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twoguards standing beside it, even though Penny and the children werein the capital. That door was normal enough. My goal was past that,the inner door leading from the foyer. It was the enchanted one. Ifthe wrong person put their hand on it the doorway led into aperfectly normal apartment, a decoy. Only when I put my hand to it,or those I had specified, would it lead to our hiddenhome.

That was the problem.

Identity enchantments nolonger recognized me as Mordecai Illeniel. I had learned thatlesson twice now, and this door would be no different. Since thisdoor led to a place that wasn’t actually here, there was no way for me tobypass it. I would have to physically travel to where my home waslocated, a journey of nearly a day if I was flying and practicallyimpossible on foot. There was no teleportation circle in my hiddenhome. I had avoided putting one there to avoid the danger ofsomeone being able to teleport there if they learned its key, soconsequently I couldn’t make a circle to go there myselfeither.

Well shit.

I kept walking along the corridor, notpausing as I passed the two guards. They had stiffened when theysaw my approach, and they visibly relaxed when I entered thestairwell at the other end of the corridor. Let them think I wasmerely checking up on them.

I went down one floor before leavingthe stairs again. Sir Harold was headed up, and my magesight hadbarely given me enough warning to avoid him. He would surely havefar too many difficult questions for me to risk meetinghim.

The floor I was on nowheld guest rooms and some of the quarters for more senior staff,such as my chamberlain, Peter Tucker. It also held my mother,Miriam’s apartment. My senses confirmed her presence and I was tornby a sudden desire to see her, but I knew it was a bad idea.You can’t go home anymore, not eventhere.

Instead I headed for Peter’s room. Hewas close to my size and his room wasn’t far down the hall. SincePenny was in the capital I imagined that he had probably traveledwith her. It would be unlikely that anyone would stumble upon me inhis living quarters. My diminished magesight was still good enoughto confirm that it was empty before I tried to enter. The door waslocked but a small bit of magic would be enough to open it—or so Ithought. Five attempts later and I was forced to remove mygauntlets, as well as make my helm permeable to aythar, before Icould manage the delicate trick of getting the pins to align so theplug could turn.

Once inside I breathed a bit easier,though I still returned my helm to its more opaque state. Whileexposed I still hadn’t detected any of the Prathions, but one ofthem could show up at any time.

I wasted no time stealing a pair oftrousers and an under-tunic. Peter had enough clothes that I hopedthat he wouldn’t miss them. There might be trouble for the otherstaff if he thought they were stealing. I was tempted by a pair ofshoes inside his wardrobe, but I knew those would be noticed forcertain. My own boots were in a sad state. Walking across half ofLothion had done them a serious disservice.

Peter’s room also had a particularconvenience I had sought in Albamarl, a writing desk. A few sheetsof expensive paper were tucked away in a drawer and a tightlystoppered bottle of ink sat next to a metal nib pen. I was a bitsurprised at the investment. Most people, well, most scrivenersanyway, still used quills. Metal pens were relatively new and stillquite expensive, few beyond the rich bothered to invest inthem.

He always did put a lot ofeffort into his calligraphy, much like the rest of his job.For a man that had wanted to kill me when I firsthired him, Peter had turned into one of the most reliable andtrustworthy servants any nobleman could have. Funny how things had turned out, Inoted.

Dipping pen in ink, Ibegan a short letter:

Elise,

I am writing to you nowfrom very unusual circumstances. You may or may not recognize thishandwriting, but I am sure from the content you will soon realizemy identity, so I won’t bother trying to hide it. I was your son’sclosest friend, and you entrusted me with some of your mostpersonal secrets a year and a half ago.

While I understand thatyou can no longer trust me, given my ‘condition’, I neverthelesshave a favor to ask of you.

I recently encountered awoman, a stranger, plying the trade you once did when you met Gram.Through no fault of her own she was injured; assaulted might be abetter word. The guilt for this crime is entirely my own, nor can Ibe certain that I will not do worse in the future. My only hope torepay her for the harm I have done is to recommend her to yourcare. Given your past you were the only one I could think of thatmight understand her plight well enough to empathize.

Her name is Myrtle and shehas a daughter named Megan. I will enclose the address below sothat you can find them. Thank you in advance for whatever aid youare able to provide them. They deserve whatever recompense you arewilling to give them on my behalf.

I know you will have manyquestions as you read this but I do not have the time to anticipatethem, nor do I think it would be profitable for me to answer themall. I am not the man I once was. My mind remains intact, but I canno longer trust myself entirely. Likewise, I would advise you notto either.

If you care for Penny’ssanity, please do not disclose this missive to her. It would onlyincrease her anguish to discover that I have, in some part,survived my transformation. The important facts have not changed. Iam essentially dead. I am dangerous to everyone I come in contactwith and I cannot with any surety claim that I will not becomeworse in the future.

I intend to do my best toremedy this situation, and I know you will understand that there isonly one way to

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