• • •
“Old Kelem stays salted in his mine, hiding from the southern sun. He’s buried deep but little escapes him. He knows ancient secrets. Some call him the last Mechanist, a child of the Builders. So old he makes me look young.”
“Where—”
“Florence. The banking clans are his patrons. Or he is theirs. That relationship is harder to unravel than any knot Gordion ever tied. Perhaps the clans sprang from his loins back along the centuries when he quickened. Like many children though they are eager to inherit—of late the banks of Florence have been flexing their muscles, testing the old man’s strength . . . and his patience.” Skilfar’s gaze flitted to Kara, then back to Snorri. “Kelem knows every coin in this Broken Empire of ours and holds the beating heart of its commerce in his claw. A different type of power to imperial might or the Hundred’s thrones, but power none the less.” In her palm lay a golden coin, a double florin, minted by the southern banks. “A different power but in its way more mighty than armies, more insidious than dancing in the dreams of crowned heads. A double-edged sword perhaps, but Kelem has lived for centuries and has yet to cut himself.”
“I thought him a story. A children’s tale.”
“They call him the Gate-keeper too. He finds and opens doors. It’s clear enough why he’s called you to him. Clear enough why you need to be rid of this key and soon.”
“Gate-keeper?” Snorri said. “Do they call him a door-mage as well?” He felt his hands tighten into fists and saw for a moment a demon wearing Einmyria’s form, leaping at him, released by the mage in Eridruin’s Cave.
“Once upon a time he called himself that, back in the long ago.”
“And he is rock-sworn, you say?”
Skilfar tilted her head to study Snorri from a new angle. “To live so long a man must swear to many masters, but gold is of the earth and it was always his first love.”
“I’ve met him . . . or a shadow of him. He barred the way to Hel against me, said I would bring the key to him.” Snorri paused, remembering the demon and how his heart had leapt when he thought it his little girl. He forced his hands to unclench. “And I will.”
“That’s madness. After the Dead King there is no one worse to give the key to.”
“He knows where death’s door is though. Can you show it to me? Is there another choice? A better choice? One Kelem cannot deny me?” Snorri tucked the key away and closed his jacket. “Get a codfish on the line and you have dinner. Get a whale on the line and you might be the dinner.” He set a hand against the blade of his axe. “Let him reel me in, and we shall see.”
“At least it saves me trying to ease his hook out of you without killing you,” Skilfar said, her lips pursed. “Kara will go with you.”
“What?” Kara looked up at that, head turning sharp enough to fan out her hair.
“No. I—” Snorri couldn’t think of an objection other than it felt wrong. The sharp challenge in the woman’s regard had sparked an instant attraction in him. She reminded him of Freja. And that felt like betrayal. A foolish notion but an honest one, deep as bones.
“But—” Kara shook her head. “A warrior? What’s to be learned watching him swing his axe?”
“You’ll go with him, Kara.” Skilfar became stern. “A warrior? Today he is a warrior. Tomorrow, who knows? A man casts a million shadows, and yet you trap him within such a singular opinion. You travelled here seeking wisdom, girl, but all that I have here on these scrolls is information. The wise come into their majority out in the world, amid the muck and pain of living. It’s not all the dropping of runes and the wrapping of old platitudes in gravitas. Get out there. Go south. Burn in the sun. Sweat. Bleed. Learn. Come to me older, tempered, hardened.” She tapped a finger to the scroll case on her lap. “These words have waited here an age already—they will wait on you a little longer. Read them with eyes that have seen the wideness of the world and they will mean more to you. There is a singular benefit in Snorri’s choosing of Kelem to show him the door. A thousand-mile benefit. On such a journey a man might grow, and change, and find himself a new opinion. Perhaps you can help him.”
• • •
Snorri stretched beside me. “And that was that.” He stood, the boat shifting beneath his weight, and glanced at Kara. “Skilfar shooed us out and her little dog followed to see that we left. Kara followed on minutes later. She said there were men hunting us on the mountain and that we’d find you near the crater on the west face.”