Murtagh

Carabel settled back on her cushion and smoothed the tassels on her ears. “You must become a member of the city guard and join Captain Wren’s company.”

He allowed his eyebrows to rise. “Oh, is that all?…Well, I suppose I can talk my way into their ranks, if need be.”

“Alas, that will not suffice.” Carabel was somber, but she seemed to take a subtle delight in confounding him. “Captain Wren no longer accepts general recruits into his company. At Lord Relgin’s indulgence, Wren selects his men from among the rest of the guard, and it is counted a high honor to be so chosen. But Wren only seeks out men whose service he trusts.”

“And that’s not suspicious at all.”

Carabel flicked her ears. “But not uncommon for officers of distinction.”

“True enough. So how do I earn Captain Wren’s trust?”

“It is not possible, not in the time we have. Instead, you will have to impress him.”

Murtagh nearly growled. “And how am I to accomplish that? A feat of arms?”

A sly smile curled Carabel’s sharp lips. “It is very simple, human. To impress him, you must kill a fish.”

“A fish? A fish? Do you take me for a fool?”

“Not at all. But, alas, to kill the fish, you will need a special lure.”

“Bah!” With an expression of disgust, Murtagh fell back in the chair. How deep of a hole had he fallen in? If he hadn’t already given his word, and if it weren’t for the vanished youngling, he would have gotten up and left. “Enough of these riddles, cat! Explain, and you’d best do a good job of it.”

“Of course, human. It goes as such. In Isenstar Lake lives a great cunning fish the men of this place have named Muckmaw. He is fierce, hungry, and cruel, and over the years, he has sunk many a boat and eaten many a fisherman. There is a reward in Gil’ead for whosoever can dispatch Muckmaw and present his head as proof of the deed. Four gold coins and a promise of a position in the guards, if so desired. I have no doubt that if you bring Muckmaw’s head to Captain Wren, he will welcome you into the ranks of his men.”

“Killing a fish is no great challenge,” said Murtagh.

“Were that was true. Muckmaw is no ordinary beast.” Carabel gestured at herself. “And a werecat should know. No common bait or cloth or colored thread will attract him, only something of special significance.”

“Or I could just find him with my mind.” Murtagh gave her a dangerous smile. “A quick spell, and that will be the end of Muckmaw.”

The werecat matched his smile. “And how will you pick out the thoughts of a single fish amongst all the fish in Isenstar Lake?…No, you will need a lure, one that he cannot resist.”

“What sort of lure is that?”

“A scale of the dragon Glaedr, whose body lies burned and buried outside this city.”

Murtagh’s immediate reaction was outrage. “You must be jesting!”

“I would not jest about such a thing,” said Carabel, deadly quiet. “Not when one of our younglings is in danger. Trust me, human, only the scale of a dragon will suffice for Muckmaw.”

Again, Murtagh saw Oromis and Glaedr falling limply through the air while ranks of men and elves clashed on the ground below. He rubbed his knuckles as he stared at the floor. “I’m not happy about this, cat.”

The slightest bit of sympathy entered Carabel’s voice: “It is a hard thing I ask you for, I know. But there is a rightness to it also.”

“I fail to see any rightness in grave robbery.”

“You slew Glaedr. Now, by fate’s design, you may use a part of him to help save an innocent. What could be more right than that?”

The question struck him to his core. He forced his hands apart. “The elves will have set wards around Glaedr’s tomb to prevent exactly this sort of desecration.”

A shrug from Carabel. “Yes. Probably. That is why we haven’t tried. That is why we must ask you, Rider.”

“And what if I hadn’t come to Gil’ead?”

When she answered, he heard no pretense in her voice, only honest emotion, raw and vulnerable and shot through with determination. “Then I and all the werecats in Gil’ead would have stormed the barracks and attempted to breach the door.” She met his gaze. “If that meant we had to fight an entire company of guards, then so be it. We will not abandon our young.”

“…No.” Murtagh frowned and looked at the wood-braced ceiling. I should have known better than to give my word. Another thought followed close behind: Thorn won’t like that I did. But he knew he couldn’t ignore Carabel’s request, even if, right then, he rather hated the werecat. “Get the scale, catch the fish, find out what’s behind the door. Is that it?”

Carabel nodded. “Exactly. But you must be quick about it, human. We have heard whispers of men moving in the night, wagons readied, horses freshly shod…. By tomorrow evening, Silna may no longer be in the city.”