After just enough time to make Laedron apprehensive, the door creaked open, and a young girl stepped out. “How might I help you gentlemen?”
“We’ve come to see your mistress,” Greathis replied. “Could you tell her to come speak with me?”
With a deep bow, the girl disappeared inside, and not long after, Laedron heard a woman ask, “What did they say they wanted?” from somewhere inside.
“They didn’t say. Only said they wanted to see the mistress of the house, m’lady,” the girl replied.
A woman stepped outside, pulling a robe tight around her body as if trying to hide her night clothes. “Ah, Master Greathis. I didn’t expect you this evening.”
Laedron observed Brice holding the hilt of his sword tightly, and he followed suit by reaching within his garments to find his scepter. Glancing at Marac, Laedron noticed his hand shaking, but he had a tight grip on his blade. He’s afraid. If she doesn’t come peacefully, I shall have to act quickly.
Greathis bent at the knees, seeming to gain better footing in anticipation for a fight. “I’m sorry to come here with the hour so late, but I’ve heard disturbing news, rumors that only you could lay to rest.”
“Rumors, Commander? What sort of rumors?”
“I shall have to take a look around inside. Do you mind?”
“Mind? Look, Greathis, there’s nothing wrong here. Perhaps you might find some true criminals in the low quarter, someone deserving of this harassment.”
“I’m sorry, madam, but there most certainly is something wrong here. Stand aside.”
Forane squared her shoulders, putting her hands on her hips. “And if I don’t?”
“Then, I shall have to detain you.”
Laedron drew his wand, concealing the subtle movement from Forane, then whispered an incantation.
Forane’s tone turned from obstinate to hostile. “Detain me? Do not forget your place, guard.”
She flung open her robe and withdrew a black metal rod. Marac and Greathis drew their swords in unison, but before she could utter a word, Laedron nudged Greathis aside and flicked his wrist. A blue blast of energy shot from the ruby scepter, ensnaring Forane in a web of energy. The guards must have heard the spell because they clamored to the front of the house.
Laedron concentrated on his spell, tightening the fibrous twine until Forane’s arms were forced down to her sides. The young girl emerged from the doorway, snatched the rod from the vicar’s hand, and tossed it over to Brice. She then gave Forane a shove, sending the woman to the ground.
“Thank you, Collette,” Brice said, placing the rod into a pouch at his side.
“Bind her hands.” Greathis handed a set of manacles to one of his men. “And put a gag in her mouth.”
Brice led the way into the house and upstairs to Forane’s study. Pushing open the door, Laedron spied innumerable scrolls lying strewn about the desktop. He walked to the writing table, and Greathis joined him.
Greathis read each of the letters, his expression hardly changing the entire time. Finally, he said, “Madness. All of this.”
Brice approached. “Mad it may be, but it is still the truth.”
“Take all of these letters and deliver them to my office,” Greathis said to one of the guards, then he turned to another militia man. “Once we’re done here, seal the house. No one in, no one out.”
They both replied, “Yes, Master.”
“Genevieve Forane… I can’t believe it.”
Laedron folded his arms. “Vicar Jurgen couldn’t believe it, either. Why does no one think this woman is capable of what she’s done?”
“Before this war business, she was kind, kinder than any woman I’ve ever met. Sincere, friendly, and abiding to all who approached her. She’s changed dramatically in a short period of time.”
“Perhaps she might be able to tell us why,” Marac said. “Now might be a good time to ask.”
“Yes, yes. Let us return her to the headquarters.”
* * *
Marac stopped Laedron just before the entrance to the militia building. “Lae, mind if I have a word?”
Laedron nodded.
“I–I’m having a little trouble.” Marac flexed his hand. “Ever since I was captured, I’ve had this tremble. It started off innocent enough, but it’s grown worse since we arrived in this city.”
“What do you think it is? A sickness?”
“No, not a sickness… not unless you consider cowardice to be an ailment.”
“Cowardice?” Laedron asked. “You’ve stood at my side in the face of danger. I wouldn’t consider that cowardly, not in the least.”
“Yes, I’ve stood by you, my friend. I’ve yet to swing my sword in anger against a foe, however, and I fear what may happen if it is required of me. Every time we face off against one of these mages, I can’t keep myself from shaking.”
“It’s natural, Marac. The fear reminds you that you’re still alive.”
Marac closed his eyes and sighed. “I wish I could be as brave as you.”
Laedron was speechless. Marac never seemed to be afraid, no matter what they had faced. Laedron had often wished that he was as fearless and brash as his friend.
“In time,” Laedron said, “these feelings will go away. What happened to Mikal was horrible, and we should always remember it, but we can’t go through life dwelling on it. We have to forge ahead and get through it together, brother.”
“You’ve never faltered, Lae. You’ve led us through thick and thin-”
“And I was just afraid as everybody else, maybe more. When we were young, do you remember Calvert telling us stories about the great warriors and adventurers?”
With a tear welling in his eye, Marac bobbed his head.
“How they were always brave and never backed down? How they fought with their dying breaths if needed? When they were hurt, they laughed at death and mocked the enemy?”
Marac bobbed his head again.
“That’s us, Marac. A few hundred years from now, they’ll tell stories of Marac Reven, of Laedron Telpist, and of Brice Warren-how they fought bravely and never backed down, how they laughed at pain and spat upon the enemy, no matter how daunting. For now, we have to live it, and the living part isn’t so easy. The tales tell us what we should aspire to be, not what we must be when we begin the journey.”
Marac wiped his face. “All right. Let’s see what Forane has to say about all of this. I’m tired of feeling around in the dark.”
They met Greathis in his office, where Forane lay on the floor, gagged and bound in chains. She seemed more like prey caught in a trap than the horrible monster her letters portrayed. Surely she must be putting up an act.
Greathis pawed through the confiscated items spread across his desk. “A black rod, letters to someone named ‘D’ about assassinating Vicar Jurgen, and other suspect materials. We have been busy, haven’t we?”
He received a grumble in reply.
“Remove her muzzle so we might hear what she has to say for herself,” Greathis said, gesturing at the woman on the floor. Marac obliged.
“You’ll never get away with this, Greathis,” Forane snarled. “Employing a mage in your militia? You’ll join me at the gallows.”
“We’ll deal with that issue when it comes up. If it comes up, I should say. For now, I have some questions for you.”
She smiled. “Ask, but don’t expect me to answer.”
“Why would you conspire to kill Vicar Jurgen?”
“Me? I would never do such a thing.”
“Come now. No need to waste our time with these games.”
“Who’s playing games? I know nothing.”
“Shall I read an excerpt of your correspondence, woman? ‘Instruct him to keep a lookout for the priest Jurgen and tell him you will pay tenfold if he would see fit to do away with that problem for us.’ Who was this mercenary?”
“We already know that,” Laedron said. “His name was Lester, and he was a member of the Shimmering Dawn.”
Forane turned her head. “And how do you know that?”