“For the old ladies,” Morgan added, allowing a hint of irritation to creep into his voice. He paused. “Weren’t you told?”
The aide shook his head. “I just came on...”
“Yes, but there should be a requisition order still on your desk from no more than an hour ago,” Morgan snapped. “Isn’t it there?”
“Well, I don’t...” The aide cast about the desktop in confusion, moving stacks of papers aside.
“Signed by Major Assomal.”
The aide froze. He knew who Major Assomal was. There wasn’t a Federation soldier garrisoned at Culhaven who didn’t. Morgan had found out about the major in the tavern. Assomal was the most feared and disliked Federation officer in the occupying army. No one wanted anything to do with him if they could help it.
The aide rose quickly. “Let me get the watch captain,” he muttered.
He disappeared into the back office and emerged moments later with his superior in tow. The captain was clearly agitated. Morgan saluted the senior officer with just the right touch of disdain.
“What’s this all about?” the captain demanded, but the question came out sounding more like a plea than a demand.
Morgan clasped his hands behind his back and straightened. His heart was pounding. “Major Assomal requires the services of two of the Dwarf women presently confined to the workhouses. I selected them personally earlier in the day at his request. I left so that the paperwork could be completed and now I am back. It seems, however, that the paperwork was never done.”
The watch captain was a sallow-skinned, round-faced man who appeared to have seen most of his service behind a desk. “I don’t know anything about that,” he snapped peevishly.
Morgan shrugged. “Very well. Shall I take that message back to Major Assomal, Captain?”
The other man went pale. “No, no, I didn’t mean that. It’s just that I don’t...” He exhaled sharply. “This is very annoying.”
“Especially since Major Assomal will be expecting me back momentarily.” Morgan paused. “With the Dwarves.”
The watch captain threw up his hands. “AH right! What difference does it make! I’ll sign them out to you myself. Let’s have them brought up and be done with it!”
He opened the registry of names and with Morgan looking on determined that Granny Elise and Auntie Jilt were housed in building four. Hurriedly he scribbled out a release order for the workhouse guards. When he tried to dispatch the aide to collect the old ladies, Morgan insisted that he go as well.
“Just to make certain there are no further mix-ups, Captain,” he explained. “After all, I have to answer to Major Assomal as well.”
The watch captain didn’t argue, obviously anxious to be shed of the matter as quickly as possible, and Morgan went out the door with the aide. The night was still and pleasantly warm. Morgan felt almost jaunty. His plan, risky or not, was going to work. They crossed the compound to building four, presented the release order to the guards stationed at the front doors, and waited while they perused it. Then the guards unfastened the locks and beckoned for them to proceed. Morgan and the aide pushed through the heavy wooden doors and stepped inside.
The workhouse was crammed with workbenches and bodies and smelled of stale air and sweat. Dust lay over everything, and the lamplight shone dully against walls that were dingy and unwashed. The Dwarf women were huddled on the floor with cups of soup and plates of bread in hand, finishing their dinner. Heads and eyes turned hurriedly as the two Federation soldiers entered, then turned just as quickly away again. Morgan caught the unmistakable look of fear and loathing.
“Call their names,” he ordered the aide.
The aide did so, his voice echoing in the cavernous room and near the back two hunched forms came slowly to their feet.
“Now wait outside for me,” Morgan said.
The aide hesitated, then disappeared back through the doors.
Morgan waited anxiously as Granny Elise and Auntie Jilt made their way gingerly through the clutter of bodies, benches, and pallets to where he stood. He barely recognized them. Their clothes were in tatters. Granny Elise’s fine gray hair was unkempt, as if it were fraying all around the edges; Auntie Jilt’s sharp, birdlike face was pinched and harsh. They were bent over with more than age, moving so slowly that it appeared it hurt them even to walk.
They came up to him with their eyes downcast and stopped.
“Granny,” he said softly. “Auntie Jilt.”
They looked up slowly and their eyes widened. Auntie Jilt caught her breath. “Morgan!” Granny Elise whispered in wonder. “Child, it’s really you!”
He bent down quickly then and took them in his arms, hugging them close. They collapsed into him, rag dolls lacking strength of their own, and he could hear them both begin to cry. Behind them, the other Dwarf women were staring in confusion.
Morgan eased the two old ladies gently away. “Listen now,” he said softly. “We haven’t much time. I’ve tricked the watch captain into releasing you into my custody, but he’s liable to catch on if we give him the chance so we have to hurry. Do you have somewhere that you can go to hide, someplace you won’t be found?”
Auntie Jilt nodded, her narrow face a mask of determination. “The Resistance will hide us. We still have friends.”
“Morgan, where’s Steff?” Granny Elise interrupted.
The Highlander forced himself to meet her urgent gaze. “I’m sorry, Granny. Steff is dead. He was killed fighting against the Federation in the Dragon’s Teeth.” He saw the pain that filled her eyes. “Teel is dead, too. She was the one who killed Steff. She wasn’t what any of us thought, I’m afraid. She was a creature called a Shadowen, a thing of dark magic linked to the Federation. She betrayed you as well.”
“Oh, Steff,” Granny Elise whispered absently. She was crying again.
“The soldiers came for us right after you left,” Auntie Jilt said angrily. “They took the children away and put us in this cage. I knew something had gone wrong. I thought you might have been taken as well. Drat it, Morgan, that girl was like our own!”
“I know, Auntie,” he answered, remembering how it had been. “It has become difficult to know who to trust. What about the Dwarves you plan to hide with? Can they be trusted? Are you sure you will be safe?”
“Safe enough,” Auntie replied. “Stop your crying, Elise,” she said and patted the other woman’s hand gently. “We have to do as Morgan says and get out of here while we have the chance.”
Granny Elise nodded, brushing away her tears. Morgan stood up again. He stroked each gray head in turn. “Remember, you don’t know me, you’re just my charges until we get clear of this place. And if something goes wrong, if we get separated, go where you’ll be safe. I made a promise to Steff that I would see to it that you did. So you make certain I don’t break that promise, all right?”
“All right, Morgan,” Granny Elise said.
They went out the door then, Morgan leading, the two old ladies shuffling along behind with their heads bowed. The aide was standing rigidly to one side by himself; the guards looked bored. With the Dwarf ladies in tow, Morgan and the aide returned to the administration center. The watch captain was waiting impatiently, the promised release papers clutched in his hand. He passed them across the reception desk to Morgan for his signature, then shoved them at the aide and stalked back into his office. The aide looked at Morgan uncomfortably.
Inwardly congratulating himself on his success, Morgan said, “Major Assomal will be waiting.”
He turned and was in the process of ushering Granny Elise and Auntie Jilt outside when the door opened in front of them and a new Federation officer appeared, this one bearing the crossed bars of a divisional commander.
“Commander Soldt!” the aide leaped to his feet and saluted smartly.
Morgan froze. Commander Soldt was the officer in charge of supervising the confinement of the Dwarves, the ranking officer off the field for the entire garrison. What he was doing at the center at this hour was anybody’s guess, but it was certainly not going to do anything to help further Morgan’s plans.