A stunned look passed over Commander Kirwin’s face. “I see,” he said. “So, you believe that Morticai would be safer at the Sanctorium?”
“I am afraid so. Your fortress here is very strong, but as Udall demonstrated, one can never know who might be Droken. More important, and safety aside, Morticai can receive care at the Sanctorium that is impossible to give here.”
Kirwin’s looked at each of the other Northmarchers, until his eyes fell last upon Morticai. “Inquisitor, if you wouldn’t mind, I would like to discuss this in private with my men.”
“Certainly. Geradon?”
Geradon helped Rylan gather up the contents of his bandaging kit before they headed toward the door.
“Sir Dualas,” Kirwin said, “would you please show them to my office.”
Dualas smiled ruefully. “Yes, sir.”
When they had left, Kirwin turned to Morticai.
“Well?”
“Yes, sir?”
“Well, do you want to go?”
“You’re letting me decide?”
Kirwin shrugged. “You know I don’t approve of your methods, nor of your rash solo Droken hunt. If you were on special assignment and working with the City Watch, it would be different. As it is, this would all be an incredible disgrace … were it not for the fact that you were apparently correct. It does appear that the Droken are involved in this disruption between Watchaven and Dynolva—and your foolishness is what exposed their plot.”
Morticai couldn’t believe what he was hearing.
Kirwin continued. “I have spoken with Brother Kinsey at some length. The Inquisition does not hold you at fault for any of this, although they, too, are not in agreement with your methods. But you have certainly suffered enough for your … involvement. So, yes, I think you should make this decision. Mind you, we will have a fight on our hands if you decide to stay here. But the Northmarch stands by its men.”
“Morticai,” Coryden said, “before you decide, I’ve talked with Dualas and his words echo the Inquisitor’s concerning the Droken sending more assassins. I know you’ve never been fond of the way the Faith works, but this would only be for a short while. I think you should consider it.”
“You’re serious.” Morticai said.
Coryden’s concerned eyes met his. “I don’t want to walk in here and find you dead. You haven’t been downstairs, so you haven’t seen it. They’re calling everyone in. I’ve never seen Northgate this crowded. I’ve met Northmarchers I’ve never seen before—and that’s just from the patrols that are out when we’re on leave. I can post a guard, but that’s no guarantee if the Droken use poison again. Even Dualas could be overcome. So, what can I do? Move our entire patrol in here? I know how much rest you’d get then.”
Morticai considered it. “Could you come and visit?”
“I don’t know why not.”
Kirwin said, “I’m certain we could make that a condition of your treatment, if you are willing to go with them.”
Morticai sighed. “All right. You know, I’ve always worshipped Glawres on the beach,” he admitted. “I’ve never even seen the inside of Grandhaven Sanctorium.”
Chapter Eleven
The coach ride from Northgate to the Sanctorium proved grueling. By the time they’d reached the famous Watchaven landmark, Morticai could’nt have cared less what the inside of the place looked like. The coach turned into one of several private courtyards that surrounded the great building. Geradon hopped out of the coach to summon assistance. The Inquisitor gently pulled Morticai over to lean on his shoulder in order to cushion the jostling of the carriage. The change in Morticai’s position relieved a surprising amount of the pain.
“We shall have you settled very shortly, now. I am sorry the ride was so jarring. When you are feeling better, I have a great deal to discuss with you. I think you will be quite interested to hear what I’ve learned about your Droken nobility.”
“You mean … you believe me?”
“Of course. We never actually doubted you—well, not once we read your decoded notes. And it is obvious that something is wrong between Dynolva and Watchaven. What we must do now is determine what their next move will be so we can use that information to provide proof to the king. By the way, you might be interested to know that when we stormed Burnaby Manor it was empty. Of course, we expected it would be.”
