Morticai's Luck

by Darlene Bolesny

  “Which means?”

  Geradon bit his lower lip in thought. Finally, he replied. “I have dealt with sorcerous wounds before. This is a very serious situation. He has already lost much blood. But we may be yet able to save his life.”

  For several long seconds, no one said a word.

  “Great,” Morticai muttered weakly. “Just great.”

  “Dualas, relieve Ivan and keep pressure on this dressing,” Geradon ordered. “Berret, put as much wood on the fire as possible—I need it as hot as you can make it. Lady,” he turned to Kithryl, “have you needle and thread?”

  “No, Brother, not here.”

  “Can you fetch some?”

  “Yes, I believe so,” she replied, puzzled.

  “Then do so. Do you have strong drink in this tavern?”

  “Yes,” Breslen replied. “Locguardian rum.”

  “We shall need two of your strongest bottles. Coryden, when he returns lean Morticai up against you and have him drink—as much of it as possible. We shall have to cauterize the wound to stop the bleeding.”

  * * *

  It was near dawn when Geradon unlocked the door to the room he shared with Inquisitor Glaedwin. As promised, Rylan sat waiting for him.

  “Thank Aluntas you are all right!” Rylan exclaimed as Geradon relocked the door. “I sent a message to Richard—he replied that you had left with Commander McFerrin and several others. I almost went to Northgate myself.”

  “I am glad you didn’t,” Geradon replied, moving to pour himself a drink. “It will be much better for you to stay out of sight as long as possible.”

  “Why? What happened?”

  Geradon sank into a chair with his drink and took a long draught before replying.

  “Our three novice investigators fought Luthekar tonight.”

  “What? Here, in Watchaven?”

  “Yes, here in Watchaven. Morticai was wounded by Ducledha.”

  Rylan bowed his head and made a gesture of blessing.

  “He is still alive,” Geradon said evenly.

  Rylan brought his eyes back up to lock with Geradon’s.

  “He was wounded by Ducledha, and yet lives? Tell me all of it, Geradon.”

  “I still do not know all of it,” Geradon began, “ but …”

  * * *

  Rylan shook his head. “So what, besides the bleeding and physical description, convinces you it was Luthekar they fought?”

  “Two things. First, this.” Geradon handed Rylan the dagger he had taken from Coryden. “That is the dagger with which Morticai tried to block the blow.”

  Rylan nodded slowly. “That does look like the work of Ducledha.”

  “And second,” Geradon continued, “Morticai apparently stumbled onto this corryn inside a tunnel—I still have many questions about that, mind you—and Morticai remarked that this corryn had no light with him.”

  “A tunnel?”

  “I know that it supposedly leads into an old manor house—unfortunately, I do not think it leads into one of the Dark One’s temples. I stopped by the Sanctorium on my way back here and notified the Grand Patriarch. By dawn, a contingent of knights will be ready to go there with us.”

  “Good,” Rylan nodded. “Will Sir Dualas accompany us?”

  “No. He requested that he be allowed to stay with Morticai and, under the circumstances, I granted that request.”

  “That was the best thing to do,” Rylan agreed. “I must agree with you, Geradon. It all looks like Luthekar—the wound, the blade’s sharpness, the description, and no use of light in a lightless place. Blessed Aluntas, what is going on here?”

  “To bring an enemy as highly placed as Prince Luthekar here? I don’t know.”

  “We should have used the candle,” Rylan said, glancing about the room.

  Geradon shrugged. “I think we are safe—for the moment. But I agree, we should use it from now on.”

  “Did you pack extras?”

  “Yes, just in case.”

  “Good. So, Morticai lies injured at Northgate. I do not like that—he is too much of a target.”

  “I am afraid I agree. But, there is not much we can do about it at the moment beyond my permission for Sir Dualas to remain with him. Unless, of course, you wish to officially arrive.”

  “No, that would tip our hand much too soon. If Luthekar is involved, it is best if he does not know I am here.”

  “I agree. I hinted that they should keep a close eye on Morticai. I shall check on him as soon as we are finished at the manor house—in fact, I just might move in for a while. I think I could manage that. Morticai’s wound will need daily tending anyway. What do you think?”

  “I think it would be wise. I fear that as soon as the Droken discover he has not died from Ducledha’s wound, they will try to kill him. Be careful, Geradon.”

  “And you, as well,” Geradon said. He paused for a moment, thinking. “It has been a long time since we faced Luthekar.”

  “Indeed,” Rylan replied. “Tomorrow I will notify the Grand Patriarch. If we should die, someone needs to know that Luthekar is involved.”

  Chapter Nine

  The night’s service had been well attended. Droka’s high priest remained on the upraised platform as the masked members of the congregation made their slow exodus from the temple. There was some talk among them, but only in whispers. Behind his mask, the high priest smiled. It was the sign of a good service—Droka’s worshippers were so aware of their hunted status that they kept chatter to a minimum.

  A worshipper slowly worked his way forward to kneel silently before the platform. He could have been praying, though the high priest doubted it. Although faithful to their cause, Udall had never been overtly devout. By now, most of the congregation had exited. The high priest walked over to the kneeling form.

