Chương 22: Chapter 21 - Late Arrivals

Two sedans pulled up to the end of the line of cars that were parked halfway off the mountain road. Owen Ashworth, the sorcerer's torrman, stepped out of the first sedan. Since he'd been traveling, he had traded in his normal suit and tie for a set of slacks and a button-up shirt with the top button undone. A sweater was tucked under his arm. He turned to watch the car behind his. Both rear doors opened on the second sedan. An older man and a young woman stepped out.

The older man was large, built like a barrel, and wearing all black except for a white clerical collar. He had a full, salt-and-pepper beard, and deep smile lines around his eyes. The young woman was wearing jeans and a loose, long-sleeve shirt that draped over her small frame. Her hair had been pulled back in a braid, but short wisps had escaped around her face. They softened the angles of her severe features. Ashworth grinned.

"Father Thorburn! Klara!" The priest grinned back.

"Hello, Owen. Fancy meeting you in this out-of-the-way place." Ashworth walked back to them.

"I wondered who was following our car."

"That's fair," Thorburn said.

"I wondered who we were following. I should've guessed it'd be you." The two drivers got out and opened the trunks of their respective cars, giving their passengers access to their luggage. The passengers ignored them.

"Hello, Klara." Ashworth smiled at Klara Reynell. It was warm but more subtle than the grin he'd offered Thorburn. The alchemist dropped her chin in a curt nod. Ashworth tucked his hands in his pants pockets as he said, "Quite the kidnapping, wasn't it? I was working late last night, so they had to wake me up. They damn near broke down the door."

"Oh?" The lines around Thorburn's eyes bunched up, giving the impression that he was smiling, but someone who knew him well might have noticed the thoughtful note in his voice.

"Five minutes to pack a bag!" Ashworth cried.

"Who can pack in five minutes?"

"I did," Reynell said.

"They kidnapped you too?"

"They called and gave me an address to drive myself to." She motioned with her head to the priest standing beside her.

"I met Thorburn there."

"Did they come for you with handcuffs, Father?" Ashworth teased.

"They came for me with a helicopter," Thorburn said softly. Ashworth's smile faltered.

"I was in another state," Thorburn explained.

"I got the call around five this morning. I've been traveling ever since."

"That's…interesting," Ashworth said.

"Sir," Ashworth's driver called. The passengers broke up to get their bags. Father Thorburn and Ashworth had luggage. Reynell only had a backpack. She slung hers over her shoulders and stood waiting for the other two. Ashworth had no trouble extending his luggage handle and rolling it out of the way, but Thorburn had to fiddle with his cheap bag. As the drivers walked back to their doors, Ashworth called to his, "Any idea where we're supposed to go?"

"I'm afraid not, sir," the driver said, "but if I were you, I'd start by going that way." He motioned further up the road. Reynell started walking while the drivers got in their cars and began the tedious process of turning them around on the tight road. Father Thorburn and Ashworth followed Reynell.

"Are you in a hurry?" Ashworth shouted to her. Klara kept marching.

"They said we were."

"It's an interesting kind of hurry," Thorburn said. When Reynell heard his musing tone, she slowed down until they caught up.

"I asked our driver to stop in the last town we passed," Thorburn said.

"She told me she wasn't allowed to. She had instructions." Reynell shrugged.

"So that's how much of a hurry we're in."

"But if we're in such a hurry, why have us drive for the last leg?" Thorburn asked.

"A helicopter would've been faster. And if a car was fast enough, then surely a five-minute stop for a late lunch wouldn't have been a problem." Ashworth's smile was higher on one side, making it look like a smirk.

"You're thinking about it the wrong way, Father. Everything can be explained if you allow for the idea that there were two competing instructions. They wanted us here fast, but they needed the fact we were coming to be a secret. A helicopter would've called too much attention to the area, and the town was small enough that too many visitors stopping in would've caused comment." Thorburn hummed, then added, "And he called on three of the torrmen for the area."

"I assure you, there are four," Ashworth said.

"Cosmo's here. He's bound to be. We can't have a party without Cosmo."

"You sound awfully sure of yourself," Reynell said.

"Ninety-nine times out of a hundred, when I get called out by Big Jacky, Cosmo Uhler's already been there for at least two hours. He's too useful for his own good."

