Marsheila Rockwell - Legacy of the Wolves

“Was it a shifter who killed you?” Irulan asked, almost at the same time, garnering another glare from the paladin.

Zoden seemed not to hear her. “I was murdered. My neck broken. But not before I stabbed him, in the leg. The sword and the arrows didn’t hurt him, but my cloak pin did.”

“Your cloak pin?” Andri asked, clearly puzzled by the corpse’s response. “Why would your cloak pin hurt him, when your weapons didn’t?”

“It was made of silver.”

Irulan’s eyes widened.

“Who killed-” Andri began, but Irulan overrode him.

“What killed you?”

Zoden’s eyes moved in their sockets to focus on her. “A werewolf.”

“What color was its fur?” Irulan asked, ignoring Andri’s signal to stop.

“Light. Maybe white. Or yellow.” “Irulan.”

“Did it-”

“Irulan!”

Satisfied that he’d gotten her attention, Andri made a sharp slashing gesture across his throat and then resumed his own line of questioning.

“Zoden, do you know-” he began, but it was too late. Maellas had arrived, with Xanin in tow. Or perhaps it was the other way around.

“Enough! How dare you defy the Bishop’s edict!” Xanin was fuming, a regular fountain of self-righteous vitriol, but Maellas just looked … tired. “Guards, seize them!”

In the whirlwind of activity and motion that followed, Irulan was dimly aware of several things. The guards taking her and Andri’s weapons and binding their arms. Greddark being arrested along with them, having apparently returned sometime during the interrogation; guilty by association. And Zoden, still talking, not answering Andri’s last half-asked question, but rambling on incoherently as the priestess was dragged away by soldiers and began to lose control of her spell.

“Zodal … is that you? I’m sorry I got you killed, little brother, but I’ve made it up to you now. Now you can be at peace. Now we both can.”

The light dimmed in Zoden’s eyes as the last vestiges of the priestess’s spell faded, but he was able to whisper one last, relieved word.

“Finally.”

Their incarceration didn’t last long. Instead of ushering them to the dungeons, the Bishop, his Ancillary, Margil Ravadanci, and two dozen members of the city watch escorted them to the East Gate, accompanied by a crowd of curious onlookers eager to see the blasphemers punished.

At the gate, the Bishop had his men release them, returning their weapons and their horse. Andri’s trunk was even waiting there for them, fetched by two quick guards from the Golden Galifar.

Walking stiffly, Maellas took his place between them and the gate. The morning sun limned his figure with golden light and made his white-blonde hair shine like a halo. Irulan had no doubt the elf had chosen the position for just that reason. No one could say the clergy of the Silver Flame weren’t consummate showmen. Then Xanin joined him, spoiling the effect.

“Andri Aeyliros of Flamekeep, Irulan Silverclaw of Aruldusk,” the Ancillary Bishop paused for the barest moment, and Ravadanci leaned over to whisper in his ear, “Greddark d’Kundarak of Sigilstar and Vidora Altaner of Aruldusk, for crimes against the-”

“No!” Andri interjected. “Not the priestess. She acted under duress, and cannot be held responsible for flouting the law.”

One of the soldiers made as if to cuff him across the mouth for his impertinence, but the Bishop’s aide held up a hand to stop him.

“You threatened her?” Ravadanci asked, forestalling Xanin’s angry response with another whisper.

“I … encouraged her,” the paladin replied, his unwillingness to lie leaving him with very few options. Irulan hid a wince. Andri’s integrity was going to get the priestess punished right along with them.

The aide turned to the priestess. “Is this true?”

Vidora Altaner wisely did not share Andri’s compunctions.

“Yes, my lady. He had the city guard drag me from my temple and told me he’d have me arrested or worse if I didn’t do what he wanted.” The gray-haired woman threw herself into the embellishment. “I would never have gone against His Excellency’s edict if this one hadn’t threatened me, but what could I do? He is a great paladin, claiming authority from the very Cardinals themselves, and I am simply a weak cleric who-”

“That’s enough,” Ravadanci interrupted the woman before she could overplay her part. After another whispered exchange with Xanin and Maellas, she gestured to the guards. “Vidora Altaner, you are free to go. These men will see you back to your temple.”

The priestess bowed her head in thanks, not even glancing at Andri as she made good her escape from whatever fate still awaited them. Though Irulan doubted Altaner would really get off that easily, now that she knew Zoden’s killer had been a lycanthrope and not a shifter. Making that information public would bring all the previous arrests-and Maellas’s judgment-into question, something the prelate would surely not allow. Then again, if the priestess was actually a secret disciple of the Dark Six, she’d have her own reasons for keeping silent. No, Irulan decided, Altaner would probably be just fine.

An observation, unfortunately, that did not apply to the rest of them. As the Ancillary Bishop resumed his proclamation, Irulan wondered if Andri would try to get the dwarf excused as well, but the paladin made no further protests as Xanin pronounced their sentence. Maellas said nothing, merely shaking his head sadly.

“Andri Aeyliros, Irulan Silverclaw, and Greddark d’Kundarak, for crimes against the Silver Flame-namely blasphemy, necromancy, and keeping a soul from its rightful place within the peace of the Flame-I do hereby banish you forthwith and forevermore from the city of Aruldusk. Should you be found within these walls without the benefit of a pardon, you will be executed on sight. May the Flame take pity on your wayward souls.”

With that, he etched the sign of the Flame in the air before him and the crowd responded in kind, as if at Mass. He ordered the guards to escort them out of the city, but before they could do so, Maellas walked over to stand in front of Andri, moving slowly. He looked at the paladin with tears in his eyes. More showmanship, Irulan thought, but to be honest, she wasn’t really sure. She wondered, for the first time, if she’d been wrong about the elf Bishop-perhaps her anger should have been directed at Xanin this whole time.

“Oh, Andri,” Maellas said softly, his voice heavy with disappointment. “Why? Why would you defy my edict and pull that poor soul away from the Flame? Do you truly hate me that much for what happened to your father?”

Andri opened his mouth, then shook his head once and closed it again without saying anything. The Bishop sighed and stepped back, motioning to the guards. They conducted the exiles and their mount outside of the gates, depositing Andri’s trunk roughly on the ground and slamming the massive iron and wooden doors closed behind them.

“Well, that was fun,” d’Kundarak said, to no one in particular.

Andri stared at him curiously. “How is it that you did not tell the Ancillary Bishop that you were not with us?” he asked, seemingly glad of the distraction.

Irulan wondered what Maellas had meant about Andri’s father. She resolved to ask him about it, but as Greddark looked pointedly in her direction, she thought now might not be the best time to do so.

“Um, Andri? About that … I hired him, before we got arrested.”

“Hired him.” The paladin’s tone was flat.

“He’s already been working on the case for ir’Marktaros and has information we don’t. How better to get to the bottom of this case then by combining our efforts?” She gave him a wide smile, hoping he wouldn’t castigate her in front of the dwarf.