Free Morticai's Luck by Darlene Bolesny Page A

different. Besides, all that matching stuff is for the upper class and merchants—I don’t know that it means anything for us.”
    They lapsed into silence as Ellenwood turned yet another corner. They were still within a couple of miles of his coach, despite several minutes of walking. They turned the corner. Ellenwood had vanished. They jumped back and quickly moved back to back. Calsen had produced two long, narrow knives, while Morticai held both his sword and dagger at the ready.
    “He wasn’t that far from us,” Calsen whispered.
    “I know. He could have seen us.”
    “I don’t think so. We both kept to the shadows.”
    “Talked too much.”
    “Maybe, but I don’t think so. Backtrack, or go forward?”
    “Let’s go forward.”
    Morticai carefully moved forward. Calsen stayed at his back. They turned the corner to once again face the deserted alley. There were no doorways for Ellenwood to have entered. As they edged down the alley, Morticai chided himself for letting himself be drawn into idle chatter with Calsen. Maybe Coryden was right, maybe he would get himself killed this time—the Gods knew, he’d deserve it if he kept making mistakes like this.
    They reached the next intersection. There was no sign of Ellenwood—nor of anyone else, for that matter.
    Morticai lowered his sword. “Well, that’s that! Damn! This is the second time in three days I’ve lost him!”
    “Hidden door?”
    “Back there? I wouldn’t think so—would you?”
    “I don’t know. They’re gettin’ better at it.”
    The two corryn went back and began checking the alley’s walls for inconsistencies.
    Morticai observed, “You know how dumb we must look?”
    “Who cares?”
    “I had a coach waiting for me outside the Pit. He’s probably gone by now.”
    “Hoy! Travelin’ in style now, aren’t we?”
    “Yeah, and costing a fortune! I hired it to keep up with the noble’s coach.”
    “Dyluth,” Calsen stopped and lowered his voice, despite the fact that they were still speaking in corryn.
    “Yeah?”
    “What’s this about? You wouldn’t waste your time followin’ a nobleman for an ex-mistress.”
    Morticai sighed and turned to his old friend. “Dangerous stuff, I’m afraid. I’ve found a Droken cell.”
    “Good gods, Dyluth! And you think I’m crazy to keep livin’ in the Pit?”
    “Look, Calsen, have you seen anything suspicious here lately—anything at all?”
    Calsen pondered Morticai’s question for some time before answering. “Well, since you’re talkin’ Droken, I can think of one rumor I’ve heard that might fit their style. Remember the old Burnaby Manor?”
    “How could I ever forget? Gods, we had some good times there!”
    “Yeah, we did, didn’t we?” Calsen chuckled. “Well, if you remember, it’s just a few blocks from here. There’s been some rumors lately that it’s haunted.”
    “Oh, come on, Calsen! We both know what that means. Some gang of thieves or smugglers has decided to use it as a cache.”
    “Yeah, I know. But there’s been some odd things goin’ on there. I haven’t heard that much, myself. You ever talk to Fenton, the spice merchant?”
    “I know him, but it’s been a few years since I’ve seen him.”
    “I’ve heard that Fenton knows somethin’ about what’s goin’ on at the manor,” Calsen continued, “but I haven’t bothered to talk with him about it.”
    “Hmm. I may have to arrange a meeting with Fenton. Does he still work out of the Lower Bazaar?”
    “Last I heard.”
    “Well, it’s obvious I’m going to have to try something other than this.” Morticai gestured to the deserted alley.
    “I’m sorry to hear you’re doin’ this type of work, Dyluth. There’s not much future in it, y’know.”
    “I know. Well, I guess I’d better get back to my coach, if it’s still waiting. If the other coach is still there, maybe I can pick up the trail again.”
    “You want me to walk back with you?”
    “Don’t be silly. I haven’t