A Time and a Place by Joe Mahoney

Author:Joe Mahoney
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Mahoney;Joe;1965;time and a place;Joe Mahoney;First edition
Publisher: Five Rivers Publishing
Published: 2017-04-21T17:34:05+00:00

XV

Ansalar

I battled my way to consciousness but immediately regretted it. My sore throat had not improved a whit and now I was terribly congested. I felt achy all over. My skin felt oddly sensitive to the touch. To top it off, there was a metallic taste in my mouth, as if I’d just eaten a bowl of copper shavings, and not particularly tasty ones. I took that to be a side effect from Rainer’s tranquillizer dart, a memory that brought a frown to my face as I wondered why in the name of all that was holy Rainer had seen fit to tranquillize me. I had done nothing to deserve such treatment. Of course, I had done nothing to deserve a sore throat or an ungrateful nephew or the death of my sister, either—evidently deserving didn’t enter into it.

Before prying my sleep-encrusted eyes open I had a strong suspicion that I was no longer at home. The bed was a dead giveaway, the mattress as hard as stone with at least two lumps digging mercilessly into my back. There are no uncomfortable beds in my house—I have slept in them all just to make sure.

Opening my eyes, I confirmed my suspicions. I was in an unfamiliar room featuring a décor heavy on nautical motifs. Objects like sextants and miniature sailing vessels populated limited shelf space. A raunchy painting of Nautilus cavorting with several well-endowed mermaids hung crookedly on one wall. A single porthole ringed in bronze adorned another.

“Hello, Mr. Wildebear.”

“Sebastian?” He was no longer on my wrist. Though no speakers were visible in the room his voice was right in front of me. I remembered giving him to the cab driver Jack Poirier.

“At your service,” he said.

I struggled to my feet and limped to the porthole. It was difficult to see anything beyond the dirty glass. “Am I in a boat?”

“It’s not a boat. You’re at Ansalar, home of Casa Terra.”

“Are we underwater? It looks like we might be underwater.”

“We are.”

“No kidding. How long did it take to get here?”

“I can’t tell you that.”

“Where is here exactly?”

“I can’t tell you that.”

“Oh come on, tell me something,” I insisted, though I wasn’t particularly optimistic, having been down this particular road with Sebastian once before.

“What would you like me to tell you?”

I thought about it. “If we’re under water, how deep are we?”

“I can’t tell you that.”

“I won’t tell anyone, promise.”

“Okay. We’re approximately two kilometres under water.”

“Really?”

“No, not really. I told you I can’t tell you that. Why do you persist on interrogating me?”

“I take it your security protocols are working. Is that why Rainer sedated me, so I wouldn’t know where Ansalar is?” Had the man not heard of blindfolds?

Sebastian said nothing.

“Where’s Doctor Humphrey? Is he here? Is he okay?”

“Doctor Humphrey’s fine. He’s in a room down the hall.”

“Good.”

I was annoyed but not particularly surprised to discover no sign of the book. My clothes were piled neatly beside the bed. I picked up my shirt and smelled it. It smelled fresh and lemony.

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