The star of Morcyth ms-5 Page 8

  Hand moving so fast it almost blurs with speed, he snatches the silver out of Jiron’s fingers. Indicating a small alley off to the right, he says, “Go down there and knock on the third door to your right. When someone asks who it is, tell them ‘It’s no one’. That’s the password today. Inside you can make your bet.”

  “Thanks friend,” Jiron says as he heads for the indicated alleyway.

  “You’re not thinking of placing a bet are you?” asks Fifer.

  “Of course I am,” he says. “I’m not planning on losing.”

  They enter the alley and find the third door. Pausing only a moment, Jiron knocks upon it.

  After a moment, a voice from the other side says, “Who’s there?”

  “It’s no one,” Jiron says.

  They hear a bar being removed and a lock turning just before the door swings open. An armored man stands there before them, a dimly lit hallway extending from the doorway behind him.

  “Put your weapons on the table there,” he says, indicating a small table just within the hallway. He shuts the door and secures it again with the bar.

  Fifer looks to Jiron who nods his head and they begin removing their weapons and placing them on the table.

  Once divested of their weapons, the guard checks them to be sure they haven’t ‘forgotten’ any and then says, “Follow me.”

  Moving down the hallway, the guard passes two doors before stopping in front of the third. Opening it, he steps aside and allows them to move into the room.

  The room is richly furnished, surprising to find such a room here in this part of town. Oil lamps give the room plenty of light and a large desk sits in the middle of the room. A man is bent over the desk, looks like he’s going over the books. He looks up as they enter and asks, “What do you gentlemen want?”

  “We understand that you take bets on the fights which occur in the courtyard outside,” states Jiron.

  “Yes, we do,” he says leaning back in his chair.

  The guard which had let them into the building takes position behind them, hand resting upon the pommel of his sword in the event they were to do something rash.

  “I would like to place a bet on the outcome,” Jiron tells him. “I understand there’s a foreign champion which is to meet a newcomer tonight.”

  “That’s right,” he says.

  “What are the odds on the newcomer?” he asks as he moves closer to the desk.

  “Ten to one,” the man replies.

  Removing his pouch, Jiron moves closer to the desk and upends it, spilling out its contents.

  Seeing the amount of coins the pouch contains, the man’s eyes widen slightly. “All of it?” he asks. “You do realize that the champion hasn’t been beaten don’t you?”

  Jiron shrugs.

  Then the man’s eyes narrow in suspicion. “Why?”

  From behind them, a voice says, “It’s because he is the challenger.”

  Turning, they see Lonn entering the room.

  “You know him?” the man behind the desk asks.

  “You could say that,” he says. “They gave me a beating last night.”

  Laughing, the man behind the desk says, “I see.” Taking Jiron’s pouch, he upends it on his desk and counts the contents. One of the gems from the cavern under the Merchant’s Pass is in among the silver and coppers. Picking it up, the man examines it and asks, “Where did you get this?”

  “I found it some time ago,” he replies. “It’s my hedge against adversity.”

  Nodding, the man says, “Do you want to include this in with your wager?”

  “Yes,” replies Jiron.

  “Very well,” he says. “With the gem you have seventeen golds and five silver. Is that the sum you wish to wager?”

  “The gem’s worth more than fifteen golds,” he objects.

  “Maybe so, but that’s all I’m appraising it for here and now,” the man says.

  “Very well,” agrees Jiron.

  The man takes out a piece of paper and after annotating the amount, signs it before sliding back across the desk to Jiron. “If you win, this piece of paper is worth a hundred and seventy five golds. If you fail to win, you lose,” he says.

  Taking the paper, he says, “Deal.”

  “Good luck tonight,” the man says.

  “Luck’s got nothing to do with it,” he replies.

  To the guard, the man behind the desk says, “Show them out.”

  “Come on,” the guard grunts as he leads them back down the hallway. At the table, he pauses a moment while they collect their weapons and then opens the door for them. Once outside, the door shuts behind them and they hear the bar being placed against the door.

  “Still over an hour before the fight,” Fifer says.

  The sun has just cleared the horizon and the shadows are deepening. “Let’s get a small bite to eat,” suggests Jiron.

  “Alright,” agrees Fifer.

  They leave the courtyard where in just a short while Jiron will be facing a champion said to have the habit of leaving his opponents dead.

  Chapter Seven

  The room in which the Royal Court meets is large. Upon a throne across the room from where he enters, James sees a regally dressed man of middle years sitting upon an ornate throne. A simple golden crown sits upon his head. That must be the King of Cardri.

  In lesser chairs flanking him on either side are six other individuals, three to a side. These must be the other members of the Royal Court. Whether they’re here to advise or are part of the ruling body he isn’t sure.

  The officious man leads him forward to stand before the King. The room is full of onlookers, all but a very few are dressed in garments the cost of which would enable a poor man to live a year. All eyes are upon him as he’s led forward.

  “Your majesty,” the officious man announces once he’s come to a stop. “May I present, the mage known as James.”

  James stands straight and gives the king a deep bow.

  “We appreciate you coming with such alacrity to our summons,” the King says.

  “I would not wish to keep your majesty waiting,” he replies.

