by Bob Blink
As he rode toward the tavern, the way now so familiar he didn’t need conscious thought to guide him, he tried to think of some way he could find out for sure if Tomas had been taken as well and if so, what his family was doing. It would be nice to know if the kidnappers had contacted them, and what plans were being made. Maybe if they knew who the kidnappers were he would be in a better position to find out where Jolan was. Sadly, he could think of no way of obtaining any of the answers he sought.
Once he reached the tavern, he showed the picture Sindra had made around, as much out of habit as any real expectation that he would learn anything new. Learning nothing as he expected, he then went inside to talk with the owner.
“You want to offer how much?” the owner asked.
“One gold. But that’s only if the information leads me to find my friend.”
“That’s a lot of coin for information. Pardon me for saying, but you don’t look like someone who could come with that much.”
Asari reached down and pulled out his coin purse. He didn’t have a single gold coin, but he had more than enough silvers to have the same value.
“There are eight silvers,” he said, showing the man he had an additional four in his hand. “Pass the word around. Anyone that knows anything that leads me in the right direction can collect. Two silvers to you for your help if anyone comes through. This is the man I’m looking for. I’ll leave this with you to show around.”
The owner took the drawing and stuck it up on the wall behind the bar. “Don’t expect too much. People have short memories, and it’s already been a few days.”
Asari wondered if increasing the offer would make any difference in the outcome. Money talks, and a full gold should be enough to pry any available information out of reluctant lips. If he were to try and offer more, he’d have no choice but to sell off some of the copper projectiles.
Retrieving his horse, he turned toward the river. His friend Nast should be around now. Maybe he and some of his friends could be encouraged to keep their ears open. Asari had the distinct impression that Nast’s dealings were often on the edge of being legal. As such, it gave him an ear to some of the local disreputable dealings, and maybe something would leak out. He figured it might be worthwhile offering a few silvers to Nast and his friends.
By the time he made it back to the Peaceful Pony he was dragging. He hadn’t slept much since Jolan had disappeared, and the lack of sleep was starting to weigh on him. He knew that Ashreye and Sindra would have left by now to get ready for work. Ashreye had said earlier that she would sneak back late tonight, but he’d probably be fast asleep and too tired to appreciate her presence.
Back in the room he found the additional three drawings he’d asked Sindra to make. If anything, they were better than the original she had done. He already knew where he wanted to put them, and considered whether it would matter if he delayed the distribution to the morning.
Then he saw the note. It was from his uncle’s housekeeper telling him his uncle had arrived earlier in the day. As Asari had requested, she hadn’t told the man of Asari’s earlier visit, but she said now that he was home, Asari could come almost any time and be able to find him.
Chapter 32
They spent the first night in the same rooms where Jolan had regained consciousness. Other than a periodic walk-through by one or another of the men that Tomas had seen earlier, nothing happened. Sometime well after dark, they were given a tankard filled with water, but no food. With the amenities taken care of, both he and Tomas each fell asleep.
Despite the great accommodations and the attentive staff, Jolan wasn’t happy to have Tomas’ belief they would be moved confirmed the first thing in the morning. He knew that a move would be a time of great risk for himself, and even if they didn’t elect to kill him during the relocation, the move had to be to a location that would make Jolan and Tomas more difficult to locate and/or someplace where their abductors felt they had more control over them. He couldn’t see where anything else would justify the risk of exposing them to the uncontrolled environment out of the room. Neither were thoughts that cheered him.
They’d been awake for several hours when increased activity could be heard in the other room. The voices were coming through the closed door, but they were muted and difficult to understand.
“I think someone is here. Maybe it’s the rest of the group and they’re getting ready to move us.”
“I would have expected them to move us last night,” Jolan said. “Why would they move us now in full daylight?”
They had barely finished speaking when the door was pushed open and in walked Falk. They knew this because just as he stepped into the room, someone called his name behind him and he turned to respond. Whatever was asked, he shook his head, then turned and walked into the room and over to the cells to look at Tomas.
Jolan hadn’t imagined what the man might look like, but in his subconscious a picture of a big, muscled, rough looking thug must have formed. The man standing in front of the cells surprised him, being none of that. Tall, slender, and athletic and dressed in very fine clothes, he looked like one of the nobility. His face was finely featured, and his short beard was trimmed to perfection, the black hair of his beard merging smoothly into his sideburns.
Jolan realized that Tomas recognized the man because he said suddenly, “You? You’re Falk?”
“That’s the name I like to use for these little, what shall I say, side ventures.”
“But why? What’s the reason?”
“Well, it would never occur to you. Your family has been rich beyond reason for generations. But the simple truth is that it takes a great deal of money to be one of the nobility. And I like the life style.”
“You have lots of money. You’ve talked with me in the past about your extensive mining holdings.”
“I have, haven’t I? And not only you. Many people know I’m quite well off and therefore would be completely above suspicion. The reputation has paid off nicely with the ladies as well. You can’t imagine how many of the little lovelies are willing to jump into one’s bed when they think one is simply rolling in coin.”
