“They tried to arrest me at Falko’s,” he said, “but I think it was just because I was there at the time. It was really Falko they were after. And that was right after I’d showed him your sketch of the Unit 61 badge, and he asked his contact at the Ministry of the Dead. Since then, people have tried to kill us, but nobody’s tried to arrest us.”
The door crashed in. Brey turned and hissed like a cornered animal. Mordan found the tip of a crossbow bolt pricking his throat; he kept his hands in plain sight and stayed still. He couldn’t make out more than rough shapes in the darkness, but it seemed that at least three people had entered the room.
“I believe I can remedy that omission,” said a polite, slightly wheezy voice from somewhere close to the door. “Please consider yourselves under arrest.”
Mordan sat quietly in the chair as the gnome spread his belongings on the desk. He was only too aware of the two half-elf guards who stood behind him. He wondered where Brey and Tarrel were.
Eventually the gnome seemed satisfied. He sat behind the desk, placing a fist-sized carving of a dragon in front of him. It appeared to be made of sapphire. After muttering something in a language Mordan did not recognize, he looked up with a disarming smile.
“Please excuse my little preparations,” he said, “and allow me to introduce myself. My name is Garro Haldin, and I work for the Ministry of the Dead.”
“So you got Tarrel’s message,” said Mordan. He felt one of the guards shift slightly, and tensed himself—but nothing happened. Haldin gestured to the guards and they stepped aside a little. They were still close enough, though, and they loomed deliberately at the edges of his peripheral vision.
“Quite so,” said the gnome, “although you had come to our attention some time before that.” He looked briefly at a sheaf of papers on the desk.
“Kaz Mordan,” he read from the top sheet. “A veteran of the Company of the Skull, five years’ service on the Talenta Plains. I presume that this beautiful elven rapier is a trophy from your battles with the Valenar? Several commendations, discharge about six months ago”—he glanced up at Mordan briefly—“your left hand, ah yes. Since that time you have visited Vedykar, Korth, and Karrlakton, and in each of those places you have made enquiries about the Vedykar Lancers, through both official and unofficial channels. I notice from your accent that you are a native of that region, am I correct? And of the landed classes, unless I am very much mistaken.”
Haldin waited for Mordan to speak, but the young Karrn held his gaze and said nothing. After a moment, he glanced back down at the papers.
“No records have been found previous to your enlistment-well, perhaps that is not so strange. The Company of the Skull is famed for its lack of curiosity regarding the backgrounds of its recruits.”
The gnome looked up again, this time with an apologetic smile.
“In my profession,” he said, “it is sometimes necessary to eavesdrop on private conversations. Deplorable, I know, but of great assistance in matters of national security. I’m sure you understand. While we were outside your room preparing to make our entrance, I heard you mention the name Galifar ir’Dramon to your charming companion. I found that most interesting.”
“As I am sure you know,” he went on, “Galifar ir’Dramon was a junior officer of the Vedykar Lancers. Like many of his comrades, he was a graduate of the Rekkenmark Academy, of good family, and with a distinguished record, both as a cadet and on active service.”
“What I found even more interesting, though, is the fact that he had a brother—a young man of about your age, in fact—who deserted from the Rekkenmark Academy some five and a half years ago, apparently to escape court-martial for the murder of a fellow cadet. That would have been at about the time you enlisted in the Company of the Skull, would it not?”
Mordan sat still, and said nothing.
“The name of the missing cadet is Kasmir ir’Dramon, and it appears that he is still wanted in connection with the murder. A curious coincidence, don’t you agree, between that name and yours? Kaz is a common abbreviation of Kasmir, I believe, and Mordan happens to be an anagram of Dramon.” He chuckled softly.
“But you must forgive me,” he went on. “I am afraid that I have the curiosity and weakness for speculation that is so often attributed to my race. And I am sure that a young man of your intelligence and talents would not have chosen such an obvious method of disguising his name. It cannot be anything more than coincidence—like the fact that his records show him to have an aberrant dragonmark similar to yours. Pure coincidence. The fugitive Kasmir ir’Dramon remains at large and has left no trace of his whereabouts.”
