Paniha's Taniwha: The Artifact Hunters 3.5 by A.W. Exley

Author:A.W. Exley [Exley, A.W.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: A. W. Exley
Published: 2016-12-20T06:00:00+00:00

12

Loki collected the empty beer bottles and placed them in a wooden crate. Their stores needed replenishing due to his nightly ritual of a quiet drink and an introspective conversation with Miguel. The youth was the breathing embodiment of Loki’s long-silent conscience. For the first time in his life, he had the luxury of quiet moments to examine his past, present, and future—although what he stirred up made him wish for the non-stop noise of his usual routine. Exploring the depths of his mind was like splashing around in puddles: He got wet but it didn’t seem to achieve anything.

The ache in his chest remained. Nothing seemed to shift it; if anything, it grew and gnawed at more of his torso. Seeing happy couples made him grumpy and when he thought about the impending celebration of Hone and Paniha's marriage, the ache became a sharp stab.

Blasted country is going to be the death of me. The sooner he loaded up the Jenny Elle and returned to England the better. Loki shook his head and picked up the crate of empties. New Zealand would either give him a fatal heart attack or drive him insane with all the time he spent rattling around inside his head.

He walked across the field, calling out greetings to the traders and other townsfolk going about their business. It would take time to set up their outpost, for word to spread and establish the network they needed. Over the coming months, he and Nate intended to grow Matanui into a bustling trading town for goods imported from England and the rest of the world.

James Taylor had ridden to Christchurch to see what connections he could make in the larger settlement. Men from the southern goldfields headed to Christchurch to hand over their nuggets, seeking a better price. Taylor was going to try and encourage them to head a little further north with their precious cargo. At the same time he was going to canvas the shopkeepers and find out what they desperately needed from back home. Christchurch had been established as a little England, and the residents wanted whatever was fashionable in London, despite being thousands of miles away.

Loki strolled the main street and hopped up the steps into the quiet tavern. The regulars played cards in a secluded corner and nodded their heads in his direction. Joining their game would have to wait until later. He had a few things to achieve before he relaxed today—like doing his own spot of digging about the murdered men.

He swung the crate on the bar. “Refills, please.”

“Good to see you enjoying the local brew.” The manager removed the empty bottles and placed them under the counter.

“It packs a punch. I shall miss it when we leave.” Loki made a note to secure a crate or two for his own enjoyment on the return trip.

“When do you head back to England?” Voices were a soft murmur in the tavern, which seemed unusually quiet. A lone chair sat in the middle of the stage as though a performer had abandoned it mid-routine.

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