Chill

Chapter 15

Before Maena could figure out what to do with this discovery her charmlet pinged, warning her Tam was approaching. She checked the time and it was late, very late.

Was he coming to her secretly to apologise and had decided to do it when no one was around? She pondered how she should handle this moment as she dressed appropriately. Demure but not unapproachable, modest yet a little flirty. She added some turquoise bangles around her wrist to conceal the charmlet better and then brushed her hair furiously. Panic seized her for knowing the boy's penchant for climbing rooftops he could at any moment leap onto the balcony and find her in a mess. Thank goodness Falma was asleep. Then she paused. Should she even see him? After all he had been so rude to her after the Frost Witch incident.

Then she remembered she had important information she needed to share. She took a deep breath. Put aside personal feelings. If he was here to apologise all well and good. If he was here to abuse her some more, bite it back. She needed to tell someone and the only person she could think of was him, Tam Sorrell. Thus she sat, eyes closed, listening for the telltale signs of someone above. Yet when the interruption to her calming meditation came it was from an unexpected direction.

Loud hammering sounded on the outer door repeatedly and before Maena could check the security monitor Falma appeared dressed in thick nightwear, looking seriously frightened.

"What are you doing up child?" she asked Maena, noticing she was fully dressed and sat up waiting.

"Bored. Couldn't sleep," she replied in her abrupt offworld way. The hammering continued.

"Visitors? This time of night?" Falma said, shivering, and went to the observation window. She returned to reveal her discoveries. "Men! With torches and red glowing things that may be flash rifles. What should we do?"

"Find out what they want," Maena said, cool-headed in this crisis. Her affinity charmlet suggested Tam was near or among their number. So, he had not come to apologise. He had come with the enemy. That was different indeed. She could not tell him now, not for worlds. She wrapped up and went out onto a balcony in her father's room which overlooked Upper Maeven's single zigzag street that wound down the slope. She gazed down on the assembled multitude below, a cluster of small dark shapes milling impatiently amid the snow drifts.

"What are you doing here?" she asked in clipped tones which she hoped conveyed indignant authority. One of the men stepped forward, identifying himself as a ringleader. He was muffled up but the recognisable form of Dorstal Pamistoe was a give away even before his gruff voice broke the cold silence of the night.

"We want to speak to your grandfather," he said. "A matter of urgency. Open up and let us in."

"Not possible and no way," Maena responded from on high.

"Don't toy with us girl," the man growled. "We'll see him whether you wish or not."

Maena huffed with girlish impatience.

"Not possible as my grandfather happens to be several hundred miles away in Ithak on business," she declared triumphantly. A hiss from behind her in the shadows made her turn. It was Falma.

"Don't tell them that miss," she said all over worry. "We're alone here, just you and a housekeeper." She wanted to be so self-effacing in this crisis she did not even want to identify herself, a fact Maena noted with detached amusement. She however was made of sterner stuff, springing from Pioneer stock.

"Let me deal with this," Maena gestured her back then turned to the assembled group slowly freezing in the growing snow fall. "And," she continued in high pitched tones of disdain, "there is no way I am going to let you lot in here where we have valuable equipment and two unprotected damsels at your mercy."

There was a mixture of laughs and curses at this from among the men. Maena's charmlet pinged again and she noted Tam was moving a little way off. She could clearly see he was not down among the others. She wondered what he was up to.

"You're lying girl," came a venomous response from Dorstal and he waved his flash rifle menacingly. "Reckon the professor's still there. We want in, even if we have to kick the door down!"

"Welcome to try," Maena responded quietly, knowing the defences of the mansion were secure against such intruders. She scraped together a handful of snow, compacted it into a hard little ball and then hurtled it at the bulky target below. A direct hit made Dorstal grunt and without thinking he fired the rifle up at the balcony. Maena screamed and ducked as an energy flash singed her fur hood. She retreated as protests rose up from below.

"Shouldn't have done that!" someone said. "You know the hermit rephased our weapons for lethal force since the Lumos threat. You could have killed an innocent girl."

"She threw something at me," came the sullen reply. "Only meant to frighten the little slut."

"Hope you're happy now," came a tearful cry from Falma, who had pulled the shocked Maena into the room and bravely confronted the men, anger adding strength to her resolve.

"Was she hit? Is she hurt?" came genuine questions of concern from several of the men, not wishing to be party to an assault on a teenage girl with a lethal weapon.

"Just frightened, no thanks to you bullies. There'll be consequences."

