Stoneweaver

Stoneweaver - Chapter 2

Cursing himself, Welden maintained an even pace. He could lose the guard in the crowds, but if the man had recognised him... Well, too late to do anything about. He had to be out, and it had been a reasonable gamble that nobody in Melmyrn would recognise him after all this time. Other than those he wanted to.

It took another block for him to determine he had a tail without being obvious about it. The man hadn't tried to stop him though, so maybe he wasn't sure. Either way he'd have to assume word would get back to Thortus that he'd returned.

It took another couple of blocks until he watched the man scurrying to find his lost prey. Welden remained in place, scanning the street for a few moments, until he'd assured himself he had no other tails. It'd still be safer to take a roundabout route to his original destination.

The streets were busier than he remembered them, likely refugees from the number of smaller settlements which had been drying up with greater frequency, and from the tension in the air it must be nearing the time for one of the Cleansings. The city could only support so many, and their supplies ebbed and swelled, so every so often, when the city got too full, or supplies got too low, the less useful members of society got rounded up, and sold into slavery, traded with Lord Narvon for supplies only he could provide. It was no secret he used them for mining, a highly dangerous activity with so much work done far below sea level, as Welden well knew.

The suspicious glances and fearful scurrying told him everyone expected such a Cleansing any moment. Whether that would interfere with his plans, or work to their advantage, he couldn't tell, but he'd obviously have to incorporate the possibility.

A circuitous route assured him no one else was following, and another couple of blocks brought him to what had been, a long time ago, the university district. The library still stood, barely, but the surrounding buildings had become residential, with a few shops smattered among them. It looked little changed from his memories. Just older.

It wasn't the only one, he thought as his hand brushed his stubble. Its dark blonde held a few less streaks of white than his hair, but they were probably equal in proportion. Of average build, his brilliant blue eyes had faded some over the years, but still proved more notable than he'd have liked. He currently wore the dull browns favoured by the working class, easily ignored by most, but clean enough that he'd appear of the more useful type, and less vulnerable to Cleansing.

A tired groan accompanied the door opening, echoing a short distance before giving up. While an effort had been made to keep the place clean, it felt even more lifeless and abandoned than he remembered. Ascending, he passed a couple of vacant rooms with sporadically occupied shelves, and at least one room which held nothing.

The first signs of life reached him as he approached the work room in the far corner. A faint humming, of the kind Arteman had often done while at work.

Bent over a table, the old man was engrossed in his work, and Welden hesitated a moment, taking in the changes time had affected on his friend. His hair had been white since they'd met, but there was less of it on top of his head, and what remained seemed less controlled than it had been. He almost dreaded approaching, afraid of learning what time would have done to his wits. But he had a job to do.

Those eyes glanced up at his approach, startled but unconcerned, and took a moment before recognition crept into his gaze. "Welden?" His voice was cracked, weaker, but it at least sounded like the man he remembered still resided there.

"It's good to see you."

After a moment, Arteman rose with a sigh, walking around the table to embrace him. They stayed like that for a moment, before Arteman withdrew, meeting his gaze with a hopeful expression. "And Zienna?"

Welden couldn't help flinch at the name, looking away.

"I'm sorry," Arteman said.

Returning to his gaze, Welden nodded, but saw the sadness in those eyes give way to memory.

"Is it safe for you to be here? However you escaped the mines, if Thortus finds you, he may just throw you to the sharks."

Forcing a reassuring smile, Welden lay his hand on Arteman's shoulder, bonier than he remembered. "Don't worry about him." He glanced around the sparse room. "Or don't concern yourself more than you must. Things have worsened since I left."

Arteman gave a deep sigh. "Books began disappearing as people started seeing them as good fuel for fire. Thortus put a stop to that by hanging a few, but he's been taking what he wants for his own library."

"Someone taught the bastard to read!?"

"Or he 'recruited' someone to read them to him," Arteman said.

"Do you still have books on Terevuss?" Welden said.

Arteman regarded him for a long moment. "I believe there are one or two left. What exactly are you looking for?"

"One with a map of the city."

Another brief pause. "If I recall correctly, we should be passing over Terevuss' supposed site in a few days time."

"Four days," Welden confirmed.

"You do remember that no one has ever dived that far before. Even if some diving suits remain in the former archaeology buildings, which I doubt, none had the piping to reach down that far."

"Don't worry about that."

Silence returned, before Arteman shook his head sadly. "What's so important you'd risk going down there?"

"Revenge."