DragonKnight - Donita K. Paul [59]
He shook his head. “The look of sadness on my brother’s face when my wife said that stunned me. I did not know him as a man of much emotion. He had plenty of military bluster. He’d get heated up about his views of politics. Otherwise, his demeanor was cold, rigid, what you would expect from a military man. But that night he looked as though the sorrows of every man lost under his command weighed heavily on his heart. I thought he would agree with her out of his pain. But he said, ‘You are wrong, my dear. And you do not know Wulder’s heart.’”
Harbormaster Mayfil sighed deeply. His hands, hanging by his side, lifted briefly and fell again. “And now the infection comes to us to knock us out of our complacency.”
“We must send a message to Paladin,” Bardon said.
“We have ignored Paladin for centuries.” The powerful official sounded lost in his despair. “Why should he respond to our need?”
“Maybe you have forsaken Paladin,” said the squire, “but Wulder has not forgotten you.”
Mayfil sighed again and moved to his desk. He picked up a quill pen, pulled a piece of paper close, and bent to write. “We shall send the dispatch to Paladin and see what happens.” He straightened, folded his note in half, and went to the door. Mayfil spoke to his clerk for several moments and then returned to his desk.
“My nephew will come to pick up your papers, Squire Bardon. You may use my desk to add to your account while you wait. I’ll send in Gregger, the man I’ve had investigating the various reports. He can fill in the pertinent details.
“The purser from the Tobit Grander will come here to make arrangements for your passage. And if you will allow me to accompany your young friend, we will go visit the magistrate to see about freeing her grandmother.”
Three hours later, Harbormaster Mayfil returned alone. Bardon had just sent a sealed document off to Paladin, confident that it would be delivered within a week. He’d booked passage for four on the Tobit Grander over an hour before. The sense of satisfaction that resided in his thoughts slipped away when he saw Mayfil’s scowl.
“Something wrong?” Bardon asked.
“She wasn’t there.”
“Who wasn’t where?”
“Granny Kye was not in the jail. If Inkleen weren’t such a good friend, I would have been embarrassed beyond all measure. I call an important man away from his duties. We go to rescue a poor old woman and orphans from the jailhouse, only to discover when we arrive that there has been a jailbreak. Our old lady and street urchins have escaped.”
“How did she do it?”
“No witnesses.”
“No witnesses?” Bardon paused, and with an effort, he restored calm to his tone of voice. “Both cells on either side of her held numerous women.”
“They are not talking. Seemed to enjoy us looking like fools.” He waved a finger in the air. “I fired that lummox of a day jailer and left a message for the night man that he was fired too.”
“For allowing prisoners to escape? How do you know which one is at fault?”
Mayfil stomped around his desk and threw himself down in his chair. “No, not for that. I fired them for filth. Most disgusting civil office I’ve ever seen.”
Bardon frowned. “Where’s N’Rae?”
“She was most distraught. I took her to the inn. We thought her grandmother might have gone there. But she had not. A young man of your acquaintance, a fellow named Hoddack—I know of the father, a kindia trader—took over with N’Rae. They were going to search the marketplace.”
“The market?”
“The girl thought her grandmother would want nicer clothes for the children.”
Bardon nodded in a numbed state. “Yes, yes, she would.”
“I sent out a runner to the constable stations. They’ll be on the lookout for her.”
“She’ll be arrested again?”
“Well, yes, but I still think old