“And until they decide, I am free to go?” asked Adalrik.
“That is correct,” said Haldin. “Although your personal assistance would be valuable, we already have your notes and the materials from your workshop. House Cannith has not requested that you be detained—no doubt because they do not know that you, or your charming cousin, are currently our guests. If such a request were to be received, it would be quite problematic, I suspect. Since the dragonmarked houses are carefully neutral in their dealings with national governments, it follows that the governments must observe the same neutrality in their dealings with the houses. I am sure that House Cannith would think carefully about any demand from the Karrnathi government to hand over one of our citizens who had sought sanctuary with them.”
Dria looked at Adalrik with concern.
“I’ll have to tell them something,” she said. Adalrik smiled with the half of his face that was still human.
“I know,” he replied. “Tell them the truth. I wouldn’t want you getting into trouble on my account. And if they send you after me again, I’ll try to be harder to find.”
Haldin raised his glass.
“That is all I have to say,” he concluded. “Except to give you my personal thanks, and to toast our successful completion of a very difficult operation. To all of us!”
The four returned the toast, and Haldin rang the bell again. After a few moments, a procession of servants brought in everyone’s weapons, and the other belongings that had been taken from them when they arrived at the Ministry.
Slipping the baldric of his rapier over his head. Mordan wandered over to Tarrel. The Brelander was busy filling a number of small pockets and pouches that were sewn into the lining of his coat.
“So will you be heading back to Thrane now?” he asked.
Tarrel looked up. “Not right away,” he said. “I’ll send a report back by Sivis requesting further instructions, and while I’m waiting I’ll tap into those unofficial channels Haldin mentioned.”
“Well, if you’re not busy any evening, I can show you the best Talenta Cuisine off the Plains. I’ll even make sure you get enough headroom.”
Tarrel smiled.
“It’s my treat,” he said. “I’m still on expenses!” He paused, looking over Mordan’s shoulder. “I think someone else wants a word with you,” he said.
Mordan turned to find Dria and Adalrik standing behind him. Adalrik was holding a package wrapped in sackcloth.
“I don’t know how you feel about things like this,” he said, offering it to the Karrn, “but I had to do something while they kept us waiting. Luckily they let me have my tools.”
Mordan went to take the package but decided it would be easier to unwrap it if it stayed in Adalrik’s hands. It was a mechanical left hand, made of brass with a silver inlay. Unlike Adalrik’s own metal hand, it was as fine and delicate as a natural one.
“I had to guess the size,” said the artificer, “but it shouldn’t take more than an hour or so to fit it properly. I’ll warn you right now, they hurt like the Fury’s teeth when you first put them on, but after that you’ll forget it’s artificial.”
Mordan began to thank him but was interrupted as Haldin bustled over, standing on tiptoe to inspect the hand.
“Most impressive,” he said with a nod of the head to Adalrik. “I must say, it is almost equal to gnome craftsmanship.” Adalrik half-smiled, inclining his head to acknowledge the complement.
“I’m afraid,” the gnome went on, “that my own poor gift will pale by comparison.” He gave the d’Canniths a significant glance, and they wandered off to talk to Tarrel.
“I suppose it is possible,” said the gnome, “that one day you might bump into the cadet I mentioned in our first conversation—Kasmir ir’Dramon. If you should do so, perhaps you would be so kind as to relay a message to him. It is this: There are those at Rekkenmark who believe in his innocence and stand ready to help him clear his name. The message comes from an instructor-sergeant named Rangoth, and was forwarded to me in strictest confidence by a distant cousin in House Sivis. I hope you will respect that confidence.” Mordan looked at him sharply, but the gnome’s face was expressionless. He remembered Sergeant Rangoth.
“If I ever run across him, I’ll be sure to tell him that,” he said. “And as far as gifts are concerned, I’ll settle for one small piece of knowledge.”
“Ask,” said Haldin. “I’ll answer if I can, though I may ask you something in return. I am a gnome, after all.”
“Understood,” replied Mordan. “The sapphire dragon—what god is that? I was never much good at theology, but it’s been bothering me.”
Haldin smiled broadly.
“Ah,” he said, “so you appreciate the agony of not knowing something! It is easily answered. I have heard you swear by Dol Arrah of the Sovereign Host; the blue dragon represents her colleague Aureon.”
“Of course,” Mordan said, “the god of law and knowledge. Isn’t he normally depicted as a wizard?”
“You humans draw him as one of your own,” Haldin replied, “and I’ll admit that the blue dragon is one of his less common symbols. However, as every gnome knows, he is one of our ancestors. What else could he be?”
They laughed for a moment, and then Haldin’s face became more serious.
“Knowledge has a price,” he said sternly, “and now it’s my turn to ask you something.”
Mordan suddenly wondered what he had let himself in for. The gnomes were notorious bargainers, especially when it came to giving away information. Catching his expression. Haldin tried to keep a straight face but couldn’t suppress a chuckle.
“Don’t worry,” he said, “it’s not that bad! If it were, I wouldn’t have given you anything first!” Mordan relaxed a little.
“It’s just this,” the gnome continued. “Having seen you in action, I know your capabilities as an undead fighter. I can’t promise, of course, that every assignment will be as interesting as this one, but you’ll find the Ministry pays a little better than the Company of the Skull. What do you say?”
Mordan raised his eyebrows. “You’re offering me a job?” he asked.
“Quite so,” replied the gnome. Mordan searched his face for any sign of humor, but he seemed to be quite serious. “I would have made the same offer to our friend from Thrane, if she had survived.”
Mordan thought for a moment, then shook his head. “Thanks for the offer.” he said, “but I actually have a couple of things I need to take care of right now.”
With a small sigh of disappointment, Haldin nodded.
“I believe I understand,” he said, “but if you should ever need employment, please go to the nearest Ministry office and ask to be put in touch with me.”
“I will,” said the Karrn, tucking the mechanical hand under his left arm and extending his right to the gnome. When Haldin shook it, he had something in his own hand; an opal ring, signifying membership in the Order of Rekkenmark.
“It belonged to the brother of the cadet I mentioned,” said the gnome softly. “I thought he might find it useful.”
“Now,” he said brightly, as Mordan pocketed the ring, “I suggest you go with our friends from House Cannith and see how well their gift suits you.”
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