by Sam Ferguson
“Liars don’t show fear,” the guard chimed in.
“When I need the help of a man who has only the brains to carry a sword and barely enough courage to do so unless he is behind palace walls, I will ask for it,” Orin said sharply. He turned back to Jonathan and stared into the young man’s eyes. “It is true that not all liars show fear, but only someone who actually believes his innocence can display the fiery zeal I have seen here today. There is more to this story, and I must know what it is.” The inquisitor clapped his hands together. “Jonathan Haymaker, I will not agree to delivering a public apology, but I can set your brother free as soon as I leave this office.”
Jonathan nodded. “Then we have a deal.”
“Not so fast,” Orin said, holding up a finger. “If I uncover the proof I need to convict you, I won’t waste any more resources on you than I have to.”
“Meaning what?” Jonathan asked. “Execution? I can agree to that –I know I’m telling the truth.”
Orin laughed and shook his head. “No, execution would be too quick. If I convict you, then I will put you on a prison ship bound for Yint, a colony in the far Antarctic from which there is no return.”
“Fine,” Jonathan said.
“Don’t be so quick,” Orin cautioned. “You see, if I find proof that Tray Maloy knowingly acted in a manner against the crown, I will count that as proof of your guilt, even if you didn’t know.”
“What?”
“If I am allowing your brother to go free, and completely and irrevocably exonerate him, then I need to make sure there is enough meat left on this particular bone to make it worth it. In this case, the only thing I have left to deal with is you, because Tray Maloy is gone, as is any wealth he may have had. Therefore, if Tray Maloy is guilty, then I will not only ship you off to Yint, but I will seize your farmlands and raze them just to send the message to any others who might think of committing such crimes. More than that, I will seize all of the ill-gotton booty that resulted from your illegal mission in Tanglewood Forest in order to pay for all legal proceedings in this case.”
Jonathan stood there and blinked. If Orin took everything it would affect everyone currently living on his farm. People like Bruno wouldn’t have any other place to go. More than that, it would also mean that Orin would seek Jason’s treasure from Tanglewood as well. After all, he was only promising not to bring more charges against Jason.
“Not so quick to agree now, are you?” Orin said with a victorious smile.
Jonathan shook his head and sighed. “I know him,” he said of Captain Ziegler. “Whatever he did, he had just reasons, you’ll see.”
“So we’re agreed?” Orin said.
Jonathan held up a finger. “Griff comes with us,” he said.
Orin snickered and clapped his hands. “You are full of demands,” he commented. He was quiet for a moment and then nodded. “Very well, but if you are going to attach him to this case, then he will share in the consequences with you should you be convicted.”
“I understand,” Jonathan said.
“Let me make sure you do,” Orin pressed. “I don’t want you coming back later saying I was unfair. Griff is a cavedog, and while they usually reside underground, the dwarven halls are warm enough to keep a cold-blooded reptile healthy. Yint is a walled off block of ice with a few meager huts. I couldn’t send Griff there in good conscience, so I would have him euthanized before you departed. Understand?”
Jonathan felt a rage boil up inside him that threatened to make him lose control, but he managed to keep it in check. “I understand.”
“Good,” Orin said. “Then we have a deal.”
Jonathan stood up and put out his hand. “Agreed.”
Orin shook Jonathan’s hand and gave a slight nod. “Get this man his clothes.”
“My uniform,” Jonathan said, turning to the guard. “I am on official business, and I deserve to present myself honorably.”
The guard clenched his jaw, obviously disgusted by the turn of events. He nodded and turned to leave the room.
“I’ll prepare for the journey today and be ready by morning,” Orin said. “Your brother will be sent home forthwith, as promised.” With that, Orin led Morgan out of the room.
CHAPTER SIX
The next morning, Morgan stood outside Master Ingbrethsen’s office tapping her middle finger against her thumb while staring at his door. She took in a deep breath and reached out to grab the knob, then the door swung open and Orin Ingbrethsen stood in the doorway.
