The Liar's Key

“A trail.” Snorri lowered his hand from shielding his eyes, the grim line of his mouth twitching toward something less sombre, just for a moment.

“And there’s only one place to go out here!” I started forward with renewed energy, wetting cracked and dry lips and wishing I’d managed to drink a little more of the Umber while struggling through it.

Something about the acoustics of the valley made it seem as if the hounds were on our heels at each moment, though by the time the trail had taken us to the far side there were still no signs of pursuit on the slopes down which we’d come.

“Not much of a trail.” Snorri grunted and pushed Hennan up the incline. “Shouldn’t we have met some traffic?”

“Umbertide imports most of its salt up the Umber River, you would have followed its banks to the city after you docked at Port Tresto.”

Kara turned around at that. “I heard the Crptipa Mine is one of the largest—”

“It’s huge—it just doesn’t produce any salt worth a damn,” I said. “It’s got Kelem in residence. Apparently he doesn’t like company, and since the place preserves him, he’s not likely to be going any time soon.”

We carried on another few paces before Snorri commented again. “But these tracks would be washed away in a few years if they weren’t used.”

“There’s a small operation, working around the entrance chambers.” I lifted my head and pointed. “There, look!” The rise revealed a scattering of shacks, storage sheds, stables and several carts, all clustered around a black and yawning hole in the base of a rock-face where the valley became suddenly steep.

We picked up the pace and jogged up the dusty road, burdened by exhaustion. Falling behind, I turned and saw, emerging from the dry gullies on the far side of the valley, the foremost of the hounds, tiny in the distance but fearsome even so.

I’d moved from last to first by the time we stumbled gasping into the clearing ringed by the buildings before the mine entrance. I stood there, hands on knees, hauling in a dry breath, my shirt sticking to my ribs. I heard rather than saw Snorri unlimber his axe behind me. A moment later the ringing of an alarm went up, someone spinning a stick against the inside of one of those iron bars bent into a triangle that they use to call men to sup.

“E-easy.” I straightened up, reaching out to lay a hand on the thickness of Snorri’s arm. He didn’t look up to a battle in any case, dark lines beneath his eyes, sweat on his face, still bent around the agony of the salt-edged slash in his side. Miners from the night shift began to stumble out of one of the dormitory huts, rubbing the sleep from their eyes, yawns cracking their jaws. A couple more awake than the rest took hold of long-handled hammers from a stack beside the door.

Kara stepped forward. “We just need to visit Kelem. There’s no need for trouble.”

The miners stared at her as if she were some strange creature unearthed from the salt. The men might be paler than typical Florentines, labouring all day deep in the salt caves, but Kara’s skin was like snow, preserved from the sun by one of the witch’s unguents.

The foreman among them found his wits at last, just as I was about to chivvy him along. It could only be a matter of minutes before the hounds caught up and barks turned into bites. “Can’t do that ma’am. Kelem’s got his own ways. No one goes down less he sends his servant for them.” He watched us with eyes narrowed against the brightness, a shrewd look on his gaunt face, tight-fleshed as though the salt had sucked all but the last drops of moisture from him.

“We could pay.” Kara glanced my way, over-tired and leaning on her spear.

“Ain’t enough in your pocket, ma’am, no matter how deep it is.” He shook his grizzled head. “Kelem’s rules aren’t to be broken. Play by them and he’s fair. Break them and you’ll think the Inquisition kind.”

“And you’re going to stop us?” Snorri frowned. I knew it would be reluctance to hurt them that worried him, not their numbers.

The miners stiffened at the challenge in his tone, straightening up, awake now, some taking up crowbars, the last few emerging from the long hut to bring their strength up to fifteen. Their numbers worried me plenty, and Snorri looked done in.

“Wait! Wait . . .” I raised a hand above my head and threw what princely authority I could into my voice. “By the rules you say?” I reached into my jacket and riffled through the papers still packed into the inner pockets, the deeds and titles of various acquisitions so minor I hadn’t had either time nor inclination to cash in when amassing the gold that Ta-Nam had taken from me. Of late they had served as nothing more than insulation from the night chill in the dungeons. I found the one I wanted and carefully unwadded it from the others. Thankfully it looked as though the ink hadn’t run too badly after my dip in the Umber. “Here!” I drew it forth with a flourish. “Notarized by House Gold.” I ran my finger along the scrolled title and wax seal. “I own thirteen twenty-fourth shares in Crptipa Mining Corporation. A grand name for this godforsaken collection of shacks and the trickle of salt you fellows manage to send to the city. So whilst . . .” I searched the document. “Antonio Garraro . . . is your paymaster and manages the running of this operation from his desk in the city, it’s actually me, Prince Jalan Kendeth, heir decimal to the throne of Red March and her protectorates, who owns the controlling interest in this hole in the ground.” I paused to let that sink in. “So, I’d like to take a tour of my holdings, and I can’t think that such an action would break any rules set by Kelem. Rules which, after all, allow my employees to do exactly that, seven days a week.”