A Latent Dark by Martin Kee Read Free Book Online Page A

wood box.
    “Hard to get cigars like these, from what I hear,” said Lyle, admiring the label stamped on the brown skin of his cigar.
    “They’re nice aren’t they?”
    “Very much so,” Lyle said, letting his eyes wander over the room.
    The two men puffed away for a moment, settling into their surroundings. The Reverend considered the deep walnut-paneled walls and the various trophies that lined the shelves. The elephant tusks, carved with precision to resemble a sky-bound kingdom; a necklace made of tiger claws; gold plated guns and swords; rare crystals the size of a child’s head; all of them unique and finely crafted—all of them illegal.
    Souvenirs , thought Lyle. The man likes his souvenirs .
    An elaborate military uniform covered a fitting dummy in one corner of the room, an ornate saber dangling from its belt. An empty general’s hat sat atop the dummy; gold and blue feathers grew from it like wild ferns.
    “You used to be militia?” Lyle finally asked.
    “Why yes,” Perlandine said, inflating in his chair as he spoke. “Holy Guard. That was ages ago. Seems police work is the only money to be made by men who can use a gun these days.”
    “Well you seem to have done well for yourself,” Lyle said. He held the cigar out. “I assume these gifts come with the job?”
    Perlandine shifted in his seat, causing the chair to squeak. “Those,” he said, “are from the last and only successful raid on the Lassimir settlement. They are, I dare say, about twenty years old.”
    “They hold up.”
    “Indeed they do.”
    “Lassimir is a city?”
    “It is, of sorts. Illegitimate.” He pronounced it “ill- ee-gittimate ”.
    “I see,” said Lyle. “Gypsies?”
    “Gypsies, bandits, vagrants… pirates,” said Perlandine, taking a puff. “The refuse that flows from the cities finds its way there.”
    He slid back in his chair as if settling in for a long story. Lyle waited for him to adjust himself, wondering just how long the man would make him wait. Perlandine continued. “Lassimir is an undocumented city that sits along the river of the same name. There is some history I won’t bore you with, about how it came to be called that. Either way, you might remember passing over it as you entered the city by train.”
    Lyle nodded politely, waiting.
    “The Lassimir River is a popular detour for trading barges,” said the Chief Constable. “They send smaller lighter boats in through the sound to trade items that The Church would find… questionable. Over the years, the tent city has grown exponentially. They pretty much dominate trade throughout the region, much to the distaste of the citizens of Rhinewall and here, of course.”
    “I am familiar with Rhinewall,” said Lyle. More familiar than you’ll ever know , he thought.
    Perlandine nodded and continued. “We attempted to disperse the Lassimir encampment several decades ago.”
    “How did that work out for you?” Lyle grinned. He had already heard the mutterings from businessmen about the pirate town that would not die, but instead flooded the markets with cheap, illegal goods.
    “Oh, it worked just fine,” said Perlandine with a dry chuckle. “If you count the few stragglers we managed to actually catch. Hardly worth the effort. A year or two after the raid, they simply set up camp again. They came out of the woods and planted their tents as if nothing had ever happened. Then the cataclysms began, the Flux being what it is—”
    “Why not just raid them again?”
    “It’s expensive, frankly,” said Perlandine. “Our cities have limited funds to support such endeavors. The landscape, as you well know, is very dense between here and Lassimir, nearly impossible to send an army through except single file. People speak of the forest being haunted… crazy talk if you ask me, but you can’t pay most soldiers enough to go through there. They call it The Wilds for a reason, Reverend.”
    “Burn it,” Lyle said through the