by Sam Ferguson
Lyra laughed. “Do I make you nervous?”
Geno waved the notion off and turned to force a cough. “Just something caught in my throat,” he lied. “So then, we’re agreed?”
Lyra shook her head. “Not unless my expense fund is five hundred gold,” she said. “I’ll go for ten percent over my usual fee, which is a bargain in this particular case, but I will need every coin of the expense fund.”
“That’s a steep price, even for you,” Geno said.
“Who else can do the things I do?” Lyra asked.
Geno wagged a finger. “I’ll have Guillim bring it up in a few minutes, but you must hurry. The longer we wait on this—”
Lyra cut him off. “Geno, I know this is important to you. I’ll see it through.”
Geno smiled. When Lyra promised to complete a task, she never failed. He offered a single nod and put his chair back with the table on his way out.
CHAPTER FIVE
Jonathan sat in a very stale, gray stone room. The chains connecting his shackles were now linked and secured with an iron ring embedded in the stone floor, preventing him from so much as standing up. Two chairs sat empty just a few feet in front of him.
The wooden door opened and in walked the young woman he had met at his bench. “Morgan?” Jonathan blurted out before he even realized he was speaking aloud. She looked at Jonathan and nearly froze in the doorway.
“Where’s your uniform?” she asked.
Jonathan suddenly felt very aware of the fact that he was still in nothing more than his underwear.
Morgan kept her eyes locked on his as she came in and sat down, placing a stack of folders and documents on the table to her right. “State your name for the record,” she said as she pulled out a few sheets of blank paper and set her writing utensils in front of herself.
Jonathan’s embarrassment dissolved, replaced by a flush of anger. “Jonathan Haymaker. If you need help spelling it, then feel free to go back to my bench in the royal gardens, but then if I had realized you were a court reporter, I would have just written it down for your yesterday.” Of course, he knew who she was already because the prince had told him afterward, but he wasn’t exactly in a fully cooperative mood, and the impulse to send a jab was too tempting to ignore.
The young woman cocked her head to the side. “Are you sure you would have been that bold while trying to gain access to the assistant inquisitor working your case?”
Jonathan rolled his eyes. “When I approached you in the garden, I had no idea who you were.”
Just then, someone else walked in dressed in black trousers, a black silk tunic under a crimson vest and topped off with a black tailcoat. Jonathan had never had cause to deal with one of the military inquisitors before, but he knew instantly that this was Orin Ingbrethsen.
“You’re not setting a good tone for this interview, I’m afraid,” Orin said as he reached up to wipe something off of the lenses of his gold-rimmed spectacles. He strode in confidently and took the seat next to the young woman. “Now, what’s this I hear about you confronting my assistant in the royal gardens?”
Jonathan snorted and shook his head. “She was sitting on my bench in the gardens,” he said. “At the time, I approached because I thought she looked nice.”
“Thought?” the man asked. “Why use the past tense?”
“Because looks can be deceiving,” Jonathan said, looking back at the young woman. Her cheeks turned red and her eyes narrowed on him.
“Ah, yes, that is true,” the man continued without missing a beat. “For example, if clothes make the man, then I am afraid you appear to be a bit…lacking.”
Jonathan shifted in his seat. “I was wearing my officer’s uniform when I came in,” he said. “It was taken from me, along with my other possessions.”
“Quite right too!” the man said. “You have defiled the uniform, and thus you deserved to have it stripped from you.”
Jonathan shook his head. “I have no idea what you are talking about.”
“Don’t you?” the man replied. “Well, then Miss Morgan Turgen will be all too happy to enlighten you. After that little stunt you pulled in the garden, she requested permission to take the lead on this little discussion.” Orin eyed Jonathan from head to toe once more and the hint of a grin tugged at the left side of his mouth. “I think you will find her abilities in this matter to be far beyond that of the secretarial and clerking pools. In our offices a pretty face can be good for more than delivering bad news.” His smile grew. “After all, you may be the second youngest commissioned officer the kingdom has ever known, but she is the youngest assistant inquisitor, and she knew more about the law by the age of ten than I suspect you ever will.”
