by Steve Barker
“On the other hand, if she puts more concentration on the conversation than the dance steps, and makes an attempt to mislead her partner in that conversation, then she is likely to miss a step, or at least not be quite as smooth as she thinks she is, with her movements.”
dGerrie noticed a bead of sweat starting to form on the woman’s forehead. Her lower lip began to quiver as they turned about the floor in front of the fireplace. Var Toran led the woman through a few turns without saying anything, letting the tension build as his veiled threats hung in the air.
“Now, my dear woman, have you seen anyone matching the description of this girl?”
She nodded.
“Good! Fantastic! What wonderful news!” His smile widened, and his eyes lit up like a child receiving a present on their birthday. “Now, my dear, tell me when you saw her.”
“Today. Here. This morning before noon.” She trembled as she let out the words. Her eyes flitted between Var Toran, dGerrie, and the door.
“That’s wonderful news! Now, can you tell me where she went from here?”
The woman grimaced, and turned nearly white with fear. dGerrie was beginning to think The Dancer’s reputation had preceded him here, and that this woman may have heard of how the other people who had been questioned in this way, on this trip, had fared.
“I believe she went to try her luck at finding a room at the cottage on the edge of town. I swear to the gods, I know no more than that” She was visibly shaking now. His smile was unwavering, and the excitement in his voice reached a level that made the hair on the back of dGerrie’s neck stand up, as Var Toran continued to turn her around the floor.
“And what makes you think she would seek a room there?”
“She was told she may find a room there.”
“Ah.” He continued his swaying, turning steps as he formed his next question. “And whom, may I ask, did the telling?” He cocked an eyebrow as he posed the question he seemed to already know the answer to.
She began to open her mouth to reply, and tripped over one of his feet. He caught her and steadied her momentarily as he pressed the question “My dear, it is polite to answer promptly when your dancing partner has asked you a question.”
She looked at dGerrie, who gave her no response. He had been reprimanded severely for interjecting the first time he had been present for one of these interviews.
She began to panic.
“I told her to move on. I told her that the King’s new decree meant she wouldn’t be welcome here. I only told her that the old woman in the cottage at the edge of town used to have some of them Elder Folk work for her in the past.” She stumbled again slightly.
Var Toran stopped dancing, let go of the woman’s waist, yet held onto her right hand with his left. “You see Mr. Theurbeault, I have never had the need for uncivilized methods of questioning.” Var Toran did not take his eye off the woman as he spoke. “But, my dear, you did mention the King’s decree. So, I must now assume that you are aware of the entire declaration. You must know, that our good and beloved King included with his righteous decree, that anyone who provides shelter, food, coin, or other such aides to the Elder Folk, that he has so fairly required to leave the Kingdom of Loria, should be subject to punishment under the law.
“Now, though you did not provide one of the aides specifically stated in the good King’s decree, I must make note that giving direction to where one might find shelter, food, or coin, would fall under ‘other such aides’, and I’m afraid, my dear, that that makes you subject to the good King’s punishment under the good King’s law.”
She tried to pull away as she began to protest. He held her hand with a vice-like grip, pulled it to his lips and kissed the back of it. He then stepped back slightly, still holding her hand in his, drew his dagger and plunged it into her chest. She cried out as he drove the blade to the hilt. She fell to the floor as she slipped off the end of Var Toran’s dagger.
“Mr. Theurbeault.” Var Toran bent to wipe clean his dagger with the dying woman’s apron, then stood and faced the fireplace. “Please locate the rest of our party, and meet me here. We shall proceed to the edge of town forthwith.”
dGerrie nodded, as he watched The Dancer pick up the ladle from the stew pot, and sample the stew, giving a long mmmmm in approval.
dGerrie ducked out the door and went to find the other two men.
◆ ◆ ◆ ◆
Hollyglade picked up the stew pot and examined what remained of its contents. There was nothing left of the stew but a mouthful of broth, as most of it was now spread across the ground where she had sent the second man tumbling through the fire. She brought it to her lips and sipped what remained in a single draft. She had tasted worse, but her stomach growled and she gritted her teeth as she thought about the stew she had left over the fire at the cottage only a few hours earlier. Her mind wandered to what might have happened to it now that the old woman lay dead in the yard of her own house.
Had the man in white, and his tall companion shared it while she froze in the bushes? For some reason, it bothered her a great deal. Nevermind Holly, you’ve got more pressing matters. She put the pot on the ground, and picked up the saddle bags the men had left by their respective sleeping positions.
She turned each of the saddle bags upside down, and poured out the contents by the fire. As she did so, one of the men gave a muffled protest, and she turned her head to see his gaze come to meet hers. She cocked an eyebrow and looked back down at the items from the saddle bags now spread in front of her. There were a couple of coin purses, with only a few silvers between them, a small knife, a flint, a small pouch of oats, a spare set of reins and a short length of thin rope. It appeared to Hollyglade that these men had not packed for a long journey, and seemed to expect never to be far from a town.