  “Indeed.” The King stares at James in silence for a moment, as if he’s taking his measure. Behind the king, stands a man in robes. As the silence mounts, James suddenly feels the familiar tingling sensation which heralds another doing magic in the vicinity.

  Eyes flicking around the room, they finally settle upon the man standing behind the King. James figures him to be some sort of court magician or wizard. In a world where magic is practiced, it would make sense for a monarch to have one at his side. James refuses to take the bait and keeps his magic still.

  “What are you, sir?” the King finally asks.

  Startled at the question, James asks, “Your majesty?”

  “There have been many strange tales told of a rogue mage traveling our kingdom,” he says. After pausing a moment he then adds, “And abroad. Stirring up mischief and if the tales are to be believed, killing at will.”

  “I have killed no one who has not tried to kill me first,” insists James. “I have never initiated any hostilities against anyone.”

  “So you do admit to the taking of lives?” the king asks.

  “Well, yes,” admits James. “But only in self defense. I am a peaceful man, wishing only to be left alone.” The wizard behind the king whispers something in his ear and James can see the king nod in response to what was said.

  “You have been summoned here to answer the charges laid before us,” the King explains. He turns his head and nods to the side where a guard stands before a closed door. Opening the door, the guard steps inside briefly before returning with two other people.

  James gasps when he sees a person dressed in the garb of the Empire walk through. The other man is similarly dressed.

  “This is Ambassador Arkhan of the Empire,” the King says as the man comes forward. Ambassador Arkhan looks with hatred at James as he approaches the members of the court. �
��He has laid charges against you of the gravest sort,” continues the King. “Ambassador?”

  “Thank you your highness,” the ambassador says as he gives the King a deep bow full of flourishes. Standing aright again, he points to James and says, “This villain has killed wantonly within the Empire. He has hurt and degraded one of our most prominent nobles and has completely destroyed an entire island, the act of which ended the lives of thousands of our citizens. We ask that he be given to us to be taken back to the Empire!”

  James stares at the man, then turns to look at the King. A snicker can be heard from the group of onlookers and he quickly glances to the source and he’s shocked to see Lord Colerain there. The satisfied look upon his face makes James’ blood go cold.

  “How do you plead to these charges?” the King asks.

  Plead? he thinks to himself. On the face of it, guilty. I did in fact do all those things, but not in the context this Ambassador is stating. He stands there in indecision while the entire court stares at him. Never good in the spotlight, his anxiety begins mounting and his stress level increases.

  Stammering, he says, “Did I destroy an island? Yes, I did.” Around the room, those watching the proceedings gasp in surprise. “I and a friend went there to rescue another who had been captured during the Empire’s sacking of the City of Light. We were rescuing him from slavery.” A murmur can be heard running through the crowd at his words.

  “As far as hurting and degrading a prominent noble, that would have to be Lord Cytok.” At that the King’s eyes widen slightly in surprise. “He took several of our traveling companions captive and was in the process of torturing them. We rescued them as well.”

  “Enough of his lies!” the ambassador exclaims. “He has confessed the guilt with his own words your highness and we demand justice.”

  “But your majesty,” exhorts James. “None of what I’ve done has been done in malice or with the intent to hurt anyone. It was the Empire’s actions which caused me to do what I did, just to survive!”

  “Impertinence!” shouts the Ambassador. “The Empire demands that he be given over to us, now!”

  “Demands?” the King says back to the Ambassador with an edge to his voice. “You are in no position to demand anything, Ambassador. We shall not be rushed into judgment on this matter.” Turning his attention to where James is standing before him, he asks, “As for you, James. This will not be decided here, today. We must consider all aspects before rendering our judgment. Will you give us your parole not to flee until this matter is settled?”

  As James is about to answer, he feels the tingling sensation suddenly spike. The robed man behind the king is staring intently at him. “Yes, your majesty. I shall not leave Cardri until at such time this is resolved.”

  Glancing to the robed man, the King receives a nod. “Very well, then. You may go, but we strongly caution you against doing anything while we’re in judgment which would turn our decision summarily against you.”

  “Yes, your majesty,” replies James. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees the officious man approaching him. “Follow me sir,” he says.

  James gives the King and his court a bow before turning to follow the man from the room. They leave through a different side door from which they originally entered. A page is waiting for them outside the door and the officious man says, “Take this man back to his inn.”

  Bobbing his head, the page replies, “Yes sir.” To James he says, “This way.” As the page leads him out of the castle, James tells him to take him to the Silver Bells. He didn’t realize just how long it’s been since he first talked to Ellinwyrd until he leaves the castle. He must have been waiting outside the Royal Court for some time for the sun has already gone down and the first stars are beginning to make their appearance.

  All the way back, James’ mind churns over what happened to him back at the Royal Court. Why would they let me go on my own recognizance? Maybe that wizard back there had truth-read me? If so, I should try to figure out how he did it. It may come in useful.

  Once past the gates into the middle section of town, the page continues leading him directly to the inn. When they are but three blocks away, James sees a crowd of people congregating near the entrance to an alleyway. “Wonder what’s going on over there?” he asks out loud.

  The page says, “Maybe they found another body?”

