The Mists of Sorrow: The Morcyth Saga Book Seven (12 page)

“Oh, that would explain it,” says James with
a nod.

“Still no cause to say what he did,” insists
Jiron.

After finishing the meal, James says to
Stig, “I want you to see about the horses Illan plans to give us.
Make sure his people give us good ones.”

Nodding, Stig says, “Will do.”

“And see what you can learn about the
Ambassador,” he adds. “His men may not readily recognize you as
they would Jiron, Miko, or me.”

“See what I can find out,” he replies.
Getting up from the table, he heads for the door and leaves the
suite.

Once Stig is gone, Miko asks, “Don’t you
trust Illan’s people?”

“Sure I do,” he affirms. “It’s just that I
hate sitting here and doing nothing. This way it feels like we are
doing something.”

Rest of the morning goes by uneventfully,
everyone is glad for this brief time to rest before returning to
the road. When Stig returns, he states that the horses are superb.
As for the Ambassador, he couldn’t ferret out any more information
than what they were already told.

“I did find out one thing though,” he tells
them. “They want this keep back in a bad way.”

“Doubt if they’ll get it,” remarks Potbelly.
“After all they’ve done to Madoc, Councilman Tethias would be a
fool to hand it back over.”

“If they did it would take Madoc a year or
two to rebuild theirs,” figures Shorty. “From what I’ve heard, it’s
all but a pile of rubble somewhere to the north.”

“I talked with Hedry for a bit,” Stig says.
“He was out at the stables when I stopped by. Seems the reports
coming from agents within the Empire tell of the Empire still
having a large standing army.”

“But if they committed them to retake this
keep, wouldn’t that leave their southern states open for
rebellion?” asks James.

“Who knows?” replies Stig. “That’s what I
heard.”

When the others begin to argue about the
stupidity of certain leaders, James raises his hand. “It’s not our
concern right now what Madoc does or doesn’t do with this keep.”
Turning back to Stig he asks, “Anything else?”

“Actually yes,” he replies with a grin. “The
Raiders have begun calling the keep, ‘Hawk’s Aerie’. Of course they
mainly do it when those of the Empire are near to hear it, seems
it’s bothering the Ambassador something awful.”

“Hawk’s Aerie,” mumbles James. Nodding he
grins and says “I like it.” The others add their agreements.

It was sometime after the noon meal when
Councilman Tethias decides to pay them a call. Ceadric was able to
give them all of a minute’s warning before the councilman’s
footsteps could be heard coming up the stairs. Ceadric asked them
to assemble in James’ suite for the Councilman’s visit.

A rather short man, Councilman Tethias
stands only five foot six. His brown hair, salted with a smattering
of gray, is combed to rigid perfection. Not a single hair is out of
place. He’s accompanied by two aides who follow a step behind.

Ceadric is waiting in the hallway for him
and they can hear him greet the councilman. Opening the door, he
allows the councilman and his aides to enter first.

They come to their feet in respect as he
enters the room. “Councilman,” Ceadric says after he enters the
room and closes the door, “may I present James, a mage of some
power, and those who travel with him.”

James and the councilman stand there and eye
each other for a moment. James is decidedly uncomfortable, he feels
likes he’s a bug under a microscope. Extending his hand, he says,
“Nice to meet you, Councilman.”

Taking James’ hand, the councilman gives it
a firm shake and replies, “I’ve heard a lot about you. Even before
I arrived here for the talks, tales of your exploits had reached
me.”

Giving the councilman a disarming grin, he
says, “Nothing too terrible I hope.”

Shaking his head, he releases James’ hand.
“On the contrary,” he begins, “what I’ve heard can only be called
miraculous.”

“Would you care for a seat?” Jiron asks,
indicating the finest seat in the suite.

“Thank you, I would like that,” replies the
councilman. Crossing over to the chair, he sits down and his aides
position themselves behind him.

“To what do I owe this visit?” asks
James.

“Nothing more than curiosity I’m afraid,”
admits the councilman. “When Lord Black Hawk informed me you were
here, I asked him if he thought you would mind a visit. I do
appreciate you seeing me.”

