Fires That Forge, page 18
part #1 of Lords of Order and Chaos Series
“Perhaps they were so focused on his person that they missed the necklace laying nearby,” Keryk continued.
“There is another possibility,” Medaci said.
“Oh?”
“Whoever reported the body was somehow involved,” Medaci said, now drawing deeply from his pipe. “Following the line that this murder was mocked up to look like the work of a vampire and, failing that, to look as though Whillyd is the one who killed your witness.”
“It is a stretch,” Dunewell said.
“Yes,” Medaci agreed. “But it does seem to fall into a pattern.”
“Who reported the body?” Keryk asked.
“A street boy,” Medaci said. “The watchman didn’t get his name. I’m following up with him tomorrow to obtain a description.”
“We have business at the temple near House Morosse tomorrow,” Dunewell said. “Perhaps we can meet for lunch and discuss our findings.”
“Agreed,” Medaci said. “One more thing. Steward Silas asked to see my notes on the vampire attacks.”
“You are your own man,” Dunewell said. “But I see no harm in allowing it. He is very curious about them and may be able to offer some insight.”
“Very well.”
Chapter XI
The Lady of Moras
Lady Evalynne leaned over a map of Tarborat and studied another of the mountain passes to the west of Moras. The black gown that she wore did little to cover her strong, yet shapely body. She was a woman of uncommon will, possessed of a beauty that had felled as many men as her deadly sword. Her dark golden hair was pulled into a side ponytail and hung down past her neckline. She was undoubtedly of the Great Man race as evidenced by her exceptional six feet four inches of height and powerful shoulders and arms.
Her dress was in the fashion of most ladies of Moras and of the courts. A lush gown, Roarkor bracelet, and diamond choker adorned her sea browned skin. However, she also wore a dagger strapped to her thigh and was never more than a step away from a sword, axe, or hammer. She was the Lady of Moras now and had been for several decades. However, she had lived as a successful pirate for a century before that.
Now she loomed over maps examining trade routes and supply lines rather than guard posts or the weak points of shipping lanes. The chamber around her was well lit by several windows and stood to the side of her audience hall. She had made it a habit to keep her notes, maps, and inner thoughts secreted in this small chamber. Not even her personal guard were ever aware of her true intentions.
“My Lady?” Uriel-Ka said from the doorway.
“Come in,” Evalynne said. “I assume the young physician is here?”
“Yes,” he said. “He awaits outside your audience hall.”
“Has he a wife?” Evalynne said, looking up for the first time from her maps and ledgers. “Or a special girl?”
“No, my Lady,” he said. “His passion seems to be his work at the Sanctum.”
Uriel-Ka was relieved that the young Steward of House Morosse had not taken a woman. Lady Evalynne had a voracious appetite for men; men who belonged to other women. Her particular desires had cost him many nights’ rest in resolving scandals, settling disputes, and ensuring no jealous woman lived to make a complaint to the King. It was likely that one of her indiscretions had even now risen from the grave to harass her rule.
“That little warehouse where he treats the sick?”
“Yes, my Lady,” he said.
“And this Inquisitor Dunewell, Stewardess Erin is taken with him?”
“Yes, my Lady. My information is that she as much as asked him to marry her.”
“That is good news.”
“My Lady, the King…”
“If Dunewell can plant a seed in my womb then the King can be cursed,” Lady Evalynne said. “The King can pull a chamber pot over his head and run for the nearest cliff for all I care.”
“Dunewell is in the King’s service, my Lady. We couldn’t lawfully compel him to…”
“You think I need to order a man’s affections?”
“Of course not, my Lady. I only meant…”
“I know,” she said. “He’s a Silver Helm. There is still a man’s desires under every Silver Helmet.”
“But the business with Lady Helena…”
“You will not speak her name in my presence ever again!”
“Yes, my Lady,” Uriel-Ka said with a bow and a careful step backward.
Lady Evalynne took a deep breath and released it slowly.
“We have other business, though. Have you an assassin in mind?”
“Yes, my Lady.”
