The Test of Ostra

by Rory D Nelson

  “Hile, constables. We are well met, sent on an errand by Merlin himself, right hand to King Menelaeus.”

  The group ventures closer. The same man speaks. “Ai. We know who you are. What business do you have here in the Hall of Records? You don’t have an appointment. We have no record of such. Now be off with you before your trespass is remedied with my billy club.”

  Domithicus remains unflappable. “We come here in errand to the king. We are looking for a copy of deed to the Diamond mines here in Cortez. We would like only to view-”

  Domithicus is cut off. “Those records are sealed. Only a court order can release them.”

  Other sets of footfalls echo throughout the corridor.

  “I’m afraid I must insist. It is a matter of expediency. We wish only to look upon it.”

  The trio ventures closer. “We will arrest you all if you don’t leave!” threatens the man.

  “Troilus!” yells an imposing figure down the hall, making his way to them. His garb is markedly different from the guards. He is wearing a long, leather overcoat, brown cotton shirt and his clothes, though clean, are well-worn, as is his holster, which looks as if it has been worn down by over-zealous trigger fingers. He is clearly the real muscle in this town.

  “That’s not how we treat guests. We have a truce with Gilleon, and the Brethren are always welcome here, especially those on official business.”

  “I cry pardon, Sharif,” says Troilus, though he continues to glare at the Brethren menacingly.

  The man approaches the group, his entourage accompanying him, who looks deadly. They nod politely though their eyes convey as much suspicion as Atteus and Domithicus.

  “I cry pardon, Gents. Tis folly on our part. My name is Martimus Rosscouver and I am head constable here in Cortez. You may call me Martimus or, if you are more inclined to formality, Shariff Martimus.” He extends his hand. Atteus and Domithicus graciously accept it.

  “No need for apologies, Shariff. We are not on home turf and our presence naturally arouses suspicion. We would like to view a deed-if at all possible.”

  Martimus nods. “Ai. You have come a long way. I’ll do one better. If you gents can stay for a day or two, I reckon that I can get you a copy of it. Which one did you have in mind?” He asks.

  Atteus and Domithicus look at each other hopefully, though it is merely a show for company, for they both have the same thought. This is too easy.

  “We would be indebted,” replies Atteus.

  “A gesture that would make errand fruitful. Gratitude,” responds Domithicus.

  Martimus nods, looking pleased and eager to help. “Then this way. I will find you the document so you may examine it at your leisure in our hall. After perusal, you can wait a day or two to receive your own copy. We have a printing press in Cortez, but it does not run today. The gent who runs it will be in tomorrow, or Thursday at the latest. He can make you a copy before he begins his workload. He won’t be none too gipper for interrupting his work schedule, but I will mandate it. You ken?”

  They both nod. “Ai. Gratitude, Sai.”

  Martimus leads them to the front counter where a handsome woman in fitted frock skirt works filing deeds, writs, financials and other ‘official’ documents. She looks when Martimus approaches the counter.

  He tips his hat. Domithicus and Atteus tip their hats as well and smile. “Good day, Lady-Mais. Well met are we.”

  “Well met.” She responds.

  “These gentlemen are knights from Gilleon on an errand from King Menelaeus himself. They need to see the deed to the Diamond mines. Can you retrieve it?”

  She smiles and nods. “Ai, Sharif. Set watch and warrant.”

  After several uncomfortable minutes, she returns with several official documents on thick parchment paper, bearing the seal of Cortez. She presents it to Atteus and Domithicus, who give it a cursory glance. By all accounts, it appears to be the real thing. If it is a fake, it is the best one they have ever seen. They look at the signatures on the bottom of the document.

  Senator Cravitz, Falco, and Triberius III have all signed the document, but the signature of Senator Herod Antipaz is notably absent. Atteus sighs in disappointment. Perhaps Vandemus was wrong. The problem with rumors was that they tended to change with everyone spreading them, much like a fungus. Domithicus is not so easily convinced. He smells a setup and possible forgery.

  “Gratitude, Lady-Sai,” says Martimus.