Morticai looked at him in surprise, but before he could say anything the coach door opened. A human woman climbed in. She appeared ancient, so much so that Morticai was surprised at how easily she moved as she entered the coach. She wore the full robes of a Matriarch. She immediately fixed her attention on him.
“You dear child,” she said. She stroked his hair as one would stroke a cat. Morticai tried not to smile. As old as she was, he knew he’d probably been stealing apples on Watchaven streets before she’d been born.
“And they have made you ride in this coach with such a wound,” she said. “Look at me.” She caught his face with her hand, forcing him to look into her eyes. Looking into her eyes was like looking into the hidden depths of the ocean. Morticai found himself wanting to look away, and yet he was unable to do so.
“You have seen too many woes, little one,” the aged Matriarch concluded after a moment’s examination. She let him go. “Perhaps we will be able to offer you some rest from them here.” With that, she left the coach as quickly as she had entered.
“That was Mother Edana,” Rylan informed him, “but I suppose you gathered that.”
“Yeah. She’s gonna’ take care of me?”
Rylan laughed softly. “Don’t worry. She’s not usually that intense. She will, however, have you on your feet much faster than you would expect.”
“Does she talk to everyone like that?”
“Not everyone. She is, shall I say … very perceptive. She is a living Levani in the fullest definition of the term.”
“Huh?”
Further explanation was not forthcoming, however, and Morticai soon found himself installed in a small, cozy room in one of the Sanctorium’s quieter wings. On his way to the room, Morticai had been astonished to see a large number of corryn refugees crowded into the long halls. Although he had been told of the recent unrest that had troubled his city, until now, he had seen none of its result.
He was also surprised at how comfortable the bed proved. Although he’d intended to stay awake, sleep quickly claimed him. The quiet security of the Sanctorium settled about him.
* * *
Morticai woke suddenly, every muscle tensed, every instinct fully engaged—and he was unable to act. A strong hand was clamped over his mouth, while others held his wrists. The knife he expected to feel at his throat was absent, however. He looked up into the light blue eyes of a middle-aged corryn who wore the hood of a monk. The corryn smiled as Morticai relaxed.
Keeping his hand in place, the monk whispered, “Sorry to wake you so rudely, Dyluth, but we don’t break into Grandhaven Sanctorium every day, y’know.”
Morticai nodded. The hands holding him down released him. Morticai could see that two others, a man and maiden dressed in the robes of the Faith, stood in the room as well.
“Nelerek,” Morticai said, “what the Darkness are you doing here?”
“Trying to find out if you’re all right, ya vagabond. First I hear you’ve nearly died at Burnaby Manor, and then I hear you’re locked up at Northgate. And then I learn the Inquisition’s after you, and that they’re bringing you here. What the Dark One are you doing! And never mind that you don’t call on your Advocate for help.”
“I couldn’t involve you, Nelerek,” Morticai said. “Coryden and Sir Dualas were involved from the start. I wasn’t about to put you or the Arluthian Society at risk.”
Morticai’s gaze kept drifting over to Nelerek’s companions. Suddenly, he recognized one of them, burst out laughing, and the
n promptly moaned and held his side.
“Dammit, Dyluth!” Nelerek scolded. “With most men I’d have to worry about them yelling—with you, it’s laughing!”
“I’m, I’m sorry, Nelerek,” Morticai said as he tried not to laugh again. “It’s just that I recognized that cute ‘Maiden of the Faith’ you’ve got with you. I never realized you looked so good in a dress, Scatla!” Morticai said, pointing to the ‘maiden.’
Scatla put his hands on his hips. “Try to help a brother,” he said, “and what do you get? He flirts with ya.”
The ‘monk’, who was watching the door, started laughing as well. Nelerek shook his head in exasperation.
“And I thought you’d retired, Paxton,” Morticai teased, recognizing the innkeeper’s easy laugh.
“Well,” the ‘monk’ replied, “you’re not going to stop by this brother’s house wounded so and not have him worry a bit. And Calsen told me a little about that fight you and he were in.”