“Very well, show the young Steward in.”
Lady Evalynne locked the chamber door behind her and then reclined on her throne of black velvet. The frame was of solid silver with her symbol, a sword’s blade cutting the waves, emblazed on both arms and the headrest.
Silas walked into the audience chamber a step ahead of Uriel-Ka and escorted by two of Lady Evalynne’s personal guard. He wore his finest armor and cloak, reflecting the colors of House Morosse which matched the colors of Lady Evalynne’s silver and black. His weapons, those the guards found on his weapons belt anyway, were left with a guard outside. Silas took a knee before her throne and then rose to stand before her. Evalynne waved her hand toward the guards and they stepped from the room with purpose, closing and barring the doors when they exited.
“I knew your great grandfather,” Lady Evalynne said. “Did you know that?”
“No, my Lady,” Silas said. “I’m aware you are of the race of Great Women, however, I could not fathom your youthful appearance maintained over some many years. Yours is a rare beauty indeed.”
That drew a smile from Evalynne. Not a smile of pleasure though. More a smile of amusement. Many had tried her with the weapon of flattery; many had failed.
“He was called Morosse the Spike Thumb,” Evalynne continued. “A moniker laid upon him after he tore out the left eye of a man using only his thumb. He was a pirate, thief, murderer, and arsonist.”
“That sounds like my father’s grandfather,” Silas said, knowing he had also been called Morosse the Split Foot, Morosse the Arsonist, and Morosse the Sly.
“Have you any plans regarding House Morosse?” she asked.
“Nothing specific, my Lady,” he said.
“I understand that you’ve been to your mines for an inspection,” she said. “Was the trip educational?”
Now Silas understood where this was going. Lady Evalynne was somehow benefiting from the trade with the drow and wanted to ensure business would continue uninterrupted.
“Very, my Lady. I have spoken with foreign representatives and have taken steps to ensure continued commerce.”
“In that light it seems to me you would be willing to expand House Morosse’s reach into as yet untapped markets,” she said.
“My Lady?”
“Tarborat is a vast land with many peoples seeking only to feed their families and make a small profit,” she continued. “An astute Steward might find opportunity there, assuming he wasn’t too squeamish about his associates. I have plans for an arrangement there, an arrangement your father was too weak to make. Are you stronger than your father?”
“In some ways, my Lady,” Silas said.
“You’re aware that a House without an heir reverts to me, are you not?”
“I am aware of the law, my Lady,” Silas said. “If no descendant, or other family member, of a Steward lives then the House and its holdings revert to the lord or lady of the land. If a family member exists but is otherwise bound by oath, then the holdings revert to the lord or lady of the land.”
“Very good,” she said. “Have you spoken to my advisor, Uriel-Ka, about the assassin that was captured?”
“I have not, my Lady,” Silas said.
“My Lady, I thought it best we discuss that in private here as well,” Uriel-Ka said. “Although I mentioned to Steward Silas that we would have an avenue of locating and bringing to justice the one responsible.”
“Reeve Sevynn and Lord High Inquisitor Gyllorn assure me that Steward Rugan had been stealing from your House,” Lady Evalynne said. “Furthermore, they are confident Rugan hired an assassin from Fate’s End to kill your parents in furtherance of those thefts. Upon a falling out between Rugan and this assassin the hired cutman killed Rugan and his guard.”
Silas had suspected Lady Evalynne and Uriel-Ka the puppeteers of Gyllorn’s activities. This statement proved it and now he must add Reeve Sevynn’s name to that list.
“So, if you will go with Uriel-Ka here and identify the man that he has in custody as the man that killed your parents, our business here will be concluded,” she said.
“I did not look upon the face of the person that killed Steward Killian and Lady Helena,” Silas said innocently. “I’m afraid I cannot comply.”
“I assumed, since you’ve familiarized yourself with your House’s mining operation, you would be apt to understand how these matters are resolved,” Lady Evalynne said with a slight edge in her voice.
