Ghost Wounds, Episode 5

You decide to approach Lysander in disguise.

“Wait here,” you tell Moresti and Noraster – they will come in handy if you encounter armed resistance. Then you hasten upstairs to change. You’ve spent enough nights here by now to have a stash of supplies and clothing secured in Lucan’s rooms, and you disguise yourself as a ragged, leather-armored mercenary, sword and dagger at your belt, worn cloak over your shoulders. Checking yourself in the mirror, you look just like a man accustomed to violence – a short man, to be sure, but a man nonetheless. You also take your ghostsilver dagger, mate to Lucan’s ghostsilver sword – ghostsilver is proof against sorcery.

If you find Croanna, that will come in handy.

You return to the common room to find that Noraster has acquired a crossbow and a sword. Noraster stares at you in alarm for a moment, raising his bow, then gives a start.

“Forgive me, Countess,” he says. “I didn’t recognize you.”

Moresti snickers. “Frostmaidens can change their shape.”

Noraster gives the tattooed mercenary an annoyed look, and then says, “You have a plan?”

“Aye,” you say, “a spy named Lysander delivered that note to Lucan. We’ll go question Lysander.”

“Ah, delightful,” says Noraster, smiling that kindly grandfather smile. “I do so enjoy civilized conversation.”

You leave the Black Cuirass Inn, leading the way to Ironmongers’ Square.

“Tell me,” says Noraster, “do you think that Lady Livia is truly alive?”

“I don’t know,” you say. “The blood on that lock of hair was fresh. Like it was ripped out of her head this morning.” You hesitate. “You knew Lucan when he was married to Livia, didn’t you?”

“Indeed,” says Noraster. “His lordship always blamed himself for Livia’s death – he had been absent for some months, on business for his father. It was part of the reason for their estrangement, if I may speculate. That, and Morneus was once one of Lord Corbould’s advisors. Until Lucan unmasked him.” He shakes his head. “News that Livia was still alive…I fear that was the one thing that could make Lord Lucan act so rashly.”

You frown. “That means you knew Croanna?”

“I did,” says Noraster, a shadow passing over his face. “She was the weakest of Morneus’s apprentices. At least in the realm of sorcery. I suspect, however, that she was the smartest of them. Smarter than even Morneus himself. She alone fled rather than face Lord Lucan’s wrath.” The shadow on Noraster’s face deepens. “She also had a…remarkable gift for cruelty. If Lady Livia has been in her hands for the last ten years, I fear for her.”

Clever and cruel is a bad combination. And Lucan went to her…

“Though if I may speculate,” says Noraster, “for Croanna to take vengeance for Morneus…that seems out of character. Doubtless she cared not a fig for Morneus.”

So then why return to Malarae? Why take Lucan?

You push the thought out of your mind.

Soon you arrive at Ironmongers’ Square, the night sky painted a sullen cherry-red by the foundries producing arms and armor for the Legions. Lysander lives in a set of shabby rooms over a tavern, and you pound on his door until he answers. Lysander himself is unkempt, his eyes bloodshot and his stomach swollen from excessive consumption of wine and rich food, and he reeks of peaches – the scent of the perfume he favors.

He stares at you for a moment, reeling, and then blinks.

“But you’re not her!” he says, voice slurred.

Her? Was he expecting you? Or someone else?

“What, you expecting your whore?” you say, disguising your voice with a rough, rasping accent. Noraster glances at you in surprise and then subsides. “You’re Lysander, aye? I’ve come more some information.”

Lysander stares, trembling, and you realize that he’s terrified.

“No,” he says, “I’m not selling anything. Go away!”

He starts to close the door, and you stick your boot in the frame. Moresti grins and drops his hand to his sword hilt, while Noraster clears his throat and smiles.

“I just want to have a friendly talk,” you say. “I’m looking for a woman myself. Named Croanna. I heard you met her.”

Lysander’s flushed face goes white with fear at Croanna’s name. “I…I don’t know anything, I swear, I don’t, just go, just go, you’ll ruin everything…”

A man’s voice comes from inside the rooms, calm and cold. “Let them in, Lysander.”

You step into Lysander’s sitting room and immediately feel the crawling tingle of sorcery.

A man of about thirty stands near the windows, six and a half feet tall, his eyes like blue ice and his hair like gold wire. He’s wearing leather armor of good design, and to judge from the calluses on his hands and the bulging muscles of his arms, he knows how to use the fine weapons at his belt. A bronze bracelet of curious design encircles his left wrist, and you’re sure that the sensation of sorcerous power is coming from that.

Lysander backs into the corner, wide-eyed.

“Good evening,” says the tall man, smiling. “You may call me Rycurgus. You’re looking for Croanna? Might I ask why?”

You shrug, coming up with a ready lie. “Don’t know. Some noble fellow in a hooded cloak hired us to find out about her. Don’t know who he is, and don’t care, so long as his coin is good.”

Rycurgus studies you for a long moment, his face blank. You watch him closely, and you realize something. The skin around the bracelet is distorted, bulging – that bracelet has spikes that dig into his flesh.

Then Rycurgus nods.

“You like coin, then?” he says. “I have a job for you, and I can pay more than the noble ever could.”

“What is it?” you say.

“Any minute,” says Rycurgus, “a woman is going to come through that door.” His smile returns. “Lysander here just delivered a note that upset her a great deal. Some very powerful and very wealthy people want that woman dead, and I’ve been hired to make it happen. But this woman has a formidable reputation, and I’m not too proud to accept assistance.”

“A most professional attitude,” says Noraster in approval.

Rycurgus nods. “You three look capable. I’ll pay you each two thousand denarii once the woman is dead. What do you say?”

You keep your face calm, but your mind races. Rycurgus just hired you to kill yourself. But if you’re clever, maybe you can turn this trap around him.

Sorry, there are no polls available at the moment.