Thomas

by Michael G. Manning

  “What’s going on?” He had to work to be heard above all the voices as he reached the line.

  “I’m sorry Brother, but you cannot go in at this time,” Islana replied coolly. She had seen him coming, but the gravity of the situation made her decide to stick to protocol.

  Thomas was annoyed, “Hello, it’s me, Thomas. Remember me?” He waved his hand in front of her face as though she had lost her sight. One of the guards beside her couldn’t help but snicker; few men acted so forward with Islana when she meant business.

  She ignored the laugh. Suddenly, I’m a close acquaintance when it’s convenient for him. She gritted her teeth, “I know very well who you are. We are currently under orders to keep everyone out, except the abbot, the grand master, and the investigation team. No one else may enter without express permission.”

  “So I take it there has been a crime committed?” he asked.

  She didn’t answer; she was doing an admirable impression of a stone pillar.

  “I’ll just wait here then, I have a feeling I may be called for soon.” Thomas took a casual pose just a few feet from her. Five or ten minutes passed, and a few messengers came and went, but otherwise no one entered, at last the abbot appeared behind the guards.

  “Dame Islana,” the abbot called for her.

  “Yes, Your Grace?” she said, standing straighter.

  “Could you send someone to fetch Thomas for me? He still hasn’t shown up and I really need to consult with him. I can’t imagine why he hasn’t—oh, there you are!” He had spotted Thomas.

  “I got here as soon as I could, Your Grace,” said Thomas, giving Islana a knowing smile.

  “What took you so long? I’d have thought everyone in the place was out there by now.”

  “I was indisposed, sir. It took me a while to get here.” Thomas made no mention of Islana, and he could see she was visibly relieved. The abbot walked him inside. The area around the altar was being thoroughly searched. The source of the tumult was immediately obvious to Thomas; the chalice was not in its accustomed place.

  The Chalice of Light was the greatest relic possessed by the temple of Delwyn, and not just in Port Weston, it was the most important relic of all those kept by the various temples to Delwyn in other cities. It had been created over a hundred years ago, by the famous Saint Virgil and was rumored to grant the user, if he dared to attempt it, the power to summon Delwyn herself. It was unique. It was irreplaceable.

  To make matters worse, the Festival of Sun was coming up in a few months, a time when the followers of Delwyn traditionally carried the relic with them during a great display, a parade through the streets of Port Weston. If they were unable to show the chalice during the festival it would result in a real loss of face for the temple itself. In some ways Delwyn’s reputation was more important than the relic itself.

  “When was this discovered?” Thomas asked.

  Sir Brevis, the Grand Master of the temple paladins, answered, “Early this morning, when the acolytes came in to prepare the altar for the Dawn Greeting.”

  “The guards on duty last night saw nothing out of the ordinary,” added Abbot Whitmire. “Thomas, I’d like you to meet Captain Bartram, he’s the head of the city watch.” As he said this, he motioned to the older watchman who had been talking to the temple investigators a moment before.

  “Good to meet you, Captain Bartram,” Thomas said. “I wish it were on a more pleasant occasion.”

  The watchman had a discerning face, and he looked Thomas over for a moment, “The Abbot has had good things to say about you, Brother Thomas. Do you have any ideas?”

  “No sir, I’m a novice in these matters, I fear he overrates my abilities.”

  They discussed the implications of the theft for some time, but got nowhere. No one had seen anything, the guards were cleared of suspicion, and no trace or clue was to be found in the altar chamber itself. In short, they were completely stumped. The investigation team’s divinations had found very little as well, other than traces of abjuration magics.

  Whitmire summed things up, “So to restate things, the guards weren’t tampered with, as far as we can tell. Many of the powerful wards guarding the altar itself were bypassed using primarily mundane means, which is unusual. I would normally suspect a powerful wizard, considering the protections here, but that seems not to be the case. It appears this was done by a skilled thief, using only such magics as were required to hide his presence and prevent us from tracking him after the fact.”