  “What?” James asks.

  “Earlier today, they found a woman’s body mutilated in a different alley near here,” he says. “It happens sometimes.”

  James is slightly unnerved by the callous way in which the page just shrugs off a woman’s death. Is that sort of thing so common around here that no one pays any attention to it? “Was she a prostitute?” he asks.

  “Most likely,” the page replies, “though I’m not entirely sure.”

  Could be why the reaction, prostitutes are looked down on in most societies so their deaths tend not to be too bothersome. It does sort of go with the trade.

  When they reach the inn, the page makes his farewells and returns to the castle. Inside the inn, James finds Miko, Illan and Dave having their evening meal in the common room. Taking a seat at the table, he relates what happened at the Court and the accusations of the Ambassador.

  “Seems that since they can’t get you by force, they’ll try another route,” observes Illan.

  “Looks that way,” he replies. “Have any of you heard about the women killed around here recently?”

  They all shake their heads no and he proceeds to fill them in on what he learned. “It’s a bad time for this sort of thing to be happening,” he says when he’s done.

  “It’s always a bad time when someone dies,” states Dave.

  “I know, but now with all that’s going on up at the castle, I just hope they don’t get the idea it’s caused by me,” he says.

  “Do you think they’ll decide against you?” his friend asks.

  “I hope not Dave,” he replies.

  “What do you plan to do if they decide to hand you over to the Empire?” Illan asks.

  “I’m not going with them, that’s for sure,” he states with finality. “But I’ll worry about that when the time comes.”

  “If you go against the Royal Court’s decision, wouldn’t that put them against you too?” Miko asks, worried.

  “Who knows?” says James in exasperation.

  Illan and Miko then fill him in on what they’ve learned. Miko was surprised when James didn’t react to the fact Lord Colerain was in the city until he explained that he had already seen him in Court.

  “Do you think he had a hand in it?” Miko asks. “You being summoned I mean.”

  Shaking his head, James replies, “I doubt it. He’s probably just around to enjoy the situation. By the way, where are Jiron and Fifer?”

  “I don’t know,” Illan replies. “They left out of here several hours ago and weren’t too clear as to where they were going.”

  “I hope they’re not getting into any trouble,” he says as he digs into his dinner.

  The time for the match draws near. Jiron and Fifer begin making their way through the dark streets on their way to the courtyard behind the inn. “Nervous?” Fifer asks.

  “Not especially,” Jiron replies. Even when fighting in the pits, he never once became nervous or anxious. Some of the others had thought him somewhat odd because of that, but the closest emotion he ever feels at this time would be a sense of expectation.

  Other people on the streets are heading in the direction of the courtyard, the word of the impending fight must have spread throughout the poor section. As they reach the inn, they find carriages of obviously wealthy individuals waiting out front. “Seems this goes on a lot around here, they even attract the nobles.”

  Moving through the alley to the side of the inn, they make their way through the milling crowd. As they approach the courtyard, the press of people becomes thicker and thicker until they have to practically force their way through. Jokingly, Fife
r says, “I guess we should’ve arrived earlier.”

  “It would seem that way,” replies Jiron.

  Near the end of the alley, a group of thugs are blocking the entrance to the courtyard. When Jiron tries to move past, one of them says, “Here now, who do you think you are?”

  Without even pausing, Jiron strikes out with his fists and the man falls to the ground. His two buddies immediately turn on Jiron and before the others in the crowd even know something is afoot, Jiron drops them too. Stepping over their comatose bodies, he enters the courtyard and passes through the edge of the crowd.

  “Needed a warm up,” he jokingly tells Fifer. “Glad those guys could oblige.” Fifer breaks into a laugh at that.

  Passing through the edge of the crowd, they enter the open space in the middle of the courtyard. The barman who arranged this fight stands over to one side with several of his cronies. Upon seeing Jiron, he disengages himself and makes his way over. “Didn’t think you were going to show?”

  “Sorry about that,” replies Jiron. “Was a little bit delayed.” Looking around, he asks, “Where’s my opponent?”

  “They haven’t arrived yet,” the man replies. “They’re known for being fashionably late.”

  Throughout the crowd are not only the riff raff of the area, but wealthy individuals as well as those in between. To one side a pavilion of sorts has been erected, the fact that it’s currently unoccupied leads Jiron to believe it’s for the group putting up the other fighter.

  The barkeep asks, “So what weapons are you going to choose?”

  Jiron pats the knives at his waist.

  Looking in disbelief, the barkeep exclaims, “You can’t be serious!”

  “Very,” replies Jiron.

  “But you’ll not last a minute against their champion!” insists the barkeep.

  “I’ll be fine,” asserts Jiron.

  Bystanders begin to notice Jiron and the barkeep together and a buzz begins to circulate through the crowd as he begins to be pointed out as the challenger. Money changes hands as side wagers are placed.

  Aside from the crudity of the surroundings, this place isn’t much different than the pits he fought in back in the City of Light before it was sacked by the Empire. Few places ever brought a feeling of peace to Jiron like being in the pits. At times that feeling bothered him, like he shouldn’t feel that way. Maybe it’s because he had made himself there.