Laedron glanced in the direction of the voice, then closed his eyes, regretting that he had displayed the rod in public. He had become the focus of a squad of militia who had happened upon his flank. He was unable to keep the cold chills from racing up and down his spine, the fear of being half a world away from his home and fully exposed before those who would see his kind dead.
On his knees, the man in black raised his face to the sky and cackled. Even though the man surely knew he was condemned to death, he seemed to take pleasure in the fact that he wouldn’t be alone on the gallows. Hatred and anger welled up inside Laedron, and he counted the guards, considering for a moment if he could defeat them all.
“Drop it,” Marac said, tapping Laedron on the hand with the flat of his blade. “Put the thing down and come peacefully with us.”
Good, Marac. At least one of us stands a chance of getting out of here alive. Laedron put his scepter on the ground and held his hands outstretched at his sides.
“They’re in it together,” the other sorcerer started before taking Marac’s boot to the face.
“Enough out of you, fiend.” Marac picked up the rod, and the guards approached. “We’ll take them to the headquarters. Master Greathis will surely want to question them.”
An older militia man, a sergeant, if Laedron remembered the insignia correctly, stepped out in front of the others. “What has happened here?”
“I came upon these two quibbling in the street, then this one…” Marac pointed at Laedron. “… shot a spell at that one. I’m glad you showed up when you did, for I might have been killed.”
“What’s this business about you two being ‘in it together?’” the sergeant asked.
Marac shook his head. “I knew this one when I joined, but I didn’t know he meddled in the dark arts. Had I known that, I would’ve gone to Greathis much sooner.”
The sergeant narrowed his eyes. “I see. We’ll let Master Greathis sort this out.” He turned to the squad and pointed at the other sorcerer. “Pick that up and bring it along.”
* * *
His hands bound in chains, Laedron fell to his knees in Greathis’s office. The guards threw the man in black down beside him, and Marac stood to Laedron’s left. I might as well get used to living in chains if I survive this. It would seem the only thing I can do well is get captured. Greathis sat quietly behind his desk.
“We caught these two sorcerers in the Ancient Quarter,” the sergeant said.
“Leave us,” Greathis replied with a harsh tone. Laedron figured the tone was directed more at him because Master Greathis hadn’t looked at anyone else.
The sergeant left and closed the heavy oak door behind him. The room remained silent for what seemed an eternity.
Greathis studied the man in black. “What’s your name?”
The man laughed.
“Tell me your name.”
“Why should I?”
“Because,” Greathis said, standing and walking around the desk, “if you do not, you’ll rot in prison until you do.”
“If you even knew the people I work for, you’d know how empty your words are. Put me in your prison, but I’ll be out before dawn.”
Greathis turned to the door. “Wilkans!”
Sergeant Wilkans opened the door. “Commander?”
“Lock him up, and go under heavy guard. Search him well before leaving him alone, then bring all of his possessions-clothes, wands, everything-to me.”
“Yes, Master.” Wilkans dragged the man from the room.
“Perhaps some time in the stockade will loosen his tongue.” Greathis sat on the edge of his desk. “I already know your name, so we can skip the introductions and move straight into the matter at hand.”
Laedron nodded.
“What in the hells is going on?” Greathis asked. His tone was kinder than the one he’d used with the man in black.
“We heard the whistle coming from the Ancient Quarter, and we made haste. Jurgen is a friend of ours, and we wanted to make sure no harm had come to him.”
Greathis’s right eye twitched. “Go on.”
“Just before the west gate, we ran into Jurgen and his clerk, and they told us of the chaos. We went forward and met that man-the sorcerer-inside the Ancient Quarter. He tried to lie, but we saw through it. We engaged him and stopped him then and there.”
“Engaged him. You mean with magic, right?”
Laedron closed his eyes and slowly bobbed his head. “We had no other choice but to-”
“No other choice?” Greathis slammed his fist on the desk. “As if everyone goes around playing with wands and magic? As if it’s something innate and natural to do? Do you realize where you are, boy?”
“I know how it must look, Master, but-”
“How it must look? A recruit wearing my colors and throwing spells into the night? ‘Ole Greathis has lost it,’ they’ll say. ‘He let a mage into his little regiment. Jeopardized the whole of the theocracy, he has.’ You’ve made me into a laughing stock!”
Marac stepped forward. “Few saw us, Master Greathis, and those who did were mostly running away and screaming.”
“And you! Don’t think you’re out of trouble in the least. As far as I’m concerned, you’re just as guilty as this one.” Greathis took a deep breath. “To think, my militia has been infiltrated by a mage. Azura! You’re not Sorbian. Tell me you’re not.”
Laedron dipped his head.
Greathis let out an angry growl. “I can’t believe it.” Greathis gave Laedron a puzzled look. “Why would Jurgen send you to me or even help you? You’re blackmailing him, aren’t you? Turned our dear priest into a spy for your dastardly cause? No, no… a forgery. You forged the letter to gain my trust, didn’t you?”
“He came willingly,” Laedron said, frustrated at the accusations. “And he aided us without threats or bribery.”
“Why, Sorcerer? If I may call you that, or would you prefer Sorbian dog? Why would Jurgen assist you against us?”
“We share the same goal.”
“And that is?”
“To end the war.”
“Why would a Sorbian be interested in ending a war that the Sorbians started in the first place?”
Laedron stared into Greathis’s eyes. The man exhibited disbelief and wonder, not what Laedron would expect to see from someone helping the Drakars. “We didn’t start the war. This war began with an attack on the Morcaine Mage Academy, a sneak attack perpetrated by Gustav Drakar and a band of your militia.”
“You lie,” Greathis said in a dismissing manner. “All of my men have been here with me this entire time. They couldn’t be in two places at once.”
Laedron shrugged. “Perhaps they only wore the uniforms of your men, then. Either way, the war was started by the Drakars, not by the Sorbians.”
“This makes no sense to me. What you claim cannot be true.”
“Can it not? Since we’ve joined your ranks, have we done anything other than help you? We found one of your men slain, caught his killer, and reported the incident to you. We stopped the one in the Ancient Quarter, too. Why would we do those things if we meant you harm?”
“To get on my good side?”
“Is that what you would expect of a sorcerer sent to infiltrate you? You can’t believe that.”
“I don’t know what to believe,” Greathis said, folding his arms. “Where is Jurgen? I would hear this from his lips before drawing any conclusions.”
“I can take you to him, but only you. No one else.”
“Ah, yes, so you can lead me into a trap?”
“If I wanted to kill you, I could have done that already,” Laedron said. “You won’t be harmed. I swear it.”
“Well, if Jurgen trusts you, perhaps I can. You haven’t killed him yet, at any rate.” Greathis took a cloak from his chair and affixed it about his neck. “Lead on, Sorcerer, but no tricks. And the shackles stay on.”
* * *
Laedron led Greathis to the abandoned chapel. He took a deep breath, then opened the door and entered with Greathis following close behind. Once inside the common room, Laedron saw Jurgen and Valyrie seated at the large table, and Piers was treating Valyrie’s numerous cuts and scrapes.