Morticai's Luck (7 page)

Chapter Five

Lord Aldwin sampled the appetizers his chief butler had just brought to the library. “Thank you, Hadley,” he said. “You may leave now.”

Lord Valdir nervously brushed his long, brown curls away from his eyes and assaulted the appetizers. “You know,” he suggested, “you would have better luck with your hawks if you varied their diet.”

As Valdir picked and plucked the appetizers from the tray, popped them into his mouth, and chewed them with obvious gusto, Aldwin noted the man’s similarity to his beloved hawks. Not only did he have sharp, birdlike features and a beaky nose, but he also matched his pets in the greedy ferocity with which he attacked his food.

Aldwin waved a hand. “I have heard varying opinions on that subject.”

The butler left the room, closing the door behind him.

“Well, now that that’s out of the way,” Ellenwood said, “shall we get back to the more pressing business at hand?” Sir Ellenwood was older than either Aldwin or Valdir, and he was more conservative in dress and manner. He kept his straight black hair short for a nobleman; it barely touched his collar. His dark eyes were serious, his rare smiles humorless.

“Yes,” Aldwin agreed. “As I was saying, Helgorn merchants are already in the city, spreading their lies. I tell you, every kingdom in the Confederacy will be ruled by the merchants if we don’t stop it now!”

“That is why we are here,” Ellenwood replied. “Once the Droken control the northern kingdoms, the other kings will recognize that only by joining with us can they save their own kingdoms from the fate which has befallen Helgorn.”

Valdir stopped stuffing himself and looked up. “Surely you don’t think the other kingdoms will join us, do you, Sir Ellenwood?”

Aldwin glanced toward the ceiling as Ellenwood took a sip of his drink. Ellenwood set his drink down, stood up, and began to pace, slowly, before the fireplace.

“My dear Lord Valdir,” Ellenwood said, “you must try to understand what we are about, and
why
, for your own good. We must not fall as Helgorn has fallen! You know what happened. The merchants slowly amassed great wealth, by which they gained more and more power—since money is power—until they were able to overthrow the king. They forced him to sign that damnable Accord that abolished the nobility in his kingdom, and, in its place, established the Council of Merchants. Now, if we do not keep tight control over the merchants in our own kingdom, the same will happen to us.” Ellenwood stopped pacing and stared, hard, at Valdir.

Valdir swallowed and nodded.

“In addition to the merchant problem, we have our own agenda. Most of our people have been forced to live outside the Confederacy, in distant Cuthaun. They lead a most pitiful existence there. Because of the weak soil—not to mention the hideous weather—they can barely grow enough food to stave off starvation. Also, of course, we most fervently desire the opportunity for all Droken to stand up, without fear, and proclaim our love for the Dark Father. But how can we do this? We certainly cannot accomplish this as long as the Faithful have control of the kingdoms—can we?”

“Of course not,” Valdir replied.

Aldwin sneered inwardly. While Valdir was not a complete simpleton, he seemed ignorant of the fact that Ellenwood was lecturing him as if he were a child.

Ellenwood continued. “Thus, the first step to gaining our own freedom is to take control of the northern kingdoms—to give our people a safe place to settle and live, and to establish strongholds from which we may launch our blessed war against the other kingdoms. And
this
, Lord Valdir, is where the merchants come back into play.”

Valdir looked puzzled.

“You see, Valdir,” Ellenwood said, “the best way for us to accomplish both goals—that of saving the kingdom from the merchants and securing it as a sanctuary for our Droken brethren—is for us to use the trade issue between Watchaven and Dynolva to bring the two kingdoms into open conflict. This is the perfect solution for us. It will occupy the merchants in a disastrous competition with other merchants and prevent them from forcing the kingdoms to accept their anti-noble “reform” agenda. A trade war and the resulting economic disruption will win them nothing but disfavor. The citizens already complain about the high cost of good tea, wine, and other goods, and they blame everyone for the problem—the merchants, the nobility, and even the king. And the merchants, who think with their purses, consider the tariffs to be a threat to their profits. They will
push
the two kingdoms into war!”

