Deep beneath the Provincial Land Registry, in the damp cellar where forty years of dust lay undisturbed, Tomas Reed struck a cold-chisel into the soft lime plaster of the western foundation wall. Behind him, Nessa Vale held a high-powered oil lantern, its beam lighting up the crumbling white mortar.
With a hollow crack, a three-foot section of false plaster gave way. It showed a heavy iron door set flush into the dressed solid mountain stone. In the center of the door was a complex, five-lever lock plate of case-hardened steel.
Tomas pushed in Orlo Vane’s iron key into the keyhole. He turned it slowly. The heavy brass tumblers clicked into place one by one with a sharp, oily snap. CLICK. CLICK. CLICK. CLANK.
The iron door swung open on balanced bronze pivots. It showed a narrow, stone-vaulted recess lined with aromatic cedar shelves. On the central shelf sat a heavy tube-shaped case of solid brass, three feet long, sealed at both ends with lead plugs stamped with the Great Seal of King Alden the Second.
Tomas lifted the brass metal tube. It was heavy, weighing over thirty pounds, fully free of rusting. He brought it out to the worktable, carefully slicing through the lead seals with his sharp penknife.
