David Baldacci - The Finisher

Her speech was as perfect as she. I wished I could speak like that. Of course it would never happen. I didn’t know how old Morrigone was, but I didn’t think her Learning had stopped at twelve sessions.

She next walked over to Delph and put her hand on his shoulder. “Daniel, I hear only good reports from your labors at the Mill. We appreciate your prodigious strength so very much. And if it’s possible, I think you’ve grown a bit since I last saw you. I am sure your competitors in the next Duelum will shudder to hear that.”

She handed Delph three coins as I looked on in surprise.

“For the work you recently did at my home, Daniel. I believe I forgot to pay you.”

Delph nodded slightly, and his big fingers closed around the coins and they disappeared into his pocket. Then he just stood there like a great lump of iron, looking mightily uncomfortable.

Morrigone turned and walked over to me. In her look I knew that I was the reason she was here. And that meant I had been followed. My mind swirled with possibilities and pitfalls. I think she read all this on my face. I looked up at her and tried to smile. But there were so few reasons for Wugmorts to smile I found I was out of practice. My mouth felt lopsided.

“Vega, what a pleasant surprise to find you here so early in the light,” she said. The remark was innocuous enough, yet the questioning tone implied the desire for an answer for my presence here.

“I wanted to see Delph about something,” I managed to say.

“Really, what was that?” asked Morrigone. Her words were unhurried, but I sensed urgency behind them.

I knew if I hesitated, she would know I was lying. But while Morrigone may have been one of the elites of Wormwood and someone I deeply respected, there were few who could lie as well as I could. The real skill was to weave in something true with a lie. It just sounded better that way.

“I gave Delph my first meal last light. He promised to give me his this light.”

I looked over at Delph. Morrigone did the same.

Delph gripped the spade like it was the only thing tethering him to the ground. I braced myself for Delph to say something stupid and ruin my perfectly good lie.

“G-g-got no food for Vega Jane this li-li-light,” Delph stammered.

I turned back to Morrigone. “It’s okay. I have something to eat before Stacks.”

Morrigone looked pleased by this answer. “You have a reputation for making such fine things. As good as Quentin Herms, I’m told.”

Morrigone disappointed me with this tactic. It was a little obvious. As I looked closer at her, I saw a slight wrinkle at the left corner of her mouth. Not a smile line; it was going the other way. This calmed me for some reason.

I said, “Quentin Herms has gone. No one in all of Wormwood knows where he is. At least that’s what I was told.”

“You were at your tree last night,” said Morrigone.

My suspicions of being followed were just confirmed.

I said, “I often go there. I like to think.”

Morrigone drew a bit closer to me. “Do you think about Quentin Herms? Are you sorry he has left us?”

“I liked working with him. He was a good Wugmort. He taught me how to be a Finisher. So, yes, I am sorry. I also don’t understand where he could have gone.”

“Do you perhaps have a notion?”

“Where is there to go other than Wormwood?” I said, using the same tactic I had employed with Thansius. However, Morrigone’s next words took me by surprise.

“There’s the Quag,” she said.

Duf snatched a breath and exclaimed, “Quentin Herms ain’t no fool. Why in the name of all of Wormwood would he go in the Quag? Load-a bollocks, ask me.”

Duf shot an anxious glance at Morrigone and his face sagged. He tugged off his old, stained bowler, revealing a thick spread of dirty, graying hair, and looked thoroughly embarrassed. “Beggin’ pardon at me language, uh … females,” he finished awkwardly.

Morrigone continued to stare at me, apparently awaiting my response to her comment.

I said, “Going to the Quag means death.” As I said this, I thought of the look on Quentin’s face as he ran into the Quag.

She nodded, but did not look convinced by my statement, which puzzled me. “So you have never ventured near the Quag?” she asked.

I said nothing for a sliver, because while I had no problem with lying, I didn’t like to use the skill unnecessarily. It had nothing to do with morals and everything to do with not getting caught.

“Never close enough to be attacked by a beast that lurks there.”

Morrigone said, “But my colleague Jurik Krone informed me that you were down by the edge of the Quag at last first light.”

“I heard screams and saw the attack canines and Council members. I followed them out of curiosity and also to see if I could help somehow with what they were doing. Before I realized it, we were near the Quag.”

“And you told Krone you saw nothing, no one?”

“Because I didn’t,” I lied. “I know now that it was Quentin they were after, but I still don’t understand why.” I wanted Morrigone to keep talking. I might learn something important, so I said, “Why were they chasing him in the first place?”

“Good question, Vega. Unfortunately, I cannot answer it.”

“Can’t or won’t?” I said, before I realized I had said it.

Duf and Delph caught breaths, and I thought I heard Delph hiss a warning at me. Morrigone did not answer me. Instead, she motioned with her hand. I heard the creak of carriage wheels. Bogle guided the sleps and carriage back into view.

Morrigone didn’t board right away. Her gaze flitted over me.

“Thank you, Vega Jane,” she said, using my full name, like Delph did routinely.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t much help.”

“You were more help than you know.”

A bittersweet smile accompanied this comment, which for some reason caused my stomach to do flips.

She disappeared inside the carriage. In less than a sliver, it was gone.

“Har,” gasped Duf.

I couldn’t have agreed more.

WHEN I TURNEDback to Delph, he was gone. I glanced over at Duf, who still stood there gaping at where the carriage had been.

“Where did Delph go?” I asked breathlessly.

Duf looked around and shook his head. “Mill, most likely.”

“So, what sort of work does Delph do for Morrigone that he gets coin in payment?” I asked.

Duf looked at the ground, stubbing a rock with his heavy boot. “Lifting stuff, I ’spect. Delph does that real good. Strong as a creta, he is.”

“Uh-huh,” I replied, trying to think what Delph really did for the coins.

“What happened to Delph when he was six sessions, Duf?” I asked.

He immediately looked away. He seemed to be gazing at the young slep, but I knew he really wasn’t.

“You best get yourself off to Stacks, Vega. If another Wug don’t show up for the hand stamp, no telling what Domitar will do, the great insufferable git.”

“But, Duf?”

“G’on, clear off, Vega. Nuff has happened. Just let it be.”

He didn’t wait for another response. He simply strode off. I stood there for a bit, wondering what to do. I kicked a few clods of dirt back into the hole. Delph might be gone, but I did have some time before Stacks. I made up my mind quickly.

I would go to Quentin Herms’s cottage.

I looked at the sky to see the clouds had covered it like a cot blanket. I thought the rains would be coming soon. We got them this time of session. When they came, they stayed for a long time. I imagined Quentin struggling through the dark Quag and then feeling the cold pellets of moisture coming down. But perhaps Quentin was already dead. Perhaps the Quag had lived up to its reputation.