"Do you get called out often?" Thorburn asked. Ashworth lifted his free hand in a shrug.

"On and off. Maybe seven times a year. It's not usually so urgent. Don't you get called out, Father?"

"This is the second time." Reynell and Ashworth lapsed into an uneasy silence. Thorburn had served as a torrman for thirty-six years. Ashworth had only served for five. Reynell for two. The priest would probably see several more generations of sorcerers and alchemists serve before Big Jacky allowed him to retire. Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.

For him to have only been called out twice in all that time felt like a glaring imbalance, but it made more sense when you considered Thorburn's relationship to magic. Cosmo Uhler was one of the three most talented witches alive, which made him useful in almost all circumstances. If you called on Father Thorburn, it was because you had a specific problem that no one else could deal with. Thorburn seemed to have been thinking along the same lines.

"I suppose if they needed an exorcist, they wouldn't have bothered waking you up," he said to Owen.

"No," Owen said. Thorburn sighed through his nose.

"Then it's an emergency." Reynell sputtered, "An emer—do you know what's going on, Father?"

"No, but I do know that when a large enough emergency occurs, Big Jacky likes to have all of the torrmen present so decisions can be made immediately." Reynell's hands tightened around the shoulder straps on her backpack.

"And that first time you were called out?" Ashworth prodded.

"I'm afraid I can't talk about it," Thorburn said.

"I see." Thorburn glanced at Reynell. He noticed how thin her lips were and how she glared at the road as they walked. He clapped one of his large hands on her shoulder.

"Don't worry, Klara. You're as bright as they come, and when there's a Torr emergency, absolutely no one is prepared for it." Reynell forced herself to smile at him, to show gratitude for his kindness. They were drawing close to the front of the line of cars. A few people had watched them as they approached, but no one came to meet them. They could see the tops of the canvas tents further on. Thorburn squinted as he gazed around the brightly lit woods.

"I fell asleep on the way here. Any idea where we are?" Ashworth answered, "The sign back at the town said Quicholt. As for where we are now…" He shaded his eyes and pretended to scan the area.

"Middle of nowhere. The mountains." He dropped his hand.

"I'll never be able to get a decent cup of coffee." A voice ahead of them said, "I'm afraid you're right about that, Mr. Ashworth." Through the mess of people crossing paths, the torrmen glimpsed a man standing in front of one of the tents. He was wearing an expensive suit and equally expensive sunglasses.

"Darius Vasil!" Ashworth laughed.

"They really have called out the whole squad, haven't they?" The three torrmen left the road and walked over to him. Vasil's clothes looked as polished as ever, but Thorburn, who'd known him the longest, noticed a faint strain in the man's face, and while it wasn't unheard of for Vasil to sport a beard, it was always trimmed short and every edge was meticulously clean cut. His current scruff made it look like he hadn't had access to a razor.

"Good afternoon, lady, gentlemen," Darius said. He turned to Ashworth.

"Rest assured, if we ever have a runner with a free moment, I intend to send out for something better than the coffee they're serving here. Unfortunately, we haven't had that luxury."

"Is Cosmo here?" Ashworth asked.

"Mr. Uhler arrived earlier this morning. We've already briefed him and he's out helping the research team. He'll join us when he can."

"Excuse me," Reynell said.

"Yes, Miss Reynell?"

"Are we going to be camping here?"

"There is a rest tent set up if you need to lay down for a while, but until this situation is over, I don't suppose most of us will be getting a full eight hours of sleep." Thorburn and Ashworth both frowned. The priest's frown was deep enough to bend part of his beard. The sorcerer's was a faint tightening at the edges of his mouth.

"Then what are all the tents for?" Reynell asked. Darius hesitated, then said, "When you understand the situation, the layout of what Mr. Noctis is calling 'base camp' will make more sense to you." Reynell opened her mouth to ask another question, but Darius spoke over her.

"Before I say anything else, I've been authorized to give you a warning—""A warning?" Ashworth held up a hand.

"Hold on. You have been authorized to give us a warning?"

"That's correct, Mr. Ashworth."

