Guardian's Rise (The Sons of Masguard, Book Two)

Chapter Four

"Ryder should have returned by now.”

Trimble stood in Marshall’s cabin, the concern on her face more than plain.

“She should have beaten me here,” agreed Marshall. “The tavern is farther from the docks than the priory.”

“You don’t think that McKinley did something to her, do you?” she asked. “If he were still intent on making his escape…”

“I don’t believe that is the case, Lieutenant,” Marshall raised a hand.

There was a gentle knock at the door. It opened slowly, tentatively.

At least somebody still knew how to be polite.

Father Faiz tipped his head in deference as he entered. “Captain? I’m afraid I have some bad news.”

Trimble sighed. “Here we go.”

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 “I do apologize, Captain, but quite frankly, you have no authority here.” The inspector sat behind his desk, unmoving. “I am happy to offer restitution on behalf of your lieutenant. It was a regrettable error in judgment. The earrings led me to believe her a gypsy rather than an officer. And finding her in the company of a pirate was less than suitable. As to the matter of McKinley, he has a vast number of warrants against him. You cannot waive those, much as I may respect you for trying.”

Marshall stood before his desk, equally stoic. “I understand that you are simply doing your job, Inspector. But I can assure you that my mission is too important to be hindered by local politics. When my business with the Marauder is concluded, I will personally escort him back to your facility. For now, I require his assistance.”

“I’m sorry, Captain.” The fennec leaned forward, placing his elbows on the desk. There was a hard edge to his voice. “My position remains unchanged.”

Marshall drew a deep and calming breath.

“Very well, Inspector.”

Pivoting curtly on his heel, the captain turned to leave. Ryder, Trimble, and Father Faiz followed in his wake.

“What now, sir?” Ryder asked.

Marshall’s answer was terse. “Now we break the law. Did you get a good look at the layout of the holding area, Lieutenant?”

Ryder smiled. “Of course, sir.”

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“Psst!”

McKinley’s head came up sharply. Hat still tilted over his eyes, he turned sleepily about in his cell, searching for the source of the noise.

“I’m not nearly drunk enough to be hearing things,” he said to himself.

“Up here, you daft pirate!”

Coming to his feet, the Marauder righted his hat and moved toward the barred window, careful not to make it seem as though he were looking through it. Ryder waited on the other side.

“Color me shocked,” he whispered. “I thought for sure I’d seen the last of you and your uniformed cohorts. Am I so hard to live without?”

“Don’t flatter yourself.” Trimble’s murmur came through the bars. “We still need someone to take the first hits when we meet up with the Baron, don’t we?”

“Charming.” McKinley offered a fake smile that no one could see. “What’s the plan, then?”

“Do you still have that dagger?” Ryder’s voice was barely audible.