Dorstal, on hearing the girl was unharmed, renewed his demands.

"Let us in woman. We'll apologise to the girl personally, but we got to see the professor this night, instantly. I repeat. If you don't let us in we'll smash the door down to get to him and what he's hiding there."

"He's away, as the child said," Falma repeated. "My stars, what was that!" she cried as a loud thump was heard on the overhang and a flurry of snow fell down from the roof, scattering the men below who could be heard cursing in response. Before she could react a figure dropped onto the balcony as lithe as a cat and entered the room, closing the doors to shut out the freezing wind.

"It's okay madam," came a nervous youthful voice. "It's me, Tam. I got over the roofs from above. They down there don't know about that. I came to see you were safe."

Just as he finished a figure launched at him from the darkness and tossed him over a chair and onto the floor. Fists pummelled him as he lay there helpless and sparks appeared behind his eyes. One particular hit effectively stunned him and he went limp.

"It's Tam," came Falma's warning cry and his attacker stood up from where she had straddled him, seeing he was in no position to defend himself.

"I know," Maena tearfully responded. "Tie him up so when he awakens he can't let the others in. You know, like a Troyan horse sort of thing."

Not knowing what that was, Falma reluctantly did as bid and the boy was with difficulty dragged onto the professor's bed. Curtains were drawn, lights were switched on and the dull thuds and loud curses of the frustrated men outside were ignored.

Occasionally Maena checked on what the men were doing. They had scattered to look for ways to breach the defences but she knew her grandfather had chosen well. The building was a former house of power, built originally as the seat of local government for the community, with cells and defensive features, its location half way up the High Peaks symbolic of central access. The out of the way location and lack of comfort proved its downfall so that symbolism was set aside. The building was abandoned to private use when the local authority moved to Lower Maeven among the Proctor dwellings. It was such an enormous place no one could afford to rent it and the place had remained empty for several years until the Madrullians, rich offworlders, took up residence last summer.

Maena returned from her precautionary patrol to find Tam awake, dazed but slowly realising he was a captive. Falma was spoon feeding him supper.

"Hey, cut that out. He's our prisoner. No food till he talks," she declared.

"I'm not your enemy," Tam replied. "I came to warn you what was about to happen."

"You came with them."

"I followed them. I've been watching the house to see no one approached. When they arrived I climbed on the roof to warn you."

"To lead them the same way," Maena said, looking alarmed at Falma.

"No. If that was true they'd be here already, wouldn't they? Swarming all over the place like they said they want to. They think your grandfather is in league with the Crystal Lumos, hiding things, in control of the only generator for miles around. Anything they can think of to prove he is a threat to the community. An offworlder, rich. The list is endless." He paused and sighed, looking down at the carpet. Then his bronze eyes looked up again and caught the suspicious gaze of Maena. He smiled pleadingly. "Look, untie me. I'm not your enemy."

"How do we know you won't just simply open the inner door as soon as you're free?"

"I won't. Look! I tried to warn you, remember? That day you had a go at waitressing, I said you shouldn't be out. Don't you remember? I knew they were planning something and it wasn't safe for you to be separated from your grandfather or away from the mansion. They might even have kidnapped you or something. Desperate men do desperate things." His voice cracked in genuine concern and Maena was a little taken aback by this impassioned plea. Of course she had thought he was simply disparaging her attempt at working as a waitress, not wanting her intruding on his life. The incident had soured her thoughts on him, leading to the outburst. Had she been wrong all along? Did he actually care for her, even just a little? After due consideration and glancing at the anxious but sympathetic Falma a couple of times she released him but insisted he leave immediately.

"Only when the men leave," he replied with gallant stubbornness. He sat on the more comfortable bed, nursing reddened wrists and touching a bruise on his cheek. Maena watched him hawk-like, but not as prey, but more as a mother eagle might watch a wayward offspring. Her heart softened a little as he winced when touching a lump on the side of his head.

"Sorry," she said softly.

"You fight like a girl," he replied equally quietly and they smiled in unison.

"I'll get some late night drinks," Falma suggested, bustling out of the room, safe to leave the two youngsters alone together for a moment, smiling within herself at the apparent reconciliation. "He's a nice boy," she muttered quietly as she entered the dark kitchen, so at home with everything it contained she could find what she wanted blind.

