Free Enchanter (Book 7) by Terry Mancour Page A

telling me, I had treat it as such. 
    “All right,” I sighed, sitting down in my chair.  “Do you think you’ve set things up so that you could return without being detected?”
    “I’m there as a humble and enterprising pack merchant,” he chuckled.  “Dunselen has men eager to purchase magical components, and they pay well.  I took a handful of snowstone gravel from the stoneyard, and sold it to them at two-thirds of market price.  Made a nice purse, too,” he smiled.  “They think I have a secret connection in Sevendor, and they encouraged me to find more.  I’ve taken rooms at one of the nicer inns there.  I was liberal enough with my coin and my affections that the widow who runs it will be very pleased to see my return.”
    “Good.  I don’t know what they’re up to, yet, but there’s no way that this marriage could be innocent.”
    “Innocent?  With that lecherous old goat?  From what I understand, he was rogering the servant girls again as soon as they returned from the honeymoon.  You know, Min, I can almost understand throwing that tasty bit of pudding at him to distract him long enough for the knife, but why go to the bother of promoting him?  If you’re going to assassinate a man, then why make him a baron before you do it?”
    “It’s actually not a bad move, from the royal perspective,” I pointed out.  “The promotion to baron essentially recognizes his current holdings . . . but it also imposes a lot of restrictions on future conquest.  As a representative of ducal – and now royal – authority, the peerage adds an additional layer of responsibility and expense to the administration of your estates.  It also forces you to be answerable to your overlords in ways that mere domain-level lords are not. 
    “But you can also look at it this way: if you wanted to grant a favored agent status and position adequate to fulfill missions in the highest levels of society, then the peerage is sufficient to do so . . . and there are few barons out there of old, established lines who would be willing to marry a bride tainted by sorcery.  If Mother plans on killing Dunselen eventually anyway, then there’s no reason that Isily shouldn’t inherit a title as well as his holdings.”
    “You are a devious man, Min,” Lorcus admitted, admiringly.  “So what are they doing here?”
    “Dunselen is advancing his academic career.  As far as Isily’s motives . . . I haven’t run into her yet.  When I do, I’m thinking of asking her.”
    He looked at me oddly.  “You mean, just walk up to her and say ‘what are you up to, then’?”
    “Essentially,” I nodded. 
    “And you think she’ll just tell you every little dirty secret on her mind?”
    “You did, if you recall,” I reminded him.  Lorcus blushed.  He remembered the special interrogation I had insisted on when he asked to take my service. 
    “Aye,” he admitted.  “You are one persuasive bastard. All right, if you’re done with me, I think I’d like to enjoy the fair, now.”
    “You may do so, but I’m not done with you.  Check with Banamor before you go, and find out what the four men who showed up at the gate wearing checkered cloaks are doing.”
    That got his attention. He sat bolt upright, nearly upsetting his wineglass.
    “The bloody Censorate is here?”
    “Actually, they’re the Merwyni Order of The Arcane Knights of Nablus, or something like that, now.  They’re official Merwyni magi, in other words, without any additional mission.  Or so they say.  I’d like someone with a subtle eye to follow them and ensure that they’re just looking for souvenirs.”
    “That does sound like an interesting thing to know,” he agreed.  “I’ll get right on that.  Right after a dip in the pond and a change of clothes.”
    “Then come see me tonight or tomorrow morning,” I decided.  “I’ve got some other work for you, too.  Interesting work.”
    “Oh, that does sound intriguing,” he