The smile faded from Padraig’s face. “Perhaps we took the wrong path through the mountains. It would certainly explain the delay.”
“You’re admitting your wrongdoing?” asked Farris. “Well done, Captain Tuathil. That takes significant strength.”
“I’ll heed your words, Farris, and ignore your tone,” said Padraig. “Our final destination is due west ahead of us, though too far to make in one day’s travel. This road looks like it’ll take us to Rosca Umhír, though it’ll be past nightfall when we reach there. Does anyone object to walking in the dark?”
“We’re not likely to run into any trouble,” said Nicole. “Unless any highway men survived the horde.”
“Though unlikely,” said Padraig. “Any who managed to would certainly be a force to be reckoned with.”
The others laughed at this, but Fionn didn’t join in. He couldn’t help but recall his dream. What had the Lady said, that Farris had indirectly saved Fionn from this fate?
He threw Farris a quick glance. Unlike the others, the Simian was not laughing.
***
So easy for them to laugh, thought Farris, urging his mount to move. But others have survived the horde.
He put a hand to the halberd attached beside his saddle. If it came to it, he wouldn’t hesitate to defend himself, or the party. Perhaps striking down an attacker would be easier to do than stealing food from an impoverished family.
I cannot blame myself, he thought, keeping his eyes focused Rosca Umhír, far ahead. I must not blame myself.
Onwards they went, down into the hills of the Godspine. The path took them through a snow-laden forest, which was every bit as still and silent as the Hazelwood. Then it brought them into the wide prairies of the Midlands, taking them through its gentle slopes. Late in the afternoon, they took a quick break, feeding themselves and their mounts for a hard ride into the night.
By the time night came, they were riding with great speed towards Rosca Umhír. Farris couldn’t help but glance behind him every now and then, ensuring they were not being followed, but the road behind them was every bit as desolate as it had been when it was the road ahead of them.
Soon, they came towards the gates of Rosca Umhír. Although Farris had expected them to be unguarded, he did not expect to them to be in the state he found them.
The gatehouse lay in ruin, nothing more than a mass of red rubble piled up before a huge gap in the city walls. Beyond that, many buildings were destroyed: burned frames of blackened wood either side a cobblestone path littered with debris.
“The horde attacked in full force,” said Aislinn, her voice cracking into a whisper.
Of course, thought Farris. She was here when it came. She rode out to meet him, when her lord father was content with locking himself away in his keep. He couldn’t help but admire her bravery. However foolish it was.
But does bravery even come in other forms?
They walked slowly though the ruined city. The place was certainly in a worse state than Point Grey. Considering this, Farris wondered how Cruachan was faring. Though he didn’t consider it for much longer.
“We should find a place to stay,” said Fionn. “Perhaps the keep is in a better condition than the buildings here.”
“I’m sure it is,” said Aislinn. “And with a heavy heart, I can only hope the horde found a way in and left a way for us to follow.”
“If not, I’m sure Farris here can break and enter for us!”
Farris, however, wasn’t paying them any notice. His attention was fixated on a cobblestone path extending eastwards near a row of hedges, away from the main road on which they stood. A path they likely would have passed with little mind, Farris noticed now that some stones here were cracked. Cracked in a manner far more intentional than the rest of the ruined city. Elsewhere, cobblestones were broken and upturned and scattered, but here, they were in place and fractured only slightly. These cracked stones formed the shape of two circles: one within the other. Farris squinted down the path, and indeed, his initial suspicion was proven correct when he saw that beneath these concentric circles were more cracked stones made a sharp V shape.
“Cant,” said Farris. He stopped and dismounted.
“You… can’t?” asked Padraig.
“Thieves’ cant,” replied Farris, before rushing towards the shape on the ground. The two lines forming a V pointed towards a stone building, with walls that still stood, but it bore no roof, having likely been once thatched before the horde’s fires burned it away.
Above its door frame was the same symbol, scratched into its surface and barely visible.
Without hesitation, Farris pushed through the remnants of a small wooden gate upon a low stone wall and bolted into the building.
The interior was a mess, blackened with burns and void of anything of use. Farris ran through the rooms, searching every wall for more markings, but found none. Behind him, Nicole stepped into the building.
“Farris, what’s going on?”
“Thieves’ cant,” he repeated, gesturing to the symbol on the cracked stones. “A code, devised by the Guild. We mark buildings for burgling, warning or informing other thieves of what’s inside: valuables, guards, dogs, mages, children, focus-crystals, traps, friends of the Guild, enemies of the Guild… we have a specific symbol for each.”
“Is this what you mean?” asked Padraig from outside. “This symbol over the path?”
“Yes, and there’s one over the door too,” said Farris. “That one indicates a cache is here, waiting to be picked up. But it was never picked up, otherwise the glyph would be crossed out.”
“And why does it matter?” said Padraig. “What use is gold to us right now?”
Farris ignored the captain and went out through the back door of the house. He came into in a small stone alley, facing another row of burnt-out houses. Stepping backwards, Farris examined all the walls, looking for another glyph, until he spotted a scratching on the ground. Barely visible beneath the flame-scarred stone, was another symbol. This one had an image similar to the first, but instead of a V underneath the concentric circles, this one bore an X.
“Here,” said Farris, crouching. “It’s under the stone. But we’ll need a specific tool to open it.”
Fionn appeared by his side. “If its ordinary stone, I can help.” The mage rolled up his sleeves. “But I was never very good at Geomancy, so it might take some time.”
Farris stepped aside to let the mage get to work. Either Fionn was a liar, or underestimated his own skill, as he made quick work of the task. The symbol was actually etched upon a stone slab, made to blend perfectly in with the rest of the ground. With seemingly little effort, Fionn lifted this stone slab upwards, then cast it aside, leaving a square hole. Farris quickly reached inside.
He felt something at the bottom, like a heavy box. Taking more time than Fionn had opening the hole, Farris pulled the object out. It proved to be a wooden chest, bound shut with iron straps. He placed it on the ground.
“It’s locked,” he said, then turned again to Fionn. “Can you open it? If not, I may be able to pick the lock, though for that I’ll need—”