Jonathan bit his tongue and took in a breath to try and steady his nerves. No matter what they wanted to put him through, he had to think of Jason and Annabell, and their unborn child.
“When was the last time you saw the man known as Captain Ziegler?” Morgan asked pleasantly while jotting something down on the paper in front of her.
“A couple years ago,” Jonathan said.
“Be precise,” Morgan instructed.
“Precise?” Jonathan echoed. “All right.” Jonathan leaned forward to stare into Morgan’s hazel eyes. “The last time I saw Captain Ziegler was at my family farm in Holstead. We had just finished stopping a madman from launching another attack on our kingdom. We lost several friends during the mission, and after it was over it resulted in increased trade for us, the elves, and even the dwarves.”
“Yes, let’s talk about your mission,” Morgan said, her face expressionless and her tone as even as a summer’s breeze. “Were you authorized to conduct your invasion of Tanglewood Forest?”
Jonathan leaned back in his chair. “The king didn’t seem to mind when he offered me a commission as an officer after the fact.” He turned to look at Orin. “I may not be the youngest officer, but I was fighting long before I had the king’s official permission.”
“So, you admit that you have regularly flouted the law when it suited you?” Morgan pressed.
Jonathan frowned and shook his head. “I was out to save my brother, and I just happened to not only save him, but the whole kingdom –or didn’t they tell you that while you were studying the law?”
“We’ll get to that later, but for now I need you to focus on the questions at hand. Morgan offered a smile, but there was no warmth behind it. She crossed her right leg over her left and adjusted herself to more comfortably take notes. “Allow me to be precise. Who authorized your travel papers?”
Jonathan took in a breath. He knew the papers had been forged. If he denied knowing it now, it would only make things worse. Pa had always raised him to tell the truth. Honesty was expected, even in the face of discipline. Though neither Morgan nor Orin Ingbrethsen were as kind as Pa, Jonathan found himself unable to go against one of his family’s core tenets.
“They were forged,” Jonathan said honestly. “I’m sure you know all about Ruben Faelwyn; he was well known in these parts as the head of arcane research at the Lehemat College of Mystics.”
Morgan nodded. “So you admit to seeking entry into Tanglewood Forest under false pretenses?”
“The papers were forged, but our intentions were honest. The mission was not treasonous.”
The young woman worked her pen for a moment, nodding her head and seeming quite detached emotionally.
“What was the purpose of your mission?”
Jonathan sighed. “Surely you know all of this,” he said. “Why are you making me retell it?”
“Let me be clear –I ask the questions and you answer them. Refuse to answer and I will stick you back in that tiny little cell until your thick head softens and you become more cooperative. Now, I’ll ask again, what was the purpose of your mission?”
“You threaten me as casually as if you were sending out for a courier,” Jonathan said, choosing the word courier to see how she would respond.” She didn’t. Morgan sat there
stone-faced and expecting him to answer. This Morgan was far colder than he had realized.
“One of our comrades was missing, one of the Ghosts of the Quags,” Jonathan said. “Captain Ziegler was organizing a mission to find him.”
“Who was missing?”
“Raven, a wizard.” Jonathan took in a breath and shook his head. “After I killed the troll king in the Murkle Quags, there was a strange release of energy. There was this magical artifact that broke, and it ended the magic that had amplified the monsoons. Raven found clues that led him to believe there was more to it than just an artifact down in the swamps. So he went north to investigate.”
“Why north?” Morgan asked.
Jonathan grunted and shook his head. “There are official reports,” Jonathan said. “Any one of them will give you the same information.”
“I don’t want to read the reports, I want your report,” Morgan replied.
Jonathan glanced to Orin, who was sitting there with an amused look on his face. “All right. Raven found evidence that the artifact was made by the elves. So he went north to track down who made it and why. Soon after he left he went missing.”
