The Artifact of Foex Read Online Free Page B

dusty
trousers. Not skeletal legs.
    Knife cleared his throat and spat into the
dust behind him. “In any case, we tracked the royal cousins to the
Jantrael Straight, where we lost them. By that point, we knew they
had more in mind than just ruling Tache; in the tradition of insane
Tache royalty throughout history, they wanted to rule the world.
LaDaven and I split up. He and his most trusted servant headed for
Wetshul, where the rainy season was in full swing, while I headed
to Door. Needless to say, the object wasn’t in Door. I returned
home to Konstantine and was promptly collared into slavery. That
was unpleasant but doesn’t come into this story. However, it means
I was never able to properly follow up.”
    Journey shot Knife a sharp look, but held her
peace. Chet had the feeling she understood what Knife was really
saying. Their relationship seemed odd: on the one hand, they
clearly shared personal history. On the other, they’d probably
experienced the same time periods, too. It was like they were a
generational cohort, affected in different ways by the same
events.
    Knife continued, “It was only much later that
I had the full tale from the servant. The royal cousins were near
this lucid mud pit when LaDaven accosted them. He managed to kill
them, but in the process he fell into the mud, going after the
object which had apparently been tossed in first. LaDaven's servant
said he couldn’t save him.”
    There was something odd about the story, but
Chet couldn’t put his finger on it. As if he’d heard a different
version years ago and forgotten it. Chet blinked and gazed at the
legs; they’d now reached the thighs. “Wait. Are you telling me...
is this... is
this
Fenimore LaDaven?”
    “I believe so. If not, there’s no harm in
rescuing some poor fool trapped by mud.”
    Journey pursed her perfect lips. “I knew the
story, and all of us on the Flame Council know about the object.
We’ve been informed of its nature for some time. That’s why I sent
for Knife when the good professor invited me to Wetshul.” She
articulated the knees of the body. They swung readily, fully intact
and working.
    “Um. Okay. But does that mean...”
    A ruckus from the edge of the dig site caught
his attention, and Chet stopped digging. A sharp, two-packs-a-day
kind of voice seemed to be raised in anger, booming across the dig
site. He knew that voice. “Abyss,” Chet groaned.
    “What is it?” Journey said.
    “Associate-Professor Clementina Golub. We
call her Professor Clementina when we aren’t calling her—other
things.”
    Sure enough, Professor Clementina was
striding down the grade, kicking up dust. She had a distinct
presence. Though she was always dressed in the latest fashions, her
face done up in heavy makeup, she always seemed to be bigger and
taller than everyone else, even when she wasn’t. Chet wasn’t sure
how she did it. Her shoulders were too broad, her voice too low.
She seemed almost manly, though Professor Clementina herself would
probably be appalled at the suggestion.
    As if Chet would make suggestions to her.
    Professor Tibbets followed her lead, his
hands fluttering. “Journey is my honored guest, whom I invited to
the dig site as a consultant. Her friend is welcome, too!”
    “They are not welcome in any way. I will not
have fire perverts degrading my dig.” Clementina’s voice resonated
across the site.
    Chet glanced down at the body, then removed
his canvas outer shirt and draped it over the still form, still
half buried in dust. He wasn’t sure why he did it—it wasn’t like he
owed the Flame anything, let alone protection. And yet... he
remembered that moment when Clementina had ripped his paper. She’d
done it in front of the class, almost as a demonstration. Taking
him down in the most humiliating way possible.
    “Your father’s money won’t help you here,”
she had told him. “Get serious or go home.”
    He’d chosen to get serious. In a sense, she’d
done him a favor, in a