Eventually Dorstal and his followers gave up their siege and departed, driven back to their various homes by the freezing cold. The chill had its advantages sometimes. Tam sneaked out also and Maena, still somewhat angry at him, the Ice Maiden remaining a wedge between them, once again found herself alone. Only when he was gone did she realise she had not only not told him what she had found about her grandfather but that she really needed to tell him above all others.

In the days that followed the boy made no second attempt to check on the Madrullian mansion, presumably because Dorstal and his cronies had not repeated their attempt to storm the citadel. Maena had heeded Tam's warning about keeping a low profile also, at least until her grandfather returned, so she had no opportunity to get in contact. She did not feel competent enough to risk repeating his feat of climbing rooftops, even in the daytime. Thus she sat tight and simmered in frustrated impotence.

When the professor finally returned he did so with several Lumos agents and they were ensconced in the study where so much research was presumably being done. Maena hovered in corridors, listening and stalking and hiding and watching, acquiring skill at stealthily spying on the dark figures who appeared now and again for refreshments in the dining hall. Falma served them reluctantly and in silence, her usual fulsome cheery banter notably absent. She was as frosty as the chill with these men. They ignored her. Maena listened secretly to their conversation.

Agent Palmise was helpfully talkative.

"The old man is spouting nonsense," he said to his more reticent colleague as they sat at table. "Ghost Gates are dead ends in every sense of the word," and he laughed harshly.

"If he were to succeed though?" the other whispered nervously and hid his concern behind the great brass drinking vessel which he tipped to his mouth.

"See this?" and Agent Palmise touched his shoulder badge. "I know things, got clearance. I can tell you the Masters up thataway," and he gestured to where perhaps Atherbridge Nine might be located star leagues away, "would shut this meddlesome professor down in a flash if they so much as entertained the tiniest belief he could succeed. We keep him busy in Gate tech stuff because the guy is a genius. Motivated and all that," and he sneered an ugly sneer. "He gives us what we want, borosthene refined Gate anchors, and he can talk Ghost Gates till the Mineral Stars all go nova for all I care." The man fell silent when Falma shuffled in and sullenly asked if there was anything more the kind gentlemen might need.

"No, we're done here woman. We'll get back to the study and finish up for the time being. Got to be off before nightfall. This place is deathly cold after sundown," and he laughed at his own joke before the dark clad men rose as one and departed with familiarity back to where the professor awaited them.

True to their word, as a blue and freezing twilight settled on Upper Maeven the Lumos agents sauntered gratefully down the slope to the warmer climes beyond the Wilds. Even Pashak by this time was feeling distinctly chilled by events and flooding beyond the Cut of Doerath had halted farming activities in that part of Troy. The matter was becoming serious it seemed for the weather systems of Troy were slowly being drawn into the great depression that sat defiantly upon the High Peaks. Warmth was slowly being sucked out of the world.

Falma let the professor know what happened regarding the siege and he tried to reassure her on the matter.

"I will speak with these men," he said and this was hardly the answer the affrighted housekeeper wished to hear. "At the inn," he added with a smile, which made the good woman even more nervous. Even Maena balked at this show of bravery.

"Grandfather, they were really angry," she said. "Tam listed all their grievances and it was a long list. I think they might even object to you having a beard," she added, trying to lighten the conversation for Falma's sake.

"You've spoken to the boy?" the man's sharp mind caught at this revelation immediately, understanding Maena had not set foot outside the mansion while he had been away.

"He, um, visited us," she said, blushing a little.

"Such a nice boy," Falma added unnecessarily.

Without farther protest, knowing his resolve could not be shaken, Maena agreed to accompany her grandfather to the Sorrell Wayfarer Inn, where his unheralded appearance there caused no little sensation as the majestic figure swept into the great drinking hall in his shiniest flowing robes. He sat himself at a table which was immediately vacated by a few nondescript stragglers so that apart from the young girl hovering at his elbow he found himself alone.

Lick Sorrell approached with his favourite mild tipple which he placed before the man without ceremony and then glanced to where Parthan Fallow hovered in a shadowed corner, watching for trouble. The professor nodded, took a sip of the drink, swilling it appreciatively around his bearded mouth a moment and then looked up at the faces turned to him in mute surprise.

"I understand someone wishes to speak with me," he said politely and looked with expectant gaze at the figures clustered near the bar in secret discussions among themselves. Inevitably it was the stout figure of Dorstal Pamistoe that broke from the crowd and sidled over to where the man sat. Surprisingly he began with an apology.