"Forgive me, I don't mean to sound conceited, but"—he let out a huff of laughter—"we're torrmen." Darius Vasil watched Owen Ashworth with an impassive face. Ashworth could see a reflection of his own smirk in Vasil's sunglasses. Father Thorburn tilted his head to hide his rueful smile. Oh, well. Owen was young. In another decade or two, he might have a better understanding of his place in the world.

"I'm aware, Mr. Ashworth," Darius said.

"Would you like me to continue?" A second passed, then Ashworth shrugged and let his hand drop back to his side. It made a quiet slapping sound when it hit his leg. Darius said, "If you become involved in this situation, you won't be allowed to talk about it to anyone. Vows will be involved. If you don't want to take on an additional vow, you can choose to have a witch wipe your memories, but you should be aware that the process isn't perfect, and it commonly has side effects.

You will never be prosecuted for anything you are asked to do here, but if you are found to be working on anything of a similar nature outside of this situation, you can and will be held accountable. Any notes you take must remain inside the tent where you wrote them unless one of five designated people are present while they are being used. You cannot take them home. They will be sealed up with this case file.

After this situation is over, if you are found in possession of any notes related to it, or if you re-create the notes from memory, you will be held accountable." Darius paused. It wasn't long enough for questions. From the way Vasil's jaw clenched, Thorburn guessed that he was bracing himself to say what came next—though it was hard to imagine anything worse than what he'd already implied.

"If you don't want to be involved in this situation, you're free to leave," Darius said.

"Transportation will be arranged for you. However, if you choose not to participate, you will be asked to resign your position as a torrman." There it is, Thorburn thought. Vasil went on, "Mr. Noctis will bring in a torrman from another area to act on behalf of your branch of magic until such time as Mr. Noctis can appoint an emergency replacement for you." Ashworth's brows pulled down.

"Is that a threat?" Vasil took in a long breath, reached up, and removed his sunglasses. Once his eyes adjusted to the light, he looked at the sorcerer. His face was soft and open. Ashworth hadn't been around long enough to appreciate how rare the expression was.

"It's not intended to be, Mr. Ashworth," Darius said.

"Mr. Noctis values your input— all of your input." He glanced at Reynell and Thorburn in turn.

"That's why you were called in. But Mr. Noctis wasn't comfortable forcing you to participate. Not in these circumstances. He wanted to be sure that you had a way out, but—make no mistake—we need help. The situation is desperate. We need your knowledge, and we need your authority. If you aren't willing to help us, then we have to find someone who is." Ashworth was still scowling, but it was more thoughtful than angry.

"Do you need time to decide?" Darius asked.

"I don't," Reynell piped up. Her voice sounded high and bright after Vasil's quiet monologue.

"I'm in." When Vasil and Thorburn looked at her, she shifted her weight awkwardly between her feet, but she also nodded, as if to reconfirm her commitment. Thorburn wasn't surprised by how fast she answered. Vasil had made it sound as if it was Mr. Noctis himself who needed their help, and Klara's devotion to Jack Noctis was slightly disturbing. Come to think of it, Thorburn thought, so's mine. He hoped it wasn't as obvious to the others.

"I'll help," he said. Vasil looked at the sorcerer.

"Mr. Ashworth?"

"If I backed out now, I'm sure my curiosity would kill me. I'm in." A grim, closed-lip smile crossed Vasil's face.

"Then let's get this part over with." He pushed aside the flap of the tent and held it open for the torrmen. As they passed inside, Vasil said, "There's someone you need to meet. His name might be familiar." The tent was muggy and smelled like musty canvas and something rotten. The sunlight outside caused the walls and ceiling to glow. Inside were two small tables, pushed together, surrounded by an eclectic selection of chairs. Two of the chairs were occupied.

One of those seated was a young red-headed woman dressed all in black. The other—"Jesus!" Reynell gasped. She covered her mouth and turned her head away. The corpse smiled at her.

"I like to think I'm more impressive. He rose after only three days. I managed it after a hundred years." The corpse's eyes moved to Thorburn.

"Oh! My apologies, Father. If I'd noticed you earlier I would've saved my joke for a more appreciative audience." He waved his hands up by his head. Loose flesh flapped against the tiny exposed bones.

"I wouldn't want to be accused of blasphemy." Jack Noctis, who'd been standing, unnoticed, at the end of the table, spoke up.

"This is Grover Northrop. His existence is the first of many secrets."