  “You suggest that the thieves’ guild was involved,” said Sir Brevis. The senior paladin had little trouble believing that. The city guard had an informal arrangement with the leader of Port Weston’s shady crime organization, but the paladin had never condoned it.

  Father Whitmire shook his head, “I suggest nothing. I do, however, think that we should start our questioning there. Whoever did this was very skilled. Whether they were affiliated with John Small or not, he should have some knowledge of them.” John Small was the erstwhile leader of the city’s thieves’ guild. Thomas had never heard him mentioned before.

  Bartram spoke up, “I can probably arrange a meeting with him if you like. The watch occasionally has to deal with him for information.”

  Whitmire gave the captain a knowing glance, “That would be appreciated.”

  The Abbot continued, “Thomas, I have a task for you. I want you to take a team, some of the younger, more energetic members of the temple. If the Captain can arrange a meeting with John Small this evening; you’ll take it from that point.”

  “Excuse me, Your Grace?” Thomas was in shock.

  “Trouble with your hearing?” asked Whitmire.

  “No sir, but why me?” returned Thomas, there was no point in beating around the bush.

  “Thomas, you performed well a few months ago in trying circumstances. I trust you. You’re young, and you show promise. Something like this could well be a stepping stone for you. Enough with the self-doubt, who would you choose to help you?” Father Whitmire’s eyes bored into him.

  After a moment, Thomas answered, “Grom, Brother Tashley, and Walter.” He didn’t blink as he listed the names.

  “That was quick. A warrior, a young priest and a paladin trainee, not a bad mix, but I wonder that you chose those particular individuals. Why not include the ranger, Delia? Her skills would be most useful, rather than another priest. You’ve worked together before, she would seem ideal,” said Father Whitmire.

  “Your logic is sound, Your Grace, perhaps I will consider her in place of Tashley then,” Thomas tried to hide his discomfiture at the suggestion.

  But the Abbot wasn’t finished, “And why choose Walter? He’s not taken his vows yet.”

  “He’s promising, a quick fighter, and I trust him,” Thomas replied.

  “You don’t trust Dame Islana?” The Abbot was remarkably perceptive.

  “I do sir, but that’s not the problem.”

  “She’s taken her vows. She’s twice the fighter Walter is, and you’ve worked with her before. I don’t see the logic in choosing someone else. Is this personal?”

  Thomas took a deep breath, “Yes sir.” Not only will they distract me, but now I might face seeing my friends hurt once again.

  “Get over it,” Whitmire stated bluntly. “Delwyn has no time to wait for you to resolve your personal issues.” That effectively ended the debate.

  After leaving the room Thomas began making arrangements. Returning to the abbot’s study, he quickly penned messages to those who were to accompany him, giving them to the cantor on duty to deliver to his friends. It was going to be a long day.

  Chapter 14

  Mor Dai Melgehm

  That evening Thomas waited outside the Abbot’s study until his friends arrived. Their faces were serious as they looked at him.

  Delia was the first to speak, “You look like you swallowed a frog. Are you going to tell us what we’re here for?”

  “The Abbot will do that in a moment, it�
�s better if I let him explain.” Thomas answered.

  Islana looked at him, “About earlier, I’m sorry that was…”

  “It’s ok,” Thomas interrupted, “Let’s go in, we shouldn’t keep them waiting.” Opening the door, Thomas went into the Abbot’s study, the others filing in behind. Father Whitmire sat behind his desk, with Captain Bartram across from him in a chair. A third man stood to one side. He was unfamiliar to Thomas, not that it would have made much difference, he wore a masked cowl which covered his head and upper face. The material appeared to be black silk, which matched the broad brimmed hat he wore on his head. The rest of his clothing was similarly black, dark leather matched by an ebon cloak. Thomas noted that he also wore a rapier.

  Whitmire looked up at their entrance, “Oh good timing.” Glancing at Thomas he gestured to the watch captain, “You met Captain Bartram earlier, this is one of his acquaintances—a man he assures me has a rare combination of talents.” The Abbot went on to introduce each of them to the watch officer. “Captain, why don’t you introduce your associate?”

