Vellum and Green Vitriol
Copyright © 2007, S. Y. Affolee
The Third Conjuration
Seal XXX
The chilly morning air shocked whatever sleepiness that remained in my system out into the open. I took out a pair of wool gloves and pulled them on, glad that I had thought to wear my long dark green coat cut in a military style along with a matching hat that was a size too large for my head. That had been deliberate--the large hat covered my ears.
The dawn sun was just peeking past the horizon, the first rays bathing the front face of the Montport Inn and the empty fountain in front of it in a golden sheen. It also revealed the ruts in the gravel where the police car had skittered as it had responded to a call by the hotel clerk the previous night.
This morning, a battered black truck sat next to the fountain. The load at the back was covered with a brown tarp. The cab part of the truck was surprisingly large for its type, boasting two seats in front and two seats in the back. One of the seats in the back was piled with two suitcases--mine and Rhys'.
"Eh, miss, you needn't stand out here in the cold. The truck is warmer."
I turned my head to see the driver of the truck emerge from the entrance of the inn. Patrick MacDougal--or Paddy as he insisted everyone call him--was the splitting image of his brother Finn, except for his longer hair which he tied back in a queue and his thick beard. He wore a rough wool coat over a pair of obviously worn overalls splattered with paint--the very image of eccentric artist. Under his arm was a package wrapped in brown paper--the mail for the Newcomb post.
Behind him was Rhys in a black greatcoat and a felt hat. He also held a package--a white paper box. His expression, however, was inscrutable.
"I don't mind standing around," I replied. "I'll be sitting half the day anyway."
"Suit yourself," Paddy replied.
We boarded the truck--with me in the back since I was smaller, Paddy in the driver's seat, and Rhys in the front passenger seat. Once Paddy started the engine, Rhys handed me the package.
"Breakfast."
I opened the paper box and peered inside. "Scones and muffins! What would you like, Rhys?"
"A scone will be sufficient."
I picked out the largest one and handed it over. "How about you, Paddy?"
"No thank you, miss. I had breakfast already."
I chose a muffin myself and bit into it. The pastry was still warm. "How did you convince the cook to part with her food, Rhys?"
"My usual charm," he drawled.
"Ha!"
Paddy chuckled. "I was impressed to tell you the truth. No one has been able to charm the Montport Inn cook in the time that I've known her. Of course, I suppose a pretty face does help."
The truck rumbled down the slope from where the inn perched. Outside, the sun's rays began to sweep across the Bidracon Stones, rendering them into gray ghosts.
"Say, I heard from Thomasina that there was quite the commotion last night. Even the police came. Something about one of the guests breaking into the dining hall to do some vandalism? I don't suppose you two knew anything about it?"
"I had an early night," Rhys replied. "I slept through everything."
"Sorry, I don't know anything about it," I lied.
Once we were in Newcomb proper, Paddy stopped at the post master's office to drop off the inn's post. When he got out of the truck, Rhys turned in his seat to pin me with a gray look.
"Blackthorne's been tracking us."
I sat up in my seat and swallowed the last bit of muffin. "What? How?"
"I don't know. Maybe he has a spell to do it. But it seems as if our arrival at the inn was not entirely accidental. The head priestess of the Order of the Silver Moon is associated with Blackthorne in some way."
"How did you find that out?"
"When I was to meet you for dinner, I overheard her saying something to her followers. She mentioned Blackthorne as one of her patrons. So at that moment, I decided to insinuate myself into their group to see what they were planning."
"It would have been nice to tell me what you were doing first."
He shook his head. "I had no time. They were already heading out to a pub in downtown Newcomb. I got into their group rather easily. Too easily, I'm afraid."
"Didn't anyone tell you to be wary of beautiful women?"
"Does that mean I should be wary of you?"
I let out a breath. "Rhys, you do remember that I have a clothes iron, don't you?"
"You wouldn't dare hit me with it, Ana." His lips twitched, threatening a smile. "Anyways, I was not as careful as I should have been. To be honest, I was downright stupid. One of the priestesses slipped something into my drink and a moment later, I was mostly out of it. I could hear the things going around me though."
"I think you tried to contact me before. In my head."
"I did. I was desperate--I wasn't sure you would hear or pay attention."
The driver side door opened and Rhys turned back into his seat.
"The old man was really ornery this morning," Paddy announced as he started up his truck again.
"Old man?" Rhys asked.
"The post master," Paddy explained. He drove the truck down the main street, heading towards the train station. "He was having breakfast and I could tell he was annoyed that I was disturbing him. But he should already know this--I always deliver the inn's post every other week. Of course, I don't get it. He handles the mail every day. If I wasn't giving him the mail, he would have to drive all the way up to the inn himself to pick up the post."
Rhys shrugged. "Who knows what annoys people."
"Maybe he was having indigestion," I said.
Paddy laughed as he turned off onto another road, this one running parallel to the railroad track, heading north into the mountains. "If that's true, the old man is always having indigestion."
* * *
Around noon, we drove through the wall.
Not literally, of course. Someone before us had carved a tunnel through the rock to allow vehicles through to the other side. The wall itself was an oddity. It was perhaps around ten feet high and made of the local stone. It wound around the mountains like an intricate thread, stretching from coast to coast, east to west. It was an oddity because why would anyone build a wall when the mountains were already acting as a natural barrier?
"There are several theories about the wall," Paddy told us as he easily maneuvered his truck on the sharply curving mountain roads. Frost covered much of the area and I shuddered to think how difficult the pass would be to navigate in the dead of winter. "One is that the wall was built to keep out the northern barbarians in ancient times."
"I've heard of that theory," said Rhys neutrally.
Paddy gave him a narrowed eye glance before continuing. "The second theory is that it was built as an aqueduct to transport water from one place to another."
"You could easily check the top of the wall for a water channel to prove if that theory is true," I pointed out.
"Yes. But so far, no one has found one. On the parts that people have checked, the top has deteriorated so much that it is hard to tell. And then there is the third theory. Which is just a far-fetched fairy tale if you ask me."
"Well, what is it?" I asked.
"It was said that in ancient times, a mad king who used to rule in this area possessed a dangerous magic book. In order to impress his neighbors, he used a spell from the book to summon up strange frightening monsters to build the wall. Unfortunately, he forgot to add a sort of payment to the spell, so in the end, he was killed by the monsters for his debt. The magic book then disappeared. I would say good riddance, if indeed it was real."
I glanced at Rhys after Paddy's story. He didn't seem particularly affected, except for the faint green creeping into his eyes.
"That does sound like a fairy tale," I finally said. "How many people know about that theory?"
"Everyone, I suppose. But it's more like a story parents tell their children to scare them into behaving."
"Just like the bogeyman?"
"Exactly." The truck made another turn and the mountain scenery seemed to magically open up. "Ah, there it is Miss Talbot, Mr. Lattimore. There's Haven."
The mountains sloped downward into a delta plain that washed out into the dark northern sea. Sunlight glinted off the top of the city creating the illusion that it was a crescent-shaped gem at the coastline. From our vantage point heading into the city, Haven truly looked like a haven.
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