Bracken tests loyalty

  “I can’t read every mind,” Bracken confessed. “But I can usually get a basic sense for intentions. I have no interest in guessing. If I don’t get a clear read, I won’t make accusations.”

  “Easy to profess when none of us can verify what you see,” the alcetaur said.

  “I’m not here to unveil your secrets,” Bracken assured him. “Everyone has a history. Everyone makes mistakes. I’ve been around for a long time. Little would shock me. I’m here to protect your new arrivals. They have suffered the consequences of betrayals before. I’m also here to defend Blackwell Keep against sabotage.”

  “There are many on my staff whom I do not doubt,” Marat said, his tone firm. “But I cannot claim to fully trust each individual stationed here. Can any of you? If I have room to doubt one, I must doubt all. I want this inspection. If you would rather resign, now is the time.”

  Nobody answered.

  “I will submit first,” Marat said, approaching Bracken with one hand extended. Bracken gripped the offered hand.

  “You’re Agad’s brother?” Bracken asked.

  Marat grinned, showing a few golden teeth. “Are we not twins?” The question earned a chuckle from the staff.

  “Not exactly,” Bracken said.

  “We share the same father,” Marat explained. “Different mothers.”

  Bracken stared into his eyes for a long moment, then released his hand. “How should I proceed?” Bracken asked. “Move down the line?”

  “Be my guest,” Marat said, gesturing toward one end of the lineup.

  Bracken walked to the end and stared down at a dwarf. The man was short but broad and muscular. His head was bald on top but the rest of his hair was long, and he had a tidy beard. All eyes regarded the pair.

  Bracken held out a hand. “Won’t hurt a bit.”

  The dwarf wiped his nose on his sleeve, stamped a couple of times, glanced down the line at his fellow staffers, then took Bracken’s hand.

  “Good grip,” Bracken said. “You’re Obun.”

  “Better be, or else folks have been getting it wrong all my life,” the dwarf said. “Seen enough yet?”

  “Yes, thank you.” Bracken released his hand and moved to another dwarf.

  Seth started counting. The line contained five dwarfs, three minotaurs, a pair of goblins, a troll, a snakelike lady with four arms, the alcetaur, three old women, and Marat. Seventeen in total. Kind of a lot, unless he pictured them staffing the whole castle. Then the number seemed fairly small.

  Seth watched with interest as Bracken progressed from person to person. Each handshake held the potential for violence. Seth knew from experience that Bracken was not bluffing. He really could see into minds.

  Seth wished he had a sword. No, he wished he had the sword. Vasilis. He wondered how many times he would wish that in the days and weeks to come. At least they had Mendigo.

  “Get ready,” Seth whispered to the wooden figure. “If a fight starts, restrain anyone who attacks Bracken.”

  Seth held his breath when Bracken reached the minotaur with the peg leg, but Bracken took his hand, exchanged a few words, and moved on without incident. Seth grew tense again when Bracken clasped the hand of the alcetaur, but again there was no confrontation. Creature by creature, Bracken made his way to the end of the line without any wild outbursts.

  After finishing his inspection, Bracken returned to stand before Marat. “You have two traitors,” Bracken declared.

  Angry murmuring broke out among the staff. Some glared suspiciously at one another. Others glowered at Bracken.

  Seth felt startled by the pronouncement. After the last handshake he had relaxed with relief. Apparently Bracken had a really good poker face.

  Marat held up his hands and the muttering ceased. “Who are they?” Marat asked.

  “I invite the guilty parties to step forward,” Bracken said.

  Nobody moved. Seth guessed the traitors might be hoping Bracken was bluffing. In their defense, it kind of sounded like a bluff.

  “Shall I name them?” Bracken asked.

  “If you are disloyal, bear in mind that you are currently outnumbered,” Marat said. “Let’s avoid a scuffle. It is bad enough that we are losing two members of our staff.”

  Several in the line began drawing weapons, including swords, knives, and axes.

  “Put your arms away,” Marat ordered. “Do not forget who I am.” Things got very quiet. If a dragon couldn’t command respect, who could? Marat nodded at Bracken. “Go ahead.”

