The Wererat's Tale III: The Collar of Perdition by Patrick S. Tomlinson

Author:Patrick S. Tomlinson [Tomlinson, Patrick S.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: New Babel Books
Published: 2013-03-12T00:00:00+00:00

C

hapter Seven: The Collar of Perdition

Joshua’s patience wore thin. He’d been sitting in King Hector’s audience chamber for several hours now. Granted, it was true that his arrival had been unannounced, but it was quickly approaching the time that any further delay could only be construed as an intentional slight against Central city’s crown prince, and by extension, Central City herself.

The servants were doing their best to keep him refreshed, but the local wine, if it could be called such, had a character only marginally less earthy than the swamps Nalir had been dredged from. What it lacked in refinement, however, it made up for in alcohol content, which had probably gone a long way towards keeping Joshua’s mood from boiling over in the afternoon heat.

Just as he was about to start a more formal protestation to the staff, the far doors of the chamber clicked and began to sweep open, sending the attendants scattering like rats in daylight. A tall, solidly-built man walked into the room with a measured, practiced stride. His clothing was simple and unadorned, yet finely-crafted, much as the rest of the city had been.

Joshua stood and bowed as court protocol demanded, yet the man waved it away and instead extended his hand. His shake was firm, yet controlled, revealing both great strength and restraint in the same moment.

“King DeScoran, I assume?”

“Please, Hector will suffice. Central City is one of my most important trade partners; we can afford a little informality here, beyond prying eyes.”

“As you wish, Hector.”

“So, what business brings Dolan’s son this far south? Looking to establish some routes and contacts of your own?”

“Not exactly. This isn’t an official state visit. And since we are beyond prying eyes, I would consider it a personal favor if my presence here was kept as quiet as possible.”

Hector nodded. “Done. So, if not business, what brings you here? Nalir isn’t exactly on the Grand Tour.”

“I’m looking for someone, a woman.”

“Ah, you’re here chasing love then.”

“Why must it be love? Perhaps I mean to kill her.”

Hector suppressed a snort. “So you followed her all the way down here, alone? Forgive me, but only love could induce that much hatred in a man.”

Joshua decided not to argue the point. “It’s… complicated.”

“I’ve yet to meet a woman who wasn’t. So, whom are you searching for?”

“A wererat assassin named Kellacun. I’ve followed her trail all the way down the Dawson to your city’s very gate. Now I need only to find her.”

Hector’s eyes narrowed. “To what end?”

“My own ends,” Joshua snapped back a little too briskly. Hector was not amused.

“You are in my city, young prince. Your own ends must first meet with my approval.”

“Of course, my lord. Forgive the impropriety. I did not come to bring her harm, but I do need to speak with her. If you could alert your guard to search for her, I can provide them with a detailed description.”

“I’m sure you could,” Hector sighed, “But it won’t be necessary. I know where your wayward wererat is.

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