“Dyluth,” Nelerek interjected, “we don’t have much time. Come now, I need some answers and quickly.”
“Sure.”
“Do you want us to get you out of here? I’ve got a dozen more Arluthians in position to break you out.”
“What?”
“You heard me—we’re here to break you out.”
“But,” Morticai said, shaking his head, “I don’t need to be broken out.”
“They’re not holding you against your will?”
“No. They moved me here to protect me from Droken assassins—though I can see how good their security is. I might as well be at Northgate.”
Nelerek exchanged glances with Paxton and Scatla. “The Droken are truly trying to kill you?”
Morticai sighed. “It’s beginnin’ to look like it.”
“And why,” Nelerek asked evenly, “are the Droken trying to kill my ward? Aside from their usual meanness, that is.”
Morticai shrugged and winced. “I discovered that some of our nobility are Droken. They’re involved in this Dynolva-Watchaven thing … and I fought some Prince of the Droken and now they’re upset.”
“What!” Nelerek and Paxton cried out simultaneously.
“Shhh,” Morticai admonished them. “And you were worried about me making too much noise.”
“What do you mean you fought ‘some Prince of the Droken’?” Nelerek whispered sharply.
“Well, that’s, uh, what Inquisitor Glaedwin said. He said that the corryn we fought outside Burnaby Manor was some type of Droken prince.”
Nelerek looked at Paxton and said, “Luthekar—if he was corryn.”
Morticai frowned. “What is this? Everyone knows about this guy but me? But yeah, that’s what the Inquisitor said his name was. I didn’t even know the Droken had nobility.”
Paxton abandoned the door to come and sink down beside the bed. “Dyluth,” he said, “you don’t seem to understand what this means.”
“Never mind now, Paxton,” Nelerek interrupted. “Grandhaven Sanctorium is the best place for him—at the moment, anyway. Unlike us, the Droken won’t enter these halls. Dyluth, you are recovering from this wound?”
“I seem to be.”
“A time may come when we shall have to free you from here and take you someplace safer. You do not fear the Inquisition?”
“You know I’ve always feared the Faith, Nelerek. I was very uncomfortable about this at the beginning … but they seem to mean me no harm.”
Nelerek thought for a moment, then nodded his head once. “Very well—for now.” He walked over to the small window, and studying it, worked the catch to see if it opened. It swung out smoothly on its hinges to reveal a small, private courtyard. “Scatla, you know the layout here. What does this courtyard attach to?”
Scatla moved to the window and briefly studied the flowered garden. “The private sitting room for the Maidens is to your left. The Matriarch’s rooms are straight ahead, and the Grand Patriarch’s are to your right.”
Nelerek tapped on the stained glass. “Hmm … I don’t think a crossbow bolt will penetrate this. Unless it is at very close range.”
“Maidens’ sitting room?” Morticai asked.
“You can’t get out this window, Dyluth,” Nelerek said slyly, “and you’re in no shape to be chasing maidens of any kind.”
Paxton looked heavenward. “Grandhaven Sanctorium may not be ready for Dyluth, Nelerek.”
Nelerek smiled crookedly. “For any protégé of mine, it had better not be—else I or the Faith have failed.” Closing the window, he returned to the bed and began to examine its wooden frame. “Paxton, do you think a sliver of this bed would suffice for Webspinner’s work?”
Paxton tilted his head. “What type of work?”
“I’d like to send Dyluth a bird each day. Webspinner will have to cast a spell to teach the bird to home on this room.”
“Ah, I see,” Paxton said with a nod. “Well, I think a sliver from the window sill would work better, if we can find a spot that’s unpainted. The bed can be moved, you know.”
“You’re right,” Nelerek agreed as he returned to the window. “Ah, I think this should do.” He carved a small piece of wood from the sill’s outer edge. “Hm, I probably should get him a lock of hair, as well.”
