Shadow Road: Book 1 of the Shadows Rising Trilogy

28. Once More Unto the Dragon

30th of Uirra, Continued

The clerk smiled and paused what he was doing as I came toward the desk. If he was having difficulty because of his missing logbook, he wasn't letting it show on his face. He seemed genuinely pleased to see me.

"Hello," I said, returning his smile. And then, with no beating around the bush or stealing, no disguises or awful distractions, I just... said it. Plain and simple and straightforward: "I completely forgot why I came in earlier. I was wondering if my uncle left anything for me? He said he was staying here," I said, proud of how smoothly I managed to substitute the word 'uncle' at the last second. The rest of it wasn't really a lie, either, so that helped. My skin only heated a little.

The clerk inclined his head politely. "I most certainly can. Name?"

"Larkham. My uncle's name is Percaus Montemortus," I said. Smooth as puffed cream...

The clerk squinted at me thoughtfully. "Larkham," he mused aloud, turning to face the pigeonholes as if he was actually looking for something.

My heart began beating a little too quickly.

"Larkham... Larkham... Now where did I put it..." He bent to look along the bottom shelves. "Ah! Here it is," he announced from somewhere under the counter. "Miss Lorelda Larkham."

The clerk straightened, coming up with a plain envelope resting flat in his hands. He blew a bit of dust off the surface, then removed a slip of paper clipped to it with a wire-twist before he pulled a pair of spectacles from his vest pocket. He blinked through them as he held the slip of paper at arm's length. "He's left some instructions here," he explained. "I'm to ask you a question... and your answer has to match the one provided." He glanced at me to make sure I understood. When I nodded, he went on. "Right then. The question is: What would you rather eat, pickled pincushions or dandelion pie?"

My throat tightened. "I'll have the mud cake, please," I whispered, my eyes locked on the envelope.

The clerk peered at the paper, his brows raised. "Mud cake. Let me see here... Yes. That's the... that's right. That's the right answer. Mud..."

I had already snatched the envelope from the man's fingers, leaving him to wonder whatever he wanted about my father's word games.

I could barely breathe. Out. I needed to get out. The room was closing in on me. Air. Now. I turned and ran straight for the door, my heart caving in on itself. It was as if Father had reached out of nowhere to tap on my shoulder the way he used to. The other shoulder, so I would turn the wrong direction. But he wasn't going to be standing beside me, laughing when I turned all the way around to find him.

That ridiculous riddle - mud cake and dandelion pie and pickled pincushions. It broke something loose inside me. I couldn't stop it. I couldn't keep it from crashing into me. Right there in the middle of the street I let out a sob and bent over, curling around the pain of breathing, unable to move, unable to make a sound.

After a moment, a large hand touched my back.

"Stand up," Arramy murmured. "Keep walking."

I knew he was right. I was making a scene.

But I could only heave for air while the world clattered by around us. I reached for that awful numbness again, but it wasn't enough. Still unable to breathe, I ground my teeth and forced myself up straight. Then I made my feet carry me forward - and narrowly missed being run over by an oncoming draft wagon. It was Arramy who pulled me out of the way, and it was Arramy's commands I followed, obeying his voice like some sort of mindless clockwork doll as he guided me across the crowded street and into the waiting horseless.