Frostborn: The Master Thief (32 page)

“Aye, and against the Mhorite orcs and the Red Brothers,” said Jager. “What of it?” 

His hard blue eyes narrowed. “There were Mhorite orcs and assassins within his domus?” 

“There were,” said Jager. “I suspect he hired the Red Family to kill you off, and the Red Brothers brought in the Kothluuskan orcs to help. They all worship Mhor together, the madmen.”

Ridmark and Calliande shared a look.

“What?” said Morigna. “One is hardly surprised that our enemies should band together against us.”

“No,” said Calliande, “but a Dux of Andomhaim should not be consorting with the Mhorite orcs of Kothluusk.” 

“Simply consorting with them is treason,” said Ridmark. “Bringing them into the city, into his own domus…that is much worse. How did he even get them into Coldinium? No, wait.” He paced a few steps, stopped. “You said he had a secret entrance to the catacombs.” Jager nodded. “Then the catacombs or the ruins of Thainkul Balzon must have an entrance outside the walls. The Mhorites could come and go as they pleased.” 

“Is that what you were doing down here?” said Morigna. “Trying to escape the city?”

“No,” said Jager. “Well, I wanted to get away from Tarrabus and his Mhorites, yes. But I need to get the soulstone back. Tarrabus still has Mara locked up in the Iron Tower. I thought…my plan was to break into his domus, find irrefutable proof that he was allied with the Mhorites, and use it to convince the Comes to turn against him. Then when they wind up fighting, I could slip into the domus, retrieve the soulstone, and...I don’t know, somehow force Tarrabus to release Mara.”

“How, precisely?” said Morigna. “That is a terrible plan.”

Jager growled and slapped the floor. “What the hell else was I supposed to do? Lie down and die? Go to the nobles for help? The nobles are murderers and liars, every one of them.” He knew he ought to moderate his speech, but he was too angry and too tired to care. “They’re all like Tarrabus Carhaine and Paul Tallmane, every last…”

“You’ve met Paul Tallmane?” said Ridmark.

Jager glared at him. “Paul Tallmane killed a freeholder and convinced my father to take the blame, promising to spare him. And my father was the perfect halfling servant, so devoted to his master. He eagerly did it, believing it his duty to the Tallmanes. And instead Sir Paul did nothing as my father went to the block and the executioner claimed his head.” It had been over ten years past, but Jager still shook with fury at the memory. “I burned down the Tallmanes’ domus and stole their gold.  I have stolen from the nobles of Andomhaim ever since, for you are cruel and corrupt and you deserve it.”

He shook his head, feeling drained from the telling. In the last ten years, he had told the entire story to no one, save for Mara. He watched Ridmark’s impassive face, waited for the Gray Knight to raise his staff and strike him down.

“Sir Paul is one of the Enlightened of Incariel,” said Ridmark.

Jager blinked. “What?” 

“He has rank among them, I think,” said Ridmark. “I ran into him at Aranaeus, a village of the Wilderland some distance north of the Iron Tower. He tried to kill me with two Red Brothers.” 

“Plainly, you survived,” said Jager. “So did Sir Paul.”

“I let him live,” said Ridmark. “At the time…I had always thought Tarrabus proud and cruel, but I still believed him a loyal Dux of the realm. I sent Paul to warn him that the Frostborn would return within a year and a month of the omen of blue fire.” He shook his head. “But after what I have seen in Coldinium, I realize it would have been better to kill him.”

“The Frostborn?” said Jager, raising an eyebrow. “You sound like the Mhorite orcs. Do you think the world is about to end?”

“It might,” said Calliande.

She was not joking. 

“You were honest with me,” said Ridmark, “so I shall be honest with you. The omen of blue fire was a herald of the return of the Frostborn. The Warden of Urd Morlemoch warned me of it, as did two female urdmordar. I believe a renegade high elven wizard called Shadowbearer is attempting to bring them back for reasons of his own.”

“Shadowbearer?” said Jager. “But…that is a legend, surely. The Matriarch spoke of Shadowbearer to Mara, but she thought it a myth of the dark elves…”

“He is not,” said Calliande. “I have seen him.”

“As have I,” said Kharlacht.

The flat way the big orc said it, as if commenting upon the weather, convinced Jager more than any amount of argument. 

“And to bring back the Frostborn,” said Ridmark, “he needs that empty soulstone. I don’t know how or why. We were on our way to Urd Morlemoch to demand answers of the Warden when we encountered some misfortune and ended up here. The Enlightened of Incariel are the servants of Shadowbearer, and they will hand the soulstone over to Shadowbearer so the Frostborn can return anew.” 