James gazes at the councilman questioningly.
This hardly seems a man who is one of the Patriarchal Council of
Madoc, and who is use to his word being law. Before he can stop
himself he says, “You aren’t what I would expect of a
Councilman.”

Arching an eyebrow at him, he grins and
says, “You mean I’m more cordial than others in positions of
power?” When James nods he continues. “Just the way I am I’m
afraid. Also what makes me a good negotiator. They considered
sending a hardliner down here but that would have been a grave
mistake.”

“I understand that the Empire is demanding
the return of this keep,” Jiron says.

“It’s true,” the councilman replies.

“You don’t plan to give it back do you?”
asks Scar.

“Hardly,” he assures them. “That would be
the surest form of stupidity. No, this keep will be a sore spot
between our two lands for some time to come I’m afraid.”

Shorty comes forward with a mug of ale and
offers it to the councilman. “It’s the best we have,” he
apologizes.

Taking the offered cup, the councilman gives
him a nod and says, “Thank you.” He takes a sip while the others
remain silent. Then he returns his gaze back to James. “You know,
they believe you are still in the Empire.”

Surprised, James asks, “Why?”

“I’m not entirely sure,” he replies. “But
rumors are surfacing of someone in the Empire causing massive
destruction. Bridges, army encampments, even one report of an
entire city collapsing, though I give that last one little
credence.”

James glances at Jiron for a second and sees
that he came to the same conclusion that he did. Those seeds of
destruction he sowed in wagons earlier this summer are still
active. At one point he tried to recall just how many he planted,
but couldn’t quite remember exactly. The number had to have been
over two dozen, possibly as high as forty. If they are still
active, then they’re still gathering power. The longer it takes for
them to go off, the more powerful the explosion.

“A whole city you say?” he asks.

“Supposedly,” he replies with a nod. The
councilman notices the expression of anguish that comes over James’
face. Though he doesn’t comment, he realizes that James does know
something about it.

“When are you planning on leaving?” he
asks.

“As soon as d…” Stig begins before he’s cut
off by Jiron.

“We haven’t decided yet,” James says
quickly. He casts a quick glance to Jiron and gives him a brief
nod. James has always been one who hated someone else knowing his
business.

“Ah,” the councilman says as he comes to his
feet. The rest of the room comes to their feet as well. “I’m sorry
I must make my visit brief,” he says. “The meeting will begin
shortly.”

James extends his hand for a goodbye shake
which the councilman takes. “It was good to meet you,” says
James.

“You too my boy,” he replies. To Ceadric the
councilman says, “Tell Lord Black Hawk I would like to meet with
him later this afternoon after the talks have ended for the
day.”

“Yes, milord,” assures Ceadric.

“Very good.” Moving for the door, he pauses
but a moment to give one of his aides time to open it for him then
exits into the hallway.

When the door shuts behind him James turns
to Ceadric. “He seems nice enough.”

“He is,” agrees Ceadric. “I have yet to meet
anyone who can say an unkind word about him.”

“Surprised he’s able to survive on the
Council,” states Potbelly. “I hear they are a bunch of
cutthroats.”

Laughing, Ceadric nods, “They can be at
times. Despite his amicable manner, he can be hard as nails when he
must. Always kind, but hard.”

“I think I could like a man like that,”
observes James.

“I must be off,” Ceadric tells him.

“Will everything be ready for this evening?”
asks James just as Ceadric reaches the door.

Nodding, Ceadric opens the door and turns
back toward him. “Everything’s set,” he assures him. “Just after
dark.”

“Thank you,” James says.

Passing through the door, Cedric enters the
hallway and closes it behind him.

The rest of the afternoon is spent getting
what rest they can for when they leave. Miko spends the time not
sleeping lying on his bed with the Book of Morcyth propped open on
his stomach reading.

At one point Jiron comes over to him and
asks, “I thought you still couldn’t read that well?”

Taking his eyes from the pages, he glances
to Jiron and shrugs. “I can now,” he says.

“Is it interesting?” he asks indicating the
book.

“Some parts are,” he explains. “Others not
so much.”

Jiron indicates the foot of his bed and
looks questioningly to Miko.

Nodding, Miko says, “Sure.” He closes the
book and sets in on the bed next to him. Scooting into a sitting
position, he props his back against the wall as Jiron sits on the
bed.