  Atteus and Domithicus look around at the surrounding, noting that the hall of records is as pedestrian as any other municipal building you would find in any medium-sized city; though there is one thing that catches their eye. They had noted that Vandemus had a telegraph machine, which they didn’t think anything of at the time. The man was one of the wealthiest citizens in Cortez.

  But it was unusual to find another one in the Municipal building as well. Atteus bet anything that Shariff Martimus had one as well. Under normal circumstances, a town this size would normally only have one and many small towns did not even possess one.

  So why was there a need in this town to have so many? Perhaps the town’s wealthy benefactor had a need to be in contact with certain citizens. Atteus and Domithicus had no doubt that Vandemus had been in contact with someone who was at least connected with their interloper if not the interloper himself.

  (2)

  Herod paces back and forth in his hall, nearly wearing out his loom-spun leather loafers. “They can’t prove anything, Herod-Sai. What do they have?” asks Morgana.

  “Fools!” bellows Herod.

  “No one would venture to speak your name,” says Morgana. “For fear of death.”

  “Loose tongues,” replies Herod.

  “Ai. But they have nothing on you. Set watch and warrant it so. You are well insulated. Let them have the fake and be done with it. They will return to Gilleon, deflated and nothing to show on a fruitless errand.”

  “And if they prove to be threatening?” Herod asks.

  “Then we eliminate them with extreme prejudice.”

  “Eliminating them could prove to make loose ends. This whole campaign could get messy beyond measure. I hate messy.” Observes Herod.

  “Then we sever ties as we have always done. Sever ties and whitewash the scene. Now, the Brotherhood remains steps behind you. You are untouchable, your destiny inviolable. The course was never going to be a straight one. You knew this.”

  Herod sighs and nods his head. “You speak truth, enchantress. Set watch and warrant it so. In time, all the brotherhood will be eliminated.”

  Chapter 7: An Act of Subterfuge

  Atteus scrutinizes the document inside the hotel room and then puts it aside. He looks at Domithicus curiously. “If it’s fabrication, it is certainly the best one I have ever seen.”

  He nods. “Ai. It would be a conspiracy at the top levels of bureaucracy,” says Domithicus.

  Atteus seems to consider something. “But it is certainly a conspiracy one with enough influence, power and coin could have orchestrated. Is it not?”

  “Ai,” says Domithicus. “They seemed almost overly enthusiastic to aid us, did they not?”

  Atteus nods. “As if they were commanded to.”

  “At interloper’s request, perhaps?” asks Atteus.

  He nods. “Ai. And I’m willing to bet on it-set watch and warrant it.”

  “So, if it’s a fake, then where pray tell, is the real one?” asks Atteus.

  Domithicus ponders for several seconds. “That document, the real document is going to be needed again. Our interloper wishes to stage a successful coup and when he does, that document will have to re-surface to validate his holdings, would it not?”

  “Ai,” says Atteus.

  “He is going to want to have that document close by. Very close. Shariff may keep a small safe in his office at the jailhouse. You ken?” asks Domithicus.

  Atteus nods but looks at Domithicus dubiously. “Of course. Obviously, you don’t expect us to go asking for it, do
you now?”

  Domithicus shakes his head and then laughs. “You are a tripe one, comp. No, I don’t expect they would.”

  “You know how to break into a safe?” asks Atteus.

  Domithicus looks at Atteus, with a look that’s part sarcasm and mischief. “Ai. Of course I do, Brother. You know you really should get into Merlin’s shop more often. You could learn a thing or two.”

  “Well, I have kin to raise.” Atteus looks at Domithicus, the smile fading from his face. “What if we get caught? If what we have done later comes to light before expedient exit?”

  Domithicus sighs. “Then I suppose we may have to shoot ourselves out of this ramshackle of a town. I won’t be arrested again. I still bear the painful scars of my last incarceration.”

  Atteus nods. “Ai, Brother.” He pats his dog Troubadour, who responds to the gesture in kind, pushing his massive muzzle against Atteus’ hand. “We should plan for any contingency.”

  Domithicus nods. “Ai.”

