Epilogue

The Combination

As Ropart Sanfarrow turned onto a corner, he took a note out of his pocket and reread it for the fifth time.

Tilly’s Cafe, Toppletod Way, 2pm, Tuesday.

That was all that was written. He had no idea who had posted it.

When he entered the cafe there was only one person in there aside from the girl behind the counter; a man dressed head to toe in robes from Arivel. He was sitting without a drink. Sanfarrow would have said he was staring into space, but, slightly disturbingly, even his eyes were covered by his robes.

Sanfarrow knew that in Arivelian culture it was considered important to cover the skin with fabric, but he had never before seen someone so entirely masked by their clothing. The only part of the man’s face that wasn’t covered was his mouth. Sanfarrow wondered how on earth he was supposed to see.

“May I join you?” Sanfarrow offered.

The Arivelian nodded, breathing abnormally.

Sanfarrow sat down, placed the note on the table and slid it towards the stranger.

“So . . .” he said. “I’m here. Are you going to tell me what this is all about? I have to say I’ve never been summoned so enigmatically before.”

Now that Sanfarrow was sitting, he could see that the man in front of him was trembling, and his mouth was twitching. The small patch of skin around his mouth looked horribly burnt and blistered.

There was no reply. Instead, the man lifted something from underneath the table; a canister or some kind of thermal flask. As he unscrewed the lid Sanfarrow saw that his hands were even worse than the skin around his mouth. Not only were they deformed and cracked and blistered, but they were bubbling; the skin was pulsating slowly like molten lava.

“What in Gedin’s name . . . ?” Sanfarrow whispered to himself.

The man then placed the lid on the table, reached into the flask, and pulled out a worm. It struggled violently between his fingers before he opened his mouth wide and dropped the worm into it. As he chewed, his whole body gave a few spasms.

“Oh, dear Gedin, no . . .” Sanfarrow said. “You’re the one . . . You’re the one that sent Seckry to get the rintide worms, aren’t you? Do you have any idea what you’re doing? Those worms were being used as waste disposal for an incredibly toxic and unstable experiment. They’re diseased, they’re contaminated. And you’re eating them?”

The man said nothing.

“Look, what is this all about?” Sanfarrow said furiously. “Why are you here? Why did you want to meet me?”

The man then put his unsettlingly hideous hands in front of him and made the shape of a box with his fingers.

Sanfarrow didn’t know what this meant.

The man then pointed to Sanfarrow’s pocket and made the shape of a box once more.

Sanfarrow reached to his pocket and paused. There was only one thing in there. His last gift from Kevan Kayne. The un-openable box.

He tentatively pulled it out. “This . . . ?”

The Arivelian nodded.

“How did you know that this was in my pocket?” Sanfarrow said, feeling his skin begin to prickle with fear. “This is something private, something that was given to me by a dear friend.”

But the man still refused to say a word. Instead, he flipped Sanfarrow’s note over so that it was blank side up and slid it into the centre of their table.

Sanfarrow laughed incredulously and without humour.

“Don’t tell me you’re going to write down possible combinations for the lock. I’ve tried almost every combination there is. I’ve spent two years trying to unlock it. There’s only one person that could have unlocked it, and that’s the person who gave it to me. That person was shot dead.”

What happened next made Sanfarrow grip his seat in horror. The blank paper began quivering of its own accord and rising slowly into the air. Then, with a sharp scratching sound, numbers began etching themselves into the paper in what looked like blood.

“How on earth . . . ?” Sanfarrow said, his voice wavering. “What are those worms doing to you . . . ?”

The paper remained hovering in the air as sixteen numbers were scratched into its surface, the exact amount of numbers needed to open Kayne’s box.

“How in Gedin’s name would you know this combination?” Sanfarrow said, frozen still and sweating profusely.

The edges of the floating paper seemed to be growing mould before his eyes, and it was trembling so violently it seemed as though the paper itself was trying to get away, to rid itself of the force that was manipulating it. This telekinesis, whatever it was, was dark and diseased.

Sanfarrow swallowed and stared at the numbers.

Could it really be the right combination?

With shaking hands he began entering the numbers, and with the final one there was a click. He shook his head slowly in disbelief. It was open.

He lifted the two segments apart and the only thing inside was a small piece of card. Inscribed on it were two words.

It’s me.

It was only then that the man sitting in front of Sanfarrow spoke.

“Hello Ropart,” said Kevan Kayne, and lifted another worm into his mouth.