Ellenwood paused, raised a glass of wine to his lips, and drank. “And let us imagine that it does lead to war,” he said. “That will further anger the populace against our current leaders, this because those leaders will have proven themselves to be ineffective in controlling the situation. If, at that crucial point, we Droken move in to stop the war, and if we set up our own, more efficient structure, the citizens will be grateful to us. So grateful, in fact, that the Faithful will be discredited. The people will turn to us, and to our Dark Father—and we should therefore be able to maintain our hold over them without having to kill too many of them. In their eyes, we will be the heroes who saved them from the greed and incompetence of the merchants, the kings, and the Faith.
Now
do you understand?”

“So
that’s
why we are stirring up the merchants!” Valdir replied, his face lighting up with a new understanding.

Aldwin suppressed a groan. “As I was about to relate,” he said in an attempt to reclaim control over the meeting, “the High Priest is very pleased with how well things have gone so far. He even remarked that our plan appears to be on schedule.”

“Well, I suppose that is good,” Valdir remarked, sighing. “I still wish they would let us know a little more about who is helping us. I was so afraid that we would not be able to secure the backing we needed in Dynolva. Have they told you who from Dynolva has joined us in this? My curiosity has been driving me mad.”

“No,” Aldwin admitted, “they have not said.”

“I am certain they will tell us as soon as it is safe to do so,” Ellenwood said.

“Nonetheless,” Aldwin interjected, “things apparently
are
on schedule, and that can only be for the good. Now, we have already covered the agenda for the next Trade Council meeting. Is there any question on how we are voting? None? Good. As I mentioned before, we must be prepared for the onslaught of questions and protests this will bring from the merchants. Thus far, they have seen us as acting in their best interests. We are simply responding to the ‘unrealistic demands’ the corryn are placing upon us, as Lord Orrick so aptly stated at the last meeting.”

“Yes,” Valdir said, rather smugly. “He has been one of our strongest allies, hasn’t he? He would absolutely die if he knew he was supporting the Droken.”

“True,” Aldwin agreed. However, as I was saying about the merchants, we must be prepared for anything. They are near the breaking point. The Helgorn merchants will undoubtedly stir them further, to our benefit. We must make certain they continue to see the Trade Council as working in their interest. The nobility have accepted the tariffs rather well, considering the negative effect they will have on
their
purses.”

“We can be thankful Dynolva is a corryn kingdom,” Valdir said. “I do not believe our nobles would be so cooperative if we were cutting the throat of another human kingdom.”

“You are probably quite correct,” Ellenwood agreed. “Well, are we finished then? I must be leaving.”

“What?” Valdir asked. “Are you not interested in hearing about Lord Aldwin’s burglar? I couldn’t wait for us to finish with business so he could tell us about it!”

“Well, as point of fact,” Aldwin replied, “we are not quite done with business. It seems that a little information has come from—shall we say, ‘higher up’—concerning my burglar. I now know that he is a both an orphan and a member of Watchaven’s Northmarch.”

Valdir and Ellenwood exchanged startled glances.

“You do not know his name?” Ellenwood asked.

“Not yet. There is one more bit of information I have been given, however, that should help us locate the fellow—he is corryn.”

“Are you serious?” Valdir asked. “Gods, how do they find these things out? That is incredible!”

“Yes, one wonders,” Ellenwood said.

“Yes,” Aldwin replied, chuckling. “We all know how effective the Droken are—after all, look at us!”

“Quite,” Valdir agreed.

“Of course,” Aldwin said, “you must pass this information to your own cells and have it passed down the rest of the chain. By the time it has reached the bottom, surely someone will be able to give us a name.”

“Absolutely!” Valdir replied. “My own cell shall be meeting quite soon. Shall we place a bet as to which of us can supply Aldwin with the name of his burglar first, Ellenwood?”

Ellenwood gave Valdir one of his cold, mirthless little smiles. “I suppose I should take you up on this one, Lord Valdir—but, as you know, I do not gamble.”

