Marked for Death

Chapter 9

“Temmah?” Kandler said, trying to keep any hint of cunning from his voice.

“Yes?”

“How late is it?”

“The sun was setting as we came in.”

“You’d better start your patrol.”

The dwarf gulped. “By myself?”

“I don’t think Burch and I can join you tonight.”

“All-all right.”

Kandler heard the dwarf turn to go, leaving Sallah still standing at the door. The justicar waited for a moment, then said, “Temmah?”

“Yes?” The dwarf dashed back down the few steps he’d taken up toward the town hall proper.

Temmah was a good dwarf, but he wasn’t the brightest star in the sky. Kandler feared that he’d really try to manage the patrol alone. “You’re the justicar now. You can deputize some help.”

“That’s right!” The dwarf’s voice brightened for a moment, then darkened again. “But who would be willing?”

“What about those men who brought Kandler and Burch in?” Sallah asked. “They seemed handy enough with their weapons.”

Kandler snorted. “Most of them haven’t been in a fight since the end of the war. Two years is long enough for a blade to rust.”

“They’re better than nothing,” Temmah said. “They were enough to haul you in.”

“We surrendered,” Burch spat. “If somethin’ wanders out of the Mournland, it won’t be so kind.”

“Right,” Temmah said, as if he’d somehow forgotten.

“What about your friends, lady knight?” Kandler asked. “They look sharp and ready.”

“That we are,” said Sallah, “but would Mardak allow them to serve?”

“He’s not the justicar.”

Temmah rumbled with laughter.

“Take them aside and ask them quietly,” Kandler called to the dwarf. “Mardak doesn’t need to know. If he finds out… well, it’s easier to beg forgiveness than ask permission.”

“Excellent!” Temmah said with a little laugh. “I’m off.”

Before the dwarf got more than a few steps away, Kandler called after him once more. “Temmah?”

“Yes?” The dwarf dragged himself back to the door again.

“If you’re going to leave this lady to watch over us, shouldn’t she be able to open the door?” Kandler held his breath after the words left his mouth. He hoped his friend would either be dumb enough to fall for this or smart enough to play along.

Kandler heard the dwarf rummage around in his pockets. Through the window, he saw Sallah reach down to accept something from the dwarf, but then Temmah stopped. “Is this wise? She’s a knight of Thrane.”

“Aren’t you about to deputize her friends?”

The dwarf didn’t answer for a long moment.

“I can’t see you, Temmah,” said Kandler. “You have to speak.”

“Uh, yes. I nodded yes. Sorry.”

“Then…” Kandler said, drawing it out and hoping that Temmah would beat him to the punch. It didn’t happen. “Make her your first deputy.”

“A stupendous idea!” Temmah said. “Sallah?”

“Yes?” The young knight answered sweetly.

“Would you do us the honor of being a deputy justicar for the fair town of Mardakine?”

Sallah stifled a laugh, then said solemnly, “The honor is mine.”

No one said a word for a moment. “Give her the key,” Burch growled.

“Oh!” Temmah said. “Hereyou are, miss.”

Sallah thanked him, then held the key up to the window for Kandler and Burch to see.

Temmah cleared his throat and spoke. “That’s all there is to it?”

“Less even. You’d better find some deputies and get to work. It’s sure to be dark by now, and the town lies undefended.”

“Your Mardak didn’t think this through well, did he?” said Sallah. Her eyes sparkled as she spoke.

Kandler smiled. “Go, Temmah,” he called.

“Yes, yes!” The dwarf stumped up the stairs and was gone.

Sallah shook her head as she watched him go. Kandler could see her red curls swinging in the torchlight. She turned back to the cell and pressed her face between the cold, iron bars. “Why do you protect these people?”

Kandler raised his eyebrows. “That’s a strange question coming from a Knight of the Silver Flame.”

“You’re not a knight.”

Burch snorted at that.

“Keep walking,” Kandler said, flicking his own chains at the shifter’s heels.

“Well?” said Sallah.

Kandler drew in a long breath and blew it out. Sallah waited for him.

“They lost their whole country. When Cyre was destroyed on the Day of Mourning.”

“You’re a Brelander.”

“I… I hadn’t lived in Breland for a while.”

Burch snorted. He opened his mouth to speak, but Kandler shut it with a blazing glare.

“Was your wife from Cyre?”

Kandler couldn’t think of a thing to say. He noticed that Burch didn’t snort this time. In fact, the shifter had frozen in his tracks. Kandler looked up at his old friend, his mouth a grim, bloodless line across his face.

“My apologies,” Sallah said in a soft voice. “I didn’t mean to pry.”

“She was,” Kandler said abruptly. “She died on the Day of Mourning.”

Sallah nodded. No one spoke for a moment. Kandler wished that Burch would start pacing again, but the shifter stood rock still.

“She was an elf,” Sallah said. It was not a question.

“How did…?Ah.” Kandler allowed himself a quick grin. “Esprл.”

“You are no father to that girl.”

Burch broke in there, striding toward the door as far as his chains would let him. “He’s a fine father!”

“I’m sorry,” Sallah said. “I meant by blood. I’m sure the justicar is a wonderful parent.”

Kandler waved off the comment. “I wouldn’t go that far,” he said, “but we get by. Tell me more about this dragonmark you’re looking for.”

Sallah brightened at what seemed a welcome attempt to change the subject. “The Mark of Death, yes. It is imperative that we find the bearer-and soon.”

“Are you looking for an infant then?” Kandler asked.

Sallah shot the justicar a confused look. “Of course not. Most dragonmarks appear in the bearer’s youth, as they make the transition from child to adult.”

Kandler nodded at that, trying to keep his face a mask. He feared what it might mean.

“Have you never seen a dragonmark?” Sallah asked.

Kandler cocked his head. “I’ve seen people who bear them-or so they claimed. Most people around here run about fully clothed. What do they look like?”

“They are rare.” Sallah ran a finger across her lips as she thought about it. “I’ve only seen a few myself. They look like a tattoo made from black ink-sometimes bounded in red, as if it erupted from the skin.”

“Like a mole?” Kandler asked.

“I suppose,” said Sallah. “But no mole ever granted such power. Like a mole, however, these start out small and can sometimes grow larger. The bigger they get, the more powerful they become.”

Kandler gazed off into the distance and nodded. “I was afraid of that.”

Sallah narrowed her eyes at the justicar. “You don’t strike me as a man who is afraid of much.”

“So why do you do it?” Kandler asked, changing the subject. “Why are you a knight?” He wanted to talk about something else, anything else.

Sallah drew back from the bars a bit. Her face fell into shadow.

“I am a Knight of the Silver Flame, a paladin pledged to uphold the good and holy teachings of the Voice of the Flame and to bring justice and enlightenment to the world.”

“I didn’t ask who you are,” Kandler said. “I asked your reasons for it.”

Sallah stammered for a moment. “I was born to-Shush!”

“What?”

“Quiet!” Sallah held the palm of her hand up to the bars in the door’s window as she moved a step toward the stairs that led to the main floor. Her armored boot scuffed on the stone floor. “I hear something.”

Kandler stood up and moved as close to the door as his chains would let him. He listened for a moment but couldn’t hear a thing.

Burch held back and cocked his head to one side. Horror spread across his face. He rushed toward the door and held up his chains. “Let us loose!” he said.

“The dwarf charged me with keeping you here,” said Sallah.

“Those are screams!” Burch said. “People are dying!”

Sallah looked to Kandler. He pleaded with her with his-eyes, but she turned and started to leave.

“Stop!” Kandler shouted. “That’s our town up there!”