The Last Tragedy (Delvonian Tales Book 1) by Herb Mallette

Author:Herb Mallette [Mallette, Herb]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2013-12-22T23:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twelve: Things Bought and Bartered

Weston lay in the back of the moving sleigh, cold, uncomfortable and dour. It wasn’t just leaving Wellewestre without sufficient rest. Although his gaze kept returning to the warm glow of the town’s lights, now only a haze above the hills to the west, his more consuming anguish did not rest with the inn he had so blindly underappreciated.

No, more grievous still was the tantalizing nearness of Dahnur’s mandolin, and his equal certainty that it would be taken away from him as soon as they reached Thollol, if not before.

Jake might trust Algur; Weston did not. Furthermore, no amount of faith in the worth of Algur’s word mattered, ultimately. The man would defer to his captain when the time came. He had not so much as suggested otherwise. And Dahnur would not be swayed by reason the way Algur had.

Has Jake guessed that I’m desperate for that mandolin? he wondered. Why else would he say that the negotiations would be up to me once we reached the museum? Is he trying to punish me for suggesting we steal it in the first place? Of course, he can’t blame Noxie for the pilferage, even though she carried it out.

Thoughts and speculations stumbled about one another in Weston’s head as the sleigh moved onward. Would things have turned out differently if he’d told Jake and Noxie the truth about the mandolin — how its engravings matched the rough map sketched out in the front of his copy of Coeldoetta’s Sonnets? He had no idea. But what he was sure of was his need to keep hold of that instrument.

He had only one stop left before Thollol. If he could not come up with a plan, and implement it by the time they’d left Snowelton, then the mandolin would surely be back in Dahnur’s hands shortly thereafter.

One town. The last stop on the Western Road.

A town whose whole economy revolves around catering to those who seek fame and riches in the ruins, he thought. There must be a great variety of things to be found in Snowelton — traded away or hocked by men obsessed with getting to Thollol. I wonder if I might find anything to shift circumstances toward my favor?

* * *

Jake pondered his two companions on the driving bench. Curm watched the road diligently — though with an occasional suspicious glance thrown Jake’s way. Clearly, the man would have much preferred to simply wrest the mandolin back through brute force and be done with Jake, Weston and Noxie.

Noxie, curiously, seemed little better disposed toward the partnership that had been negotiated with Algur. She kept herself hunched down in the seat, staring ahead into the darkness beyond the sleigh’s twin lamps. Her expression had a focus to it, as if by sheer concentration she might erase whatever perturbed her about the situation.

If she’s stewing over something, Jake thought, it’s likely as not the prospect of losing that mandolin she worked so hard to get hold of.

Ordinarily, Jake wouldn’t have sympathized with thievery motivated by spite.

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