“How is all this going?” asks Jiron.

“You mean being the High Priest and
all?”

“Yeah,” he replies.

“For the most part, I don’t feel any
different,” Miko admits. “All the priests I’ve known have all been
kind of stuffy. You know what I mean?”

“Oh yes,” agrees Jiron. “In fact, back when
Tersa and I were still living in the City, there was this Father
Corwyn. He was a priest of Vyll.” Vyll is the god of luck, gambler
and thieves. “He was very full of himself, and despite following
the god of thieves he was a very upright fellow. As bad as it makes
me feel now, I and a few of my buddies would make fun of him behind
his back. He was fat and it bothers me now that we use to laugh at
him for it. If I ever see him again I plan to make it up
somehow.”

Nodding, Miko says, “There were a few like
that back home too.” He falls quiet for a moment. “I don’t think I
know how to be a priest, let alone a High Priest.” His gaze is one
of almost panic when he finally brings his eyes to bear on Jiron.
“I mean look at me! I am not refined, I know nothing about
anything.”

Jiron reaches out and pats him on the leg.
“Relax,” he says. “A god wants you to be his representative on this
world. Doesn’t that make you feel good?”

“Of course it does,” admits Miko. “I simply
fear that I will not live up to the trust Morcyth is putting in
me.”

“I think you are worrying too much about
nothing,” Jiron tells him. When he sees he’s not getting through to
him he continues. “You have used the power of the Star to heal, to
bring people back from the brink of death. You have battled
shadows, wielded a sword in battle against a warrior priest, and
prevailed!
You’ve seen things that the majority
of those living on this world have not. Now I ask you, don’t you
think you are a little more than a street brat off the streets of
Bearn?”

Miko looks at him thoughtfully for a time.
Then he nods and gives him a grin. “Maybe you are right, my son,”
he says.

“
My son?
” asks Jiron with a grin.
“Okay,
Father
.” Together they break into laughter at the
same time.

“Thanks Jiron,” Miko tells him when the
laughter finally subsides.

“Anytime, Miko,” replies Jiron. Getting up
off the bed, he leaves Miko to continue reading the Book of
Morcyth.

An hour before nightfall, Ceadric brings
them another meal, complete with tarts, and tells them their horses
are ready and waiting for them. “There’s only one problem,” he
says.

“Isn’t there always?” asks Scar.

“Ever since the shadow incident, the
Empire’s Ambassador has had someone stationed near the gates to
keep an eye on who goes in and out,” he explains.

“Do they know I’m here?” James asks.

Ceadric indicates the tarts that came along
with the meal. “The cook said to tell Miko these are for him,” he
says. “I don’t know who informed the cook that you were here, but
if it has made it to him, it’s only a matter of time before word
makes it to the Ambassador.”

“If it hasn’t already,” finishes James.

“How are we going to get out the gates?”
asks Shorty.

“Hedry is scheduled to lead a patrol this
evening,” he explains. “I figure if you were to leave with him then
your leaving may go unnoticed.” He glances to where Brother Willim
sits eating in his brown robe, the emblem of the Hand of Asran upon
his breast. “We are going to have to do something about your
robe.”

“I can easily take it off,” assures Brother
Willim. “Maybe slip an ordinary cloak on instead?”

“I was thinking more along the lines of some
armor,” counters Ceadric. “You are going to need to blend in with
the others.”

“I’ll not wear armor,” he states. “Our order
forbids it.”

“But they will realize you are not one of
our men,” objects Ceadric.

Seeing Ceadric clearly getting irritated and
Brother Willim balking, James gets to his feet. “If the rest of us
are wearing breastplates and helms, and we put him in the center,
then in the dark we might be able to get away with it.”

Ceadric nods his head. “That might work,” he
says.

“Why sneak out at all?” Stig asks. “There
isn’t anyone around here who could effectively stop us.”

“Two reasons,” James says as he turns to
him. “One, if we are seen leaving and then moving into the Empire,
war could erupt all over again and a lot of people are going to
die.”

“Second, we are trying to rescue Tinok. Our
effort would only be hampered should the Empire learn we are on the
move again.”