Ben Dover's Arc

Chapter 40 of 150

They came out of the pines onto a wagon track. Ben carried the older chest against his hip. Inside sat eleven relics in carved boxes, sealed with Al's wax. One relic to go. Anita had the paper with the last name and place. But the paper meant nothing until Ben could open the chest, unwax a seam, and slot the twelfth box in without the herbalist hearing the ten seconds of hum that would follow. Out here, on open ground, that hum would carry a mile. The herbalist was expected by dark. "We need walls," Ben said. "Thick ones. And something loud around them." Amber Green kept pace at his shoulder. She had joined them at the inn and stayed. Six years of finding missing people had left her quick with a plan and short with words. She pointed down the track. "Transport yard. Two ridges west. I passed it looking for the herbalist last spring. Stone walls. Engines running all day." "Whose yard?" "Ollie's." Ben looked at her. Ollie Tabooger had moved them once, at night, for coin. He had also moved the stolen chest for Amanda without asking what was in it. Ben did not trust him. He trusted the walls. They reached the yard at the hour before dusk. A broad wooden hub stood behind an iron gate, its lower doors banded in dark metal, an upper loft above a shed roof. A blue harbor cart idled inside the open bay, its motor knocking. Two more sat behind it, running rough. The whole yard shook with engine noise. Ollie stood by the cart in his navy coat, checking a strap. He looked up once. "Ben." "I need the back stall. One hour. Doors shut. Engines running." "Cost?" "Name it after." Ollie studied the chest. Then Amber. "Back stall. Keep the light low." He turned to a boy by the gate. "Run all three carts. Don't stop till I say." The back stall was stone on three sides, timber at the front. Ben set the chest on a workbench. Joe stood watch at the crack in the door. Amanda held the twelfth carved box ready, felt in her free hand. Justin pressed both palms to the wood wall and listened past the engines. Anita worked a thin blade along the wax seam. "Now," Ben said. Anita cracked the lid. The hum burst out, thin and sharp under the engine roar. Ben lifted the new box in, closed the lid, and pressed. Anita counted under her breath. At ten the hum cut. The engines kept knocking. Justin dropped his hands from the wall. "Nothing carried. I'd have felt it." Ben breathed out. Twelve boxes now sat in the chest. One relic still to find. Ollie stepped into the doorway. He did not look at the chest. He looked at Ben. "Herbalist's cart came through this yard at noon. She left a man watching the gate."