“Meet Ivello Ebinor, of the Korranberg Chronicle,” he said. “I’ve got identification papers, a selection of clippings representing my best work, and a letter of introduction. My assignment is to cover the withdrawal of undead troops from active service, and tell the world how much Karrnath’s gesture means for continuing peace.”
Mordan cast an eye over the papers. “These are pretty good,” he said. “Where did you get them?”
Tarrel smiled. “A Sharn inquisitive doesn’t disclose his sources.”
Mordan turned to Brey. “I don’t expect you’ll have much trouble finding a way in,” he said, “but be careful. They have people who are good at dealing with undead.”
“They won’t even know I’m there,” she said with a smile. “I’ll wake you before dawn and let you know what I’ve found out.”
The three rose from the table and left the dining room—Brey to scout the fort by night, and the two mortals to get some sleep.
Mordan was awakened by a hand on his shoulder. Even through the blanket, it was cold. He opened his eyes to find Brey standing over him. It was still dark, but he could just make out her shape in the gloom.
“Not much to report,” she said softly. “Just the usual guards. Everyone else is asleep. No sign of any lancers.”
“They probably wouldn’t be in uniform,” Mordan said. “Hintram wasn’t.”
He could feel Brey’s eyes on him in the darkness. He sat up in bed.
“But you’d know them by sight?” she asked.
“Some of them,” he said, “not all.”
“Were you one of them?” she asked.
He shook his head. “No,” he said, “I’m just looking for one of them.”
“What will you do when you find him?”
“Depends on what I find.”
Brey was silent for a moment. “Listen, Mordan,” she said. “Thank you for coming into the Mournland with us. I know you didn’t want to.”
He looked at her face, but it was too dark to make out her expression. “Have you been talking to Tarrel?”
“No,” she replied. “Should I?”
He shook his head. “No,” he said. “Anyway, you saved my life, so I guess we’re even. Where is he, by the way? I thought the pre-dawn conference was for all of us.”
“It is,” Brey replied. “Right now, it’s around midnight. I just wanted to talk.”
Mordan groaned. “What about?”
“Who is it you’re looking for?”
“None of your business.”
“Maybe not, but it would be a shame if I accidentally killed him, wouldn’t it?”
Mordan shrugged. “His name is Galifar ir’Dramon, last known rank lieutenant. Male, human, six feet two inches, build medium, hair blond, eyes blue, age … age now would be twenty-eight.”
Brey took a moment to digest this. “Are you working for his family?” she asked.
Mordan nodded. “They told the families that the Vedykar Lancers were in Cyre on the Day of Mourning—they’re missing, presumed dead. But they disappear from the records six months earlier.”
“Which was before I encountered them in Cyre,” said Brey.
“Right,” said Mordan. “You’re the last person I’ve found who saw them alive.”
“Suppose they all died in the accident?” she asked. “Your government wouldn’t want anyone to know about what was going on in that place, and the Day of Mourning wasn’t that long afterward. It makes a very convenient excuse.”
“I thought of that,” said Mordan. “They were certainly there. But I didn’t see enough bodies. And I didn’t see the body of the one I’m looking for. Since Hintram’s still alive—or was, till he met you—I’m thinking maybe some more of them are.”
“What if you’re wrong?” Brey persisted. “What if they all died in there, and we just didn’t find the bodies?”
“What about our friend with the ghouls?” he replied. “He had their badge tattooed on his skin. He was undead. That says to me that someone from this Unit 61 got away. And the fact that he wanted us dead—that sounds like whoever got away doesn’t want to be found.”
“Do you think they’re still working for the government?”
“I don’t know,” Mordan answered. “If they are, it would be a state secret, and we’d probably be arrested just for asking about it. You and Tarrel would, for sure—and the wartime penalties for espionage are still in place here. Even though we’re at peace, I’m sure the King would love to have the diplomatic leverage of a couple of alleged spies from Thrane and Breland.”
“But no one’s tried to arrest us,” said Brey.
“They tried to arrest me at Falko’s,” he said, “but I think it was just because I was there at the time. It was really Falko they were after. And that was right after I’d showed him your sketch of the Unit 61 badge, and he asked his contact at the Ministry of the Dead. Since then, people have tried to kill us, but nobody’s tried to arrest us.”
The door crashed in. Brey turned and hissed like a cornered animal. Mordan found the tip of a crossbow bolt pricking his throat; he kept his hands in plain sight and stayed still. He couldn’t make out more than rough shapes in the darkness, but it seemed that at least three people had entered the room.
“I believe I can remedy that omission,” said a polite, slightly wheezy voice from somewhere close to the door. “Please consider yourselves under arrest.”
Chapter 16
A Few Simple Questions
Mordan sat quietly in the chair as the gnome spread his belongings on the desk. He was only too aware of the two half-elf guards who stood behind him. He wondered where Brey and Tarrel were.
Eventually the gnome seemed satisfied. He sat behind the desk, placing a fist-sized carving of a dragon in front of him. It appeared to be made of sapphire. After muttering something in a language Mordan did not recognize, he looked up with a disarming smile.
“Please excuse my little preparations,” he said, “and allow me to introduce myself. My name is Garro Haldin, and I work for the Ministry of the Dead.”
“So you got Tarrel’s message,” said Mordan. He felt one of the guards shift slightly, and tensed himself—but nothing happened. Haldin gestured to the guards and they stepped aside a little. They were still close enough, though, and they loomed deliberately at the edges of his peripheral vision.
“Quite so,” said the gnome, “although you had come to our attention some time before that.” He looked briefly at a sheaf of papers on the desk.
“Kaz Mordan,” he read from the top sheet. “A veteran of the Company of the Skull, five years’ service on the Talenta Plains. I presume that this beautiful elven rapier is a trophy from your battles with the Valenar? Several commendations, discharge about six months ago”—he glanced up at Mordan briefly—“your left hand, ah yes. Since that time you have visited Vedykar, Korth, and Karrlakton, and in each of those places you have made enquiries about the Vedykar Lancers, through both official and unofficial channels. I notice from your accent that you are a native of that region, am I correct? And of the landed classes, unless I am very much mistaken.”
Haldin waited for Mordan to speak, but the young Karrn held his gaze and said nothing. After a moment, he glanced back down at the papers.
“No records have been found previous to your enlistment—well, perhaps that is not so strange. The Company of the Skull is famed for its lack of curiosity regarding the backgrounds of its recruits.”
The gnome looked up again, this time with an apologetic smile.
“In my profession,” he said, “it is sometimes necessary to eavesdrop on private conversations. Deplorable, I know, but of great assistance in matters of national security. I’m sure you understand. While we were outside your room preparing to make our entrance, I heard you mention the name Galifar ir’Dramon to your charming companion. I found that most interesting.”