“What are you doing in my shop?” he asks with fear in his voice as he comes to understand there are three of them.
“We’re not thieves or murderers,” Jiron tells him. “Drop the knife and I promise we won’t hurt you.”
After only a moment’s hesitation, his knife falls to the floor. Just then, light from a passing search party begins playing upon the window overlooking the street. Jiron nods to Fifer who moves to the window and looks out.
The light gradually increases as the patrol moves toward them along the street. Jiron has his knife against the man’s throat to keep him from raising the alarm. When the patrol at last moves past and the light begins to diminish, Fifer glances back to Jiron and nods.
Removing his knife, he says, “My pardon good sir.”
“You are the ones they’re after!” he says in amazement.
“We don’t have time to talk, I’m afraid,” Jiron says to him. Motioning him over to one of the looms, he says, “Move over there please.”
“What are you going to do to me?” he asks, as he does as Jiron commanded.
“Tie you up, nothing more,” he explains. Fifer comes over to supply the gag to keep him quiet and they proceed to tie him with the thread and twine from his own looms. Once the man is secured and not likely to escape, Jiron leads them through the house and to the rear door leading into the alley behind.
A quick glance to make sure the alley is empty and they’re through the door, slowly making their way to the end of the alley. “Do you know where you’re going?” asks Fifer.
“Not really,” he says. “I just want to find some place where we can hole up until James finds us.”
“How is he going to find us?” Fifer asks.
Jiron just stares at him a moment before Fifer says, “Oh yeah, right.”
The end of the alley opens upon a small area enclosed by the backs of several buildings built against each other. Several sleeping forms are huddled in and around the refuse lying on the ground. Each wall has a doorway, all closed but one.
Jiron steps carefully over a sleeping body as he moves toward the open door. The opening is dark and nothing can be seen on the other side, not even shadows. Moving carefully, he enters through the door with the others following. A knife held in one hand for comfort, he moves deeper into the building.
His right shoulder bumps a wall and when he reaches out with his other hand, encounters another wall on the left. It’s not a room but a corridor extending further into the building.
Moving deeper into the building, the sound of the searchers roaming the streets outside begins to diminish. Jiron keeps his right hand against the wall as they walk to hunt for doors. After passing ten feet or so into the building, his hand encounters one.
“Just a second,” he whispers to the others behind him as he moves his hand along the door in search of the handle. “I think there’s a door here.” Upon finding the handle, he turns it and pushes the door open slowly.
The door’s hinges protest loudly as he swings it open enough to allow them to enter. Darkness greets him on the other side as he tries to see beyond the door. “Might be a room where we can hole up for awhile,” he tells them.
“Doubt if they’ll find us here,” Fifer says as he follows him through the doorway. Once the Parvati is in, he closes the door to the protestations of the hinges. “Anybody have a light?” Fifer asks.
Nearby in the dark, sparks begin to be seen from where flint is striking and soon, the soft light of a candle blossoms to light. The Parvati stands there, the candle in hand as he looks to his new found companions.
“Good,” Jiron says approvingly. The room they find themselves in is dirty and looks as if beggars or other street people have at one time or another called it home. Dirty blankets are strewn around and one corner of the room reeks from where it has been used as a latrine. Rats scurry away from the light.
“What a disgusting room,” says Fifer in dismay.
“Disgusting it may be, but at least we’re not out there,” he says, indicating the streets where the patrols are still searching for them. “Now,” he says as he turns his attention back to the Parvati, “just what’s your name and why did you have to go and kill that man?”
Setting the candle down on a broken crate that looks to be currently used as a table, he says, “I am Qyrll. I am truly sorry for having brought trouble upon you, but I could not bear the insult which he ascribed to me. Far too long have I endured such by him, honor bound to take the abuse without reprisals. I thank you for my freedom.”
“You’re welcome,” replies Jiron. “I just wish we could have done it without raising the whole city against us.”
“I can see why you are called Shynti,” Qyrll says. “You are truly a great warrior.”
“Thanks,” he replies.
“Could you tell me of my homeland?” he says. “It’s been many years since I left.”
“Seems we have the time,” Jiron says as he makes himself comfortable amidst the refuse. “It was your brother whom we first encountered after we…” For several hours Jiron relates his experiences in the Parvati homeland to Qyrll and Fifer as well as learning about this new companion of theirs.
“Hear that train a comin’, it’s rolling round the bend, I ain’t seen sunshine since I don’t know when,” James’s voice echoes in the room with the holding cells. For the past hour he’s entertained himself with various songs of his world, the last being an old Johnny Cash song which seemed appropriate for the occasion.
The songs from home have given him comfort, though he’s not too concerned about his own safety. He’s grown in his ability as a mage and feels confident to take care of himself should that become necessary. As long as the powers that be don’t try to hurt or drug him, he’ll go along peacefully. The last thing he wants is to antagonize another kingdom against him.
When he gets to the part about shooting a man in Reno, he hears the approach of footsteps coming down the stairs. Bringing the song to a close, he watches the stairwell as a man in the livery of Cardri comes in bearing half a dozen torches, one of which is lit.
The man’s eyes widen as he takes in the glowing orb sitting next to James on the bench. He moves along the wall and starts placing the torches in the sconces spaced around the room. After placing a torch into a sconce, he lights it with the one he’s carrying before moving to the next.
“What are you doing?” James asks.
“Seems rather obvious,” the man retorts as he places his third torch into a sconce.
“Have they finally decided that I deserve some light down here?” he asks.
The man breaks out with a short snicker as he says, “Hardly. Word is that you’ll be having visitors shortly. So I’m placing several torches around the room to give them some light.”
“Oh,” says James.
The last torch the man is putting in a sconce happens to be near James’ cell. He approaches warily, eyeing him with trepidation.
“Don’t worry,” James tells him, “I’ll not hurt you.”
Not believing him, the man comes closer, all the while keeping an eye on James in case he tries something. When he gets close to the torch sconce, he rushes past the cell and places it in, lights it and then beats a hasty retreat.
“There,” says James with an assuring smile, “I didn’t bite now did I?”
His job finished, the man moves quickly to the stairs and James is soon alone again. Shaking his head, James gives out with a tired sigh. Is that the reaction I’m always going to receive? Maybe I will go live on an island or mountaintop somewhere.
Visitors. Great, just what he wanted. Hopefully when they’re here he’ll be able to clear himself and he can get out of here. Resting his head against the wall, he tries to resume the song again but can’t quite seem to recall it. He hates it when that happens. It’s like walking into a room, knowing you’re there for a reason, but can’t recall why you thought you needed to go there.