“And who authorized Raven’s mission?” Morgan asked.
Jonathan frowned and knit his brow, then shrugged. “I think he went on his own. I don’t remember if he had official papers, but he had good reason to investigate, I assure you. When we went northward we were just trying to find him, but we uncovered who had made the artifact, and exactly how dangerous it had been. Turns out an elf named Brykith was behind much of the Troll Wars. He was using it to drive us away from the swamps so he could look for something there. At the same time, he had a scheme to take power from the elven council in Gwyndoltai, and it would have worked if we hadn’t caught him.”
“What was Brykith looking for exactly?” Morgan asked.
Jonathan hesitated. They had never disclosed exactly what the Guardian had hidden with Jaeger. The three of them all knew the secret of the Astral Crystal, but they had never fully disclosed it in detail in their reports after returning home. “Another artifact that is rumored to have great powers.”
“Have you ever seen this artifact?” Morgan asked.
“No.”
“Have you ever gone looking for it?” Morgan pressed, her tone as flat and emotionless as ever.
“No.”
“But Captain Ziegler, or Tray Maloy if we are to use his real name, has gone hunting for treasure in the past, surely it must have tempted him.”
Jonathan frowned. “Captain Ziegler lost all of his closest friends in Tanglewood Forest, except for my brother and me. He didn’t want to look for treasure, he just wanted to find peace.”
“Peace?” Morgan echoed as a smile broke her stoic expression. “You’re telling me that an ancient artifact promising untold powers, powers tempting enough for a single elf noble to concoct an entire war just in the hopes of attaining it, held no allure for Tray Maloy?”
Jonathan shook his head. “Look, I never saw him again after he left, but he didn’t strike me as a man who wanted to go back down into the Murkle Quags. He just wanted to find a bit of happiness, and leave fighting behind.”
“Is that why he went on to fight in the arena in Duerbet?” Morgan asked.
Jonathan cocked his head to the side. “The what?”
Morgan arched a brow and pointed her pen at Jonathan. “You didn’t know?”
Jonathan sat silently.
“Did you know that Tray Maloy fought in the arena for money?” Morgan asked.
“No, you must be mistaken,” Jonathan said.
“But I’m not,” Morgan replied. “I have sworn statements from several witnesses, three of them of a station that makes their testimonies incontestable.” Morgan took the three documents at the top of the pile of papers she had brought into the room, and laid them out in front of Jonathan for him to see. His eyes scanned briefly over the documents, taking in words disjointedly, and noting mostly the signatures and official seals. “Tray Maloy did leave our kingdom shortly after the last time you claim to have seen him, and he went into Duerbet and promptly joined the arena as a fighter. Hardly the actions of a man looking for peace, wouldn’t you say?”
Jonathan shook his head. “I don’t know anything about that.”
“Very well, then let me ask you something else. How long was Tray Maloy looking for this purported ancient relic in the Murkle Quags?”
“What? He never went after it. None of us did. I haven’t been south of Battlegrym since I killed the troll king, my brother hasn’t even left Holstead since returning from Tanglewood Forest, and Captain Ziegler was headed away from here the last time I saw him.”
“Interesting,” Morgan said. The young inquisitor sat in silence for a moment, just staring into Jonathan’s eyes.
If the shackles hadn’t already been on him, Jonathan might have reached out and ripped up her precious notes for the things she was saying. Who did she think she was? After only a few moments, Jonathan couldn’t keep quiet any longer. “Captain Ziegler is a great man! He gave everything he had to the Troll Wars, and then he put himself on the line again to rescue Raven. I’m not going to sit here and listen to some ridiculous story that impugns his honor. I know Captain Ziegler, and you couldn’t amount to half of his greatness, ever!”
Morgan smiled. “Are you telling me that you had absolutely no knowledge of the fact that Tray Maloy returned to Lehemat and stole important records from the royal archives?”