Jager opened his mouth, closed it. It all sounded so improbable. The Frostborn had been exterminated centuries ago, all men knew that. Shadowbearer was a fable, and there was no way the Enlightened of Incariel could gain such power without the Magistri and the Swordbearers falling upon them like a storm. 

And yet…

He remembered the strange sense of potential he had felt while holding the empty soulstone. 

The uncanny feeling Tarrabus gave him, the way his shadow sometimes seemed like a living thing. 

He had always thought Paul Tallmane a hypocrite, a brutal thug who pretended to be a noble knight of Andomhaim and a baptized son of the church. Yet what if that had not been hypocrisy but a masquerade? What if he had been one of these Enlightened all along, a worshipper of the demon Incariel?

And what if, by giving them the soulstone, Jager had helped pave the way for worse evils than his father’s murder?

“Oh, dear,” Jager said. “You really are telling the truth, aren’t you?”

Calliande smiled, and Morigna laughed. It made them both look radiant. An odd thing to consider now, but it was true. Jager wondered what Ridmark had done to win the loyalty of two lovely sorceresses. Still, given Morigna’s barbed tongue and Calliande’s iron will, perhaps that was a fate Jager would inflict upon no man.

“I wish it was a lie,” said Calliande, “but it is not.”

Jager sighed. “I really shouldn’t have given Tarrabus the soulstone.”

“No.” Ridmark paused for a moment. “Though I cannot see how you could have made any other choice.”

“Then…you’re not going to kill me?” said Jager.

“Why?” said Ridmark. “I have done many things I regret, but I have never killed a man in cold blood. And I need your help.”

“To do what?” said Jager.

“To get the soulstone back,” said Ridmark. 

“It’s in Tarrabus’s domus,” said Jager, wary. “And Paul Tallmane is departing with it for the Iron Tower tomorrow. If you’re going to snatch the stone away, it has to be tonight.” 

“I know,” said Ridmark. “And the Master Thief of Cintarra will help me.”

“Why should I?” said Jager.

Morigna scowled and Kharlacht folded his massive arms. Jager knew full well why he should help Ridmark. He had stolen the soulstone from them. He had delivered it into the hands of evil men, and with it Tarrabus and Paul could wreak terrible harm. But mostly Jager wanted to see how Ridmark would react. Most nobles, if a halfling spoke to them that way, would call for the whips. Jager expected a threat.

Instead Ridmark said, “Because if we retrieve the soulstone and survive, I will help you get Mara out of the Iron Tower.” 

It took Jager a moment to process the words. 

“What?” he said at last.

“Aid us, and I will help you free Mara,” said Ridmark.

“Why?” said Jager. “I stole from you, I lied to you, and I put you in great danger. And I’m just a halfling, and you’re the son of a Dux. Why would you help me?” 

“Because it is the right thing to do,” said Ridmark.

Jager got to his feet, still staring at Ridmark.

“Help us retrieve the soulstone or not,” said Ridmark. “But decide. The night is slipping away, and we must act now.”

Jager sighed and looked at the vaulted ceiling. Life had taught him not trust the nobles of Andomhaim. Yet Ridmark was not really a noble any more, was he? He was a branded outcast. And his friends and followers…Jager had seen some ragtag groups in his travels, but nothing like Ridmark Arban and his companions. 

Still, he was in no position to turn away help.

“So be it,” said Jager.

###

“Well, then,” said Morigna, giving Jager a wary look. “I suppose you have a plan?”

“I do,” said Ridmark, retrieving his staff from where he had dropped it. He supposed he would never see that orcish war axe again, given that it was buried in the Hunter’s gullet. “We’re going to steal back the soulstone right now.”

“So you’re going to sneak into the domus and retrieve the soulstone just like that?” said Calliande.

“Just like that,” said Ridmark. 

“How do you know where it will be?” said Jager. The halfling thief looked dubious. 

“Because,” said Ridmark. “Tarrabus told me about his family’s domus in Coldinium while we were still squires together at Castra Marcaine. There is a strong room in the base of the tower. His father always kept his most valuable treasures there, and I suspect Tarrabus has continued the practice.”

“One would assume,” said Morigna, “the Dux would be wise enough to lock the door.”

Ridmark looked at Jager. “I trust the Master Thief of Cintarra can pick locks?”

“Of course,” said Jager, affronted. 

