Keeper's Justice
Copyright© 2025 by Charly Young
Chapter 14
Quinn
As Quinn walked back to Northmarket, he was deep in thought, trying to figure out his next steps. On the one hand, he felt rising pressure of time passing; on the other, the devastation he had just witnessed had to be dealt with. He really wanted to shout, “Why does it have to be me?” but he was afraid his self-pity would instantly draw Malak the Seer to lecture him on the merits of facing facts.
Each step into this mess added another layer of shit to this mission. Obviously, getting some sort of relief effort in Eastmarket was going to be a pain, but it seemed no one else was going to step up. The problem was that he knew he was a blunt instrument on a job that demanded a delicate touch of practical politicking.
He needed coins. Lots of coins. He thought of the Dragons, and a memory came out of nowhere.
Eleven-year-old Lachlan and Mr. MacLeish, the old man who was his guardian, were sitting on the porch of Keeper House awaiting sunrise. It was the old man’s habit to regularly quiz young Lachlan on his development.
Young Lachlan was hungry. His mind was mostly on the delicious smell of the breakfast that Mrs. Periwinkle was cooking for him and the old man.
The old man noticed and growled, “Pay attention, boy. Are you learning anything from that professor? Seems to me all he talks about is fishing. I’m not paying him to teach you how to fly fish.”
“Oh yes, sir, I am. Lots,” Lachlan said earnestly. He loved Professor Lamblin’s classes, especially the fishing ones. He hurried to change the subject from fishing to books. “We are studying English literature this month. He gave me a book about dragons. Katie said there were no such things. But in Oldtown, they always talked like there really was one. Have you ever seen one?”
The old man puffed on his pipe. “You have no end of questions. Don’t think I don’t know what you’re up to. There most certainly are such things as dragons.” The old man grew pensive. “They are creatures of magic. Very dangerous. You will meet them someday. You are going to have to use your wits to deal with dragon-kind.”
Lachlan stilled with dread. Terrifying tales of dragons abounded in Oldtown.
“Dragons, sir? How would a kid like me deal with dragons?”
The old man gave him a glare. He did not like to be interrupted when he was lecturing.
“Dragons collect things. They are like pack rats. They call their collection ‘The Hoard.’ It’s their strength and weakness. It’s the source of their power and long life. Their weakness is their avarice. One cannot force them, but one can manipulate them. No other treasure is as valuable to them as red gold. They will go to unimaginable lengths to gain it.”
The story entranced Lachlan. Treasure. He imagined a dragon perched on a pile of gold. This story was far more interesting than the old man’s usual lectures on tactics and strategy.
“Have you ever seen this red gold?”
“No. To see it and touch it is to die, but my master tucked some away for a rainy day. I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to show you. Come along; you need to know about this room anyway.”
He led the boy to the rear of Keeper House to a wall under a stairway. He produced a massive set of keys, selected a tiny crystal key, and touched it to the wall. A door appeared where there hadn’t been one before. Lachlan was used to this by now. Keeper House was full of mysterious nooks and crannies.
The old man opened the door. Inside was a cavernous room. A jumble of old-fashioned steamer trunks and cardboard boxes took up most of the floor space. Wooden shelves on each wall held a collection of dusty tools and unidentified knickknacks. Piles of old clothing lay everywhere.
“This room is where the Keepers of old stored things they considered important. Red gold, or dragon gold, as it is also called, is extremely rare and very poisonous. A fist-sized chunk is priceless to dragonkind. Handling it will cause a very painful death. It’s back here somewhere, or it was when my father showed it to me. Here it is.”
The old man shoved a collection of fur coats aside and pointed to a dull gray metal box.
Lachlan looked at it. “Sir, it doesn’t look much like a treasure to me.”
“I assure you, to dragonkind, it is priceless.”
The ordinariness of the dull gray box was not nearly as romantic as diamonds, rubies, and gold, so young Lachlan soon forgot the room under the stairs.
Life in Oldtown was strictly ‘root hog or die.’ Those fortunate enough to have a clan or extended family to rely on could depend on their relatives for help or vengeance. Those without a clan had to make their way on their own. Most of the time, they starved and died.
Quinn decided he was going to change that, with apologies to any future unintended consequences. He made a decision that would forever alter Oldtown’s future.
He quickly caught up with Kurt and the two dwarven women. “Kurt, I’ve got to head home and get something. Would you wait for me at Raven’s? I’ve got an errand at the Bank. After that, we will have a chat with Mr. Whiskers.”
“What are you up to? More social work?”
“Just wait for me, okay?” Quinn snapped. “And shut it. You’re the one who got me into this mess.”
“Okay,” the big man said agreeably. “I’ll just go flirt with Maalia for a bit.”
By the time Quinn rushed home to Keeper House and returned to Oldtown, it was near dusk. He hired a carriage to take him to the Dragon Bank. A carriage was not his usual mode of transportation when he was in a hurry, and he was carrying a literal fortune in his backpack. He figured it was best not to take chances.
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