Chapter 3 Part 2

Tyson left the dungeon and returned to the upper chambers. The Doyr, in spite of their religion and methods, had proven themselves to be excellent fighters and allies. There was really no wonder that Morteous and Miguel had chosen them for this job.

Tyson asked directions of a temple acolyte and was directed to the healer's chamber. He followed the directions and arrived eventually at the destination. He knocked on the door. After a moment it opened and he was admitted. The healer was speaking to young woman wearing the robes of a high priestess. She and the healer, an elderly woman were talking about the characteristics of early pregnancy. Tyson concluded that the young woman must have been the one mated to Miguel. An interesting encounter, he concluded, but not important to him.

The healer dismissed the young woman with a laugh and the young woman departed also laughing. "An interesting turn of events," the old woman cackled as she crossed the floor to where Tyson waited.

"How’s that?" Tyson asked.

"The seed of Blackheart waxes strong," she returned. "The Doyr will have a strong leader soon."

"Is that why the Blackheart seed was needed?" Tyson asked. Something was amiss here. The old woman was hiding something.

"The Blood of Blackheart is respected in many realms," the spinster replied. "Now let us look at your troubles." She peeled the cloth back from the wound. "A nasty cut, but not fatal," she observed. "How did you get it?"

Tyson fed her the lie as he had told the guard. His mind had shifted to another track, however. He decided to fish for more information.

The old woman worked her magic, and the wound stopped bleeding. She took a needle and some spider web and sewed the wound closed. Then she cantriped another incantation and the wound mended itself leaving a crusty scab which soon crumbled away leaving a pink scar. Tyson noted that her ability fell far short of either Avery or Armegon, but was still effective.

Tyson thanked her and shifted his voice slightly. "How goes the pregnancy," he asked.

"It fares well," the hag answered. "I insist on monitoring the child's development and advising the mother of the changes her body will undergo."

"It will please my lord that his efforts have been appreciated. May I assume the priestess is exempt from the usual fate of the women who bear the Blackheart seed?" Tyson asked.

"Mmm? Oh, yes," she responded. "That is of no concern. Now you be sure to wash this wound when you get back to your own chamber," she said. "And try to be more careful."

"Yes, ma'am," Tyson replied. Now was the time. "Will you deliver the child?"

"Oh absolutely," the woman replied.

"There are no complications?"

The woman snickered. "He's just fine," she muttered as she strapped a poultice over the wound."

"Thank you, madam," Tyson said as he closed his shirt. "Your efforts are appreciated. I wish you well, as does my lord."

"Send Blackheart our greetings."

Oh, I will, Tyson thought to himself. He had been very subtle with the spell he had used, but it had reaped a bumper crop. By encouraging her to ramble on, Tyson had only but to wait for some vital information to slip out. He had gotten it. The Doyr priestess had conceived a male Blackheart. That could cause trouble. If the demons produce an heir to the House of Blackheart, the Dukes of Hell would revolt against the alliance. This was news of catastrophic proportions. Morteous and Miguel must be told.