34. Captain Morgana Silversword
Chapter 34
Captain Morgana Silversword
I t took some persuading, but Lord Arnault finally agreed to see them in his chambers. They waited for hours at the palace gates – Morgana had never had to wait for admittance, and she was frustrated at being waylaid – before he sent for them to be brought to his study.
Lord Arnault was a slight man, with a chin puff beard long enough to touch his chest. His face was gaunt, implying an age beyond his actual years, and Morgana had always wondered if that added to his air of authority. He’d certainly curried favour with the Queen unusually quickly, ousting several other advisors in the process.
“I take it you have succeeded on your mission?” Arnault asked as the party walked into the room. He didn’t gesture for them to sit opposite him at the large desk, nor did he offer them any refreshments after their travels and their long wait.
“We have,” Yorick said, “but we have some questions for you.”
“Very well.” Arnault smiled wide, and the expression looked unnatural on his face. “What are your questions?”
Yorick looked back at Thrormir, and Morgana could see him readying the spell. But when he went to cast it, he just frowned. He exchanged glances with Morgana and with Yorick, shrugging, a confused look on his face.
“That won’t work in here,” Arnault said, standing up. He was almost as tall as Gorlag, and he moved around the desk with an otherworldly ease. He rapped his knuckles on the wood-panelled walls. “I have very specific protections in place. But if you’d like to ask me a question, you may.”
“Great,” Calamity said, breaking from the plan. “We wanna know what you’re gonna do with it.”
Yorick smacked her leg and jutted his chin out at her; he was usually the one to do the talking, and for good reason. But Calamity could be persuasive when she wanted to.
“Great question,” Arnault said, perching on the edge of the desk closest to the party, who all took a half-step back unconsciously. “I take it that means you’ve learned what the Sphere does?”
When the party didn’t answer, Arnault cleared his throat.
“That’s very good. And it’s so touching that you’re asking that question. You really are heroes, you know? The exact right people for the job.”
“Then tell us what it’s for,” Thrormir said, and Morgana could hear a slight tremble in his voice. Whatever he could sense in Arnault, it wasn’t good. She moved her hand to the hilt of her sword, only for Arnault to snap his eyes to hers.
“Uh-uh,” he tutted her, and waved a finger. “There will be none of that. I’ve just had the place cleaned.”
Morgana narrowed her eyes at him and looked him over, her eyes landing on the lapel of his tunic. Stitched into it, the same colour as the fabric, was a twelve-pointed star.
Arnault snapped his fingers, and suddenly cloaked figures stepped into existence all around them. In an instant they found themselves outnumbered two to one. The figures were all completely faceless, as if magic were distorting their appearance. One held a knife to Morgana’s throat, and she could see that her companions were equally indisposed. She held her hands up in surrender, then reached out a foot to kick Gorlag when they were the only one who didn’t immediately follow suit.
“You’ll never find it,” Calamity said, struggling against her captor. The party had had the foresight not to bring the Sphere with them, instead lowering it into a disused well a mile out of town.
Arnault stepped closer and locked eyes with Calamity, and she stilled.
“It’s in the well on the old Biltreb farm east of the city,” he said to a cloaked figure next to him, who nodded and strode out of the room. The others produced shackles, moving to restrain the party.
“You won’t get away with this,” Morgana spat, daring Arnault to look at her. She was working out a move to make, but there didn’t seem to be a way to get at her captor or Arnault without putting her friends’ lives at risk.
“Take them to the dungeon,” Arnault commanded, then looked Morgana dead in the eye. “The full moon is tomorrow.”