The Wrong Scapegoat: A Mythic Fantasy Novel (Ravens of the Morrigan)

by Cornelius Flynn

  “Most of the snow’s melted, sir. There was no way to see what route they took after leaving the rear of the stonemason’s shop.”

  “Did no one there hear them?” The Ordo frowns.

  “None whatsoever. The doors were barred from the inside, rather than locked. They simply slid them back and eased out into the night. It’s not an area patrolled often by the castle guards.”

  “I doubt they could have known where the passage led,” the Ordo rubs his chin, “since this appears to have been their first visit to our meeting area. We must assume that this place is compromised and move elsewhere. Arrange to have the passage sealed so it leads nowhere and similarly have the stonemason finish off the other exits so they cannot be found again.”

  As the guard passes the orders along, the Capo Borealis and his commander enter the office.

  “All of this will have to be gathered up and moved.” He points at the papers, maps and books. “We’ll have to find somewhere else to store it in until we can come up with a new base of operations.”

  “I’m sure we can find somewhere out of the way within the temple to keep everything secure, Ordo. Has anything been disturbed?”

  The Capo walks around his desk scrutinising it. He points to a sheaf of papers at the left-hand end. “These have been moved, as have those at the other end.” He slides open a drawer and examines the contents, repeating the process.

  “Someone has poked through everything. I’m not certain what’s missing, but I’ll know in an hour or so.”

  “Where was the intelligence kept on this latest operation, Ordo?” The commander asks, looking around.

  “That would have been here.” The Capo collects a large sheaf of paper and begins to go through it. “Yes, some pages adrift. Our instructions which involved the assassin should have been with these. They appear to be missing.”

  He hears a sharp intake of breath. “So, someone knows our plans?”

  “No, Commander. Only a small part of them.” He lifts the papers, showing them to the Soldier. “The papers were in a language only used by the order so it’ll be difficult for them to use these as proof. Especially since, as I’m sure you’re aware, nobody ever leaves the order.”

  The grim smile on the commander’s face shows that he understands. “What of our Lord Abbot? He should be informed of the break-in, shouldn’t he?”

  “Oh yes. He must be informed. Make sure that a few items from the temple go missing first. A few valuable, precious things. I’d suggest that his journal be taken too, that way we can roll the dice in our favour.”

  “What of the assassin, Ordo?” The commander asks. “Should he be informed?”

  “We may need his particular skills in this matter.” The Capo pauses. “We have to track down this thief, or thieves, recover all our materials, and ensure they’re never heard from again. I can’t think of anyone better suited to the task.”

  “Even after he was seen in his original mission?” He steps back, looking around the room.

  “He’s explained that to me. Apparently, the girl wasn’t what she seemed to be at all.”

  “Really? Then what was she?” His eyebrows draw together as he turns back to face his leader.

  “A changeling, my dear Commander.” The Ordo chuckles. “An actual changeling.”

  The colour drains from commander’s face in the flickering light.

  Early the next morning, Gwen is clearing away the breakfast plates in the tavern while the three, who have risen early, are bursting with questions but have been told to remain silent.

  “Be patient for a few moments longer. We have things to discuss and examine. I’ve had only the briefest of reports from Wildcat. She knows more than I do but there’s no point going over everything two or three times because everyone’s not ready to listen, isn’t that right, Lightning?”

  Lightning looks up, stuffing the last half of a bread roll into her mouth and chewing as she nods. She attempts a reply but none of them can turn the sound she makes into words.

  Filippo laughs. “Have it your own way, Gwen. I’m sure we can wait until she’s finished.”

  Lightning swallows and picks up the hot steaming mug of black coffee from the table, slurping it to rinse out her mouth. Swishing it around her teeth with her tongue, she swallows and burps happily.

  “Okay, I’m done.” She pokes Filippo. “You know if it was anything important she wouldn’t have let us eat breakfast first, don’t you?”