Jonathan shook his head and narrowed his eyes on the assistant inquisitor. “He would never do that!” He looked to Orin for help. “Are you really going to sit there and listen to this?!”
Morgan continued on. “The fact is that, despite your claim that he left your home, headed off into the sunset to live out a peaceful retirement, within a week of your return from Tanglewood, he had raided Raven’s personal office, as well as several other offices where important documents were kept on various types of magic.”
“No, there’s no way he would do such a thing!” Jonathan shouted. “You aren’t listening to me, it isn’t possible!”
“I have witnesses,” Morgan said calmly. “And, if I have witnesses to that fact, and you truly didn’t know that Tray Maloy did in fact go hunting for the Astral Crystal, then perhaps you didn’t know him as well as you thought.”
Jonathan felt his insides squirm. Morgan knew about the Astral Crystal. Had the elves told her, or had she somehow figured it out on her own? Morgan was studying his reactions carefully, and a smile was stealing its way across her face. His shock must have been plain to see.
“Every document that could be related to the Astral Crystal is now gone. And Tray Maloy has spent a significant portion of the last few years in a kingdom where vicious warlords are known to recruit soldiers and purchase needed supplies on the black market. You’re telling me that you honestly think Tray Maloy didn’t take that crystal and sell it to the highest bidder right out from under the king’s nose!?”
“You don’t know him like I do,” Jonathan replied. “He would never do such a thing. If he took the papers, then it would only be to help conceal knowledge of its existence.”
“In order to keep it to himself?” Morgan inquired.
“No, in order to keep it hidden from the wrong kind of people, like Brykith!”
“Jonathan,” Morgan began, “I have some things I want you to consider.”
“I know he didn’t do this,” Jonathan said with a shake of his head. “This is all just a misunderstanding. Just ask him yourself, you’ll see.”
Morgan arched her brow and her mouth parted slightly as if momentarily caught by surprise. She gracefully rose from her seat and slowly turned to push the chair under the table, clearing her throat and arching a single brow. “I think it’s time you admit to yourself that perhaps you didn’t know him as well as you thought.”
Jonathan was about to rebut the statement, but then he let the words sink in a bit. “Why are
you using the past tense?” he asked.
“Because Tray Maloy was killed,” Morgan said.
Jonathan shook his head. “No, you can’t be right.”
Morgan nodded. “I am. I have the official death report.” She reached into the stack of papers sitting in front of her and pulled out a single piece of paper. “It says that he was killed by house guards at a nobleman’s manor. It appears that Tray Maloy forced his way into Lord Brigmat Deurier’s home, and murdered him, along with several other guards before he was stopped from escaping the scene.”
Jonathan felt as though someone had punched him in the stomach. “What? No, he would never…”
Orin leaned forward and broke his silence. “I have a particular reputation,” he said. “I am extremely thorough, and I am the best at what I do. Miss Morgan Turgen is just as efficient. This is no mistake. Tray Maloy is dead.” Orin sat back and then nodded to Morgan while Jonathan tried to take it all in and process the news.
A wave of nausea churned through Jonathan and he felt his face drain as the room began to spin. What was happening? How could everything have led to this moment?
“Now, let me tell you how this is going to play out,” Morgan said, beginning to casually pace about behind the desk as she tapped a pen in her hand.
Jonathan couldn’t focus on the words coming at him. He turned to the side as if to vomit on the floor.
SLAP!
Jonathan’s face whipped to the side and a terrible stinging pain burned his left cheek. His focus was back, powered by the adrenaline now flowing through him as he narrowed his eyes on Orin. The man hadn’t moved. He turned his gaze to Morgan, who was adjusting her papers. “Don’t you ever touch me again,” Jonathan said.
“You were in shock,” Morgan said as if that excused her actions. “I need you to focus. Now listen. I am going to ask you a short series of questions. You will answer only ‘yes’ or ‘no’ to each one. Understand?”