Morticai's Luck by Darlene Bolesny

Author:Darlene Bolesny [Bolesny, Darlene]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: DarkStar Books
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

* * *

Morticai’s eyes slowly unglazed. He was still shackled in place upon the platform. His body was drenched in sweat—or was it blood? He didn’t know. At first, he couldn’t hold his head up. Sounds began to filter into his consciousness. Finally, he found the strength to look up.

A few feet away, Luthekar held Cwena in his arms, and the red-robed Ellenwood knelt before her. Could her assault on his mind have somehow hurt the wicked thing? Luthekar looked over at Morticai and studied him with an odd look of curiosity in his eyes. Cwena stirred, as though she was awakening from sleep. The jevano sat up and looked at Luthekar, then at Morticai. After a moment’s study, she spat at the Northmarcher.

“Did you learn anything?” Luthekar asked.

She looked down and closed her eyes a moment before replying. “Yes, but very little. His mind is fear, chaos, madness.”

“What did you learn?” Ellenwood demanded.

When she looked back at Morticai, he could see the hatred that burned in her eyes. “He is working with the Inquisition, but no one knew his whereabouts tonight.”

“Thank Droka!” Ellenwood exclaimed.

Morticai blinked in surprise. He had hoped that he could hide the truth from her and had concentrated on the fact that, as far as he knew, Rylan still hadn’t received word of where he was. Apparently, his gambit had worked. The only problem was that it was true—he didn’t know why Rylan wasn’t here yet. If Rylan didn’t show up soon, it probably wouldn’t matter. There was nothing left for him to do.

“What else?” Luthekar asked Cwena.

The jevano seemed to be thinking, remembering, as though it were a thought from long ago. Finally, she replied. “He did not know about the temple. He did not know that you,” she nodded to Ellenwood, “were the High Priest.”

Ah, that’s what the red robe with the black and gold means, Morticai thought.

“He worships Glawres,” Cwena spoke the name distastefully. “And he is an Arluthian.”

Morticai said, “She lies!”

“I doubt it,” Luthekar said. His cold smile returned.

Glawres, what did they learn from me? Morticai thought. He stifled a sob. He knew that he could not deny what she had plucked from his mind, knew that they would believe her.

Luthekar knelt down before Morticai, pulled aside his ripped jacket, and picked up the symbol of Glawres that hung around the Northmarcher’s neck. “So,” he said, “you serve two masters, then.”

“Arluthes is not a god,” Morticai replied.

Luthekar raised an eyebrow. “Truly?” he said. “There are Arluthians who would argue the point.” He broke the talisman’s cord with one quick pull, and then, turning back to Cwena, he asked, “Did you learn what rank he holds?”

Morticai took in a sharp breath.

“No,” she answered.

Morticai released the breath. It was small comfort, but comfort, nonetheless.

“We should let her feed again,” Ellenwood said.

“No!” Cwena cried. She flinched at the look Ellenwood gave her. “I … I am sorry, Your Eminence. I meant no disrespect. I simply doubt that I could learn more.”

“I agree with her,” Luthekar said.

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