“Once you even gave a dozen bars of silver to one of the King’s charities.”
“That was an odd circumstance. Someone else wanted to make a donation, but for reasons you don’t need to know, didn’t want it known it came from him. He asked me to deliver it, since I was known to have lots of silver interests. I could take credit he said. I tried as hard as I could, but couldn’t think of a way to keep the silver for myself, so in the end I had to settle for the credit of the donation. I hadn’t realized how much good will would come from that single event. It paid off handsomely I think.”
“Why me?”
“For one thing, I’ve never liked you. More important is the money your father has and the fact he is unreasonably fond of you.”
“You’ll never let me go, will you?”
“Of course not. That would be putting my head on the block, now, wouldn’t it? So now that you know your fate, what are you going to do? Not cooperate? As if it matters at this point. Two birds with one stone. I get a bundle of money, and I get rid of an annoyingly proper young Lord.
“You are getting a reputation for not releasing your victims. People will stop paying you.”
“Well, for one thing they never know at the time that it’s me who has their precious offspring. Besides, I’ve found the fools never stop hoping. They always will ante up the coin just in case. Probably couldn’t live with themselves if they just let the victim die. That’s why it’s important to choose victims who are actually loved by their parents.”
“Where are we?”
“So many questions. What good really are the answers? This is a temporary place we like to bring our “guests”. It’s down by the waterfront. It’s not too far from where I have shipping interests, so if someone were to see me in the area my presence wouldn’t arouse any suspicions. Later today, around dinner time when the stree
ts are filled with dozens of carriages rushing every which way, we will be moving you.”
“Moving us where?”
“You’ve been there before. Well, at least up in the Grand Ballroom. It’s the little country estate I have on the north shore. A bit isolated, but a nice hunting retreat. None of you knew about the dungeons down below, now did you?”
“They’ll find it!”
“No one has yet. This isn’t the first time we’ve done this you know.”
“Somewhere along the way one of your men will slip up and give you away.”
“I suppose it’s possible, but they have lots of incentive not to. I pay them very, very well. And the last two that got careless with their tongues died a very slow and a very nasty death. I made sure the others had the opportunity to witness it. So, I shouldn’t count too much on that saving you.”
Tomas glared at him. “And to think my father said they were considering you to become one of the Ten Members of Parliament someday.”
“Now that would have been bothersome. The Ten are far too much in the public eye, which would not be good for many of my interests. It cost me a bit to plant a few little hints of scandal that “ruined” my chances. Enough about me. Can we talk about your friend?”
“He’s from the College of Mages, here to meet with the Parliament. He’s long been a close friend of the family.”
“Has he been here long?”
“He just arrived today. That’s why we met for a drink. We were going to the estate shortly afterwards.”
“Hmmmm. I thought he might be just some innocent bystander that got caught up in all of this. He certainly doesn’t dress to your standards.”
“He’s a mage named Jolan, not one of the nobility. They don’t have the kind of money you’re used to.”
“Yes, well. The thing is, I wonder if it’s worth any of my effort to keep him alive. I’d planned on your company exclusively. I’m not sure I want to share.”
Lord Hoalt, or Falk, under the current circumstances, turned away from Tomas and made his way over to the cell that held Jolan.
“So, you’re some kind of mage statesman sent here by the College in Cobalo to see the King?” he asked.
“That’s correct.” Jolan didn’t know if he could pull off the deception that Tomas had cleverly set up, but he had nothing to lose. As soon as Falk learned he was a nobody, his usefulness was over and he wasn’t naïve enough to think Hoalt’d waste any more time on him.
“If that’s so, how come you could be taken so easily?”
“You see, maintaining shields isn’t really all that necessary around the College. It’s a cut-throat environment, but in a difference sense. And I guess I didn’t think that a drink in the capital city of our closest ally warranted it either. Poor judgement on my part. A bit of real-life experience I’ll remember next time.”
“Dupree doesn’t think you’re really all that much of a mage.”
“So he’s told me. Want to have him remove my block so I can demonstrate?”
Lord Hoalt grinned. “I don’t think so. I might not be happy with your ‘demonstration’. So, do you think the College would be willing to pay to have you back?”
Jolan was silent long enough to prompt Lord Hoalt to speak again.
“The correct answer is yes. That’s what you’re supposed to say even if you don’t believe it. You have reason to doubt your value?”
Jolan smiled. “The truth is, the matter has never come up before as far as I know. Mages just aren’t usually held for ransom. It’s likely to be a major embarrassment for them. Oh, I suspect the Chancellor will give in eventually, but I’m going to never live this down.”
“I’m not so sure it would be prudent to hold up a bunch of mages for money; even if they claim they won’t use the power as a weapon,” Lord Hoalt remarked. “I just feel it might be asking for problems. However, since you’re already here, and probably linked with Tomas, we certainly can’t let you go. For now I think we will just wait and see. Something might come up during the ransom negotiations that makes it wise to have you alive. So for now, you get to live. That’s not a long term promise. We’ll talk more once we get you relocated.”