* * *

A block away, the burglar in question waited impatiently for Ellenwood’s coach to leave Aldwin’s estate. In the distance, Grandhaven Sanctorium chimed the half hour.

“That’ll be another korun, mate,” the hack said.

“Okay, Okay,” Morticai replied.

Morticai sat beside the coachman on the driver’s seat of a rented coach. Grudgingly, he gave the coachman another korun. Ellenwood had best hurry—this was expensive!

Following the Droken noblemen had become increasingly difficult. Aldwin and Valdir tended to frequent the same places, which made guessing their stops easy, but they also seemed to do nothing of interest. Ellenwood and Danvek were much more interesting to follow, but they were extremely random in both their haunts and their transportation.

He had toyed with the idea of following Ellenwood on his patrol horse, until he realized how obvious a lone horseman would be. Sir Dualas had suggested hiring the coach. Perhaps Dualas should come along and pay for it!

“Dyluth!”

Morticai jumped and checked his left hand, which was halfway to his dagger.

“Blessed Benek,” the coachman said, “what was that!”

Morticai peered over the edge of the coach. The street around them—in fact, the entire alley—looked deserted.

“It’s a friend of mine,” Morticai said. “I’ll be right back.” He quietly lowered himself to the ground.

“Tagger?” he whispered. He’d recognized the boy’s voice and knew where he had to be hiding. A moment later, the urchin’s shaggy mop of hair, followed by his dirty but grinning face, appeared from under the coach,.

“Did I scare the old geezer?” Tagger whispered.

“I think so,” Morticai replied. “But if you’d clean your ears out, you’d realize you’re whispering too loudly.”

“Aw, Dyluth.”

“Aw,
nothin’
.” Morticai sat down. “So, what’cha need?”

The boy crawled over and sat beside him. “Well, I was jus’ wonderin’ what was goin’ on. You’ve been runnin’ all over town after those frilly shirts.”

Morticai’s eyes narrowed. “You’ve been followin’ me?”

Tagger’s eyes widened in feigned innocence. “N’uh. I-I mean, not til t’night.”

Morticai smiled. “And what about the others?”

“What others?”

“C’mon, Tagger,” Morticai said, letting just a bit of threat creep into his voice. “You know
exactly
what I mean.”

Tagger chewed on his lower lip. “After I told ’em what happened, some of ’em have been keepin’ an eye on ya’.”

“Who?”

Tagger shrugged. “Slip, Tubby, Nailer, Boskens. A few others, maybe.”

Morticai released a heavy sigh. “Tagger, you’ve gotta’ stop followin’ me.”

“But y’might get hurt!”

“I’m a lot more apt to get hurt if I’ve gotta’ keep an eye out for you and your friends!”

“Then it is dangerous!”

Morticai grinned. “You’re just afraid you won’t have me around as an easy touch.”

Tagger looked hurt. “That’s not true.”

“I know,” Morticai replied, still smiling, but then he grew serious, “Look, Tagger, I know that y’mean well … but, well, this could get dangerous, possibly very dangerous. I can take care of myself pretty well, but it could be a problem if I have to defend myself and you or one of the others.”

“Yer not gonna’ tell me what yer doin’, are ya?”

“No, I’m not. Let’s just say … this is special Northmarch business, and I could get in trouble if I told you ’bout it,” he lied.

“Alright …” Tagger replied, more than a little bit sullenly.

“And you’ll tell the others to stop following me?”

“Yeah, I’ll tell ’em.”

“And if they keep followin’ me, I’ll round up the whole bunch of you an’ take you to the orphanage.”

Tagger’s eyes filled with fear. “You wouldn’t!”

“Of course not. But if y’keep followin’ me, I may think about it. Understood?”

“Yeah.”

“Here.” Morticai dug into his boot pocket and pulled out a korun. “You fetch the others that’ve been followin’ me an’ go buy some food.” He shook his finger at Tagger. “And if I hear that you didn’t—”