“You’re gonna’ cut my hair?” Morticai complained.
Nelerek sighed. “You’ve got enough hair for two people, Dyluth! I’m not going to cut it where anyone will see.” Nelerek cuffed him lightly in jest, and then quickly drew his knife and sniped a lock from the nape of Morticai’s neck. “Each day, between the hour of noon and one, open your window for my bird. Should you need us to come, all you need do is attach a note to it.”
Morticai smiled. “It’s nice to have friends.”
“It’s nice to have Brothers,” Paxton corrected.
“I fear that you shall need all the help your Arluthian Brothers can provide,” Nelerek cautioned as he raised his cowl. “Now, ‘Sister Scatla’, if you would be so kind as to lead us out of here.”
* * *
Morticai soon discovered that Mother Edana was all that Inquisitor Glaedwin claimed she was. She fussed over him and at him, made him walk up and down the hall thrice daily—and soon had him able to move on his own again. Although he still had to rest frequently, he was amazed at the progress he made.
As Morticai lay in his bed, he wondered how he might gain more freedom to roam about the large Sanctorium. So far, he had only been allowed to walk down the hallway outside his room.
A light knock sounded on the door.
“Enter.”
Inquisitor Glaedwin swung open the door. “Good day, Morticai,” he said.
“Hello, Inquisitor.”
Glaedwin sat down in the chair beside the bed and smiled.
“I do wish you would call me Rylan.”
The corryn shrugged. “Whatever you wish.”
“I understand that you are doing well.”
“Yes—you were right about the Matriarch. It wasn’t easy the first day, but I must admit I feel much better now. How long am I going to have to stay here?”
“Well, that is part of why I’ve come to speak with you. I’ve spent a good deal of time talking with Sir Dualas and Captain Coryden, as well as doing some research of my own. I have developed a theory as to why Udall was sent to kill you.”
Energized by the prospect of information, Morticai sat up in bed. “Yes?”
Rylan paced to the open window and gazed into the courtyard beyond.
“I am operating on the assumption that the Droken were unaware of your activities until the night you fought Luthekar. On that night, Luthekar could have heard two names, yours and that of Sir Dualas. This is according to Sir Dualas’s recollection. Luthekar would have recognized Dualas as a Knight of the Faith from the insignia he wore. And alth
ough you were not wearing insignia, your captain was wearing his Northmarch cloak brooch. Now, if you had been Luthekar, what would you have thought?”
Rylan turned to gaze at Morticai.
“I don’t know,” Morticai began. “I guess that he’d been found out.”
Rylan nodded. “Indeed. Perhaps he would have thought that you were working for the Faith; after all, a Knight of the Faith was there. Or, more likely, he would have thought that the Northmarch was working with the Faith.”
As Morticai considered the strange concept, a mourning dove flew to the window and landed on the sill.
Rylan turned to stare at it a moment before remarking, “They don’t do that very often.”
Damn! Morticai thought as the Sanctorium’s bells began chiming the noon hour.
Rylan walked to the window, obviously expecting the bird to fly away. The bird simply cooed as it strutted back and forth along the sill.
“How unusual,” Rylan remarked. “Perhaps it is someone’s pet? Have you been feeding it?”
He reached out his hand to stroke the bird’s back. The bird hopped away from him and fluttered to Morticai’s knee. Morticai lightly swatted at it; it fluttered a few feet away and then returned. Rylan eyed him suspiciously.
“Uh, yeah,” Morticai remarked in his most innocent voice. “I’ve fed it a little. It is friendly, isn’t it?”
“It seems to be,” Rylan said slowly.
Morticai picked the bird up and walked to the window. “Shoo! Get out of here! No food today.”
The bird quickly flew away. Morticai turned to find himself still facing Rylan’s suspicious gaze.
“Uh,” Morticai said, “you were saying something about Luthekar thinking the Faith and Northmarch were working together.”
Morticai's Luck Page 14