  He rubs his arm, pretending to be injured. “Go easy. You big women throwing your weight around.”

  Wildcat laughs and points at Lightning. “Her? Big? You should see how skinny she gets when she can’t eat like that!”

  “We all have our ‘little’ problems to deal with, don’t we?” Lightning indicates Filippo, who is now a good two feet shorter than when they first met.

  “All right, stop ganging up on the only man in the room.” He holds his hands up, palms outwards in surrender. “Let’s get on with whatever we’re supposed to be doing.”

  Gwen returns from the kitchen and joins them.

  After admonishing them to avoid any interruptions, she asks Wildcat to tell her tale, who is happy to do so, with much arm waving, voice impersonation and jumping around.

  When she finishes, the others seem stunned.

  “Secret passages? Are you sure you didn’t just fall out of a window and bang your head?” Lightning asks. “We’re talking about the same temple, aren’t we? The one full of the useless monks who go round ringing bells and burning incense?”

  “Very funny.” Wildcat responds. “Yes. We’re talking about the same temple, but it seems that not all of them are that keen on bells and incense. Some prefer plotting at secret meetings, in hidden rooms.”

  “I can’t see the abbot sitting around in a draughty cellar having secret meetings.” Filippo says. “He’s not exactly that young any more. I bet that wouldn’t do his creaky old bones any good at all.”

  “I’m just telling you what I found. I barely got away in time.” Wildcat sits down.

  “Why’s that? I thought you were this lithe, supple, acrobatic, undetectable thief.” He smiles. “What happened, did you trip over your own tail?”

  “I don’t have a tail, which you know very well. I didn’t trip over anything inside the temple.” She wiggles her fingers. “There was some kind of monk-y seal on the door. I felt it too late. Someone knew when I opened it, so I got out of there fast.”

  “You mean magic? A trap?” He puts his mug back on the table.

  Her head bobs twice as she nods.

  “Something triggered when I opened it. The air was all crackly and I’m glad I was on the inside and not standing in the main room when I did it.” She pauses, looking thoughtful. “Yes. I think it was designed to kill people trying to get in from the outside. I don’t think the owner of the room guessed that anyone else would find his secret entrance.”

  Wildcat moves everyone’s cups away from the centre of the table and produces the items she stole, laying them out for all to see. “I couldn’t bring everything, so I just grabbed these.”

  The others lean forward to examine them.

  “What language is that?” Lightning asks.

  “I’ve no idea.” Gwen stares at the parchment. “I’ve never seen those characters before.”

  “Really? But, haven’t you been around a lot longer than the rest of us?” Wildcat stares at Gwen.

  “Yes, I have. But I’ve not been around long enough to have seen this before.” She picks up one of the sheets of vellum, turning it over in her hands. “This script seems archaic. Assuming it’s not a code, then it must be something from far away, in distance or in time, for me to know nothing of it.”

  “Won’t they notice that all this is missing?” Filippo points at her haul. “I thought the idea was that you snooped around to see what they were doing, without stealing anything.”

  “Nobody said not to steal anything. I was told not to kill anybod
y, and they’re all still breathing. I brought this back because I recognised this picture.” She points at the image of the prince’s Royal Seal. “It’s not like you believed me before I produced all this was it?”

  “Of course I believe you, my dear Wildcat. I’m just having trouble getting my head round the idea that these peaceful monks are behind a plot against the prince, which involves them framing Piper.” He frowns. “You must admit, it sounds a little far-fetched.”

  “I thought the same thing myself.” Wildcat replies. “Until I saw this. I don’t know what the rest of it might say, but the only reason for it having this drawing is that it’s to do with the attack on the prince.”

  “So,” Gwen asks, “does this mean the temple arranged the attack on the prince?”

  “I don’t see it.” Lightning looks around the table at the others. “Without wishing to be too rude, I don’t think anyone at that temple could fight their way out of a lavender bush.”

  The others chuckle at this image, although Wildcat wrinkled her nose.

