The Mosque Hill Fortune (The Sons of Masguard, Book One)

Chapter One

When finally it receded, darkness had fallen.

And the mist had come.

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Marshall had spent his childhood in central Vernos, staring at this very spot, waiting. It seemed strange now to be approaching it from the other side, as a visitor rather than a lonely inhabitant of the small cottage at the end of the walkway. He almost didn't recognize the building through the fog. It had the same, thatched roof and tattered shutters. But it seemed so removed from the welcoming home he remembered that he had to clear the condensation from the plaque on the gate before he could be certain. The letters did not lie. This was indeed the home of Abner Frum, the town's Elder, a librarian and historian whose expertise was so highly coveted by the Scholars Guild that they'd held campaign after campaign in an attempt to recruit him. Fun though it was to watch them stoop and squirm, they'd no hope of snagging the curmudgeonly old brute. He was too old for agendas, as he often said, and the Guilds had them each in spades.

It wasn't the only lesson Marshall had learned within these crumbling walls.

It wasn't the only one he'd had to test for himself, either.

With a smile of remembrance, the otter captain pressed through the gate, tucked his hat neatly beneath his arm, and rapped politely at the door. One minute became two, and two became serious reason to consider knocking yet again when a voice burst through the door with all the warmth of a northern wind.

"Who is it?!?"

Marshall winced, "Abner, it's me."

"What?!?"

"It's Marshall."

"Who?!?"

Marshall shot a pleading look to the sky. He supposed it was nice to know some things never changed. "It's Captain Marshall, old man! Will you open the bloody door? You're the one who sent for me, remember?"

"Marshall?" His tone changed, seeming more surprised than irritated. There was a rustling and a clinking as of locks unlatched and papers brushed aside, then the door ripped open to reveal a stout, gray creature in dusty clothing and mussed fur. The old badger squinted, adjusting the bifocals on his heavy face before recognition overcame his elderly sense of confusion and suspicion. Then his mouth parted in a semi-welcoming grin. "Marshall, my boy!"

"Hello, Abner." The otter couldn't help but smile, even through his frustration. "It's been far too long."

"Oh, pish-pot. What's a few years of complete and utter silence at my age, eh? Not as though I might've keeled over in your absence. I mean, just look at me. Spry as a schoolboy, aren't I?" Cane in hand, he turned very slowly from the door, leaving it open for Marshall's entry as he ambled through the library and ranted over his shoulder. "Well? Don't just stand on my stoop like a doorstop. You're letting the mist in. It'll dampen the books. A letter would have been nice, though. Haven't they parchment and quill on those ships of yours?"

"Yes, Abner," said Marshall patiently. "As the flagship of the entire Secoran kingdom, the Albatross is indeed fully stocked. But, as you might have heard, the Armada has been on high alert for quite some time now. My hands have been rather full."

The Elder arched a condescending brow, proving that the subtle reminder of Marshall's success in the Queen's Navy had not gone unnoticed. It should have come as something of a compliment. Abner had been Marshall's primary tutor, after all.

"Oh, is that pesky Marauder at it again?" The old badger feigned sympathy. "That no-good, guildless wretch. I heard about the rash of recent break-ins here in the outer territories. A house just down the street, in fact, lost a family heirloom to the thefts a few nights ago. Some antique weapon or another. I've done my old badger best to keep the library buttoned down, but I'm afraid I'd have no defense against a thief with any real intent. Can you imagine me standing up to that brute?" His crabby tone concealed a note of genuine concern. "Perhaps if the Queen's Armada wasn't so busy protecting its resources, it could be bothered to safeguard its citizens as well?"