  (2)

  Germanicus works diligently on paperwork in his office, the least important of his duties as Dotore of the rectory. Monthly reports are mandatory and telegraphed to King Menelaeus. Germanicus prefers hands on work with his recruits and action rather than painstaking paperwork. It is some comfort to him that his King once sat here in his place, forced to do the same chore.

  It also keeps his mind from their latest failure, which nearly cost the life of their star recruit.

  As he ruminates on such things, he hears a knock at the door. Since it’s the boys’ recess, perhaps one of them is looking for a premature progress report. He smiles to himself, ready to criticize the lad who believes he should be granted an exception. Shep wags his tail enthusiastically, perks his ears and gets up on his haunches as he looks to his master expectantly. Knowing that Shep only responds that way in the presence of Phates, he immediately realizes who it is.

  “You may enter, Maximus,” says Germanicus.

  Maximus enters a little reluctantly, unsure of Dotore’s mood or how he will take his request. He bows. “Gratitude, Dotore.” He smiles. “How did you know it was me?”

  “I am Dotore here, am I not?” He asks rhetorically.

  “Ai, Dotore.”

  “And I do not miss anything. Shep has a special bond with Phates. She is the only other canine she reacts to in such a way.”

  Maximus nods.

  “The reason for your visit?” He asks curtly.

  “We are in the middle of the Scavenger games.”

  Dotore interrupts. “A fact abundantly clear to me. What of it?”

  “My team has been trailing Dante’s for some time now.”

  “Ai. What of it?”

  “I want to distinguish myself in the games, but I feel my place would be better served if I joined Dante’s group. Perhaps then you would see that-”

  “Out of the question, runt!” interrupts Germanicus.

  Maximus shakes his head. “I feel that my position is shaky.”

  “All of your positions are shaky. This is a heated competition. Many more of you will be eliminated before La Ultima. Set watch and warrant it so. You know this.”

  “Ai,” responds Maximus, with downcast eyes. He looks up. “I feel that perhaps it is time that I defer to Dante’s group and merge.”

  Dotore shakes his head. “Not your decision. I am Dotore!” He booms. “I will decide who stays and who goes, who defers and who is the lead. It will be years before this even becomes apparent.” He points his finger at Maximus. “You have been given the lead in your group because of your wits, battle prowess and skills as a leader. It is an honor.” He admonishes as he glares at Maximus uncomfortably.

  Maximus retraces. “I cry pardon, Dotore. I meant no disrespect. I suppose I just feel overwhelmed. Please, disregard my request.”

  Dotore sighs. “Ai. I will disregard it and attribute it to stress from our latest ordeal. The near death of Dante has affected us all.” Dotore pauses and looks at Maximus intently as if he is trying to read his thoughts. The piercing gaze makes Maximus uncomfortable. “But you most of all. Do you wish to unburden yourself, boy? Something you wish to confess?”

  Maximus shakes his head. “No, Dotore. It is as you say. This ordeal has affected us all.”

  Dotore nods. “Ai, then. You are excused.”

  Maximus bows. “Ai. Gratitude, Dotore.”

  He turns to go, but Dotore stops him. “You know Maximus, you wouldn’t be here if you had not earned your place. Your lineage means nothing here. Regardless of where you came from, you have all earned your place to be counted among the elite. You would be wise to remember that. Trust in the process.”

  “Ai, Dotore.”

  Chapter 8: Hoodwinked

  Marcus, one of the deputies, takes a drag of the pixie stick and hands it off to Cuss, who takes an even larger drag of it. For nearly thirty seconds, he inhales its intoxicating fumes. Then he coughs violently for another ten.

  “Save some for me, you fuckin’ shite monkey.”

  “You take too much of it,” says Cuss. “It will dull your senses, so it will.”

  “But it’s okay if you do?” asks Marcus indignantly.

  “I’m the one with the brains in this operation. Trust me, you need what few wits you have.” And with that, Cuss lays down another red queen. “I call you.”

  Marcus shows his pathetic hand. A pair of three jeweled monties.

  Cuss lays down his hand- a laid back straight. “See what I mean, shite for brains. I got all the brains in this operation.”