  “Udall, arise,” the High Priest whispered.

  The man’s head jerked upwards, and then he nervously glanced behind him.

  “I would not compromise one of our most faithful servants, Udall,” the High Priest assured him.

  The man stood, but he bowed his head. “Your humble servant begs forgiveness for his shallow and needless fears.”

  Again, the high priest smiled behind his mask. That’s what he liked about Udall—he abased himself so well.

  “Forgiveness is granted. So, you received my message?”

  “Yes, your Eminence.”

  “And are there any corryn orphans in Watchaven’s Northmarch?”

  “Yes, your Eminence. We have few corryn here in Watchaven. It is well known that one of them grew up in Watchaven’s streets as an orphan—they call him Morticai.”

  “Morticai? That is not a corryn name.”

  “I know, your Eminence. I do not know where the human name came from, but Morticai is full corryn. I tried to discover his corryn name, but none of those I could ask without raising suspicions knew it.”

  “You have done well, Udall. I would not have wanted you to endanger your position. You are very valuable to us.”

  “There is more, your Eminence.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yes, your Eminence. When I returned from patrol all of Northgate was astir. An emissary of the Inquisition has arrived from Abbadyr. All of Morticai’s patrol have been questioned—he is under Inquisitional investigation.”

  Despite his efforts to conceal his surprise, the high priest gasped audibly.

  “That is … very interesting, Udall. And why are they investigating Morticai?”

  “No one seems to know, your Eminence.”

  “Is anyone else under suspicion?”

  “None seem to be, your Eminence.”

  “You have, indeed, brought me very valuable information, Udall. Such information deserves a reward. We may yet have more work for you to do. I would like
to introduce you to someone.”

  “Thy will is mine.”

  “I shall introduce you to Prince Luthekar.”

  Udall bowed deeply. “Your servant is very honored, Eminence. Much I have heard of Prince Luthekar, but I never hoped to meet him.”

  “We reward good service, Udall—always.”

  The High Priest motioned to his aide, who stood patiently at the edge of the room. The red-robed priest quickly came forward.

  “Has Prince Luthekar arrived?”

  “Yes, Eminence.”

  “Good. Follow me, Udall.”

  They proceeded to the anteroom outside the high priest’s office. Prince Luthekar stopped pacing and wheeled to face them.

  Udall gasped. The High Priest froze, then consciously let his breath out easily, naturally. Luthekar’s eyes shone as red as the sun falling into Dark Season. The High Priest knew it to be a manifestation of Luthekar’s power, a thing that marked Droka’s blessing in his two Princes—when they wished, and sometimes when they didn’t. It was something no mortal ever wished to see.

  “Well?” Luthekar spat.

  “We have the name of the Northmarch thief,” the High Priest began.

  “It is Morticai,” Luthekar said with a snarl. “Who is this?” he demanded, pointing at Udall.

  “This is Udall. He is our Northmarch agent.”

  Luthekar gazed at Udall, calm beginning to creep back into his being. His eyes gradually faded back to their normal, cool blue.

  “There were two corryn with this Morticai,” Luthekar began. “One wore a helm that bore markings of the Faith and was called Dualas. The other appeared to be of mixed blood. What can you tell me of these two?”

  Udall swallowed before he began. “The one called Dualas is a Knight of the Faith who serves the Northmarch. The mixed blood corryn—d-did he have light hair?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then that would have been Coryden, Morticai’s captain. Coryden and Morticai have long been close, and Dualas and Coryden are known to be friends, but I have never before known Morticai to be much in the company of the knight.”

  The High Priest interrupted. “You should know that Udall says the Inquisition has arrived at Northgate and is investigating Morticai.”

  Luthekar stared at him a moment before returning his attention to Udall.

  “Tell me what you know.”

  “It is said at Northgate that the Inquisition arrived two days ago. I just arrived from Dynolva today.”

  “What are their names?”

  “There is only one man. His name is Geradon Kinsey.”

  “Halt. You say there is only one man?”

  “Yes, your Royal Highness.”

  “You may call me ‘my lord’. One man only—that is strange. Continue.”

  “H-he questioned Morticai’s patrol. Those that are willing to talk about it say that the man asked many questions about Morticai’s past and his religious habits.”

  “So what do people think the investigation is for?”

  “I have heard several theories, Lord. Some say that Morticai must be Droken. Some think that he is suspected of being Droken because he has never attended service regularly. Yet others think that it is because of something that his parents did that he does not know about. Most think that a nobleman has arranged the investigation as revenge for Morticai’s dalliances with the ladies of court.”

  “And what do you think?”

  “I … I do not know, Lord. I do not know much about him. I once watched him win a wager of over a thousand korun with his throwing-knife skills, and I have heard many stories about him. They say he likes the ladies too much. He likes to gamble. He likes Tradelenor styles. I’ve heard he frequents noblemen’s parties, though how—for one of such low station—I do not know. That is all I know of him.” Udall audibly gulped in a breath. He hoped his information would suffice, for it was truly all he knew about the strange corryn orphan.

  “What of the other two?”

