by Sam Ferguson
Tennison narrowed his eyes on her. “How did you know my name?” he asked.
Morgan pursed her lips and motioned with her eyes to the overly thick tome which was placed upon a pedestal for all in the room to see. “It’s just right over there, would you mind?”
Tennison huffed and then turned to grab the large book. Morgan set the papers down and held her hands out for the book when he returned. She flipped through a few of the earlier chapters until she came to one that spoke of the requirements to become an inquisitor. With all eyes still on her, she read aloud from the definition.
“Inquisitor, a separate arm of the ministry of justice, dealing specifically in cases regarding military personnel, either past or present. Persons holding this office shall conduct investigations of, and deliver rulings on the same.” Morgan looked up to Tennison and flared her eyebrows with a hint of excitement. “It continues to list the prerequisites to become an apprentice, and then details each and every level of progression from that point on up to chief inquisitor. Shall I read those as well?”
Tennison shook his head.
“Very well, then may I ask, have you completed the requirements to become an inquisitor?”
Tennison glanced around the room and then shook his head again. “Well…no.”
Morgan closed the book and nodded. “Tennison, I’m certain you are an excellent clerk. You said yourself that you were up all night preparing these very important documents that Master Ingbrethsen needs. I can see by your work that you are both dedicated, efficient, and thorough. Would you agree?”
“Yes, miss, I take my work very seriously,” Tennison said.
“I can see that,” Morgan replied. “Tennison, would it be a fair assessment to say that you should be trusted to complete your duties properly?”
Tennison nodded. “Of course, miss. I always do my best.”
“Then please, Tennison, just as I will trust that you are both competent and dedicated, I ask that you trust me and Master Ingbrethsen, for we have completed all required steps to become inquisitors, and like you we take our jobs very seriously.” She smiled wider and handed the large book back to Tennison. “And, by the way, I like the squirrel.”
Tennison’s bewildered face screwed upward into a smile and he gave a slight nod. “Thanks, miss.”
Morgan once more took up the papers she needed and turned to exit the clerk offices, satisfied that she had made her point without making any unnecessary enemies, as she would have to work with clerks throughout her career. The inquisitors themselves were independent from the magistrates, but they didn’t have their own clerks, and the law required that all official decisions be recorded in very specific methods, so that archives would be complete.
As she walked along the corridors she looked through the papers she had taken, giving them one more look-through before dropping them off in Orin’s office. After all, each document needed to have very specific language. She shook her head at the exoneration notice. According to her research, Orin Ingbrethsen had only ever authorized four such documents in his entire career. He was normally so thorough with his investigations that he never brought forth charges until he already knew the outcome of the case, which made the treasury department very happy as it reduced the amounts they had to pay out for legal fees and investigative expenses. The fact that he was willing to execute such a notice for Jason Haymaker as part of a bargain with Jonathan Haymaker only made her believe even more that Orin would need an impartial pair of eyes on this case to keep him on track. If only she could figure out a way to force him to do so!
Morgan shuffled through each of the documents and then arranged them neatly in the order Master Ingbrethsen would prefer. Everything was in order. Every name was spelled correctly, every legal citation was in place, and all required signatures and seals were intact. Absolutely perfect. Another win for the perfection of the law.
Morgan went up to Orin’s office and filed the papers appropriately in his record books, then she looked to the window. The sun was shining bright and hot amid a blue sky that she hadn’t even enjoyed yet, seeing as she had been inside the offices since before sunrise packing her things and then working up the nerve to ask on the trip. She shook her head and was nearly ready to admit defeat when something Frenwin once told her during an early long-swording lesson came into her mind.
“Morgan, the appropriate study of a martial art is a metaphor of life. Some choose to master it with grace and finesse. Others use brute force and forego refinement, but no matter what strategy is chosen, every champion knows defeat. The only difference between those who fail and those who succeed is that a champion will keep coming back to face off against the next challenger, and then the next, and then the next,” he had said. “In this way, even if they are beaten by every opponent, so long as they fight for themselves, they are winners. There will be times in your life when events or people will stand in your way. Some will require a blunt strategy and a good walloping, while others can be beaten better with a masterful stroke timed for precisely the right opening, but it is up to you to continue to fight, even if they win.”
Even now, she could feel the sincerity with which he had said those words, and he was right.
She looked to the filing cabinets where the writ of exoneration had been placed and narrowed her eyes on it. To think that a simple piece of paper would guarantee Jason everything he wanted for the rest of his life. Her brother had been right too: the law was a great and powerful tool. So powerful, in fact, that a single piece of paper could grant a man happiness.
She sighed. If only she had a paper that would force Orin to take her with him.
Morgan took a step toward the door and then stopped in her tracks as it hit her. “That’s it!” she said, her words loud enough to bounce off the stone walls. “Every action has to be accompanied by the correct paperwork! Nothing can happen without proper justification.” She smiled to herself, certain she had what she needed now.