"I frighted your granddaughter," he said, glancing briefly at the nervous Maena a moment. "Didn't mean it, sorry it happened," and he nodded to the girl. The professor looked at Maena a moment and she smiled faintly.

"Please, take a seat, and ask your compatriots of the Maeven Mountaineers to join us if they so please."

There was a pause and people glanced at each other. The colourful label had been in use briefly when Proctor Bridge was burnt. It was no secret who had been responsible, but even so, saying it out loud in a public place still made some nervous souls uneasy.

"Me and some friends," Dorstal carefully observed, "we'd like a few words with you, see if your heart's in the right place," he explained.

"Oh my heart," the professor replied good-naturedly as several men drew benches to the table and others gathered, standing and listening. "I can assure you it is in a place no man would understand," and there was a glint in his offworld, silvery eyes a moment, a glint echoed in kind by his granddaughter, who also remained standing. She saw Tam hovering some distance away, dressed for waiting tables but ignoring his duties, such was his concern. She warmed inwardly and resolved to corner him before they left to spill some parts of her own heart to him, depending on how this meeting went.

"However," the man went on, silence greeting his cryptic observation, "my intentions certainly lie with the good of the people here in Upper Maeven, especially here."

"So why mix with those Lumos types?"

"They have things I want and they owe me. Gentlemen, I use whatever I can to solve a great wrong and I believe that the people of Troy, and most specifically the people of the Wilds need to be protected from the less savoury activities of the Crystal Lumos Agency."

"So, you protect us how, by creating this chill that's killing us all off?" Dorstal growled.

The professor leaned forward.

"I do not know what is responsible for the chill," he said stolidly, emphasising this pertinent fact. "If I can resolve it I will, with or without the help of the Crystal Lumos. If they have done something... again, which they are trying to deny or keep secret, well the latter is impossible as everyone can see. I believe them when they tell me the phenomenon is none of their doing, that it is totally natural. They have asked me to help solve it. Plans are afoot to investigate the source, only at present the technology required to pierce such extreme conditions safely is not available. Survival suits designed for the frozen plains of Cimmeron are of no use here among the High Peaks."

"Is it a Gate gone wrong again?" This question came from Lick Sorrell. He was an educated man and knew something of how Gates worked, and having passed something of his knowledge onto his adventurous son, the latter had been scrambling his own brains as to what the chill might be.

Maena listened to her grandfather's words with something akin to shame. She had read the secret report, that the chill was indeed artificial, deliberately made, and here he was facing these angry men with words in opposition to the known facts. Simply put, Motar Madrullian, the respected professor, her beloved grandfather whom she adored, was lying.

The man looked at the innkeeper, knowing him possessing of knowledge beyond his calling, and considered a moment.

"I think not," he said slowly, looking down at the wooden tiles stained with decades of alcoholic spillage, not wishing to meet the other's gaze. "How could a Gate get here, by itself, without an anchor? In all the centuries of Gate exploitation such a thing has never been achieved or even remotely considered as possible." He began talking more rapidly, as if more sure of himself now, on safer ground. "Gates cannot create their own openings through space. An independent device such as a lifeless drone with a meta-mineral anchor or bio-signature would be needed, depending on how the Gate was intended to be used." He suddenly halted as if realising he had said too much.

"What if the Lumos or someone else secretly brought the anchor here, through the Primary Gate at Ithak?" a gravely, aged voice filled the unexpected silence. The hermit Paterion, always seemingly present on such potent occasions, was ever ready to steer the conversations he overheard into uncomfortable directions as was his wont.

"To what purpose?" the professor stiffened, a harshness in his voice at this interjection.

"To anchor a Gate of course, a very special Gate."

The professor's mouth opened as if he was about to respond to this suggestion, but he thought better of it and stood.

"I understand gentlemen, there have been other matters which have exercised your concerns. An issue of trust needs to be resolved, regarding food and energy resources."

"And treasure trove," Malten muttered, remembering the confiscated hair clip. This made the professor blink as he tried to recall the subject.

"The one I lost grandfather, and Malten so kindly and luckily found," and Maena gave the man a hopeful smile.

"Ah yes. I can retrieve an inventory on such trinkets, with full description and images to compare with the item claimed. Malten Pamistoe, you are perfectly welcome to consult the records and satisfy yourself as to the genuine ownership being held in the Madrullian family. There is of course a reward for the recovery of such a valuable item, which I understand is a tenth of said value?" He looked around as if there might be anyone who had information which contradicted his words. Malten Pamistoe grunted and nodded acquiescence. Ten percent was a good deal and he had no means of opposing a registered inventory entry. He looked to his brother.