She had hoped to find some dried beef, or some other food for the trail, but she had no such luck. She did know, from hearing the conversation the two men had had by the fire earlier, that they would not be expected by the rest of their party until later in the coming morning, but she still wanted to start putting distance between her and the men who hunted her. She needed information, needed to know why she was being hunted, and on whose behalf.
Hollyglade repacked the contents of both bags into the largest one, and set them aside. She took both riders’ water skins and drank her fill before tying them onto the saddlebag she planned to carry. She stood, and strode over to where she had tied her former pursuers, and seeing that they had both now regained consciousness, she removed the gag from the shorter one.
“You’ll get cut for this, mark my words.” the man spat.
Hollyglade smirked as she stepped back closer to the fire to continue to warm herself. “Why do you hunt me? Who contracted your employer to find me?” Both men looked at each other, then back to Hollyglade.
“What do you plan on doin’ with us? Not much point in us answerin’ if you’re just goin’ to kill us anyway.”
“I have no plans to kill you, but that could easily change, and there are many methods of persuasion I could come up with to encourage you to talk with me, short of killing you.” Hollyglade had no intention of doing further harm to either man. Violence did not come easily to her, and for as long as she could remember, she was sickened by the thought of one person harming another. Now though, she needed these men to believe she was capable of using violence, as she would be very unlikely to persuade them to talk without that belief. She could not afford to have her bluff called.
“Do you know what it’s like to sit out in the cold for a night during winter? Have you ever felt your legs go numb from foot to hip? The intensity of the pain that breaks through the numbness when toes start dying and fingers freeze solid? It’s not pleasant.” She walked back to the short man and grabbed one of his legs, which he attempted to resist, and pulled his boot off. She then grabbed him by the other foot and removed that boot as well. She threw them toward the bushes, where in her earlier frustration, she had
thrown the tall man’s boots.
“This fire will go out once I stop tending it, and you’ll soon know what real cold feels like. Sure, you have your trousers and shirts, but they can easily be cut off. I’d like to leave you with some way to retain some warmth, but that depends on what you decide to share with me.” She returned to her position by the fire, holding her hands out over the flames, taking in the heat. She looked sideways at the men, awaiting their response.
“Alright, alright. I’ll tell you what we know. We was ’ired by The Dancer back in Magnaville, four days ago. ’E went into the castle on the day we left, in the mornin’, to meet with someone er other in there about a job. When ’e came out, ’e only told us who we was lookin’ for. ’E only gave us just a description. Very tall, dark brown or red hair, and about fifteen years old, and a girl. That’s it, I swear. We ain’t even got a lead until this mornin’.”
She waited, hoping her silence would evoke more in the way of a response. Someone in Magnaville. Who? I haven’t been there in years. This is the closest I’ve been to the city walls in a very long time. I can’t have angered anyone there recently, and when I left, I did so without anyone holding any grudges, as far as I can remember.
He continued “The Dancer don’t tell ’is men much before a job. It’s ’is way. ’E is very clear about only tellin’ us what ’e thinks is enough. I swear it. Please don’t kill me. I weren’t goin’ to kill you if I had been the one to find you.”
She whirled around and aimed a finger at him. “No. Just have your way with me. You fancied being with a larger woman, wondered what that would be like. No, you’re not a killer. Just a rapist.” With that, she moved over to his waist, and undid his belt. He began to thrash, so she leaned over, and though it caused her considerable pain, put one knee on his belly, and the other on his crotch. She then pulled the belt from his trousers.
“Hold still, or this will hurt a lot more than it has too.” She then moved to his feet, took hold of one trouser leg in each hand, and pulled them off. “Pity you’re such a tiny and insignificant man.” She let the insult hang in the air for a moment, and watched as the man squeezed his legs together to protect his now completely exposed manhood.
“I could have used a good pair of trousers.” She bunched up the britches and tossed them aside, turning back to face the now half naked man. “Whom, did this Dancer meet with?” She spat the name at him, drawing out the rest of her question through gritted teeth as she pulled the long knife from the its sheath, and played with the tip. She took a step back toward the man slowly, so as to let him reach the fullness of the fear she meant to evoke.
“I don’t know for certain, I … I … can only tell you what I saw.” The man squirmed himself away as much as he could, clamping his legs shut and trying to pivot around the tree, until he came up against his still gagged companion. Hollyglade took a step closer, and ran a finger along the knife blade, then looked him in the eye and waited.
“Look. There could only be an ’andful of people who could afford ’im, and fewer still that you’d need to meet at the castle in Magnaville. My guess, would be ’e met with either someone in the King’s Vestry, or the King ’imself. I can’t make any good guess beyond that. Please! Mercy.”
Hollyglade paused in thought for a moment. The King? Why wouldn’t he just send a garrison, or the army? But his Vestry? That doesn’t make any sense either. She turned back to the fire and rubbed her forehead pensively for a while, before stepping toward the still gagged taller man. She took the knife and pressed it to his cheek, held it for a moment, and then undid the gag.
“Anything to add?”
He shook his head. “No mamm. E’ told you the truth, and all of it. We ain’t got no further instructions from The Dancer. Please don’t kill us.”
“No. I won’t kill you.”