“Morgan, is there something I can help you with?”
Caught off guard, she hesitated for just a moment but recovered quickly. “Master Ingbrethsen, I want to—”
“No,” Orin said, cutting her off.
“Excuse me?”
Orin smiled and stepped back, making room for Morgan to pass through the doorway and into his office. “You were going to ask to come along, and I am saying no.” Orin closed the door and followed in after her, but Morgan wasn’t going to make this easy on him.
“Why not?”
“Because, Morgan, I am responsible for your well-being while you are my assistant inquisitor. I can’t have you in harm’s way.”
“Orin, did I ever tell you why I wanted to become an inquisitor in the first place?” Morgan asked, hoping a different angle of attack might soften him up a bit.
Orin shook his head. “Why does anyone become an inquisitor?” he asked. “Either they love the law, or they love power, or both.”
Morgan grinned and gave a relenting nod. “Sure, but do you know how I came to love the law?”
Orin sighed. “No, but I am sure you are about to tell me.”
Morgan slapped her hands together and brought them up to her face for a moment, not entirely sure she should divulge this next bit of information, but she needed to make him listen. “My older brother went off to war when I was only ten,” she began.
“Yes, most young men did,” Orin commented wryly.
“But before he left, he and I used to sneak off into the archives where our father worked. We devoured the legal annals and he showed me how important the law is. Without law, there is chaos, ruin, and injustice.”
“Having a law doesn’t force others to keep it,” Orin pointed out.
Morgan pointed a finger at Orin. “That’s exactly what I told him the first time he went off gushing about the finer points of the law and how it made us more civilized, but that’s when he told me that an inquisitor makes sure people do keep the law, and that those who don’t receive their just punishments.”
“So does a magistrate,” Orin cut in.
“But an inquisitor deals with matters pertaining to the military, making them the overseers of the most powerful people in the kingdom. A magistrate deals with all sorts of crime, but soldiers are given a special trust and office. You see, my brother wanted so desperately to become an inquisitor, he worked hard to finish the requirements for his apprenticeship. He even had me working alongside him. It fostered in me a love for the law unlike anything else.” Morgan stopped and her smile faded as she thought of her brother then. “He was taken to war before he could reach journeyman, and he never came back. So, knowing that he would never realize his dream, I made it my dream. I took the love of the law he gave me and I worked harder than anyone, so that through me some part of his dream would be kept alive.”
“Morgan, I appreciate this, but it doesn’t change anything,” Orin said softly.
“Yes, it does!” she said quickly. “I saw the way you looked at Jonathan, you believe him, and I know that you believe in the Old Gods too.”
“What does that have to do with anything?” Orin asked.
“I worry that your judgment may be clouded,” Morgan said.
“How dare you!?” Orin snarled. “I have ever been an objective inquisitor. I am interested only in the truth.”
“I’m not saying you aren’t being objective, I’m saying that perhaps you want his stories to be true. After all,
the king and the older princes are fully taken in by him, and much of the kingdom’s populace love him as well. I want to make sure that he doesn’t—”
“Fool me?” Orin finished for her. “Morgan, you are a wonderful inquisitor, but if you think for one moment that I have fallen for his charms, then you don’t know me as well as you think.”
“Then why agree to let him loose?” Morgan asked. “We could conduct the investigation without him. He could remain here in the meantime.”
“His proposal intrigued me, and it occurs to me that he may have had a point. Maloy sent that sword to him. He was a clever and resourceful man, and there is no telling what precautions he may have taken to ensure that only his protégé would be able to complete his work. If there is some piece of this puzzle that only Jonathan Haymaker can unlock then I need him along.” Orin said with a shrug. “You are right though, I do believe that he at least thinks he is right. Make no mistake, I will put him on that prison ship if he or Ziegler are guilty.”
“Are you sure you didn’t agree to this plan to satisfy your curiosity about the Astral Crystal?”
“That’s precisely at the center of the investigation, Morgan, of course I did.”
