The Water Road (18 page)

“Is there anything I can help you
with?” Lehn asked.

He was trying to help, Strefer
realized. She smiled and said, “I appreciate the offer, but I really need to
talk with Rurek. It’s exceptionally important.”

“Big story?” Lehn asked, more
excited than he should be.

“Something like that,” she said.
“Could you go check and see if he’s back there? I’ll hold down the fort out
here, I promise. It would be a big favor to me.”

“There’s always supposed to be
someone on the desk,” Lehn said.

Strefer turned, looked at the
otherwise empty room, and turned back. “I think I can handle it for a few
minutes.”

“All right,” Lehn said with a nod.
“I’ll be right back.” He ducked down the hall, disappearing in an instant into
the maze.

Strefer turned back around, leaned
back on the counter, and faced the otherwise empty room. She kept her eyes
fixed on the doors, ready to do something, though she was not sure what, if her
pursuers burst through. Surely they would not be that foolish. Or would they?
She didn’t risk letting her guard down. She heard the door open behind her and
sighed with relief, turning to see who it was.

Lehn was standing in the hallway,
holding open the door. His face wore a wounded expression, as if he had been
berated for doing her this favor. She would have to remember that. In a moment,
Rurek walked through. His face was conflicted, as well, although whether it was
more due to frustration or anger she could not tell. Hopefully it was not
directed at her, or at Lehn, for that matter. He walked over to the counter and
slumped to a stop. “Strefer, you know that I would be happy to see you on any
other night,” he said, his voice weary. “But tonight…” he said, before trailing
off.

“I know,” she said. “I’m sorry to
bug you. I can tell you’ve got a lot going on. And, please, don’t be too hard on
Lehn, all right? He was just doing my bidding.”

“Except he’s supposed to be doing
my bidding, remember? That’s how it works when you’re in command.” He looked
like he was trying to fight a smile. It was successful, for the most part. “But
that’s my problem, not yours. What’s going on?”

Strefer looked around. The room was
empty, except for the two of them and Lehn, who had taken a seat behind one of
the desks on the other side of the counter. It was still too public for
Strefer’s taste. “Can we go back to your office?”

“You know the public isn’t allowed
back there, Strefer,” he said, voice tinged with disappointment. “Besides, this
is about as private as it can get. You know that Lehn’s on your side, after
all.”

Strefer swallowed hard. “I would
really, really rather talk about this in private. Away from even a friendly set
of prying eyes,” she said, trying her best to be serious and demanding.

“It’s really that important?” he
asked.

“Rurek, how long have you known
me?” she asked. Without waiting for an answer, she continued, “You know I don’t
puff things up out of proportion. I’m scared and I need to talk to you about
it, all right?”

“All right,” Rurek said, concern
flashing over his face. He walked over to another section of the counter,
flipped a lever, and opened a door for Strefer to walk through. “Come on,” he
said, waving her through. “But if I ever see any details about this place in a
newspaper article—I don’t care where or when or under what byline—I will
personally arrest you for treason. Got it?”

“Got it,” Strefer said, slipping
quickly behind the counter.

They walked back towards the door
to the rooms beyond, which Rurek opened for Strefer. As she walked through, he
turned to Lehn. “You didn’t see this. Understand?”

“Yes, sir,” Lehn said. “See what,
sir?”

Strefer paused once she was through
the door, both uncertain of where to go and afraid to wander somewhere that was
off limits. Rurek put a firm hand on her shoulder and guided her down the
corridor. He marched her into a small office that must be his at the end of the
hall. He closed the door behind them and waved Strefer into the chair that
faced the desk. He walked to the other side and sat down, slumping in the chair
as if this was the latest in a series of problems that had already made for a very
long day.

“Okay, Strefer,” he said, gesturing
towards her with open hands. “What’s so important?”

“Somebody broke into my home,” she
said, as directly as she knew how.

“What? Who?”

“Two guys,” she said, focusing on the
first question. “When I got home from work the door was unlocked. I went in and
found these two guys poking around in my stuff.”

Rurek let out a grunt and slumped
even further into his chair. “Strefer, I appreciate that we have a relationship
and that you might think I could handle something like this personally if you
brought it to me. Truthfully, I don’t blame you. But, to be honest, we have a
dozen break-ins in this sector every week. Probably the same in your
neighborhood, maybe worse. Trust me, the Sentinels over there will be able to
help you.”

Strefer shook her head vigorously.
“No, no, no, you weren’t listening to me. These guys weren’t just ransacking
the place looking for valuables. They were looking for something else.
Something specific.”

“What makes you say that?” he
asked, not at all convinced she knew what she was talking about.

She took a deep breath and tried
not to take Rurek’s skepticism personally. “When I snuck in behind them, these
two guys were in my bedroom leafing through papers that I keep under the bed.”
She paused. “It’s where I keep my notes. For stories. Things that don’t make it
in the final copy, you understand?” Maybe that would get his attention.

Rurek shook his head. “That doesn’t
mean they weren’t looking for something more ordinary. Jewelry? A stash of
coins? Lots of people keep valuables under a bed, although I don’t recommend
it.”

“I don’t think so,” she said,
sensing he might be softening. “When one of them saw me, they both started
asking where ‘it’ was and how I’d better hand ‘it’ over. They didn’t ask me
about coins or jewelry or anything else.”

“All right, you tell me then. What
was it they were looking for?”

Strefer said nothing, but reached
into her pouch and drew out the red notebook. In the flickering lamplight of
Rurek’s office, it seemed to be covered in blood. “They were looking for this,”
she said, holding it up for his inspection.

“A book?” Rurek was not impressed.

She shook her head. “It’s not just
any book. Do you remember the other night at the Broken Pikti?”

