Blood and Honor

“After that, visit our agent in the Ministry. Explain to him the necessity for more complete information in his future reports.”

The assassin grinned and left the chamber.

Chapter 7

Complications

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Mordan froze and held his breath, but the zombies didn’t move. Their eyes glittered in the dim light, and they shifted occasionally to keep their balance, but they gave no indication that they even knew he was there. The canvas was closed at the front as well as the back, so he couldn’t see the driver. He guessed it would be Hintram, on his way to sell the undead owners of the weapons he had offered Falko.

As the cart went on its way, he sat and stared at them. Each one had been someone’s son or daughter, brother or sister—had laughed with family and friends and played with children—but now they were just nameless corpses. Propaganda called them the Risen Patriots; having given their lives once in the War, they were re-animated by the Ministry of the Dead to fight again.

Now the war was over, they were supposed to be going to their well-deserved rest. Mordan had fought with undead troops on the Talenta Plains. Despite its name, the Company of the Skull was composed of living mercenaries, but they were headquartered in Fort Bones alongside regiments of skeletons. He had seen them on the battlefield, striding relentlessly forward until they were destroyed or the enemy broke, and he knew the fear they inspired. He knew, too, that Karrnath’s decision to use undead troops in battle had been controversial and placed Karrnath beyond the pale of civilized nations in many eyes. Although it didn’t appear in the Treaty of Thronehold, the demobilization of the undead forces was vital to the new peace.

Mordan guessed that someone at Fort Zombie was diverting undead troops from demobilization and Hintram was selling them on the black market, along with their equipment. The question Mordan couldn’t answer was how Hintram, the wealthy son and fashionable Lancer, had become mixed up in this business. Were any of the other Lancers involved? Was Gali?

He had become so used to the magical silence that when the spell wore off, the sudden return of everyday sounds made him jump. Opening the canvas a little, he peered out the back of the wagon and saw that the fog had dissipated as well. They were away from the waterfront now, heading toward the center of Karrlakton, and dusk was falling.

At last, the wagon came to a construction site that was surrounded by high wooden fences. Hiding everything but the tip of a lone chimney-stack, they concealed everything that was going on inside. Hintram slid down from the driver’s seat and knocked on a makeshift gate set into the fence. After a few moments it opened, and there was a brief conversation with someone inside.

Mordan took the opportunity to slip out of the wagon and into the gathering shadows. He would capture Hintram later, when he wasn’t surrounded by zombies. Even unarmed, they could be dangerous, and Hintram could easily escape in the time it would take Mordan to dispose of them.

The gate opened, and the cart went inside. While he waited, Mordan examined the outside of the site with a tactician’s eye. The fence was not unusual; postwar reconstruction efforts fed a lively trade in cheap building materials of indeterminate origin. But a glance confirmed that it was unusually well-built, without any gaps or holes that might allow a glimpse of the inside. It was more than would be needed to keep thieves out, or guard animals in.

Several minutes later, the gate opened again and the wagon came out, noticeably lighter on its axles. Mordan followed it on its return journey to the waterfront. At last it turned down Chandler’s Alley, a narrow thoroughfare on the western end of the docks. It was perfect for what he had in mind; he glanced around, and there was no one in sight.

A short sprint brought him to the back of the wagon, which could neither turn nor back up in the narrow lane. Drawing his rapier, he vaulted through the open canvas, landing with a thump inside the cart. Before Hintram had time to react, Mordan cut through the canvas and placed the tip of his rapier lightly on the back of the man’s neck.

“Keep driving,” he said, “and do as I tell you.”

“Damn,” muttered Tarrel. He and Solly—still in his half-orc guise—stared through the bars of the cell. Falko lay on the floor like a rag doll, staring at the ceiling with sightless eyes.

“Is he dead?” asked Solly.

Tarrel didn’t answer. Instead, he fished a small leather pouch out of his clothing, and unrolled it to reveal a set of lockpicks. “Keep a lookout,” he said.

Solly went to the corner, where he could see both Tarrel and the entrance to the holding area. Tarrel bent over the lock in the cell door for a few moments, and it opened with a click. He gestured to Solly to stay where he was, and went inside.