Falk turned away abruptly and walked directly over to the table where their belongings had been placed. He looked at the mage’s ring, and after the briefest of examinations shook his head and placed it back down on the table. He appeared to recognize Tomas’ ring, and placed it directly in his pocket for safe keeping. He took a cursory look through their coin purses, and finding only a few golds, left the coins lay.
“Dupree!” Falk shouted.
Moments later the fat mage hurried into the room, a nervous look on his face.
“You asked for this,” Falk said handing him Jolan’s ring.
Dupree’s head bobbed up and down eagerly. He took the offered ring, and quickly slid it onto his finger.
“Share this with the others,” Falk commanded, and handed him the coins that he had checked a few minutes before. “You stay with them during the move. I don’t want that mage to regain his access to the power. I still think I’m making a mistake by not killing him right now.”
For the briefest moment it looked as if he would change his mind, but then he straightened and said, “I’ve got to be somewhere. Get them relocated. I’ll be there tonight so we can continue.”
After Falk had departed, Dupree strutted proudly over by the cage where Jolan waited. His lips spread in a wide grin, he wiggled his fingers at Jolan displaying the ring which had been forced onto his right pinky, since the others were too fat.
“I thought you claim to be a mage,” Jolan taunted him. “My ring doesn’t think so.”
Dupree’s smile dropped away, and he turned in a huff. Jolan didn’t need to point out to Dupree that if the ring had accepted him it would have a glow and would have adapted to fit his fingers properly. The ring was unarguably dark, which meant its power was not available to the self taught bully.
* * * *
The day went slowly, but late in the afternoon their jailers came in and one at a time bound their hands and hobbled their legs. Each had a large wad of cloth stuffed into his mouth and held in place by a strap of heavy cloth, and then a bag placed over his head obscuring his vision. Then, one at a time they were marched out and placed inside a stout wagon that afforded no view of the outside. Two men, in addition to Dupree, rode with them.
“We’re going over the river,” Tomas whispered to Jolan, which earned him a kick from one of the men. They couldn’t see, but they could hear, and sense the vibration as the cargo carriage made its way across the bolted beams that made up the roadbed of the bridge. It wasn’t a surprise. Given that Falk had indicated where they were going, this was the most likely route.
Gradually the sounds of people faded, to be replaced by more birds and the less even motion of a country road. Jolan was actually glad when the carriage came to a stop and they were ordered off, because his hands were going numb.
The blindfolds and restraints were not removed until just before they were herded into their cells in the lower vault. His eyes, used to the dark of the bag, adjusted quickly to the gloom of their prison. The walls were of stone that had been painstakingly broken and hauled away to create the chamber. The walls were unfinished and sharp, with small weeping flows of foul smelling water along the back edge. Even the floor was stone, although over time a small layer of dirt and refuse had built up to actually level it somewhat. The cavern smelled dank and musty.
The confinement area was surprisingly large, with five cells available to confine victims. The face of each cell was made of crude but very heavy metal bars, each with a door in the center section which was locked. Jolan wondered about the quality of the lock, but knew it didn’t matter too much because directly opposite the cells was a large table and chair where a guard would be able to keep a fulltime watch on their activities. Off to one side was a recessed large open area, furnished with a comfortable desk and several
chairs, and a number of candles. Along the wall on the other end of the room was a hallway which led off somewhere, but Jolan couldn’t tell what might be back that way.
Jolan and Tomas were placed in what amounted to cells two and four, which kept them away from the side-walls, and kept them separated from one another by an empty cell. The cells themselves were sparsely furnished. Their sleeping accommodations consisted of a simple pile of straw on the ground. The call of nature was apparently handled by using a foul smelling hole in one corner of the small cell. No wash materials were provided.
They were left alone, except for the ever-present guard who was replaced every three hours, until late in the evening when Falk came to check on them.
“Sorry Tomas. Well actually I’m not really sorry, but we’re going to need a little something to prove we have you here with us and to encourage your father to move along smartly with our payment. As I recall you have a little finger that got broken and reset at a very distinctive angle. I think we need to borrow that.”
“You’re joking,” Tomas replied, but his face had gone pale.
“Well, we could send your head, but I doubt we’d get paid after that. Come now. It won’t hurt all that much.”
Jolan couldn’t see through the walls to Tomas’ cell, but he knew what was about to happen. There was nothing he could do, and hoped it would be over quickly.
It didn’t work out that way. Rather than making it a simple cut, Falk had his men extract the maximum discomfort out of the removal. He could hear as Tomas resisted, but it was three against one, and try as he might to not give in, eventually he screamed out in anger and pain at the violation. All things considered, Jolan knew Tomas had stood up to the abuse far better than he would have himself had it been his finger being cut from his hand.
