Michael Manning - The Archmage unbound

“And then?”

Frustration boiled up causing me to clench my fists, “I don’t know! I want to go to the capital and separate Edward from his entrails!”

Genevieve shook her head, “You know you cannot do that.”

“Why not?” I asked. “If he can’t speak he can’t order their deaths. I simply have to kill him quickly.” I knew better but I wasn’t in the mood for being rational.

“He has been at this game for much longer than you have been alive. If you kill him they will die, you can count on that Mordecai,” she replied sternly.

Helpless anger put tears in my eyes as I looked up at her. “Then what would you advise me to do?”

“You might consider negotiating first. Obviously he will use them as hostages to ensure your cooperation. Depending on his plans for you it may be better to cooperate than risk him harming the two of them,” she said slowly.

“No,” I said immediately, “Walter took that course and he hasn’t seen his family in over four years. Besides, the king doesn’t dare kill them. We are at an impasse. If he kills them I will not hesitate to avenge them. Their lives are the only things that shield him.”

Genevieve’s voice was bitter. “Who said anything about killing? He can do far worse than that, and send you the evidence of their torture to prove his point. This isn’t a fairy tale Mordecai. Edward is capable of many fine gradations of cruelty to ensure your compliance.”

She was right of course, and her words only gave voice to my deepest fears. Still I couldn’t accept things as they were. “He hasn’t made his ‘acquisition’ known to me yet so I at least have some time to think before I have to respond to any demands. How long do you think I have before he reveals his hand to me?”

The duchess had her head down, for she was focusing on writing a letter. “Not long. He will want to solidify his hold upon you as quickly as possible. Most particularly if he already has something in mind he desires to gain from you,” she speculated as she wrote.

I straightened up, “I’m going to Albamarl. I don’t want to waste what time I have.”

She glanced up, “Anything specific you want me to tell James?”

“Stay here and stay ready, if I need him I’ll arrive suddenly and probably need to depart again just as quickly,” I replied, striding purposefully for the door. I paused with my hand on the knob, “Thank you Genevieve. I’ll never be able to say that enough.”

Ignoring my words she replied instead, “Don’t do anything rash Mordecai. As long as Edward is unaware of your knowledge you are still free to act on your own. Once he communicates with you your every action will be viewed and evaluated carefully, and any consequences will fall upon Dorian and your wife.”

I interrupted Walter and Harold’s brief lunch and within a few minutes I had taken us on to my house in Albamarl. I began searching for Marc and Rose as soon as we arrived. I held out little hope of finding either of my two friends in residence but luck was on my side for a change. Marcus was lounging in the downstairs parlor, one leg thrown over the arm of a well cushioned chair. He had a wine bottle in one hand, and another now empty bottle, lay on the floor.

I took one look at him and asked Walter and Harold to give us some privacy. They excused themselves and went looking for the kitchen, most likely to finish the meal I had interrupted in Lancaster. Once they were gone I closed the parlor door.

“You’re drunk,” I started with a vindictive tone. Marc stared up at me bleary eyed but gave no sign of responding yet so I continued, “Did you even bother trying to discover any information while I was gone? Or did you just spend your time whoring around with priestesses?” My frustration with my situation was definitely spilling over and finding Marcus drunk when I needed him most had pushed me over the edge.

His eyes focused on me finally, “I’m not drunk. I’m a gods-damned heretic!” He held up a sheet of paper and waved it haphazardly in my direction. “See! I have papersh to prove it.”

“You’re a waste of air is what you are! It isn’t as if I have very many friends left. I’m up to my eyeballs in trouble and when I need your help you’ve gone and pickled what little brains you have left with wine!”

“You think I don’t know that?!” yelled Marc. “It should have been me! They were my besht friends! If I had any faith left I’d be praying to thoshe asshole gods to take me instead.”

I felt my heart grow cold at his words. “You think I wish you were dead in their place?” I could see the pain in his eyes even as I said the words.

“No idiot! I wish I was dead in their place. You need to learn how to lishen better.” He stood suddenly and shoved his paper in my direction, “Read thish damnitt.”

I plucked the sheet from his hand and then gave him a brisk push, sending him falling backward into the chair he had just risen from. “Sit down before you hurt yourself.”

Scanning the page I was surprised to see that it bore a reasonable likeness to Marc’s face drawn upon it. The top line read in bold letters, “Warning! This man is no priest of Doron or any of the other shining gods…” It went on to detail his real identity as an ex-priest of Millicenth and a disinherited heir of the duchy of Lancaster. Near the end it labeled him, ‘Marcus the Heretic’ and included strong instructions to deny him entry to any of the temples of the shining gods.

“How did you manage this?” I asked forgetting my anger.

“They caught me sneaking around in the high priest’s shtudy. I was trying to find invoices detailing what they’ve been shipping to that shecret compound of theirs,” he explained with a bit less slur in his voice.

I raised an eyebrow, “I’m surprised you weren’t locked up.”

“Ha! They might’a tried that but it was jus’ the high priest his pox-ridden self that caught me.” He punctuated his declaration with a soft belch.

“What did you do?”

He grinned sloppily, “I popped the fat bashtard right in his puffy face. You should have seen how surprished he was!”

“And then?” I prompted.

“He started screeching like a little girl so I hit him again, but he still wouldn’t be quiet. I wound up beating him half to death before he finally passed out. For such a weak man he took one hell of a pounding. I hafta’ give him that. Anyway, after he finally shut up I had to take my leave suddenly. I was lucky to get out before they sealed the whole damn place.” After he finished he began miming the high priest’s expression when he surprised him. “Whupsh! Pardon me Father, was that your nose!?”

It might have been funny if he had been sober. “When did all this happen?”

“Yesterday morning… they had those warningsh posted by mid-afternoon,” he replied. “I don’t think Marissha is going to want to see me anymore… now that she knowsh I’m a heretic.” He looked around for his wine bottle but I had already removed it from his vicinity.

“No more of that,” I told him, “I need you sober.”

“Why?”

“Dorian and Penny are alive,” I said abruptly.

His eyes widened and began to well with incipient tears. “Don’t do that to me Mort. That’s not fair.”

“I’m not making jokes you drunken fool. They’re alive and somewhere in this city. After you sober up you and Rose are going to help me find them.” I leaned in closely and my hand reached into the collar of his shirt. A moment later I had found the necklace I had given him.

“How? I don’t understand,” he said, trying to shake me off as I unclasped the pendant.

“I’ll explain when you wake up. I don’t feel like having to repeat myself,” I told him as I pulled the chain away and stood back.