P. W. Catanese - The End of Time

CHAPTER

The book that Hap was reading slipped from his hands, and he sprang from his chair to the window. Afire with hope, and braced for disappointment, he pressed his face to the bars.

Far below was Barkin on his chestnut-colored horse, trotting up the causeway to the Aerie, the carved pillar of rock that Lord Umber called home. Hap glimpsed the corner of a box lashed to the horse, behind the saddle. I think he got it, he said aloud, and his heart turned a cartwheel.

He flew down the stairs, out the door, and into the gatehouse as Barkin rode in. The cargo looked like a strongbox: a little wider than it was tall, and made of wrought iron. There was a keyhole embedded in its side, and hand-size padlocks secured the thick chains wrapped around it, side to side and top to bottom. Barkin looked road-weary but proud, and he grinned when he saw Hap bouncing from foot to foot. Hello, Master Happenstance. Something I can do for you?

Dont tease me, Barkin, Hap begged. Not about this.

Barkins devilish smile turned sympathetic. He dismounted and rapped the box with his knuckles. Ah. Something important to you, inside this crate?

Haps nod was a blur. Very. He didnt offer more; Umber preferred to keep these matters quiet. But that strongbox might hold all the lost secrets that Caspar, Umbers former archivist, had stolen from the Aerie. Caspar was dead, slain by an arrow intended for Umber, on a faraway island. But hed given the box to his cousin for safekeeping, and Barkin had retrieved it.

Welkin and Dodd, Umbers other guardsmen, came forward. Welkin had a mug of ale for Barkin, and Dodd a bucket of water for the horse. Did you have much trouble? Dodd asked.

Only a tad, Barkin said, with his tongue pressing the inside of one cheek. Caspars cousin wasnt eager to part with it. In fact, he wouldnt even admit to having it. Also, he didnt fully believe me when I told him that Caspar was dead. He thought I was trying to trick him, even when I offered him Lord Umbers bag of gold. Barkin untied the strongbox and talked over his shoulder. I could see he was tempted, but he asked me to come back the next day, after hed thought about it.

And what did he say the next day? Welkin asked.

How should I know? I was long gone by then. I came back that same night, knocked the fellow out with Umbers sleeper bottlehandy stuff that isand searched his place until I found it.

You stole it? Hap cried.

Barkin spread his hand on his chest in a parody of indignation. I paid for it! Left the bag of gold in its place, with a note of heartfelt apology. Oof, heavy, he said, hefting the strongbox.

Dodd patted Haps back. Dont forget, Master Hap. The stuff in that strongbox was stolen from Umber in the first place. He told Barkin to use any means necessary, short of violence, to bring it back.

So it was perfectly justified, Barkin said. Not to mention fun. I felt like such a scoundrel! Now, I wonder whats inside?

Old papers, I think, Hap said.

More than that, Barkin said. Listen. He tilted the box one way and the other. Something thumped against the side, rolled back, and thumped again. Wonder what that is?

A skull, knowing Umber, Welkin said. He tired of holding the ale for Barkin and downed half of it in a gulp.

Well find out soon enough. Assuming Umber can get this open, said Barkin.

Welkin rolled his eyes. You didnt bring back the keys ?

Couldnt find them, Barkin said. Im sure Lord Umber will manage.

Hap nodded, knowing there would be no problem. Umber had a key that could open any lock in the worldone of his remarkable magical possessions. No, unlocking the strongbox was not the trouble.

Umber himself was the trouble.

Lord Umber?

Hap searched the gardens at the top of the Aerie. Umber was not in his usual haunt, on the bench under his favorite tree, which was bursting as always with a variety of fruits and berries. And he was not on any of the other seats or benches, or leaning on the balcony. The door to his little, round rooftop tower was shut and locked, but the window to his study high above was open, with the shutters flung wide. A curtain billowed, animated by a passing breeze. He must be moping in there, Hap thought. He considered leaping high to sneak a look, but decided against it.

Shortly after their return from Sarnica, where theyd recovered a cache of stolen dragon eggs, along with a living infant dragon, Umber had slipped into this hopeless melancholy. There were triumphs on that journeya kingdom liberated, tyrants deposed, mysteries unraveled. But upon their return they were met with dreadful news: Prince Galbus, a good man who stood to inherit the throne from the ailing king, had died. It was that news, and everything it meant to Umbers hopes for the kingdom, that had sent Umber tumbling.

Umber was a man of extremes. Most often his mood was one of giddy, wild-eyed, fearless exuberance. But too often somethinga reminder of the devastation hed left behind in the world hed escaped, or dreadful news such as the death of Galbuswould drive him into a suffocating sadness. His spirit flagged, his energy vanished, his appetite failed, and he refused all companionship.