm and the burn of disgust continued to form in my throat, but words would not come.