  “I know little about Sir Dualas, except that he lives for the Faith. I think he was born in Dynolva. He has filled in on other patrols, but serves primarily with Captain Coryden. Because he is of the Faith, he serves in whatever patrol he wishes and can come and go when he wishes, although only once, that I know of, has he been called back by the Faith.”

  “And Captain Coryden?”

  “He is half-breed and comes from Menelcar. I’ve heard his father is a shipwright there, and that Coryden would have much money if he would give up the Northmarch to help his father with his business. He spends more time with his men than most captains—his men are very loyal to him. He spends much of his free time with Morticai.”

  “Not any longer. I wounded Morticai tonight. If he is not yet dead, he shall be by the morrow. Go back to your duties at Northgate. Watch and listen to everything you can about Captain Coryden and Sir Dualas—but be very careful not to be caught. Report back in six days.”

  “Yes, my lord.”

  Luthekar turned to the High Priest. “I would have finished the other two as well, but was uncertain how many more were about. I am beginning to suspect it was just the three of them.”

  The High Priest turned to Udall. “Thank you, Udall. You may leave now.”

  Bowing deeply, Udall took his leave. As soon as the door shut, Luthekar turned to the High Priest.

  “We have much to discuss.”

  “Indeed. What happened?”

  “I was attacked leaving the Manor!” Luthekar slammed his palm down on the desk. “This Northmarch orphan of yours was in the tunnel as I was leaving to come here. We fought, and when we emerged the other two joined. I wounded the thief and left. As I stated, at the time I was not certain the entire patrol was not present.”

  “Father of Darkness!”

  “I heard the two names, Morticai and Dualas, as I left. This is grave news about the Inquisition, although perhaps this incident tonight shall save us.”

  “Why do you think they have come?”

  “Isn’t it obvious? This thief had to be working for them. Somehow he determined that Aldwin was Droken.”

  “Everything could be compromised!”

  “I think not. I suspect their investigation was still in the early stages—else, would I not have been met by an entire contingent of knights?”

  “I suppose you are correct.”

  “I do not think they were expecting me. But something led them to Burnaby Manor, which now is useless to us!” Luthekar again slammed his hand onto the desk. “I do not understand why the Inquisition has come to the Northmarch in so visible a fashion. Nor do I understand why there is only one man—I have never known the Inquisition to send a lone agent.”

  The High Priest shrugged. “Perhaps this man’s help has yet to arrive—perhaps the other was detained.”

  “Perhaps. Or perhaps the other man is hiding. Whichever it is, we can no longer afford the luxury of Aldwin’s stupidity.”

  “I agree.”

  “We can restructure the cell with Valdir in command,” the Dark Prince said. He began to pace once again.

  “Do you not think he shall prove to be a liability as well?”

  “Actually, I do. But we need him to remain active in the Trade Council. As you know, we are not quite done with our work there. Have the next four in the cell killed—that shall break the chain, assuming the Faith’s agent has discovered them. Then, we can isolate Valdir’s cell until we know it is secure.”

  “With the situation this volatile, would it not be easier to move those beneath? Would the Faith not see the deaths as a purge?”

  “It is precisely because the situation is so volatile that I would rather kill them. The Faith will not know if it is related to us, or to the general unrest. At this point, we cannot risk their being picked up and interrogated. Although I suspect v
ery little information has been passed on, we cannot be certain. It seems probable that this thief, this Morticai, started out working alone. I am very glad that he tasted Ducledha’s edge tonight.”

  “Indeed. I shall make the necessary arrangements.”

  “And I will need to base my command here. Much more inconvenient, but necessary.”

  “I shall have quarters prepared for you, my lord,” the High Priest replied, backing out of the office.

  Luthekar shook his head. So much was at stake. Few of the common followers of Droka had any real knowledge of where lay the secret city of Cuthaun, or of the extreme hardships and dangers that awaited them in the wild lands through which they must pass to reach it. Too many Droken had fled toward Cuthaun unprepared, not knowing how to make the journey, and often with the vile Faith harrying them. Far too many of them had died on the long trek to the safety of the hidden country.

  Even so, Cuthaun had grown slowly but steadily over the years, until Luthekar’s people had reached the limit of how much food they could grow in his homeland’s poor soil. It had taken his people years to lay in the caches of supplies between his homeland of Cuthaun and the northern kingdoms. His people desperately needed the warmer, richer lands of these southern kingdoms, if they were to survive and prosper.

  And now? Now, after years of subtle corruption of and infiltration into the nobility, after years of piracy to raise the funds and work to gather the needed supplies … now, one man’s inquisitiveness threatened to unravel it all. It was unthinkable. He could not, would not allow it.

  * * *

  Morticai moaned softly. With a sigh, Dualas opened his eyes again. Each time, his thoughts had barely begun to roam in waking-rest when Morticai had moaned. And each time, Dualas had unbent his legs to once again check on the sleeping corryn.

  Morticai appeared to be sleeping still, despite the apparent discomfort his wound caused. Dualas glanced to Coryden—Coryden had abandoned thoughts of wake-resting and slept completely, like the humans did, in a large chair on the far side of the room. It appeared to be a more successful tactic, but Dualas would not leave Morticai that unattended.