  Bracken pointed at a minotaur with brown fur and a battle-ax slung over one shoulder. “Tonak passes information to the dragons monthly.”

  “Liar!” the minotaur roared. “Fraud!”

  “Not always on the same night of the week,” Bracken went on. “But he leaves after midnight and returns before dawn. He goes to the old watchtower and meets with a dragon called Baltizar. He is ready and willing to commit sabotage when called upon.”

  “Brothers!” Tonak called to his fellow minotaurs. “Will you let these insults stand? Our kind has never been trusted! To arms!” He raised his battle-ax.

  The minotaur with the peg leg grabbed the upraised battle-ax, and the reddish minotaur slammed Tonak in the gut with a club. Tonak crumpled, and the peg-legged minotaur tore the weapon from his grasp.

  The reddish minotaur seized Tonak by the horns. “We took a chance on you!”

  “Lies,” Tonak maintained. “All lies.”

  “I have found your room empty twice in the night,” the peg-legged minotaur said. “My eye was already on you.”

  “I saw him return once in the still hours,” the snakelike woman said. “I did not know his errand.”

  Seth noticed one of the old women scurrying away.

  “What about her?” Seth called out.

  “She is the other,” Bracken said.

  “Stop her,” Seth whispered to Mendigo. “Don’t hurt her.”

  The limberjack sprang into motion, streaking after the retreating woman. Her eyes widened when she saw the giant puppet racing in her direction. She dropped to the ground, head tucked beneath her hands. When Mendigo arrived, he crouched and placed a wooden hand on her shoulder.

  “I will have your horns and hide, Tonak,” the reddish minotaur roared. “What are my orders?”

  “I will commend Tonak and Myrna to the care of Romnus in the dungeon,” Marat said.

  “Not Myrna,” Obun the dwarf lamented. “She makes the best cinnamon rolls.”

  “Hear that, Tonak?” the peg-legged minotaur said with a chuckle. “You
’re going to spend some time with me down in the dark.”

  “What harm has Myrna perpetrated?” Marat asked.

  “None yet,” Bracken said. “She is an assassin awaiting orders. An expert with poison.”

  “The cinnamon rolls!” Obun exclaimed.

  “They weren’t poisoned yet,” another dwarf said.

  “I’ve committed no crime,” Myrna said. “I may have come here with a certain understanding. But I’ve learned to love and respect you all so much I could never have harmed you.”

  “Not true,” Bracken said firmly.

  “Whatever you suspect, I’ve still done nothing wrong,” Myrna cried.

  “Coming here as an assassin qualifies as treason,” Marat said. He shook hands with Bracken. “Thank you for your assistance. Please excuse me for a moment.”

  Marat called over the snake lady and the alcetaur. Bracken motioned for Kendra and Seth to come near.

  “That was amazing,” Kendra said.

  “We all have our uses,” Bracken replied in a quiet voice. He placed one hand on Kendra’s shoulder and the other on Seth’s arm. Bracken’s next words came directly into Seth’s mind. By her intent expression, he assumed his sister could hear them as well.

  Listen. I got a good sense of the staff. The snake lady, Simrin, doesn’t trust humans. She is loyal to Marat, but watch out for her. She would love to see you fail. Henrick the alcetaur is gruff but extremely honorable. Stay near him. Romnus, the minotaur with the bad leg, is also trustworthy and experienced. The reddish minotaur, Brunwin, is capable and reliable but has a bad temper. The ridge troll is cunning and eager to take advantage of you. The goblin will not betray you, but would steal from you if he could get away with it. The hobgoblin is amusing, but not much use in a fight.

  “Hobgoblin?” Seth whispered.

  The green-skinned goblin with the froglike features, Bracken supplied. The dwarfs are generally loyal, but they won’t go out of their way for you unless duty demands it. The older women are selfish, none too kindly, and given to gossip. I believe that Marat means well and is concerned for you, but dragons are notoriously difficult to read.

Chapter 11-A New Beginning