She sat up and leaned forward on her throne, resting her elbows on her knees. This change in posture brought her powerful arms into full view as the Lady took on the pose of the former Pirate Queen. Uriel-Ka took an involuntary step backward. Silas’s posture did not change. It occurred to Silas that in one quick move he could slit the jewel-laden throat of Lady Evalynne. He could feel the pressure of the rider’s pike concealed within his bracer against his wrist.
“I do understand your position, my Lady,” Silas said. “Please allow me to borrow upon your already generous nature in requesting that the true criminal be brought to justice.”
“Do not think for a moment that your association with Inquisitor Dunewell offers you any protection. What was the name of that painted warehouse?” Evalynne asked Uriel-Ka without taking her eyes from Silas’s.
“Sanctum Lacra, my Lady,” Uriel-Ka answered.
“Yes, Sanctum Lacra. A rather grandiose name. I hope it has been sealed well against the bitter cold that blows down from the mountains. I understand you care for a number of the sick there; many of whom are mere children. It would be a tragedy indeed if they were to find themselves cold and in need of a fire. Many homes and buildings have been burned down for the want of proper heating. Some poor fool starts a fire for warmth and in the flash of a sword slash the whole structure is ablaze. Am I making myself clear?”
“Yes, my Lady,” Silas managed to say stoically.
“What time is it now?” she asked, still not taking her eyes from Silas.
“An hour ‘til the nooning, my Lady,” Uriel-Ka answered.
“By this time tomorrow you’ll have presented yourself to Reeve Sevynn and Uriel-Ka to identify the man in chains as the one that killed your parents. Otherwise…”
She let her hand drift from her knee to twirl off to the side in a dramatic gesture. Silas painted a defeated look upon his face and turned from her. He faced Uriel-Ka now who twisted a black onyx ring on his finger. Small tendrils of lightning danced around the black circle on his hand.
“An hour before nooning tomorrow, young physician,” Lady Evalynne said as he was led from her chamber.
After Silas was well on his way out of Lady Evalynne’s keep, she and Uriel-Ka were once again in her small chamber of maps and ledgers.
“He will be back here after breakfast tomorrow,” Evalynne said. “He’ll hold out the rest of the day, lose sleep over it tonight, eat his breakfast in the morning, puke that breakfast back up, and then arrive at the conclusion that he has no other route.”
“My Lady, if I may, I’m not so sure,” Uriel-Ka said.
He waited as she looked up at him and examined his face for several moments. Finally, she nodded, and he continued.
“There is something dark in the new Steward of Morosse,” he said. “Something I haven’t encountered before.”
“Just because he maintained his composure when wedged between the two of us? That was only a demonstration of his naivete. It is not an indication of bravery or some iron will. It is simply the result of being too stupid to be afraid.”
“I’m not so sure, my Lady,” he said.
“How far has Dunewell gotten with his investigation of the elven crafts?” Lady Evalynne asked, making it clear she was tired of this line of conversation.
“Not far, my Lady,” Uriel-Ka said. “He has his suspicions and has made inquiries, however, there’s been nothing whatsoever that indicates the actual source of those materials.”
“You’ve prepared your witnesses should we be unable to use the young physician’s testimony?”
“Yes, my Lady,” he said. “They are scripted and prepared with a story as to why they did not come forward sooner.”
“Do you believe it will take Dunewell off of the trail?”
“I am not sure, my Lady,” Uriel-Ka said. “He is his father’s son and may persist.”
“His father was a striking man,” she said, reflectively. “Tough, smart, and quite attractive. That whole situation was unfortunate.”
“Yes, my Lady,” he said.
“He’s recruited a young watchman as an assistant?”
“Yes, my Lady.”
“Excellent,” she said. “Perhaps we can make use of that situation and strike two birds with a single stone.”
Chapter XII
Justice Above All?
“I must go to the temple of Fate this morning,” Dunewell said as he drained the last swallow of coffee from his tin cup. “I’ll need you to travel to Sanctum Lacra. You’ll speak with Steward Silas there. If he’s not there, you wait for him. I’ve no doubt he will cooperate fully.”