  “These knights are different though.” Filippo says. “They know where to put the pointy end. They’re well-organised and disciplined, even though they are few.”

  “I haven’t seen them before.” Lightning says. “I didn’t know they existed until they turned up here. The normal temple guards are usually quite ineffective. I’m not saying they’re completely useless, but I wouldn’t want them backing me up in a fight.”

  Gwen nods. “They’re not real soldiers. They provide some security for the priests and the monks. Their only tasks are more to do with keeping an eye on the silverware than fighting pitched battles against the forces of darkness but, as has been pointed out, these newcomers are different.”

  “They made a right mess of our Piper!” Wildcat stands, pointing towards the back room.

  “Yes, that’s true. I suspect that they may be the ones who use the secret areas, rather than the normal occupants of the temple.” Gwen sits back in her chair.

  “We can’t be sure that they’re not all involved though, can we? Perhaps they just pretend to be bumbling and useless but really they’re all plotting together?” Wildcat prowls around the table.

  A new male voice joins their conversation.

  “No, I don’t see that. The abbot’s been there for years and I think he really is a doddering old man.”

  “Piper! What are you doing out of bed? I thought you were supposed to be resting.” Wildcat grins, skipping over to greet him.

  “How could I rest when you lot are making all this racket? Besides, I’m the one who’s in it up to his chin, not you chaps.” He winces and holds his ribs as she throws her arms around his neck.

  Gwen jumps up. “Let me get you a chair, fool.” She pulls one over, grabbing Piper’s arm and extracting him from Wildcat’s hug. “She’s right. You should still be in bed but, since you’re here, maybe you can offer us some thoughts on this temple.”

  “Up until a week ago I’d have said they were just a harmless religious organisation, labouring under the misapprehension that there’s only one god.” He eases himself into the chair which Gwen has provided, sitting gingerly and pulling a face when his bruised back makes contact with the solid wood.

  “Just a second.” Gwen grabs a seat cushion from one of the other chairs and eases it behind him. “Now, try to relax. Holding your back tense like that is going to make it hurt more.”

  “Thank you, my lady.” He leans into it. “Now, where were we? Oh, yes. The Temple of the Saviour. Basically, from what I’ve seen, a bunch of idiots who think that their Iesu is the son of god, who created the world, all the seasons of the year, and all good things for them, as he floats up in the sky somewhere.”

  “We know that much.” Filippo taps the table. “It’s the same in Florence. How does that affect their involvement in the plot against you and the prince?”

  “That part, I will admit, old chum, has me puzzled too.” He shifts his weight in the chair a little to make his ribs more comfortable. “I never understood why he put up with them. I can only assume it has something to do with politics. I really don’t think they have the gumption to organise this, well at least not the ones I’ve met.”

  “Political? That’s a thought. What if his wife was involved?” Lightning’s eyes light up.

  “Whose wife?” Piper frowns.

  “The prince’s wife. She’s very big on the temple. She supports them, she makes donations, she goes there regularly. In fact, you were meeting her there when they caught you.”

  “No. Not a chance. There’s no way she’d be involved in any of this. I’ve known her since before they got married. Sweet girl. Absolutely dotty about our prince.”

  “Still, I think we should keep her in mind.” Lightning continues. “Perhaps they’ve influenced her somehow?”

  “I am telling you, old girl, there’s no way she’s involved in this. You didn’t see her screaming and hitting the guards when they took me. I’m hoping I get a chance to have a chat with her again before all this is through.”

  “What about his brother then?” Filippo pours more hot coffee into his mug. “If anyone’s gaining from this, it seems to be him. I know everyone keeps saying that he’s not the power hungry type, but who else benefits?”

  “Seriously?” Piper says. “I can assure you, the man has no interest in power whatsoever. He collects art. He loves music. He loves his wife. He has everything he needs.”

  “Well someone has to be behind all this.” He adds a dollop of cream to his coffee. “It must be about either power or money. Everything always is.”

