A Dead God's Tear(29)

"What? Why? What happened?"

Gary held up his hand to forestall any further questioning. "He was found this morning, ill of mind, in a pool of his own drink and vomit. As we speak, he is being purged of any evil spirits by the healers."

The sinking feeling in Marcius's gut grew heavier. He felt as if all his breath was being squeezed out of him. "How did this happen? Why Father?" It felt as if his whole world was being flipped upside down, pulled out underneath him, then ripped up into pieces and cast into the wind.

"That's what I want to know. I'd visited him the night before over an issue with a few of his rowdy sailors. You know how it is. Sailors, when bored after several months not at sea, have a tendency to find things to occupy their time. At the time, he seemed perfectly fine, nothing odd at all. In fact, he even treated me to dinner in this very dining room. Rather curious how a trader who is on the top of his world, suddenly goes completely out of his mind, isn't it?"

"Then what exactly are you saying, Sheriff? I want to see him! He's my father for Avalene's sake! How do you expect me to take this? Do you somehow think I did this while I was away being tutored? How does one cause a person to go insane? I'm the victim here!" He had half stood up in anger, but a single piercing glare from the Bloodhound convinced him perhaps it was more prudent to sit back down.

"Well, Freeman Realure, I've got a gut feeling."

Gary stood up and started pacing back and forth. There was a common joke around the courthouse that the Sheriff would have worn grooves into the floor if it hadn't been made of stone. "Marcius, I've known your family for about twenty years. You've been a friend to that fool boy of mine ever since you moved here. As long as I've known you, you've been a law abiding citizen, which has kept me out of your hair and you within my good graces."
     
 

     

Marcius nodded, as it was all as the Sheriff had said. Still, what did this have to do with his father? "Well," Gary continued, "My one deputy, Bronis-a rather nice lad who used to live in the slums, had a very peculiar story for me about two months ago. You see, he was off that day, and had gone to his favorite bar for a bit of drink." All the color drained from Marcius's face, which pretty much confirmed to the Bloodhound that he was on the right track. The boy knew exactly what happened that day. With a grin, the Bloodhound plowed forward.

"Yes, I see you have heard of it. Well, you'll never guess who he saw stop a bar fight using magic, can you believe it? Some person had the guts to use magic in my town, knowing full well how much I dislike magic and those who do it. Any ideas on who this person was?"

"N-n-no. . . ?" Marcius stammered. "Perhaps it was the drink speaking?"

Gary laughed with little humor. "Well, that aside, I had another peculiar incident that week, one which still weighs heavily on my mind. Sort of like an annoying itch that you can't quite scratch, just sitting there taunting you out of reach. I don't think of it as a small coincidence, mostly because I don't believe in coincidences."

"And what would that be?" Marcius had to save face, he could feel himself being pulled into the Bloodhound's web, and if he got drawn too deep he would never get out.

"Mage Lady Alicia Wendeline." The Sheriff spit out the name. "Unfortunately, the King sees some sort of advantage with keeping in the Academy's good graces, so I had to look the other way when she came to town on ‘business.' Now, what could a wizard want in a town like this? A town that I have personally managed to weed out all things magic related? Birds of a feather wing together, and magic draws magic I always say. I heard she came to see your father, Marcius. Where exactly do you go to get tutored? And what exactly are you being taught? Perhaps you can help me answer these, boy?"

The rapid fire of the pointed questions rocked Marcius onto his heels. He knew! Gary Garalan, the indomitable Sheriff of Rhensford, knew that Marcius was a wizard! Marcius's mind raced, he had to find some way out of this. He could feel his cheeks turning red under the Bloodhound's scrutinizing glare.

Put on the spot as he was, he didn't have much time to think of anything. His instincts were in flight or fight mode; he chose the former. "Well, I've no idea what you are talking about. Now if you will excuse me, I have to go to visit my father. Please let yourself out." He shuffled past the Sheriff, anxious to just get out of the house.