“Yes, sir,” Keryk said as he picked up Dunewell’s weapons belt and handed it over to the Inquisitor.
“Do you remember the details about the poisons from the scene at Steward Rugan’s murder?”
“I do, sir.”
“Good,” Dunewell said as he slung his belt around his waist and cinched it tightly. “You’ll ask him for a full description of all poisons that could be used to elicit both effects; the paralysis and the clawing at the neck and quick death. We’ll also need to know where they can be found and if any of them are missing from his stores.”
“Yes, sir.”
“If I finish my duties first, I’ll seek you out at the Sanctum,” Dunewell continued. “If you finish then seek me at Blackstone Hall, either in my quarters or Lord High Inquisitor Gyllorn’s offices.”
“Yes, sir,” Keryk said.
“Alright then,” Dunewell said. “Have you a good axe and dagger?”
“I do, sir,” Keryk said pulling his blue watchman’s cloak aside and displaying both hung from his own belt.
“Good man. Then be off with you and favor of the gods rest on your shoulders.”
“Yes, sir,” Keryk said.
Keryk about faced and jogged to his horse standing ground hitched in the courtyard. He mounted deftly and wheeled his gelding about. With only a slight change of position in the saddle, the horse took the cue and broke into a run for the iron gates.
Dunewell took one last look over his notes which had the appearance of being strewn haphazardly across his desk. He absorbed them as much as he read them. There was something here he was missing, and he knew it. There was some action he should be taking, some precaution perhaps, but his mind would not reveal it just yet.
Dunewell grabbed his own heavy inquisitor’s cloak and threw it over his shoulders. He checked the ride and position of the daggers at his belt and the steel hoop that held his war hammer. He rubbed his thumb over the barely exposed stiletto within his bracer and then marched for the door. He paused there again. There was something he was missing.
Dunewell collected his horse from the nearby stable, saddled him, and rode for the temple of Fate. Inquisitor Medaci had been to the temple not long ago during his investigation of the vampire attacks. There had been two of its victims discovered two alleys over from the rear of the temple, after all. Most churches and temples were well equipped with their own means of defense as they housed templars and paladins of their faith. However, they did not concern themselves with the goings on beyond their holy ground unless instructed to do so by a priest or cleric.
His breath fogged in the morning air and the saddle was cold and unwelcoming. As he reached the gate there were two rough looking men who appeared to have been waiting for him across the street.
“Are you Inquisitor Dunewell, sir?” one of them asked.
“I am.”
They were both dirty, unarmored, and one carried a club. Both were dressed as dockmen but their dress didn’t seem to fit them. Why did he note that they were unarmored? A moment’s reflection brought clarity. They both moved with the ease and confidence of well-practiced soldiers. Mercenaries then.
Both were thin, one of them taller than the other by several inches and appeared to be younger by several years. He carried the club. The older of the two, perhaps beyond his fiftieth year, carried no apparent weapon. Although, Dunewell observed the bounce of a dagger or short sword scabbard against the inside of the man’s heavy coat that he was clearly attempting to conceal.
“We’ve been told there’s a reward for information about that House Morosse killing,” the taller of the two said. “We seen something but didn’t want to get involved in the doings of the lordly.”
“I see,” Dunewell said.
“We told a couple of watchmen about ‘im,” the taller one continued in a rather nasally voice. “We showed ‘em where he was but they said you’d be wantin’ a statement of the facts. We was comin’ home from work, we was, that morning. It was maybe an hour before sun up. Saw a thin fella squirrel his way out of the side of the manor there at Morosse. Looked like one of them secreted doors. We followed ‘im to see what he was up to and he went to this warehouse. Looked like he’d been livin’ in the back o’ it. When we heard about the murders, and the reward, we told those watchmen. They grabbed a few o’ their friends and went in and got ‘im.”
“What warehouse?”
“The one that belongs to House Theald that’s over by the west channel,” the taller one said in a voice that was beginning to irritate Dunewell. “That’s where they got ‘im from too.”