  The others nod at Filippo’s remark.

  “What about the abbot? Should we tell him what we’ve found, or do we still think he’s secretly involved?” Wildcat stands behind Piper, examining his bruises.

  He groans as he leans forward to stare at the items on the table. “What exactly have we found? This is all gobbledygook, or some really intense code which I’ve never seen before.”

  “Actually, it looks like ancient Macedonian to me.” Another male voice suggests.

  They spin around, Piper yelping from the pain in his ribs, to see who spoke.

  “How did you get in here?” Gwen asks, rising from her chair so suddenly that it skids backwards two feet and falls over, bouncing off the polished stone floor.

  The old man stands up from where he’d been, bent over examining the documents, leans on his white staff and points behind himself.

  “The door — was open.”

  They crane their necks to look and see that, sure enough, there actually is an open doorway through which they can see a warm sunny glade in a forest somewhere. The grasses ruffled by a slight breeze, as bees and butterflies attend the many flowers they can see there.

  Gwen’s mouth falls open as she stares at the image. “Where is that place?”

  “Oh, not where my dear.” The old man replies. “More of a when. That place is called Summer. I do like Summer, don’t you?” He smiles happily.

  Realisation dawns on Lightning’s face as she shouts: “The druid! You’re the druid.”

  He looks thoughtful for a moment. “Yes, some people do call me that. I remember you.” He reaches into the sack by his side and pulls out a lump of cheese. “You liked my food.”

  “Of course.” Filippo says. “We met at the hut after we’d saved Melissa’s family.”

  “We did?” The old man examines him carefully. “I remember meeting a tall man there, he did look a bit like you.”

  “That was me.” He replies through gritted teeth. “My size varies with the phases of the moon.”

  “How terribly inconvenient for you. I could fix that for you, you know, although there might be side effects?”

  Gwen interrupts. “I still want to know how you got in here, old man.”

  “I thought I already mentioned that. The door — was open.” He turns and points at it once more, as though explaining something to a child. “You see. The door
, over there, through which I walked? It is open.”

  He leans forward and looks into her face to see if she understands him.

  Gwen takes a deep breath and smiles, trying to stay calm.

  “What I mean is that it should not be possible for you to be here. This place doesn’t have doors that other people can open. Only I can open the doors, and a very few others. To the best of my knowledge, you are not one of those people.”

  “You mean the Sioga?” He asks, chuckling.

  “Of course I mean the Sioga.” She thunders. “This place is a part of the Otherland and only those who are invited may enter. So I ask you once again, how did you get in here.”

  He begins to turn once more.

  Gwen interrupts him, shouting: “And don’t tell me the door was open!” Her frustration is rising.

  The old man shrugs. “Did you want me to leave? I’ll leave if you ask me to.”

  “I think he’s harmless, Gwen.” Lightning says. “Also, he has very good cheese.”

  The old man’s eyes twinkle as he smiles at Lightning and pulls another chunk from his satchel, offering it to her.

  “I realise none of the rest of you understand what’s going on here.” Gwen looks at them. “But it should not be possible for him to enter the Tavern. The Tavern was created with the Elders’ magic, whose descendants are the Fae, and the inside of the tavern exists only within the Otherland. Only they may enter it freely.”

  The old man shakes his head and turns to grin at Gwen.

  “My dear lady, you youngsters are so quick to think you know everything.” He points back to the parchments on the table. “Old Macedonian. Unfortunately, I can’t read it for you but I’m sure you can find someone who can, now that you know what it is.”

  He bows to them, turns around and whistles happily as he saunters across the tavern and back out through a doorway that shouldn’t exist. Lightning leaps up from the table and sprints after him but, even with her incredible speed, it has vanished when she arrives, and he’s gone.

  “So, old Macedonian it seems?” Wildcat says looking at the papers on the table.

  “That’s what he said.” Filippo turns to Gwen. “Do we know anyone who can read that?”