He had just reached the door when Gary's strong hand grabbed his arm, spinning him around so fast that he momentarily lost his balance. The sheriff had his face so close Marcius could count the individual graying strands on the man's blonde beard, the minute veins in the whites of the eye. "I know what you are Marcius, and if it wasn't for the sole reason that I don't have a single actual crime to hold against you, I would have you clapped in the dungeon. I would suggest once you have sorted out matters here, that you make yourself very, very scarce in this town. Trust me, I would love to find some chain bracelets to match the robes you lack, and I'm sure if I dug around enough, I would find reason to do so. Even if I have to say you stole an apple from some street vendor, by the Gods I'll find something!" The grim set of his face and the tone of voice left very little to imagination as to what the sheriff truly meant. And the sheriff, at the very least, was a man of his word.

Marcius shirked off the arm, a little more confident now that he knew that Jared's father had nothing tangible on him, and walked out the door before his legs betrayed how scared he really was. Once he was free of the house, the full weight of his problems came rushing back to the surface.

He looked back at what was most likely his house now, in both name and title. A place that had been called home for twenty years. The only thing he could wonder was what exactly did he do to deserve what had happened the last two days. First Antaigne and now this?

With a defeated sigh, he began the long, lonely walk to the Healer's Guild building, which was a distance away. Marcius didn't feel the urge to hail a carriage. He wanted to be alone, and he dreaded what he would see concerning his father.

He inwardly longed to ride Ruby, but the horse had disappeared during the attack on Antaigne's. Marcius had no idea where Ruby was or even if the horse was still alive. Another loss in his life that had been perfect only two days before.

He took solace that at least he still had his familiar, a friend that was his private council, a bastion in the storm that had engulfed his life. He could still feel Faerril in the back of his head, the emphatic link told him the familiar was now sleeping peacefully and felt much better now. Marcius took some comfort in that fact. At least his familiar was content.

A drop of water landed on his cheek. Looking up, he could see the dark clouds gathering, as if the sky itself reflected Marcius's sorrow.

Looked like rain.



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A gentle drizzle fell about Rhensford, lightly tapping on the streets and ushering the wiser residents into hiding, because any person who has lived near the coast for significant period of time would recognize the wolf hiding among the sheep. The skies held that tension that told you that a big storm was about to hit, the atmosphere of a predator about to strike. Perhaps it was the cold, foreboding breeze, or maybe it was the gray, oppressive hue the normally clear blue sea had taken. But whatever the cause, nobody in their right mind was outside.

Well, almost nobody. Jared Garalan, a man whose state of mind was constantly in question, walked drunkenly through the now mostly empty streets, wobbling a bit here and there as the wind picked up and transformed the gentle drizzle to a stinging mist.

Jared enjoyed walking outside during the periodic storms that would occasionally hit. He found it liberating to have almost complete reign over the usually busy and clustered port town. The feeling of the rain beating down on him was pleasurable as well, as if he was somehow being purged of his worries and sins. Letting it run down his face, off his hair, soaking his body; it gave him time alone with his thoughts, dreams, and troubles. However, this was the first time he had done it drunk, and more importantly, with company.

"Can you hurry up?" A voice intoned behind him, broken up from the gusts of wind that forced Jared and his companion to take shelter momentarily under an overhang in a nearby alley. "I would like to get out of this dreadful rain!"

Jared rolled his eyes. Somehow, in his drunken stupor, he had thought perhaps it would be a good idea to seek out and give a brief overview to the Mage of what transpired at the dwarf's hideout, that way he could get Alicia and Marcius to talk it over under safe conditions. He intended to take her to the Healer's Guild building. No doubt Marcius wouldn't expect to see her there when he went to check on his familiar, giving him time to use the initial shock as a buffer between the two.

He just hoped that it would work, as angry as his friend was, he didn't want the apprentice to do something he would regret later. He just figured they would encounter each other eventually, especially since Marcius intended to question Alicia.

Jared preferred to speed it up before his friend could work himself into a real fighting mood. The meeting would just have to be controlled. Despite the theory he gave Marcius, the surprise and alarm he had gotten from the Academy wizard seemed genuine when he told her, which meant there was more to this than meets the eye.