Dorstal Pamistoe was less easily satisfied by such words.

"A matter of trust," he said. "How does that work?"

"Access," the professor replied expansively. "Not free access of course, but inspection under supervision and a distribution of both food and energy monitored independently. I am happy for this latter obligation to be undertaken by mine host," and he indicated Lick Sorrell. The old First Age phrase was lost even on him but he nodded in implied understanding. "If there are no objections?"

There were none.

"Well then gentlemen, let there be no more untimely sieges of people's homes late at night. We are at war with the elements. Let those who can, fend for themselves and help those weaker than ourselves. And those of us who can fight this terrible event, well I solemnly pledge to do all in my power to both alleviate suffering and ultimately to end the chill as soon as I am able. To our separate and combined success, both great and small," and he raised his glass. The cheers were warm and indulgent if not overwhelming. There were some present who felt the stain of Lumos association was too fast to be washed off with words. There were some also, very much closer to home, who felt the stain was spreading and eating away at that very trust which was the backbone of family loyalty.

"So then," Maena said, having sauntered over to where Tam was polishing a table and pretending to have a normal afternoon in the drinking hall of the Wayfarer Inn.

"All sweet again," he replied with a smirk, and then winced for the bruise still smarted. Maena wanted to caress the damage she had done, as if that would somehow soothe the pain. She thought tartly to herself the Ice Maiden could do it, being a living, breathing ice pack. She kept that thought concealed however.

"I suppose I'm free to come and go again," she said. "Everyone's happy. We all love each other," and her face warmed a bit when she realised what she had just said. "Except," changing the mood quickly to hide her embarrassment.

"Except what?" Tam took the bait.

"Except we need to talk," and she leaned closer. It looked to everyone in the room as if they were about to kiss, but Maena paused and whispered, "in secret. I found something out about the chill."

"Tonight? I'll come over."

"What naughty things are you two lovebirds planning?" a sultry voice cut into their conspiratorial whisperings.

"Hi Karanie," Maena said, drawing her head back. "How's Merry, or are you with someone else now?"

The older girl frowned at this intrusive question.

"Things are fine. Shouldn't they be?"

"You tell me," and Maena smirked meaningfully. Karanie Fornoe shrugged and sauntered away to speak to Fallow.

"No hope there either," Maena then added. She glanced at the perplexed Tam and laughed. "Girl stuff," she explained. "Tonight it is. Do not expect to find me dressed like Sara Manderby when you arrive though," and with that Maena flicked her long chestnut hair and joined her grandfather as he took his leave to return the short but slippery distance down to the mansion below.

When Tam finally did turn up on Maena's balcony, quite late due to nervousness at what he might find waiting for him, the two conspirators exchanged notes eagerly, all flirting forgotten in the excitement of discoveries made and to be made.

"I knew it!" Tam said on learning the chill was totally artificial. "I'm sorry it seems your grandfather is concealing something. He seems a really nice, genuine old man. Perhaps he has very special reasons for concealing what he knows from you."

"Which doesn't change anything. We need to know what's going on," Maena acknowledged. "I think the Lumos are blackmailing him or something. He said they owe him, but that Palmise agent seemed to have it the other way around, as if my grandfather was begging something from them. Time or help or something. Tam, they're threatening him, I'm sure of it," and her voice took on a tearful quality as she spoke.

"Then we're going to have to do this alone," Tam said.

"How?"

"I'll go up into the High Peaks and locate the energy source."

"Don't forget to wear a hat, you might catch cold," Maena responded sarcastically. "We've been here before. I won't let you risk your life up there. Not even Fallow could do it. You weren't thinking of asking him to help were you? He just got married."

"Not Fallow, someone else."

"Who?"

"The hermit. The guy seems to know how to survive up there. He knows things," Tam said with admiration of the stolid old man. He might be half-crazed but he was a veteran of the Pioneer Guild, possibly with access to equipment and survival techniques not even the Crystal Lumos knew of. Tam explained this to the incredulous Maena.

"If so, say he can help you get up there to where the... Ice Maiden is supposed to be, what about the demons?" She felt almost embarrassed at asking such strange questions, as if they were planning on entering a world of witches and hobgoblins to steal a golden egg or something.

"Have you noticed that staff he always carries. It's like Fallow's only more powerful. I think he knows how to handle the demons as well," Tam wound up triumphantly.

To be continued...