Rogue and Rover: Part Nine

      He hadn't quite managed to dream of Castle Astith's treasure room, though.

      A few chests had rotted away with sheer age – those had spilled the gold and silver coins they contained onto the floor. Others had contained jewelry, which gleamed in the dim magical light. Long tables were full of ornately carved boxes and vases, and the walls had yet more chests and boxes on shelves.

      Hannah said in awe, "This wasn't just any treasure room – this had to have been one of the Winter King's treasuries! Look at all this!"

      Kanrik stooped and picked up a gold necklace with a sapphire pendant that had fallen free. He was certain that many of the chests still had spells to protect them from thievery, but the jewelry itself would be safe. He handed the necklace to Hannah. "It matches your eyes."

      She smiled at him, blushing slightly, as she put it around her neck. "Thanks, Kanrik."

      Kanrik next pulled out one of his favorite tools – a clear glass orb that would glow if he touched it to an anti-theft spell. Hannah took out several small bags and started filling them with jewelry. She had a good eye, and she'd pick pieces that would be easy to resell. She commented, "Grey pearls – Paselle loves those. Maybe you can distract her with these next time she's trying to start a fight with something that's too big for the thieves to handle."

      Kanrik laughed. "I like that idea. And see if you can find something little Heddy will like. With how good of a pickpocket she is, she's not going to be getting jewels any other way anytime soon."

      "Well, you're the youngest treasure hunters I've seen in a good age."

      The voice was male, deep and rich, and entirely unfamiliar. Kanrik whirled, drawing his sword as he did so, letting his spell-detector fall to the floor in his haste. Hannah gasped.

      When Kanrik took a look at who had spoken, he took a breath as well.

      Standing between them and the door was a tall, aged royal Bori, with a magnificent silver beard that curled almost to his waist. He wore strange robes, elaborately embroidered with silver, and on his head was a silver crown set with a bright diamond.

      But despite his strange looks, Kanrik realized he knew the man. There had been a picture that looked just like him in a book he had had as a child...

      Hannah said in astonishment, "The Winter King? Here?"

      The Winter King smiled. "Not precisely. I am merely a shade, a memory that lives yet in the stones of this place. But the Winter King was strong enough that even his shade yet has power."

      Hannah took a step closer to Kanrik. "The sort of power that's going to try and kill us .like everything else in this fortress so far?"

      The shade chuckled. "Those of my people who sealed this place were perhaps overzealous... but they did not know that this shade remained here. I guard this treasure well, as the Winter King wished."

      Kanrik wondered whether the shade was due as much respect as the Winter King. Probably better to be on the safe side – especially if this shade really did have as much power as it claimed. Shades weren't ghosts – as the shade had said, it was a memory, not the actual spirit of the Winter King. It might be weaker than a ghost, but it also could be much, much stronger. "Do you guard it from thieves, sir?"

      The shade only laughed again. "My lad, if I guarded this treasure from thieves, would I have let you enter here? I can recognize a rogue and a rover when I see him and her." He became more serious. "The Winter King left me here because he wished treasure to be placed so that those who sought would find. Yet he wanted the treasure to endure. So I give this warning. Fill your pockets now. Take all you can carry. But locked chests are not yet to be opened – even your clever stone will not save you, rogue. And you will not be allowed access to this room again, either in your own persons or by proxy. Others must find their ways here on their own."

      Kanrik remembered the array of traps and dangers, and knew that he wouldn't be risking any of his thieves' tails trying to get them in here. He and Hannah could make a nice haul off what they could take with them, and then they'd heed the warning.

      Then Hannah said, "Sir, we'll leave you in peace soon, but we also have a debt to pay. Do you have anything here that belongs to the folk of Castle Whitestones?"

      The shade nodded. "Whitestones, Whitestones. The Winter King knew it well. Doughty warriors, always the first to hearken to his horn. Yes, I believe there is a chest here that belongs to them by right and by seal. Follow."

      As they followed the shade, Kanrik realized that this image of the Winter King wasn't entirely solid – the gleam of the treasure under the magical lights shot straight through him. He picked up several diamond necklaces and a set of enameled knives as they walked past more open containers. Then the shade took a small white-and-grey metal chest off a shelf and handed it to Kanrik. It was embossed with the seal of Whitestones on the lid. Kanrik nearly dropped it – it was little bigger than a loaf of bread, but deceptively heavy. The shade of the Winter King said, "The key is in the possession of the Lady Crinn. She will recognize the craftsmanship."