  Bartram nodded, “This is a fellow who’s been most useful to the watch in the past, although he has no official connection, Mor Dai Melgehm.”

  The masked stranger stepped forward at that, “Glad to make your acquaintance.” His voice was dry, almost masking the cultured tones of a nobleman. He stood about five foot, six inches tall, with a slim to moderate build and aquiline features. Not much could be seen of his hair but his sideburns were black, offsetting his sharp blue eyes.

  Bartram continued, “Mor Dai has agreed to arrange a meeting with John Small.”

  Islana spoke up, “Your grace, if you don’t mind my asking, we still don’t know why we’re here.”

  “I seem to have gotten ahead of myself,” the Abbot said, “I thought Thomas might have already explained. I’ve assigned Thomas the task of finding and recovering the Chalice of Light. After some discussion, he and I decided you three would be ideal to assist him with this mission.”

  “Your Grace,” Islana said, “if you don’t mind my asking, doesn’t this seem like something that should be handled by more senior representatives?”

  Whitmire responded, “Dame Islana, you took your oaths to serve the goddess. In her eyes we are all but children. This task is being set upon Thomas’ shoulders; your task is to make sure that he does not fail. Do you feel you will be unable to meet your vows?”

  “I will do everything I am able to fulfill them, Your Grace.” Islana felt she had been backed into a corner.

  “Can we trust you to keep to your part in this, Mor Dai?” Delia surprised them with her interruption.

  “I can only do as I have said and take you to meet John. As to how he responds, I am unable to predict. I don’t work for him. I merely help him from time to time.” The dark clad man’s words were sobering.

  Grom stared at the masked man with open suspicion, “If ye don’t work for him, and ye don’t work for the watch, who do ye work for? I ken ye not.” It was a question on all of their minds.

  Bartram moved to defend Mor Dai, “This man has done me many good turns in the past. As far as I can tell he moves to his own tune, but he has never lied to me yet. You can trust him.”

  Mor Dai held up a hand. “I understand your concerns; this mask does little to inspire trust. If you will let me explain…,” he paused for a moment, waiting to see if anyone would interrupt, then seeing their patient gazes he continued, “I lead a simple life, one I would protect. Yet my conscience compels me to lead a dual existence. This mask protects my regular life, and those that I share it with from my actions in the night. I have my reasons, but I will ask you to accept me on that. I can offer no more.”

  Islana glared at him, “You’re a vigilante.”

  Thomas had been studying the masked man as he talked, and something about him made Thomas believe him, in spite of his mask. Trusting his instincts, Thomas spoke, “If the watch captain vouches for you, then that’s good enough for me. When can we meet with John?”

  “An hour from now. I started making arrangements as soon as the captain contacted me,” Mor Dai answered.

  After that they cut short their discussion while everyone got ready. Most of them already had their gear and weapons, but it still took them a few minutes to gather their things and meet at the front gate. The meeting was to take place at a seedy dive known as “The Blue Mermaid”, one of the most disreputable taverns in Port Weston, located near the wharves, as the name would suggest.

  When they entered the tavern Thomas felt sure that Mor Dai’s unusual appearance would garner more attention than it did. Oddly enough most of the customers accepted his strange dress easily enough, either from experience or simple caution. The black garbed Mor Dai led them to the bar where a small bald man stood waiting. The man looked at Mor Dai and then gave the rest of them an appraising glance, “The boss is waiting upstairs, first door on the left.” He turned back to his drink and studiously ignored their presence. Mor Dai led them up the stairs.

  The upstairs hallway was empty, but the seedy tavern made Thomas nervous, he put his hand on Mor Dai’s shoulder before he knocked on the door, “One second.” Turning, he looked at the others, “Delia, go back down to the bar and keep watch. If anything unusual happens, let us know.”

  The ranger winked at him and headed back downstairs.

  Once she was gone, Thomas turned to the others, “Grom, I want you to guard the door, Islana and I will go in with Mor Dai.”

