“Then the magistrate should be able to establish that fact to my employer’s satisfaction. But I must reiterate that as far as Wyrmhoard House is concerned, the estate of Jack Ravenwild has already received all funds owed to it. I suggest you take up the matter with Master Morgath. Or, more likely, his descendants, if you can find them.” The clerk sniffed at Jack, tipped his cap to Seila, and scurried off with his ledger.
“If I can find them,” Jack muttered. “You have not heard the last from me on this matter!” he called after the retreating gnome.
Seila offered a small smile in sympathy. “I’m sure we can help you reestablish your identity,” she said. “My father has friends in the courts. Do you have any idea who this Morgath was?”
“No,” Jack said glumly. They left the counting house and climbed back into the carriage. Then Jack was struck by a memory … a fat, unctuous fellow from the thieves’ guild who always had a tall, bony thug at his side. “Wait, yes. Morgath was a thief. The clever bastard must have forged the documents so that he could plunder my savings after I disappeared, Mask damn his black heart!”
“I am sure that you will not be left in want,” Seila pointed out. “My father will be grateful for my return, I can promise you that much.”
Jack’s interest piqued at the thought of a handsome reward, but he carefully put on an air of good cheer. “Nothing of the sort is necessary,” he claimed. “Come, let’s continue our tour. I am enjoying the outing greatly, that last little bit of unpleasantness excepted.”
They drove on along Stonekeep Way through the Skymbles, and turned westward again into Burnt Gables-no, Jack reminded himself, Sindlecross, as it was now called. There he found that the old warehouse he’d once lived above was simply gone, replaced by a large granary. Jack grimaced; behind the stove in his loft there’d been a hidden cache where he remembered leaving a sackful of gold coins and gemstones for a day when he might need them, but clearly the hidey-hole and its treasures were gone now. “So much for that,” he sighed. It seemed that he was much poorer than he’d hoped he would be. “Take us through Shadystreets, and then find us a ferry to the Ladyrock.”
“Very good, sir,” the coachmen replied. He drove them south on Sindle Street to Riverview, where Jack pointed out to Seila the spot where the leaning tower of the old sage Ontrodes had once stood. The sage’s house was long gone, of course; it had been on the verge of falling down in Jack’s day, so he would have been astonished to find it still there. Then they made their way down to the point of Crow’s End. There Jack and Seila hired a boatman to scull them two hundred yards over to the island in the middle of Raven’s Bluff’s harbor. A half-hour’s walk in the afternoon sunshine was sufficient to circle the Ladyrock; Jack’s old cottage was still standing but was abandoned, its roof mostly caved in and its walls overgrown with ivy and brambles.
Seila looked at it with distaste. “Did you really live here once?”
“It was in much better repair a hundred years ago. But it was a very modest abode, even then.” Jack looked it over and shook his head. “I suppose I could fix it up.”
“Why did you need so many residences, anyway?” Seila asked. “And, excuse me for saying so, weren’t they all rather modest for a gentleman of your station?”
“The Mortonbrace house was a perfectly genteel address when I bought it. As for the loft and the cottage, well, I think I have already told you that I was not without enemies. This cottage may have been little better than a hovel, but no one knew I owned it and I could retreat here for privacy when I found it prudent to drop out of sight.”
Seila gave Jack a long look. “Were you a criminal of some sort, Jack?”
“Absolutely not. You must remember, in my time the city fell under the rule of corrupt merchants and nobles who subverted our civic institutions. Why, the Warlord Myrkyssa Jelan insinuated herself into the office of Lady Mayor by adopting an alias. When a city is ruled by malefactors, then patriots become outlaws.”
“I’ve heard the story of Myrkyssa Jelan before, but never the rest about corruption in the merchant houses and nobility.”
“Well, of course not. Powerful people were very embarrassed by the events of that time. I have no doubt that over time they worked very hard to whitewash the civic records.” Jack noted the concerned frown on Seila’s face, and quickly added, “The Norwoods were, of course, above reproach. Your family was one of the noble houses who worked to set matters right.”
“That is good to hear,” Seila replied, a look of relief on her face. “I was afraid that my ancestors might have been on the wrong side of that. So where would you like to go now?”
Jack glanced up at the sun, beginning to lower toward the west. “It’s getting late in the afternoon. I propose that we return to Norwood Manor.”
“I’m ready to go home,” Seila agreed.
They returned to the Ladyrock’s landing and hired another boat to take them back over to Crow’s End, where the carriage waited. Jack busied himself with studying the passers-by in the streets as they drove back to Mortonbrace. If anything, Raven’s Bluff seemed even more cosmopolitan than it had been a hundred years before. Sprinkled among the teeming crowds of humans he saw sturdy dwarves, dapper halflings, graceful elves of several kindreds, and people of kindreds he’d never even imagined before. As interesting as that seemed to him, none of the city folk seemed to take any notice of the nonhumans among them; clearly they were a routine sight in Raven’s Bluff.
An hour’s drive carried them through the city’s northern gate and out along the Tantras Road again. The carriage returned to Norwood Manor as the shadows stretched out long black fingers across the lawn and the evening chill gathered close. Seila shivered, and Jack took the liberty of putting his arm around her shoulders and inviting her to snuggle closely beside him. She looked up at him with her enchanting green eyes before leaning her head against his shoulder.
“Not everything is misery and toil in this age, Jack,” Seila said. “What do you think of the Year of the Ageless One now?”
“It shows more promise than I had first thought,” Jack admitted. “Much has changed, and not all for the better. But I could become used to it, I think.”
Seila chuckled softly to herself. “Do you think that you might be the Ageless One named by this year? Perhaps old Augathra caught some glimpse of your predicament when he wrote out his Roll of Years.”
“I doubt very much that my troubles and travails inspired a half-mad seer who lived a thousand years ago to add one more cryptic euphemism to his great prophecy. As much as it pains me to say it, I am not that important.”
“Well, I, for one, am glad that you found your way to this day,” Seila replied. She reached up to turn Jack’s face toward hers and kissed him soundly. He closed his eyes, losing himself in the soft delight of her lips as the horse’s harness jingled and the wheels clattered over the cobblestones of the manor drive. Then, all too soon, the carriage rocked gently to a halt by the manor steps, and Seila drew away. “Thank you for saving me,” she said.
For a moment Jack couldn’t find any words at all. Then he grinned and said, “I don’t suppose you could go find some new predicament for yourself? I would dearly love to rescue you again if that’s the reward for my efforts.”
She laughed, and clambered out of the carriage without a reply. Jack stared after her for a moment, admiring her fine curves and the silken sheen of her dark hair. “I believe she’s growing fond of me,” he murmured to himself. He might be absolutely destitute in this new day and age, but Seila Norwood very definitely was not, and that meant that this was no time to become soft in the head over a fetching figure and eyes as green as springtime, he told himself firmly. “Keep your wits about you, Jack. This is an opportunity not to be missed.”
With a broad smile, he leaped down from the carriage and followed Seila inside.
The next day, Seila’s father returned from Tantras.
Jack learned that the Lord Norwood was home when he ventured downstairs after sleeping away the better part of the morning. He found Seila having a late breakfast with her mother Idril in a small dining room that overlooked the manor’s gardens. A handsome, middle-aged nobleman sat between them, wearing a dark blue waistcoat and a large gold chain around his neck.
The fellow looked up as Jack entered, and beamed. “Ah, this must be our guest,” he said.
“Jack, allow me to introduce my father, Lord Marden Norwood,” said Seila. “Father, this is the Landsgrave Jaer Kell Wildhame of the Vilhon Reach, my only friend during those awful months of captivity, and ultimately the