      Kanrik said, "And if I get a question, too, I'd like to know if there's a way out of this place that doesn't currently have a patrol of angry knights in front of it."

      The shade said absently, "It's not one patrol – it's four. You must have rather offended the Lord of Whitestones. I doubt that even this chest will assuage him."

      Hannah sighed. "Wonderful."

      Kanrik informed the shade, "I could care less about Lord Alistad. We're sending the chest to keep a promise, not trying to buy our way back into his good graces. I've got better things to do with my coin."

      The shade said, "But, as it happens, there is. Turn the shelf with the urn shaped like a coiled Snowager. The key to the door is mountain, star, sword, tree, star."

      Hannah repeated, "Mountain, star, sword, tree, star."

      The shade added, "And remember to keep your heads low."

      Kanrik nudged Hannah. "Less a problem for you than for me." She snickered.

      The shade bowed to them. "Search these treasures and take what you wish – but I would not tarry. The upper gate is invisible from the outside, but that does not mean the Whitestones folk will not be within sight when you depart."

      Then he vanished without a sound.

      Kanrik said, "Okay. Here's the plan. Stuff our pockets as fast as we can and then get out of here even faster."

      Hannah nodded. "Good plan. I like that plan. Oh, emeralds!"

      It was easy to fill their pockets – everything around was valuable, and Kanrik felt no small regret at leaving so much of it here. Which was most likely why the Winter King's shade kept people from entering again – the first person to find this place would have cleaned it out otherwise.

      Then they went to the shelf he'd indicated – it took all of their combined strength to turn it, and then Hannah tapped out the combination. Remembering the shade's warning, they both fell to the floor.

      A fireball shot out over their heads. Hannah said, "There was a mage here who had far, far too much fun with fire."

      Kanrik nodded. "There's a group of psychos like that at the obelisk. Scorched my old cape, and I'd liked that one."

      Hannah said, "I say listen to the shade. Keep low. After you."

      He snorted. "Ladies first."

      She chuckled, and they entered the dark corridor together.

      Fireballs shot over their heads regularly – Kanrik could see the soot on the stone, further darkening the space. There were none of the magical lamps here, and the lantern that Hannah had lit once they were inside was the only light. There were several flights of stairs, and the steps were narrow and steep. Kanrik guessed that they were headed toward the very top of the cliff in which Castle Astith had been delved. Despite the fireballs, ice had leeched in here, and the stairs were slick – they had to move slowly, more slowly than Kanrik would have liked.

      Hannah muttered under her breath, "Mystery Island. Altador. The Lost Desert."

      Kanrik said, "I'm mountain-born, and yet I find myself agreeing with you. Sweet Fyora!" He nearly slipped, and Hannah grabbed for his hand until they were both steady again.

      Finally, they found the door, and stepped out into the bright sunlight shining on the snow – too bright, after the dimness of Castle Astith. Kanrik squinted and blinked as he waited for the spots to disappear from his vision, and shivered as he readjusted his coat and cloak.

      He and Hannah had been deposited on the top of the cliff face that held Castle Astith's main door. Kanrik could hear the echoes of the voices of the Whitestones knights below, carried on the wind. Hannah took a deep breath. "We made it out. I'm actually pleasantly surprised, given how well this little jaunt has gone so far."

      Kanrik pointed out, "We're not back in Happy Valley yet."

      And then a horn rang out from above them. Kanrik looked up and saw several dots on the nearest slope. Hannah just looked forlorn. "Again?"

      Kanrik merely nodded. "Again." By this point, he wasn't even surprised that the Whitestones folk had caught them again. The witch would probably turn them into Snowbunnies on the way back, too. And then, as Snowbunnies, they'd probably become Snowbeast treats.

      Hannah pointed. "That way. We'll have to take a long way 'round – we'll never lose them back in Whitestones land."

      Kanrik looked along her arm. "Over the shoulder of Mount Mistral?"

      Hannah nodded. "The remains of the Royal Road are there – they make the terrain easier going."

      The horn sounded above them yet again, and Kanrik and Hannah broke into a run. Hannah panted, "I think this is starting to turn into the sort of adventure that we'll find really funny later."

      Perhaps Kanrik would find this funny when they were back in Happy Valley.

      But that was becoming less certain by the minute.

To be continued...