She looked to the office door and used her key to lock it up on her way out. She rushed down the stairs to her quarters and quickly gathered her saddlebags. She then turned to her desk and hastily pulled the center drawer open. She pulled her employment contract out and folded it hastily before shoving it into her pocket and then snatched her saddle bags, hefting them up onto her left shoulder before running through the corridors and toward the stables out behind the building. The fresh air hit her with a dry warmth, carrying the hint of scented flowers and evergreen shrubs. She saw Master Ingbrethsen walking toward the stables, and beside him walked Jonathan Haymaker, who not only wore his officer’s uniform, but had the sword from Captain Ziegler harnessed to his back as well.
“Orin!” she called out.
Master Ingbrethsen turned and frowned at her with a shake of his head. “I thought I said you couldn’t come,” he said.
“You have to take me with you!” she shouted, stopping just a few inches before crashing into him.
“Have to?” Orin echoed.
Morgan nodded. “Paragraph three of my contract states that I must be directly supervised for the duration of my assistantship. It also stipulates that in the event you are unable to supervise me directly for more than three consecutive days, an interim supervisor must be appointed.”
Orin cocked his head to the side. “Very well, then I can have Kettner supervise you in my absence. Nice try, but you aren’t going to get around this one based on the law.” Orin gave her a wink, but she wasn’t done yet.
“Paragraph seven, sub-paragraph two specifies that any interim supervisor must be given two days notice so they can shift their case loads and or refuse if they are working on matters which the assistant may not be privy to depending upon the assistant’s qualifications. You’re leaving now, and you haven’t filed a notice –meaning according to this contract, no one can take over for you right now.”
“Morgan,” Orin began. “I was giving you a compliment by assigning my workload to you. Throwing your work contract in my
face is not a great way to show thanks.”
Morgan shook her head. “According to the delineation of duties in the ministerial charter, once a junior inquisitor has accepted an assistantship, he or she is given special consideration in that he or she will, until such a time as the assistantship is completed, be unable to lead investigations or conduct interviews without his or her direct supervisor present at all times. All other factors notwithstanding, this provision shall survive the duration of the assistantship until the assistant is either returned to junior inquisitor status, or promoted based upon his or her merits.”
Orin laughed. “Did you stay up all night looking for this?”
“I’m not finished,” Morgan said. “According to the delineation of duties, no inquisitor shall undertake any investigation, inquiry, or case of any kind that involves field work outside the boundaries of the kingdom unless they shall have either a second inquisitor or their own assistant inquisitor accompanying them. This provision shall stand regardless of the case at hand, and shall not be construed to allow magistrates, or other legal officers as substitutes for the second inquisitor.”
Jonathan whistled through his teeth. Orin turned around, but Jonathan merely shrugged. “Sounds like she beat you at your own game,” he said.
Orin turned back to Morgan and laughed. “Well, she was the youngest to pass the masters exams,” he said.
“Master Ingbrethsen, the law is very specific. I have every right to accompany you and learn how you conduct yourself during field work, and I don’t intend to—”
“What about the dangers of the road?” Orin asked.
“You know I can handle a sword,” Morgan replied.
“What about his cavedog?” Orin said. “The cursed beast might take your head off in your sleep.”
“Anything could happen anywhere,” Morgan replied evenly. “He could have attacked us with the sword you let him hold yesterday, but that didn’t stop you from doing what you did.”
“It was a calculated risk, but I had to know,” Orin said with a shrug.
“So is this, and so do I,” Morgan said. “More importantly, you don’t have the legal right to keep me out of it. You asked for a logical reason why I should accompany you, so here it is. Who else would you appoint in my place, because I am not letting you leave without all points of the law being filled.”
Orin smiled. “You know what it takes to be a good inquisitor, but do you know what it takes to be the best?” Orin asked. Before she could answer he spoke for her. “Gumption and heart, miles and miles of it. Come, I already have a horse waiting for you. I took the liberty of packing a bow with your horse, hope you can use that as well as a sword.”
“What?” Morgan asked. “You knew I would come despite your instructions?”
Orin shrugged. “I hoped you would figure out a way to convince me, otherwise it would have meant that I had misjudged your character when I took you on as my apprentice.” He offered a sincere smile and gestured toward the stables. “Madame, your chariot awaits.”
Morgan smiled as Orin turned and walked toward the stables.
Jonathan was still watching her. She could tell he wasn’t entirely happy about her coming along, but she also saw something else in his expression that led her to believe he admired her tenacity, or perhaps he was just happy to see that he wasn’t the only one having the law thrown at him.
“Ever traveled before?” Jonathan asked as the two of them followed after Orin.
“Not outside of the kingdom, but I have traveled along the northern border a few times,” Morgan said flatly.
“So there must be a reason you are so determined to come along,” Jonathan said. He turned to her with that same cocky smile he had shown off in the garden. “Was it the image of me without my shirt on?” he said. “Did it keep you up last night?”
