carriage and its mysterious passenger.
When one of the armed soldiers opened the carriage door, a man wearing regal attire of gray and blue stepped forth to meet Mr. Oggle. He shook Oggle’s hand and then followed him inside as they talked. Several soldiers followed them inside the Willow Tree along with Blane as other soldiers stood guard at the door, blocking access for the curious crowd.
Sarah decided she would take the back way in and see what she could find out. She knew Blane would usually be the one to answer the service bell in the rear and supposed he would probably let her in. Sarah walked to the back of the building while the crowd remained in the street, trying to stir the rumor pot as to who this visitor actually was and what the nature of his visit might be.
Sarah gave Blane a few minutes and then she rang the service bell. In a moment, Blane appeared at the door. When he saw Sarah standing there, he looked about, making sure no one else was trying to gain admittance, then said, “Oh, all right. But don’t you let Mr. Oggle know I let you in.”
“I won’t,” she said and ran inside before he could change his mind.
Sarah followed him through the kitchen where several older women worked, cooking food and tending to dirty dishes and such. “What’s going on, Blane? Who is that man?”
“He’s the Royal Emissary from the Isle of Macedon. He’s come to make a request of The Order of Shaddai.”
“For what?”
Blane peered through the curtain into the main room. “He told Mr. Oggle their king desires The Order to send them the Word of Shaddai again.”
“But I thought Macedon had been taken over by Mordred’s army a few years ago,” Sarah said. “Why would the king ask for such a thing? Surely Mordred wouldn’t allow them to have Shaddai’s Word again.”
They watched through the curtain as the Royal Emissary prepared a message to send by falcon into the Thornhill Mountains. The falcon was specially trained to come back to the Temple and Shaddai’s priests with its message. And Millertown was the only place readily known where such a falcon could be found.
Mr. Oggle took the message after the emissary had prepared it. He rolled it up and placed it into a silver tube attached to a chain. He walked over to the large cage Blane had previously rolled out into the room and clamped the small bracelet and chain with the message cylinder to the falcon’s leg.
“Oh, I almost forgot!” Blane donned a leather gauntlet and hurried out from behind the curtain. “I’m responsible for releasing the bird,” he called back. Sarah watched as Blane handled the animal, now adorned with a small hood. Having removed the falcon from the cage, Blane took it to a side door off the main room, removed its hood, and released it.
Blane came back in with the little hood in his hand, removing the leather gauntlet. He wore a smile as he came and bowed toward the emissary and reported the message sent on its way to the Temple and the High Priest of Shaddai.
“How long until I can expect a reply?” the Royal Emissary asked.
“Isaiah, the High Priest, is usually quick to respond,” Mr. Oggle said. “Probably tomorrow, but I’ll have Blane prepare our finest room for you so you’ll have a comfortable stay until the falcon returns.”
The emissary nodded and Blane bowed before hurrying off to prepare the room. Sarah stood there puzzled. Something did not make sense about all of it. Had the Isle of Macedon been liberated recently? If so, she was not aware of it. And how had this emissary and his entourage made it all the way to the Thornhills without encountering Mordred’s soldiers?
Sarah rubbed her belly and thought of her husband. She wished she could ask him these questions or at least know what he was doing. Sarah had important news to tell, and she hoped it would not be too long before she got the opportunity.
ASSASSINS IN THE MIDST
Mordecai watched with interest as the military men dispersed to equidistant positions around the Willow Tree Inn across the street. He wiped the dust from the dirty window of the attic loft where he had been hiding since last night. The business below, in the main part of the building, was a store where general goods were sold.
“Now what is all that about, I wonder,” Mordecai whispered to himself.
“Fascinating isn’t it?” a deep voice asked.
Mordecai whipped around with a dagger in his hand ready to hurl it at the source of the voice. When he saw the unexpected yet familiar face standing before him, he relaxed, if only a little. His pent up tension escaped with a measured sigh. “What are you doing here, Jericho?”
“I usually like to make sure men in my service are fulfilling their duties properly in accordance with my design.” The demon leaned against a bare support beam in the dusty gloom of half-light.
“You’ve nothing to worry about,” Mordecai assured him. “I’ll carry out my part of this, just as I said.”
“Oh, I’m not referring to you, Mordecai.”
The former priest eyed the demon warily and then looked back out the window toward the Willow Tree Inn. “You mean fancy breeches? Who is he anyway? Those colors remind me of old Macedon armor.”
“Very good, Mordecai, I’m almost impressed. As we speak, an emissary from Macedon is baiting my trap.”
“For the boy? How so?” Mordecai asked insistently.
“I never put all my eggs into one basket, Mordecai.”
“I said I would get him and I will.”
“Look at it this way,” Jericho explained, “If you can eliminate the boy, then you’ll find the priests somewhat distracted by the news this emissary is carrying. It can only work in your favor.”
Mordecai grimaced. He was being insulted, but there was nothing he could do about it.
“I trust you have all the equipment you will need?” Jericho said evenly.
“In this very store I’ll find what I need. It will be a simple matter of taking it tonight while everyone is asleep.”
“I want no witnesses, Mordecai, and no evidence of what you’ve taken,” Jericho said. “If someone were to discover mountain climbing gear missing in a theft, then they might suspect something amiss and send word to Isaiah so that he would have his priests watching for the thief.”
“I’m not afraid of the priests,” Mordecai spat. “I trained half of them.”
“Nevertheless, I want no evidence left behind.”
“Not a problem,” Mordecai said.
The demon smiled unconvincingly and then faded into the shadows. Mordecai turned his attention back to the soldiers in the street and the sun now beginning to set upon the western horizon. Soon it would be time to journey into the Thornhill Mountains.
It was well after the midnight hour when Mordecai stirred from his daytime slumber. For the most part, he had been able to ignore the commotion caused by the Royal Emissary from Macedon across the street at Millertown’s Willow Tree Inn. While everyone in town slept, he would get his supplies and set off on his journey to the Temple. No one had seen him enter Millertown and no one would see him leave.
Mordecai stole down the side of the building and forced the lock on the back of the General Goods Store. He crept inside without a sound. Mordecai smiled. He watched the storeowner and his wife as they slept near a wood burning stove. They kept the room very warm this evening as a cold snap had descended upon the Thornhills.
The storeowner, an elderly man of good reputation, slept soundly beside his wife. She was well known for her delicious pies. In fact, people would mention those wonderful pies after her passing-not to mention the awful way in which she and her kindly husband had passed-such a tragedy.
A trail of lamp oil crept across the floor toward several hot coals which had been aided in their escape from the wood stove. The embers glowed red on the floor as the oil slid snake-like toward them. Beyond the spilt lamp oil were a number of powder kegs. Mordecai had shifted their location somewhat in the last ten minutes. It would