“When you were very drunk?” Rurek
asked with a chuckle.

“Yes,” she said, “when I was very
drunk. Anyway, do you remember what I told you? About getting into the Grand
Council building after Alban was murdered? How I got to see the crime scene?”

“Vaguely,” he said. “I thought you
were just making it up.”

She shook her head. “I wasn’t
making it up. Remember how I told you that I knew why he was killed? But I
wasn’t going to tell you?”

“Unfortunately, yes.”

She held up the red notebook. “This
is it.”

“Let me see that,” Rurek said,
reaching for the notebook.

Strefer leaned back, keeping it
just out of his grasp. “Not so fast. Before I let you see this—you would be the
only person I’ve shown this to, by the way—I want you to promise me something.”

“What?” He slumped back into the
chair, deflated by this game she was forcing him to play.

“First, I want you to promise me
that, whatever else you do, I don’t get arrested for something, or disappeared
or whatever, for lifting this from the scene.”

“First?” he asked. “You said
something about a promise, not a series of them.”

“I lied,” she said. “But the rest
of them are moot if you don’t agree to this one.”

“You know that there’s no way
you’ll leave this building unless I want you to,” he said, turning ominously serious.

“Of course,” she said without
hesitating. “That’s why I want some assurances.”

“Fine,” he said. “Whatever happens,
you’re not going to be locked up. Not by me, at any rate. What else?”

“Second,” she said, pausing for a
moment since she was making them up as she went along, “I need you to help me
tell this story.”

“What does that mean, Strefer?” he
asked, with a look on his face that blended confusion and upset. “You’re the
writer. You’re the newspaper girl. You don’t need my help to tell any story.”

“That’s not true,” she said. “Look,
I wrote this story up and gave it to Olrey at the
Daily Register
, and
what did he do with it? Threw it in the fire. Told me he would never risk the paper’s
royal charter by publishing it. Now I get home and two goons are breaking into
my house looking for this.” She waved the red notebook around. “Somebody out
there doesn’t want this story to be told. Maybe several somebodys, I don’t
know. This isn’t just another story, Rurek.”

“I understand what you’re saying,
Strefer,” he said with a sigh. “But I still don’t know what I can do to help
you.”

“Take me to Oberton,” she said.

“What?” Rurek sat up, jolted out of
his complacency.

“Oberton,” she said again. “You
told me about it the other night. You told me about how the most important
thing to them was truth and knowledge. I think they would publish this story.
They may be the only ones who would want to publish it.” She waited for a
moment while the idea sunk in. “Problem is, I don’t know where it is. I’ve
never been to the Arbor, but I’ve read about how even the best hikers get lost
in there without a guide. That’s doubly true if you’re not around one of the
big city-states. But you were born there. You know the land. You can get me to
Oberton. And you,” she paused again, somewhat ashamed to admit what she must.
“And you could protect me.”

An awkward silence hung between
them for a long while before Rurek said anything. “Let me see if I understand
this. You want me to abandon my post, and my career as a Sentinel, and lead you
through the Arbor to a place I’ve never actually been, all because you have a
hunch?”

“It’s not a hunch,” Strefer said.
“Well, all right, I’ll admit it’s a hunch that this is why Alban was killed,”
she admitted. “But that’s not the important part of the story. The real story
comes right out of the pages of this notebook.”

“It’s not like Oberton is just
sitting there on a map, Strefer,” Rurek said, trying to convince himself of the
folly of her idea. “They don’t really want people to know where they are. Any
idea of where the city actually is comes mostly from old stories and legends.
And there’s no guarantee that, if we actually found them, they’d have anything
to do with us. They don’t look very favorably on strangers.”

“But you know the stories, right?”
she asked, trying to spur some excitement of purpose in him. “You have some
idea where this place is, don’t you? If what you’ve told me about Oberton is
anywhere near true, they are the only people north of the Water Road who will
publish this.”

Rurek changed his approach. “I
can’t just disappear, Strefer. You understand that, right?”

Strefer shuffled forward on her
chair and perched on the edge of it, leaning over the desk towards him. “The
other night, you told me that sometimes there were situations when doing the
right thing meant going outside the system, right? Ignoring the chain of
command and all that. I need your help to do what’s right, Rurek. I know what
it will cost you. I don’t ask lightly.”

“I know you don’t,” he said, “but I
still don’t think you really know what you are asking of me. Do you think I can
just go in tomorrow, sign a piece of paper, and resign my commission? Do you
think nobody would ask any questions?”

“Of course not,” she said. “I don’t
expect you to be able to neatly walk away like that. It will be easier for both
of us if we just disappear. Don’t you think?”

He sat back, shook his head, and
laughed nervously. “Are you at least going to let me see what’s so damned
important that it’s worth throwing my life away for?”

It was a fair request. She handed
him the red notebook. “The page marked with the paper there is where it was
open when I found it. My theory is…” she trailed off as he began to read and
waved her explanation away. Her heart raced as Rurek flipped quickly through
the red notebook, scanning each page. Sweat began to roll down the back of her
neck, just like when she sneaked into the Grand Council building. She had
passed the point of no return, having given up the notebook. Rurek would not
have to return it if he did not want to. She certainly stood no chance of
taking it from him by force. He could toss it into the fire just like Olrey had
done with her story. She knew the contents by heart now, but without the
original nobody would believe her.

When he reached the last page,
Rurek closed the notebook, then he handed it back to her. “I suppose you want
to leave the city as soon as possible?” he asked.

Strefer nodded, taking the red
notebook back in her hand and sliding it back into the safety of her pouch. A
wave of relief washed over her. “There are people after me,” she said. “One of
them might have followed me here. The sooner we’re gone, the better.”