Hollyglade took the sleeves she had used as gags, and rebound both men into silence, making sure they would not be able to work free anytime soon. Then, with the rope she had found in the saddle bag, tied both men’s legs together and stretched the free end of the rope to a nearby tree, and secured it.
She picked up the second scabbard, and slung it, along with the saddle bag over her shoulder. She took a branch from the ground and used it to scatter the coals of the fire, eliminating any active flame, and hastening its cooling. Then, with a swift turn, she silently strode out of the clearing.
◆ ◆ ◆ ◆
As Var Toran approached the short stone wall of the cottage, he motioned his men close. “You two.” He pointed to Tom and Hern, “One on either end of the house, so that you can see around the corner, and you.” He looked at dGerrie. “With me inside.
“Now, I have a conversation to strike up.”
They tied their horses to the railing beside the wall’s gate, and walked to the front door. Var Toran stepped up to the door and gave it several hard knocks. There was no reply. He sighed, and knocked several more times, saying something under his breath about manners and guests at the door, that dGerrie could not quite pick up.
After a moment, a voice called back from inside “Hold steady and save your knuckles, I’m too old to run for knockers at my door.” A moment later the door opened, and dGerrie could see a short, white haired old woman, who looked to him to be older than his grandmother’s grandmother.
Var Toran’s grin presented itself in all its spine tingling glory. “Hello my dear. May we come in? I have a few questions about a missing girl.”
III : Escape
Ni’Morstrom entered Prince Harford’s side chamber and stepped forward to the table at the centre of the room. “It is an auspicious day, my Prince. The gods have favoured you. I have come to wish you well before your coronation.”
Nervously, the young prince looked up from his waist, where he had been struggling to properly adjust his belt, and nodded to the Sorcerer. He looked back down at the tailor who was finishing the the last adjustments to the his ceremonial vestments.
“Will you be by my side? You’ve been so helpful these last few months since…. Since the loss of my Father, and then brother. I would like you to be there.”
“My apologies my Prince. There are other matters I must attend to, that cannot wait. It is several days after the new moon, and there are some things I must attend to before the coming of the next lunar phase. And besides, I am not fond of ceremony. Yet you know that I shall always support you and advise you well.”
With a motion of his hand, the Prince dismissed the tailor. “Yes, you have always guided me. I thank you for your friendship.” He stepped down from the tailor’s box, and faced the Sorcerer. “How do I look?” The prince had chosen to have embroidered on his jacket his family's ancient crest, two bears facing each other standing and fighting, which signified the northern and southern arms of the western mountains, above strip of blue which signified the sea.
He had chosen the crest, rather than the royal insignia, a white shield with a purple sash.
“You look regal,” Ni’Morstrom gave a slight grin as he looked the prince up and down “and soon, you shall be King.”
“Yes. So I’m told. But isn’t this all a bit fast? I know that my brother is missing, and that some have presumed him dead, but I believe he may still be alive.”
“Your Grace, we have discussed this several times,” replied the Sorcerer, raising a hand as he spoke. “You know the law. The throne must not remain empty indefinitely. No, no body was discovered, yet it has been weeks since the Prince went missing. If Demaria had taken him, we would have received ransom demands. The same would likely have occurred if it were some upstart faction within Loria. He is gone. We must accept that and move on. It falls to you to rule.” The Sorcerer paused, and turned to look out over the city before continuing.
“Have you given thought to my advice regarding the Elder Folk? I believe that your kingdom shall be much safer, once they have been moved to other lands. The Commander of Your Royal Forces still believes that your brother’s murder wa
s indeed the work of the Elvish. I want to make sure that you, and your people are safe from such threats.”
“Do you believe it was the Elvish? They have never bothered us before. Father always said we should try to get along with everyone, that peace makes prosperity. He was always fond of the Elvish.”
Slowly, Ni’Morstrom approached the Prince “That, my Prince, is why it is a much viler thing, the disappearance of your dear brother. The betrayal of your good Father’s trust and friendship is no small matter. However, we may find that it was not the Elvish alone, who had a hand in your brother’s loss. There are others who would seek to attack you. If you recall, my Prince, Shoreford and Clearvale were not always part of your kingdom. Though your family knows them as ancestral lands, they had been ruled by Demaria for nearly ten generations before your grandfather fought to reclaim them.”
“Do you think that King Dermond would do such a thing? How would taking my brother help them reclaim Shoreford and Clearvale? Oh, I was not ready for this. I was always second to my brother. It was he who was supposed to succeed to the the throne after our father. He was raised for that, trained for it. I spent my whole youth learning the arts, and being groomed to support my brother. I’m too young for this.” He dropped his head to his chest, looked at the crest embroidered there, and sighed.
Deliberately, the Sorcerer came to the Prince’s side, took his arm and walked him to the window overlooking the mezzanine. “My Prince, fear not. I work day and night on a new way to aid your rule. It is part of a Sorcerer’s life to continually seek greater knowledge, and greater capability. And in my case, to use such knowledge and ability to aid the one I serve. I believe I am very close to perfecting a new way to bring stability and peace to your kingdom. But my efforts require much concentration and focus, and the dedication of my time and energies.