“This is dangerous,” said Calliande. “Tarrabus wants you dead, to say nothing of the Mhorites and the Red Brothers.” 

“It is,” said Ridmark, “but we must run the risk. Shadowbearer cannot claim the soulstone. You know what will happen if he does. Tonight is our best chance to do it. The guards will not expect Jager to return so soon. We also have an important point in our favor. Tarrabus doesn’t know that we know Jager took the stone.” 

“He warned me against talking to you,” said Jager. The halfling’s face was grim. “He said Mara might suffer, if I asked you for help.

“But he doesn’t know that we found you,” said Ridmark. “He will assume that we are searching for the soulstone in vain. Therefore our best chance to act is tonight. We can snatch the soulstone and make for the Iron Tower before Tarrabus is the wiser.”

“We will come with you,” said Calliande.

“No,” said Ridmark. “I will go with Jager alone.” 

Jager snorted. “Can you move as quietly as me?”

“I can,” said Ridmark

“We still cannot let you go into peril alone,” said Calliande. “You will not throw away your life, not again.”

Jager raised an eyebrow. “Is this a common problem?” 

“You have no idea,” said Caius. 

“Very well,” said Ridmark. “Go to the castra and warn the Comes and Sir Cortin. Tell them that the Mhorite orcs have been seen within Tarrabus’s domus. Comes Corbanic will be wary of crossing Tarrabus, but if Mhorite orcs are within the walls, he will have no choice but to act.”

“The Comes may not listen to us, I fear,” said Caius.

“No,” said Ridmark, “but he will listen to Calliande. She won his respect during the Challenge, I think. And after the attack in the Outwall, he will heed the danger.”

Calliande nodded, her face grim. She did not approve, Ridmark suspected, but she knew it was their best chance of retrieving the soulstone. 

“Taalmak,” said Ridmark, and Azakhun looked at him. “I ask for your help as well. Will you ask the elders of the Enclave to send warriors to Tarrabus’s domus?”

“I shall,” said Azakhun. “We would be within our rights to do so, according to the terms of our king’s treaty with your High King. The Kothluuskan orcs attacked and killed several of our kindred north of Vulmhosk on the day you aided us. Therefore we have the duty to avenge our slain kin, and if we must follow them into Tarrabus’s domus, we shall.” He frowned. “If I can convince the elders of this, of course.”

“If you do convince them to attack,” said Ridmark, “wait at least an hour. That shall give Jager and I time to get away. Then, if all goes well, we can leave Coldinium in the chaos and set out for the Iron Tower.”

“Where shall we meet you?” said Kharlacht. 

“The northern gate at dawn,” said Ridmark. “If we do not join you at the northern gate by nightfall tomorrow, assume we are dead and proceed as you think best.”

“Ridmark…” said Calliande. 

“This is the best way,” he said.

She sighed, closed her eyes, and nodded. “I will convince the Comes to aid you.”

“Go with God,” said Caius.

Ridmark nodded and turned to Jager. 

“Well,” said Jager, “I never thought I would commit burglary with the youngest son of a Dux, but all kinds of strange things have happened today.”

“Keep following me,” said Ridmark, “and you will see stranger things yet.” 

“Let’s start,” said Jager, and he led the way into the catacombs, while Azakhun took the others back to the Dwarven Enclave.

Chapter 21 - Thieving

At first Jager thought having Ridmark accompany him was a terrible idea. Ridmark might have been a formidable warrior, but he was big and strong, and large men had trouble moving quietly. And halflings were naturally stealthy in a way that humans were not.

But Ridmark could move considerable stealth, so much so that Jager sometimes had trouble keeping track of him.

“Where did you learn to do that?” he said, half-impressed, half-annoyed. “I didn’t think the sons of a Dux learned this kind of thing.”

“They don’t,” said Ridmark. “But I spent the last five years alone in the Wilderland. An empty belly is fine motivation to learn stealth while stalking deer.” 

“An empty belly is a fine motivation for a number of things,” said Jager.

They moved through the galleries of the catacombs. Jager found he missed the presence of Calliande. Or, more specifically, Calliande’s magic. If the Hunter returned, neither Jager nor Ridmark had any weapons that could hurt it. Hopefully Jager would be long gone from Coldinium by the time the Hunter finished nursing its wounds. 

“How did you know Tarrabus and Paul Tallmane?” said Jager, his eyes scanning the gallery. The light on Ridmark’s wrist threw back the darkness, casting tangled shadows everywhere. Jager hated the light – it would mark them out from a distance. Unfortunately, he could not see in the dark, making it a necessity.