The Deepcombers

Chapter Twenty Eight

Tokal's red sun had still not appeared beside the Banta when the lad arrived at Winterhouse. There were no streetlamps lit anymore and so it was extra dark in the cobbled lane out front and that made it difficult to find the door handles. Lon had to creep-in close and paw the wall to find the grip. The iron hinges groaned, and he slipped inside.

The cavernous interior wasn't entirely dark. He noticed some things inside were out-of-place. Two lanterns now lit the far end of the hall. One flame burned bright at the top of the stairs as usual, but now another sat on a table below. 

Lon approached until he saw movement behind the lamp and a dark figure leaned into the light. Melcart grinned and he felt all his anger flood back.

"Well look who finally awoke?" the dandy preened in his chair. He'd kept station here at the base of the stairs and in full view of the guard above. He wore the same puffy red shirt and black vest and seemed very proud of himself. "Beautiful night to sleep out under the stars." He waved his hand at the rafters.

"Give it back." Lon advanced on the rogue.

"Give what back?" Melcart sat up straight as he approached.  The Calbian sentry above swiveled to watch.

Lon took another step and the malcontent hopped onto his chair and then he stepped on top of the harvest table and sneered down, "say it out loud. Just what was it I took?"

"A map," Lon was not cowed by his height. He was just a few steps away and contemplated kicking the tabletop.

"What is it a map of Lon?" Melcart asked.

"I'll show you what..."

"Careful." Mel warned, "I can do it again. You'll spend all day here on the floor."

Lon froze in fear of that possibility. He did not want to lose another day.

"Why do you need this forbidden schematic?" Melcart asked, "are you're searching for Atar's coin hoard? If that's true, they'll put you right outside the gates."

Lon thought of the young rooster and how the cocky bird had been ejected from the pen. The juvenile had taken his shot and failed; he remembered how the proud creature had strutted away down the lane, far below his original perch. That augury applied and it was a cosmic warning to be patient and not play the entitled cockerel.

"What coin hoard?" Lon asked. He could let himself wonder about that instead of Clyde's map. Could there really be a treasure even greater than the wealth and splendor he'd already spotted in the giant's lodge? Yes. There very well could be. He thought back to the deepcomber broadsheets and the wagon loads of bullion some companies had recovered in Oub. But would he steal it? Never. But still, a coin horde was the kind of thing worth knowing about.

"Many have tried to find it." Mel continued, "Atar buried it here, and then brought the Calbians back as cover. Or so they say..." The rogue produced the parchment from inside the folds of his well-tailored vest. "To steal a map like this would suggest that is what you seek..."

"It isn't." Lon strolled to the table's edge and looked up at his oppressor, arm outstretched. "Now give it back."

Melcart frowned, unconvinced. He rolled-up the parchment and calmly retied the ribbon before placing it back in his vest pocket. "Not until you tell me what you're up to?"

Lon fumed and clenched his fists in frustration. Clyde needed the map back today. He needed to copy it right now. He could rock the table and send the bastard sprawling. But Mel had his bare hand free and ready to do his trick. One false move and he'd launch his not-thought glyph. Lon remembered the roosters. The smart play was to back away and pretend he didn't care.