Morgan shook her head. “No, not to see whether Tray Maloy stole it, but to verify the crystal’s existence.”
“What difference would that make?” Orin asked.
“I have seen you reading from the sacred texts,” Morgan replied. “I have noticed your personal journal on the subject as well.”
“That’s private,” Orin said.
Morgan held up a hand. “I didn’t read through it, I only noticed that you have it and actively write in it. You are a lover of puzzles, and you are not just after the truth of Tray Maloy or even Jonathan Haymaker here, you’re going after the biggest riddle of them all; whether the Old Gods really exist. That’s why you were so excited to see Myrskyn. If the sword had all of the powers Tray Maloy claimed, then it would be proof of the Old Gods’ existence. It would remove the shadows of doubt that lurk in your mind, whispering to you possible ways the texts may have been created by men, instead of the gods.”
Orin nodded. “The demi gods are real enough. How are you so certain that I have doubts about the Old Gods that the demi gods themselves claim to have replaced?”
“Because there is nothing to say the demi gods aren’t just very powerful sorcerers who used the stories of the Old Gods to legitimize their control of the masses, and you know it.”
Orin smiled. “And you only want to make sure that my own personal love of riddles doesn’t cloud the facts of the case, is that it?”
Morgan was about to say yes, but then stopped. “My brother’s ashes sit in an urn upon the mantle in my home. My mother and father received a posthumous medal for his service. He was called a hero for the things he did. I want the truth to come out of this case, whatever that may be, but I can’t stomach the idea of a fraud like Jonathan Haymaker of Tray Maloy having placards and benches made in their honor. It dishonors my brother.”
Orin took a step toward her and placed a hand on her shoulder. “Morgan, while I understand, and sympathize with your position, it still doesn’t change my mind. I am not going to prove the Old Gods exist by finding the Astral Crystal. My concerns revolve around what Tray Maloy did to hunt for it, and who he wanted to sell it to. This is a treason case, not a religious one.”
“Very well, then look at this as important experience for me as an inquisitor.”
“How so?” Orin asked. “Most inquisitors don’t make a habit of going out in the field, and those that do certainly don’t agree to take suspected traitors into hostile kingdoms, as you have already alluded to.”
“It will let me see how you conduct field work, and that would be invaluable to me. No other inquisitor is as efficient and thorough as you are. This could be the only chance I have to see you conduct a major field investigation, and certainly it will be the only one outside of our kingdom.”
“There is one difference between us, Morgan,” Orin told her.
“Is this because I’m a woman?” Morgan asked.
Orin frowned. “Most certainly not! Here you are telling me how you know me and then you go and ask a foolish question like that! Balderdash and venom-rot. I’m not talking about our genders, I’m referring to the fact that I am a veteran, with years of battlefield experience. You have no formal training. All other things being equal, I am better equipped for the journey, and the dangers it will surely bring.”
“You’re right, I was never a soldier, but that doesn’t mean I can’t handle myself.”
“Morgan, you are a quick study and very capable assistant inquisitor. One day you will make a fine master inquisitor, I am certain, but you don’t have any experience with this kind of field work. I can’t expect you to—”
“No, that’s exactly why I should go with you. Don’t you see? I don’t want to be a good inquisitor. I want to be the best. That’s why I competed to be your assistant, and that’s why I want to go on this investigation. I don’t want to confine myself to these offices when I reach the rank of master. I want to uncover the facts, and bring the truth to light.”
“Morgan…” Orin let the sentence hang unfinished as he looked into her eyes. He smiled after a while and nodded his head. “Tell me this, do you have any training with a blade?”
Morgan smiled wide. “Why, Master Ingbrethsen, I’m surprised you don’t remember. I was trained in the use of the Kuscan long sword by Frenwin Stormleaf for seven years. I can handle any blade you put in my hands. I even took the dueling championship in Dovler.”
“Truly? I thought women couldn’t compete.”
Morgan puffed air and shook her head. “Didn’t you read my full application when I submitted my candidacy for this position? I represented myself in a suit against Dovler city, overturning their male-only policy for tournaments.”
