Morticai's Luck by Darlene Bolesny Read Free Book Online

get!”
    Morticai looked up, but she was already heading to the bar. Had he missed something?
    His attention drifted back to Ellenwood. He watched with increasing fascination as Sir Ellenwood slid his hand along the edge of the bench. Ellenwood was attempting to be discrete, but to Morticai, trained in sleight of hand, it was as obvious as if he had gotten on his knees and looked beneath the bench. Ellenwood retrieved a paper and slipped it inside his cloak. Then, without even ordering a drink, he rose and moved toward the door.
    Sorry, Hon , Morticai thought in silent farewell to the barmaid, but I’m playin’ a different game tonight . He left a korun on the table and followed Ellenwood into the street.

    * * *

    Ellenwood traveled north from Black Horse Tavern, crossing Mainway into an area of the city filled with small shops. Morticai knew that Ellenwood wasn’t heading home because his estate lay to the northwest. Of course, the fact that he wasn’t traveling by coach was, in itself, unusual.
    He eventually crossed Shipwright’s Road, and then he surprised Morticai by turning east, toward the docks. The dockside of the city was extremely dangerous at night—not an area a lone nobleman would wish to frequent.
    Ellenwood soon stopped, however, and reversed his fine cloak. Morticai smiled in sudden understanding. The liner of Ellenwood’s cloak looked like the kind of coarse woolen cloak any dockworker would be proud of. Unfortunately, that put Morticai at a disadvantage. He had dressed well, expecting to follow Lord Aldwin to his usual haunts.
    Ellenwood continued east for about a mile and then turned north again. If he continued, he would soon be in the poorest section of Watchaven. The area was riddled with long alleys that would make the nobleman easy to follow, but it also contained some of the city’s roughest gangs. Several blocks later, Ellenwood came to one of the area’s ‘major’ intersections. He crossed it diagonally and continued on. Not wishing to attract additional attention, Morticai stayed next to the buildings.
    Three young humans suddenly stepped out from a nearby doorway, directly into Morticai’s path. They blocked him deliberately, with their knives drawn. The Northmarcher automatically fell into a fighting stance. His new dagger appeared in his left hand, a throwing knife in his right. The three toughs looked at each other with raised eyebrows.
    “What’s this, a knife-fighting noble?” the tallest of the group asked.
    “Ya’ gotta’ be kiddin’,” another replied.
    “Hey, he’s a corryn knife-fightin’ noble!” the third added, laughing.
    Morticai edged closer to the wall and said nothing. He could probably take them, but that would mean losing Ellenwood. The rest of the street was empty, save for a beggar who watched, rather intently, Morticai thought, from across the street.
    “You speak human, corryn?” one of the gang said with a sneer.
    “We got sharp claws, y’know,” the tall one said, gesturing to his blade. “Why don’t you jus’ make this easy and give us your purse, uh?” When Morticai did not reply, the youth repeated his threat in extremely poor corryn.
    Morticai considered his best route out of the situation—if he targeted the tall one and caught him off balance before they moved in he might be able to slip back a few feet, then …
    He heard footsteps behind him. Morticai glanced behind to see four more gang members moving up to block his retreat. He knew that he was in trouble.
    “Hey, Mika, we spotted him first!” one of the new group called.
    “Yeah, but we stopped him,” the tall one retorted.
    “Split with us.”
    “We’ll talk about it when we’re finished.”
    “I’ll wager!”
    The beggar still watched, even more intently, as Morticai’s slim chance to escape evaporated. The beggar reached up casually into the shadow of his ragged hood and made a motion. Perhaps he’d just scratched his nose—or perhaps not. One way or another,