If there had been any hope of normalizing the relationship for the journey, it was gone now. She turned and stopped, waiting for him to face her. She coolly flipped a lock of hair behind her ear and nodded as she assumed the same polite demeanor she had exhibited in the interrogation room. “I’m not sure if that line works on other girls, but I’m not like anyone you have ever met. I’m here only partially to see how Orin conducts his field work. Mainly, I am here because I know you are a filthy liar, and I am going to do whatever it takes to prove it so I can wave goodbye to you while you sail away on the prison ship to Yint.” She smiled then, but she hoped the hardness of her eyes was not lost on him as she turned to stride away.
“That’s going to be a bit hard, seeing how I am telling the absolute truth,” Jonathan replied.
“Oh sure, I bet your sword was just having performance issues yesterday,” Morgan quipped, not losing a beat. “Don’t worry, it’s common to be anxious in front of others.”
“Ha!” Jonathan laughed aloud and shook his head. “No wonder you were sitting alone on that bench. Who could stand your company?”
Morgan felt her anger rise, but she kept her cool. “Might I remind you that I have a fiancé.”
Orin stopped and turned around, forcing the other two to stop in their tracks. “Morgan? When did you get engaged, and why haven’t I heard about it?”
Morgan couldn’t keep from blushing.
“Who’s the liar now?” Jonathan said as he continued on toward the stables.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Jonathan was unsure what to think about his new traveling partners. The inquisitor spoke little as they rode their horses, and the awkwardness between him and Morgan made it so that he wished he had never met her. Even without making a fool of himself in the garden, there was the fact that he had been interrogated in his underwear, not to mention their little spat in front of the stables.
The prince was most certainly getting his teeth knocked out for this, Jonathan promised himself. Jonathan knew it would likely cost him his life, but compared to what was already taken from him by the little dog of a man, it seemed like a fair trade.
They rode for two days in relative silence as they followed the road west to the coast. Morgan and Orin talked among themselves, of course, but neither of them went out of their way to invite Jonathan into their discussions, except when Orin would rehash some element of the Tanglewood Forest report Jonathan had given. It was just as well to him. All Jonathan cared about was clearing Ziegler’s name and getting back to his farm. At the moment, he was just thankful that Orin was taking point on the questioning, as he had a much softer touch than Morgan.
Jonathan smiled then as his thoughts turned to his brother. At least he had managed to set things right for Jason. He and Annabell would be able to live in peace, no matter what happened with Orin. Jonathan had made a point of seeing the exoneration decree before setting out.
Griff snarled, ripping Jonathan from his thoughts and spooking the horses to a stop.
“Trouble?” Orin asked.
Jonathan looked down to Griff and saw the cavedog standing rigid, with his eyes focused on some point in the trees to the north side of the road. “Hard to say what it is, but Griff would never sound an alarm without reason.”
“Morgan, off your horse and to the south side of the road,” Orin instructed.
Morgan did as she was told, but Jonathan could see from the look on her face that she was insulted. Orin drew a sword of his own after sliding off his mount and placing the horse between him and the northern side of the road. Jonathan followed suit.
“Has there been much trouble with highwaymen?” Jonathan asked.
Orin shook his head. “A few ruffians on occasion, but nothing of note as far as I am aware, and I make it my business to know these things.”
Griff snarled and then took off across the grass and disappeared into the trees.
“Call off your creature,” Orin said.
Jonathan shook his head. “Once Griff decides to attack, there is little I can do.”
“Well, try. We can’t protect your pet if it rushes off into the forest.”
A snort
sounded from the trees and then a pair of thick-leaved saplings shook. An animal growled and then yelped. A moment later something shook a patch of bushes and then out came a large wolfhound that was bleeding from its chest and side. Griff burst out from the bushes not a second later, quickly overtaking the wolfhound and leaping onto its back. One forceful snap of Griff’s powerful jaws and the wolfhound’s spine was crushed. The animal crumbled to the ground while Griff let go to move up to the wolfhound’s neck and finish the job.
“You sure we’re alone?” Jonathan asked.
Morgan nodded. “These roads are clear, unless you hired someone to attack us and free yourself.”
“Why would I do that?” Jonathan asked.
Viff!
An arrow soared just two inches to Jonathan’s right. The young soldier instinctively ducked down. “Or did you hire someone to kill me?” Jonathan shouted at Orin.
Orin ducked behind his own horse and glared back at Jonathan. “To borrow your own words, why would I do that?”
“I don’t know, you can’t get a guilty verdict, so you thought of a new plan to get what you want.”
“Please!” Morgan shouted. “I had you eating out of my hand.”
Orin cut in. “If I thought you were entirely guilty, I would be presiding at your public execution instead of riding with you out of the kingdom!”
“I’m not guilty at all, and you know that!” Jonathan hollered.
“If I knew that then you would be free already,” Orin countered.
Jonathan looked back at the bow secured to Morgan’s horse. He rushed toward her, his hand out expectantly, but Morgan only pushed him away and went for the bow herself. He studied her as she moved her hands and instantly he knew that she had no real experience with the weapon. She strung the bow easily enough, but she used all of her fingers to set the arrow and she didn’t bother looking down the shaft to aim it, instead she just pointed at the trees and fired.