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Carl nodded to Gerald Leavitt’s boy as he was led into the apartment. Despite the chill outside, the windows were wide open, and Leavitt sat at a large table covered with maps, books, paper, quills, and inkpots. He calmly put down his magnifying glass and pulled a cloth over the table as Carl entered.
“How’s my hometown hero?” Leavitt said with what sounded like genuine warmth in his voice, standing to reveal a long red silk robe, which might have been formalwear or some kind of pajama; Carl couldn’t puzzle it out.
“I haven’t died yet,” Carl replied, shaking the outstretched hand. “My shoulder’s been better though.” He rotated his left arm as far as he could, which was quite a bit farther than it had been a month ago. Thanks to Finn’s ministrations and a lot of careful training, some of the muscle was beginning to grow back.
“What’s a soldier without a few war wounds?” Leavitt scoffed.
“A dead one,” Carl answered.
Leavitt raised his hands, as if in surrender. “True words.”
“I expect you’ve heard news of our travels,” Carl said. Leavitt had been ‘temporarily unavailable’ for the better part of the past month, which Leavitt’s man Geoffrey would not budge his lips about. But Leavitt had connections within the government as well as the military, so he was surely privy to the report Carl had filed in Gheil.
“I’ve read the report, yes.” Leavitt gestured for his boy to bring the wine. “I was hoping you could add some nuance.” Carl accepted a glass, whose smooth, full flavor was a welcome change from the bitter mushroom wine at Castle Maer.
“Gerald,” Carl said, forcing himself to use Leavitt’s first name, “They say you know more about what goes on in the Realm than any man alive.” Leavitt raised his glass to accept the honor. “So what interests me is, what exactly about our trip to Castle Maer do you not know, and why do you want to know it?”
“You left out how much I might pay to find out.” Leavitt winced a little. “Which is plenty, rest assured. But it’s not about money, I can tell you that. There are important things at work here, bigger than you, bigger than me. There’s a lot I can’t talk about, but I’d be willing to go quid pro quo with you, two questions, each of us answering truthfully, or as close to the truth as we can afford. What do you say?”
“Fair enough.” Carl held out his glass toward Leavitt, who clinked it with a twinkle in his eye. “Since I agreed to give you a report upon my return, I’ll answer first. What do you want to know?”
Leavitt drained his glass and summoned the boy for a refill. Carl covered his glass with his hand; he could always have another glass after the inquisition. Leavitt took a calm sip, his eyes on the open window.
“What do you find so appealing about the Maer?” Leavitt asked, giving Carl a sideways glance.
Carl swirled his wine in his glass, not sure if that was the right thing to do with fine wine, but it was a good prop for a pause. “Their sense of justice,” he said. “They may be fairer than we are.”
“Very good!” Leavitt slapped his hand on his knee. “That’s precisely the kind of nuance I was looking for. Your turn.” He held his arms wide, his face open.
“All right,” Carl said, rubbing his beard. “What do you find so appealing about the Maer?”
Leavitt wrapped one hand tightly around his glass and pointed a finger at Carl. “Such an excellent question!” He turned around and took an awkward sip from the side of his glass, spilling a little. “I wish I knew,” he said, turning back to Carl. “Or maybe I do, but I’ve been hiding it from myself. Yes, this is the thing: it’s their humanity. Are they, really and truly as your report suggests, people? Are they capable of good as well as evil? Do they have souls?” He spread his arms wide, his eyes hot on Carl’s.
“Yes,” Carl answered. “They are just as we are, in every respect, save for a little more hair.” Leavitt did not, as Carl had feared, ask about the every respect bit, forcing Carl to reveal his relationship with Ujenn, or lie about it.
“That’s just so damned exciting, isn’t it?” Leavitt’s eyes grew wide and wild. “I mean, the vicious beast-men of legend, merely another tribe of men? Well I owe you one more, and I’ve asked my two, so have at it.” Leavitt sat down on a velvet-cushioned chair, crossed his legs, and took an eager sip.
Carl had been weighing his next question for some time, unsure if he would have the chance to ask it, and he could not have imagined a more opportune moment.
“What was in the coffin with Theo?”
Leavitt put down his wineglass and stood up. He walked over to his boy, took the flagon off his tray, and motioned him out. The boy set down his tray and walked out the door, closing it behind him. Leavitt filled his glass, then filled Carl’s without giving him a chance to refuse. He paced back and forth a bit, toying with various baubles and instruments on his desk, before stopping and facing Carl, about three feet away.
“I have to tell someone, and at this point, I think it might as well be you. For if something were to happen to me, and don’t think that it couldn’t, protected though I am, but if gods forbid the worst should befall me, I would need you to open Theo’s casket and retrieve it.”
Carl stared at Leavitt, waiting for him to continue, but Leavitt’s eyes were blank, as though stalled mid-thought.
“Retrieve what?” Carl asked, coming a half-step closer.
“A cylinder scroll,” Leavitt said, the bags under his eyes showing up more clearly up close. “One that could turn the Realm on its head,” He looked down at his wineglass but did not touch it. “Will you promise me to keep this secret?”
“You’ve used up your two,” Carl said.
“Promise me!” Leavitt shouted, nearly spitting in Carl’s face before shrinking back to his chair. “No good can come of its being unearthed before its time. There are forces at work here, and this hand can only be played once. Play it too soon, and it will backfire. Trust me,” he said, his eyes yellow in the candlelight. “And if that’s too much to ask, trust this.” He opened a drawer of his desk and retrieved a bulging leather bag, which he tossed to Carl, who almost dropped it due to its unexpected weight.
“My offer to you is this. Keep this secret. Return to the Maer. Do there what you will. The Realm will not bother them as long as I hold some sway. Which I do.” He punctuated his last remark by pounding his fist on his knee. “And in a year’s time, return to me for another round of quid pro quo. You must only reveal to me what you deem prudent, and I will deal as much truth to you as I can.”
Carl hefted the clinking bag, which had to weigh three pounds or more, thinking of everything he could buy for the Maer with that money. But with the price tag so nebulous on the other end, it was a hard bargain to swallow. He hesitated for about three seconds.
“Deal,” he said, holding out his hand. Leavitt stood, took his hand, and pulled him into an embrace.
“Thank you,” Leavitt said, his eyes wet. “Now go. Boy!” He waved Carl off and chugged his wine so his glass was empty by the time the boy opened the door. Carl gave Leavitt a short wave, turned and walked out of the apartment, down the stairs, and out into the teeming streets of Wells. He had his work cut out for him, as the day was half through and the markets would be closed in a few hours. But first, he would need a sturdy cart and a strong horse to pull it. He was set to meet Sinnie in Pontival within the week, and he hoped she had convinced Finn to join them. It would be a difficult and perilous journey back to Castle Maer, and he would surely be glad of the company.