The Curse of Roc-Thalian by Scott Couturier

Author:Scott Couturier [Couturier, Scott]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Goodreads: 36443746
Published: 2017-10-06T23:00:00+00:00

20: The Night Comes Down

Kelrob woke with the tang of copper on his tongue. He rose, smacked his lips, stretched and cast about himself, looking for Jacobson. The water clock began to chime, suffusing the air with pulses of sweet, rosy sound; the mage saw Jacobson standing near the window, perpetual flask clutched in hand. The mage frowned and rose fully, his mind haunted by the eidolon of half-remembered dreams. He went to the window, stood beside Jacobson. The big man stirred, taking note of his presence.

“The witnesses are gathered,” he said gruffly, nodding to the carriage yard below. “A haggard group, but more than eager to tell their stories, I’d wager. The House-guards have been treating them well.”

Kelrob looked down into the yard, wincing in the wan gray light of early evening. He saw swarms of children drawing the reluctant guards into their games, laughed with soft delight as a band of locals armed with crude instruments struck up a jangling tune outside the great hall. Turning, he looked up to his friend.

“I admit, I’m surprised to see you up and about. How long have you been awake?”

Jacobson harrumphed, taking a swig of liquor. “Awake? Perhaps never, until this moment. Or perhaps this is the start of the dream.” He chuckled to himself, as if savoring some obscure joke. “After this affair is over, I want to get off the booze. Not completely, mind you, but I weary of alcohol’s pickling teat.” He looked down at the flask, shrugged and took another quick slug. “Of course, all of that can wait until we’ve set our resident undead fiend to rest. Did you, er, sleep well?”

There was an odd tone in Jacobson’s voice, a wounded aloofness that Kelrob was at a loss to explain. “Yes,” he said, hesitantly settling his hands on the windowpane. “I had strange dreams, but I feel rejuvenated. What about you?”

Jacobson smiled sardonically. “I had some strange dreams myself. But all is well, lad. I’ll see to that.”

Kelrob regarded the big man uneasily, caught his eye and smiled. “You’re hardly like yourself, Jake. Is something wrong?”

Jacobson blinked at him, mulled the question over with an indeterminate expression. “Jake,” he said at last, as if tasting a new, exotic dish. “A low-blood abbreviation, of course, but then that’s rightly fitting. Come up with it yourself?”

Kelrob frowned, shivering as the chamber’s chill penetrated through his thick woolen robes. “It came out unconsciously,” he said. “It does seem right, somehow.”

“I like it. A good solid nickname, and a due reprisal for my constant repetition of ‘lad.’” Jacobson laughed, took a final swig and sequestered the flask in his breast pocket. “I’m fine. Now come, pull yourself together. There’s much to be done.”

Kelrob nodded, surprised but pleased at the big man’s businesslike manner. “Is there...anything you want to tell me?” he asked, still sensing a wrongness in his friend.

Jacobson smiled and looked down, shuffling his booted feet against the carpeting. “‘Tis nothing, lad. Let’s just say I’ve experienced a sudden, unexpected schooling in the fundamental verities of the universe, and leave it at that.

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