Dinner at Lloel's

“You’re sure Mr. Hoarfast is fine with you bringing along another guest for dinner?” asked Jonas as he followed Shellah up the hill to Hoarfast House.

“He would be insulted if I did not! Hosts in the Shielings are measured by their hospitality,” Shellah explained, as she lifted the hem of her plaid dress to step over some refuse in the road. “If I had left you behind at the inn, he would be aghast. There’s always an extra place set at the table, even at the most humble homes. Besides, you really need to see this strange scroll Nessah has.”

Wenlow greeted them at the door, took their cloaks, and ushered them into the dining room where Lloel and Nessah were waiting. Shellah quickly introduced Jonas to the chief of the Hoarfasts.

“Welcome, Mr. Ricer! So happy to have you at my table!” Lloel exclaimed. “And Miss Shellah! That’s a handsome Skyfast plaid you have on. Makes one proud to see our traditions continue.”

As Shellah had promised, dinner was sumptuous. Roast beef, stewed vegetables, fresh bread, thick honeyed cream for dessert, and plenty of the chief’s whisky. Soon they were back in the library to inspect Nessah’s mysterious ancient scroll. A fortune in fine beeswax candles were lit to make the room bright.

“So, you believe these are all locations?” asked Jonas after Lloel read aloud the scroll. “Makes a certain amount of sense, if in a general way.”

“This is why we’re here,” said Nessah. “Lloel will know more about the lore behind these areas as to ancient holy places or anything culturally significant to Old Larin, once we’ve narrowed down the general locations. The first one, the mundy isle, already sounds promising. Perhaps we can even journey out to that island and confirm?”

“Uh, I would not recommend that,” said Shellah. “The Reavers would be out that way. They hide in the small outer isles. And Mundy Head is uninhabited, there is no ferry. That sea cave is very dangerous. I’ve been there before when I was much younger. And the only way to get onto the Head is up through that cave, the whole isle has sheer cliffs on its coast.”

“You’ve been there? And have you seen the mounds?” asked Nessah eagerly. “Have they been looted? Lloel, do you know?” She turned to Lloel, who shrugged.

“No, we didn’t go out onto the Head,” Shellah continued. “There are Hogbowen.”

Nessah looked at Lloel. “Hogbowen? What?”

Lloel sighed. “Hogboons are the mythical guardians of burial mounds. Thought to be an old wives’ tale to frighten children from paddling out to the mounds.”

“So, anyone can just go out there?” asked Nessah, incredulous. “Kids do it? Shellah, you did this as a child?”

Lloel grinned widely. “I did too, long ago. Shielings children are a bit wilder than your ordinary average mainland child. To get to Mundy Head, you either steal your parents’ sailing dinghy and brave the rough cliffside waters to the cave mouth, or you paddle in your hide canoe through the interior channel to the tidal marsh, then through Diun Sea Arch and Truah’s Chasm to approach it from behind the sea stacks.”

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

“And if you survive that,” said Shellah. “Your Ma whips you. Particularly if you wreck the dinghy like my brother did. The canoe was a better choice.” Lloel nodded in agreement.

Nessah took a deep breath, her expression frozen into a grimace. “Authenticating this scroll is very important to me. I don’t want to hear anyone mocking this.” She swept out of the room. Shellah heard some angry words, she presumed to poor Wenlow, and then a heavy door slam.

“I should probably go after her,” said Shellah.

“No, give her a moment,” said Lloel. “Sounds like she just went out to the garden to get some air. And she would never leave this behind.” He waved the old parchment in his hand. “I don’t know if she’s told you, but our Nessah is a relic hunter,” Lloel explained. “People with deep pockets and an interest in the old magics, largely from Larin, hire sorcerers to find and validate trinkets from the previous age, reminders of when they ruled the world and had the powers of gods. These things carry a good price if they can be proven authentic.”

“Is it real? This document?” Jonas asked.

“Maybe. I don’t know yet, but it feels like it, if you know what I mean,” said Lloel. “It has a certain spark to the touch, if you’re taught to recognize it.”

The candlelight sparkled on fresh raindrops spotting the window exterior. “I’m going to fetch her,” said Shellah. She placed her whisky shell on the table. “Maybe I can calm her down.”

Wenlow led Shellah out to the walled garden, where she found Nessah pacing back and forth in the spitting rain.

“You should come in. If you get sick, you’ll be stuck in town longer than you would like.”

“Nobody understands,” said Nessah, fuming. “As we speak, Torond is on the mail ship to Corom City with the seal, where he will fully claim credit from our employer for this discovery. That’s why we split up, so he can run there and make a greater share of the find. And I am the schoolgirl with the side errand to the old scholar at the edge of nowhere.” Nessah turned to face her. “Or maybe you do understand. Every time a man got an opportunity or was paid more or given more respect for a job, whereas everyone assumed you slept with someone for that same opportunity.”

Shellah nodded. “I was never that pretty, though. Just made less money.”

“If I could bring back one of the runes, that would leave Torond with just a moldy old seal and a modern copy of the scroll. He doesn’t have the knowledge or connections at the university to work through the riddles, at least not that I’m aware of.”

“Listen,” said Shellah. “I imagine there’s a reason why those runes are hidden in locations such as Mundy Head. It is genuinely dangerous getting out there. I bet they’re not supposed to be found.”

“It sounds like we are so close, it just kills me. I really need this. And Torond is a slick, smug bastard. I can imagine the look on his face if I present our boss with a rune and say, why do you even need him? This could be the find of the century.” Nessah reached out to grab both of Shellah’s hands, pulling her close. “And I will pay you double whatever was on the contract. Jonas too.”

Shellah considered for a long moment, thinking about a life of knitting socks in a little room above a cheap Northport tavern, then sighed. “Well, if we’re going paddling to the Head, you’re going to need some pants. I’m making no promises for Jonas, but I will take you there.”