“In my defense, your application was much longer than most applicants’ submissions,” Orin said with a wink. “I read enough to know you were right for the position, but I didn’t read every line.”
Morgan’s lower jaw fell open and she shook her head. “How much of it did you read?” she asked.
Orin shrugged. “As I said, enough.” Orin then took in a breath and looked into her eyes. “While I admit that winning a dueling championship is more than I thought you had behind you in terms of weapons experience, and I know Master Stormleaf personally, it isn’t enough to overturn my current decision. The truth is, there is no logical justification for taking you out of the office and stalling the other cases already in progress. Frankly, you should see this as a compliment, because rather than pass my cases along to other, more experienced inquisitors, I am assigning them to you in my absence.”
What? Cases? This wasn’t fair. She knew she could handle this journey, no matter what Orin said. She couldn’t give up. “I’m coming with you,” she insisted.
“No, you aren’t. Now, be a good assistant and run down to the magistrate’s office. I need to make sure everything is in order for the Haymaker brothers. The magistrate was supposed to clear Jason’s name and release the young man. You make sure the papers are in order. I am nothing if not a perfectionist.”
Morgan bit her tongue and stared off to the side, too heated to look the man in the eyes. “I’ll do it right away, Master Ingbrethsen.”
Morgan exited the office without another word, keeping her gaze toward the floor. She wasn’t sure what to do now, but she wasn’t about to give up just yet. Master Ingbrethsen needed a logical reason to bring her along. She would have to figure out what reason might exist for that purpose. She wasn’t going to let this opportunity slip by! In the next three years, two of the district offices outside of Lehemat would have open inquisitor positions, and her thorough research on the history of the inquisitor’s office led her to believe that if she could manage to earn one of those positions, she could rise through the ranks faster than by remaining in Lehemat for her entire ca
reer. If there was anything that could give her an additional edge over the other assistant inquisitors vying for those positions, she needed it.
On the way down to the magistrate’s office, she ran into Strenton Fredrickson, a second-year assistant, carrying an armload of files and books.
“Ah, Morgan, how is your time with Master Ingbrethsen?” Strenton asked.
“Wonderful,” Morgan said with a quick smile as she barely avoided colliding with him. “Sorry, I have to run, lots of things to do,” she added as she passed by. She hated being short with him. Strenton was a likable enough fellow, but she couldn’t bear the thought that this fact-finding mission was slipping out of her hands and she was running out of time to figure out how to fix it. She hurried through the halls and burst through the doors to the magistrate’s offices and walked right up to the first clerk she saw.
“Master Ingbrethsen wants me to check on the files for the Haymaker brothers,” she said.
The young man at the small desk smiled. “Yes, I was told to be very quick with these. I finished them last night.” He bent down and pulled a large book from a drawer. “If you can sign the register, then I can give you the documents.” He turned to another drawer and removed a small set of papers. “Verdict of innocence and complete exoneration of all wrong-doing for Jason Haymaker, and a temporary release for Jonathan Haymaker, as well as a stay of proceedings.”
Morgan took the papers and inspected each line before signing the register. “Everything appears in order,” she said. “Thank you.”
The clerk rose to his feet and leaned in close. “Actually, miss, I wanted to say that I think this whole thing is dishonest and underhanded.”
“How do you mean?” Morgan asked pointedly.
“Jonathan and Jason are great heroes, and Master Ingbrethsen dishonors them with this ridiculous case. I might have to do the paperwork, but I thought I’d let you know what’s on my mind in any case.”
“I see.” Morgan then realized that several clerks had stopped their work and were now watching them. She smiled at him and for the first time noticed a strange sort of thing on the young clerk’s desk. It was a stuffed squirrel with bulging black eyes and bony little hands holding tight to a very old looking acorn. Instantly she recalled her conversation with Jonathan Haymaker at the bench and knew who this clerk was. “Tennison, could you do me one more favor and bring the ministerial charter?”