  “Fuck you, ya cheat.”

  Cuss snickers. “That’s three pence you owe me. Double or nothin’?”

  “No. I gotta eat this week,” says Marcus in a pathetic tone.

  Marcus looks at Cuss curiously. “Cuss, you don’t really think them Brethren will try anything? Do you?”

  “Fuck no,” says Cuss. “This is shit duty. Even you could do it by yourself.”

  Marcus smacks him on the shoulder. “Fuck you, ya scab!”

  Cuss only smiles as he empties the winnings in his coin bag and blows out another plume of pixie smoke.

  Cuss goes back to his paper while Marcus spreads out a game of parlay solitaire. “You are right about one thing,” says Marcus.

  “What’s that?” asks Cuss.

  “This is shit duty, for sure. Those Brethren will go back home with their dicks between their legs and have nothing to show for their trip.” Marcus snickers to himself.

  Less than a minute later, Marcus swats at a large horsefly that lands on his neck. It was unusual to have horseflies in here, especially at night. This one was particularly painful and came with a big stinger. That was odd. He tries to get up but is overwhelmed with drowsiness. In fact, he barely manages to keep his eyes open.

  His partner, Cuss, falls face first onto the floor. Before his face hits the wooden floorboards, Atteus catches his head gingerly and lays it down carefully.

  (2)

  Atteus and Domithicus begin to rifle through the desks of Shariff Rosscouver.

  “How long will they be out?” asks Domithicus.

  “At least thirty minutes. Probably longer. How long will you need?”

  “I ken that Merlin would need four minutes for the task, so I’m guessing that I can do it in twenty,” says Domithicus.

  Atteus gives him a dubious look. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

  Domithicus gets out a ‘Y’ shaped plastic device that has a flat rubber shaped attachment with a piece of felt on the bottom and a plastic wire that extends to the fork of plastic wires that end in two small knobbed ends of plastic. Atteus looks at the device curiously. Domithicus smirks, enjoying his befuddlement. “You really should get out to his shop more often. He calls it a stethoscope. It amplifies sound.

  Domithicus puts the two knobs of the stethoscope into his ears to Atteus’ bemusement and then puts the felt side onto the safe and listens, while turning the safe dial. He then takes out his pad and record
s the number of clicks he hears. He does this for perhaps fifteen minutes. After that, he studies his sheet and pulls out three sets of numbers and circles them. He goes to the safe and turns the dial. After the last set of numbers, he pulls the latch on the safe and opens it.

  “Magic,” marvels Atteus.

  “Not quite,” replies Domithicus. “Reading minds is magic. This is just basic mechanics. Merlin taught me.”

  They peer inside and remove the contents of the safe. There are several papers, an abundance of gold coins and a deed.

  Domithicus looks at Atteus, as if to say, ‘go ahead and read it’. Atteus reads it over and a big smile breaks out on his face. “It’s the deed. The real deed.” He points to one of the names on the deeds and shows it to Domithicus.

  “You were right.”

  Domithicus nods and confirms. “Herod Antipaz. They made great pains to hide this. The question is ‘what do we do now?’”

  Atteus nods. “Ai. That is a good one, set watch and warrant it.”

  “We could simply abscond with the deed. But if we are not there to receive the fake, our absence will be duly noted, and their suspicions alerted. Will it not?” asks Domithicus.

  Atteus nods. “Ai. We need that document though. At the least, we need to make a copy of it. We can’t go to the presser, though can we?”

  Domithicus shakes his head. “No. We must assume he is under the employ of Herod.”

  “Can you fabricate it?” asks Atteus.

  “With a few supplies, I can make a copy of it,” replies Domithicus.

  “We make a copy and then return the deed tomorrow night then?” He asks.

  “The best course of action, I would surmise,” says Domithicus.

  Greylady lets out a low-level growl. They both turn and look at her.

  “We should head out,” replies Atteus. “This would be a hard one to explain to Shariff.”

  “You think?” replies Domithicus facetiously.

  (3)

  Germanicus is about to knock, but of course Merlin knows he is there. “Come in.” He says matter of fact.