  “Ye’re just afraid they’ll swoon at me dwarven good looks!” Grom’s words were mocking, but the look in his eye was serious, he loosened his axe and put his back to the wall.

  Mor Dai put his hand on the door, “You don’t have to worry, John is many things, but he hasn’t double crossed me yet. This meeting is almost as safe as one back in the temple.” With that he led them into a small room, where a man sat at a table, idly shuffling a deck of cards.

  John was unassuming in appearance; of medium build, slender with a hint of the athletic about him. His features and clothing were nondescript, unkempt red hair and hazel eyes failed to make him stand out, but his presence filled the small, dimly lit room. Something about him hinted that he was not a man to be trifled with, although Thomas would have been hard pressed to put a finger on what made him feel that way.

  He seemed to be alone, but after a second glance around the room Thomas realized he was not, a rather large man stood quietly in the corner. A single chair sat across the table from John, and he motioned towards it, “Sit down, let’s see if we can help each other.”

  “Perhaps I should stand.” Thomas answered, “There don’t seem to be enough chairs for all of us.”

  “I prefer to stand,” Mor Dai said.

  Glancing at his companions, Thomas noticed that Islana’s stance was tense, and her hand was resting on the hilt of her sword. She shook her head to indicate her preference to stand. Rather than make things more awkward, Thomas took the seat and wasted no time getting to business, “I assume you know why we’re here.”

  “’Assuming’, now that has a lot to do with why I’m here.” John’s voice had an odd lilt to it, faintly reminiscent of a Drumaness accent, but actually quite different. “I know what you’re lookin’ for, but as ta where and how, I’m as clueless as you lot.”

  Thomas pushed on, “Captain Bartram said you might be able to help set us on the right path to recover the Chalice.”

  “Yeah, that’s why I’m here. Obviously a lot of people are gonna be wonderin’ who nicked it, and just as surely some of ‘em are gonna be thinkin’ o’ me and my crew. But I had nothin’ ta do with it. I’m hopin’ ye find it soon, otherwise its goin’ ta be hard to keep my crew workin’ in this town.” John’s tone was casual, but his eyes were hard. It was clear that he took the matter quite seriously.

  Thomas thought carefully, “So we find the Chalice, and you’re in the clear.”

  “That sounds about right, mate. The only trouble is—I
don’t have a clue where ya should start. I’ve been suspectin’ for some time that there’s another crew in town, but they’re real smart. I’ve had me boys lookin’ for ‘em, but so far we haven’t been able to find ‘em. It’s like they don’t exist. Either that or they’re real good.” John seemed at a loss.

  Thomas listened carefully, watching the other man’s face. He had a good ear for lies, but John seemed to be telling the truth. Still he couldn’t trust that, in all likelihood John was a consummate liar, given his line of work. “As I see it we have two problems. One, we need a place to start looking. Two, once we start looking, how are we going to be able to tell your men from those working for someone else?”

  John’s face took on a thoughtful expression and he leaned back in his chair, his cards forgotten for a moment. “If Mor Dai is with you, he should know most of me boys, otherwise you can always send a runner to check with me. Leavin’ that aside, there’s been some commotion up the north road. My crew works in town, whoever’s workin’ up that way is sure to not be part o’ me or mine.”

  Thomas leaned forward, “What do you mean by ‘commotion’?”

  “I guess ye haven’t heard about it, but there’s been a number of wagons robbed on the north road. Worse, they ain’t just robbin’ ‘em. Whoever’s been at it hasn’t been leaving witnesses, if ye get my meanin’.”

  Thomas thought for a moment, “Alright, we’ll look into it; see if we can shake anything loose from the trees. If you discover anything in the meantime, will you let us know?”

  “’Course, it’s as much in my interest as yours to see this taken care of quickly,” said John, before picking up the cards and riffling them again. Thomas got up and took his leave.

  They gathered outside the tavern and stopped for a moment to discuss their options. “We’ll head back to the temple for tonight. We can set out along the north road in the morning.” Thomas told them. “Mor Dai, will you be able to meet us around seven a.m.?”