The Consuls of the Vicariate (17 page)

“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.

Piers glanced at Laedron, then did a double take and drew his sword. “You’ve brought
him
here?”

“Shimmering Dawn!” Greathis shouted, reaching for his blade.

“Wait, calm down.” Laedron waved his hands, the chains of his shackles jingling. “Just calm down. We’re here to talk things out, not to make trouble, right?”

“You should have told me we were coming to the Shimmering Dawn—traitors, brigands, and thieves.” Greathis spit on the floor, then extended his hand to the priest. “Come, Jurgen. They shall hold you prisoner no longer.”

“They do not hold me hostage, Dalton,” Jurgen said. “I am a guest of these traitors, brigands, and thieves, as you put it.”

“A guest?”

“Yes, of course.” Jurgen wiped his hands on a rag and approached Greathis. “By your presence here, I can only assume you’ve been told the truth. Ah, but I can tell by the look in your eye that you don’t believe it.”

“What this sorcerer has said is impossible. It cannot be,” Greathis replied. “How can you be so quick to believe his lies?”

“You never knew it, but I’ve maintained correspondence with the Shimmering Dawn of Sorbia for quite a long time. Don’t you see, Greathis? Training priests with miracles of war, outfitting vessels with weapons, hoarding supplies, and restricting our borders? The Drakars knew war was imminent, but they claimed the Sorbians were responsible. Meklan Draive sent this sorcerer and his knights to me for help, to aid them in ridding the world of one Gustav Drakar.”

Greathis’s eyes widened. “You, Jurgen? You helped them kill the Grand Vicar’s brother?”

“Draive wouldn’t have set his people on such a task without cause.” Jurgen sighed. “I helped them for my own purposes. I wanted to leave this land. I just wanted to get away after what the Drakars had done to me and to our people.”

“And you thought it best to aid these assassins with their task? There’s no honor in that.”

Brice and Caleb entered from one of the side rooms. Upon seeing Greathis, Caleb drew his sword, but Jurgen held up his hand and said, “No need for that. We’re only talking.”

Caleb replaced his sword, but continued to eye Greathis warily.

Jurgen continued, “You speak of honor? It was honorable to attack and kill innocent people in Morcaine? To start a war and keep an entire nation—our nation, Dalton—blinded by lies? No one wanted to believe me, but the Drakars are the poison in our cups. Now you see what they have done, but you do not believe it because you have been conditioned by their treachery for so long.”

“What has gotten into you, Vicar? I’ve never heard you speak so forcefully,” Greathis said.

Jurgen took a deep breath. “I apologize if my tone was harsh. Nearly being assassinated must have put me in a volatile state. Tristan shall have to try harder next time.”

“That’s a serious charge, Jurgen. Have you any evidence of that fact?”

“We found letters.” Brice walked over and stood next to Jurgen. “In Vicar Forane’s house. They’ve been trying to kill him for quite some time.”

Greathis extended his hand. “The letters, you have them?”

“Sadly, no,” Brice replied. “So as not to draw suspicion, we left them there.”

“Then my men shall readily find them upon a search of her residence, yes?”

Brice nodded. “Of course. In her private office on the second floor.”

“Why didn’t you come to me, Jurgen? Why the secrecy, the plotting?”

“We didn’t know on which side of the fence you stood,” Jurgen said. “We had to be sure, and I’m glad that you’re willing to do what is right.”

“This will have to be handled delicately.” Greathis closed his eyes and massaged his eyelids with his fingertips. “We will go to Forane, search her residence, and arrest her. You’d better hope the evidence is there.”

“And Tristan?” Jurgen asked.

“That will be up to you, Vicar. My men will escort you to the Vicariate on the morrow, and you will be allowed to present your charges to the consulship. Only by the will of the assembly can we detain a Grand Vicar, and I shall not impede upon the law. Without the law, we have nothing.”

Jurgen took Greathis’s hand in a firm embrace. “Thank you, Dalton. You’ll be remembered as the man who saved the church from utter destruction.”

“No, that honor belongs to you, sordid as the path may have been to get to this point. Remain here, and I shall send a detachment of guards for you.”

Laedron held up his manacled hands. “Care to take these off?”

Greathis produced a key. “Come to the headquarters within the hour and retrieve your things.”

“I’d like to come with you to arrest Forane,” Laedron said.

Greathis raised an eyebrow. “After all that has passed?”

“Yes, if it’s the same to you. If she and her friends have been studying offensive spells, it’d be best if I came along.”

“You’re probably right.”

Marac joined them outside. “You’re not going anywhere without me.”

“Me, too,” Brice said, closing the door behind them.

Laedron gave them a broad smile, then followed Greathis to the headquarters.

* * *

Within the hour, Laedron, Marac, and Brice stood in a hall with Master Greathis and a handful of militia. The hour was late, and Laedron could feel the tension like a thick cloud of anxiety hanging over their heads.

“Men,” Greathis said. “Tonight, we are going to search Vicar Genevieve Forane’s residence for seditious documents. An anonymous witness has told me letters detailing an assassination attempt are inside her house, and we mean to locate them. If we should find anything indicating wrongdoing, she shall be arrested.”

Greathis’s words must have struck a nerve in the guards because they gave one another disconcerted looks.

“Steel yourselves, men. We have a secret weapon with us, one who has joined the militia only recently. More recent still, he told me of his abilities, his prowess with magic.”

“Magic’s condemned by the church,” one of the guards said. “If a mage be among us, Azura won’t.”

“Silence!” Greathis glared at the men until their whispers ceased. “If what I am told is true, we will need his help. Azura will be with those who serve justice, so we have no worries.”

“I won’t let you down,” Laedron said, stepping forward. “I will show all of you that not all mages are to be feared. Some can be useful and even helpful, regardless of how you may feel about us.”

“He brought me back to life once,” Brice said. Laedron surmised that Brice’s support hadn’t benefited them because the guards’ faces were riddled with bewilderment.

Laedron glared at Brice. “Why do you keep bringing that up?”

Brice grimaced. “But… it was important to me.”

“Fine, yes. I’m glad that you’re with us, and we’ll leave it at that,” Laedron said, turning to the door.

“Is that true?” Greathis asked.

Laedron replied with only a nod, then left. The others joined him in the street, and they traveled to Forane’s residence in the Ancient Quarter.

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Serving Justice