Jiron looks longingly at his horse sitting there amidst the others for a moment and then begins to hurry back to the alley running behind jail. When he reaches it, he turns to follow it away from the jail. Just as he reaches the end of the alley, he pauses a moment and glances back toward the jail. A soldier sticks his head out of the hole in the wall, looking first one way then the other.
He quickly slips around the corner to avoid being seen by the soldier. Not hearing any outcry from him, he breathes a sigh of relief at not having been spotted. He continues down the side alley until he comes to a door. Finding it unlocked, he slips inside and closes it behind him.
This one looks to be another residence, the room he finds himself in has two tables, four chairs and a one long couch. It was probably where the lady of the house would greet guests and have tea. He moves to a window and keeps a lookout on what the soldiers are doing.
They appear to be searching for something, maybe he and the others. The riders seem to be combing the streets while the officer stays within the jail with several of the others. He hopes they’ll just up and leave so he can retrieve his horse. He’ll never make it back to the others without it.
The entrance to the jail is barely discernable through the thick smoke that envelopes the town, but he’s able to see the officer come out, obviously upset and angry. He barks out more orders and several of the men on foot climb back into their saddles, racing off to the south. The officer stands there a moment as he looks at the fire and the people trying to halt its course.
Jiron continues to watch as two of his men appear out of the smoke with a man held between them. They bring him over to the leader and when they’re five feet from him, force the man to his knees.
The officer asks the kneeling man in the northern tongue, “Where are the men that were stationed here?”
The man on his knees just shakes his head.
The officer signals and one of the men twists one of the man’s arms, making him cry out. “I said, where are my men?”
“I don’t know!” the man cries out.
“Something happened here,” the officer says and then comes forward. Grabbing the man’s hair, he yanks his head back and stares into his eyes. “What!” he demands.
Gasping through the pain in his arm, the man exclaims, “I don’t know! They brought some people in and had them imprisoned in the jail.”
“Who were they?” the officer snaps.
“We never found out!” the man cries, tears rolling down his face from the pain he’s experiencing.
The officer lets go of the man’s hair and then nods his head to his man who releases his grip on the man’s arm. “Then what?” he asks.
Holding his arm tight across his chest, the man keeps his head down while he answers. Jiron has to really strain to hear what was being said. “Then that night, all hell broke loose. We heard shouting and fighting and when it was calm again, there was a hole in the wall of the jail and several of the soldiers were dead.”
“How could people in cells have caused all that?” he looks intently at the man. When the officer pauses for an answer, the man looks up but just shakes his head. The officer continues, “Did the townsfolk help them?”
“Oh, no!” the man cries. “We did not! We didn’t even realize they had anyone there until after it was over.” He looks to the officer, hoping to be believed.
“Then what?”
“You’re men gave chase as the prisoners fled up into the mountains,” the man replies, bowing his head once more. “Some time later the soldiers returned, several of them having been killed I heard. The next morning, the officer in charge took his whole garrison up after them, but none came back. Shortly after that, the fire swept down the mountainside, almost like magic, engulfing tree after tree.”
“Magic, you say?” the officer asks intently.
The man looks up at the officer’s eyes boring into his, “It seemed like it, as fast as the fire spread.”
“Hmmm,” the officer mumbles as he thinks to himself. “Let him go,” he says to his men who then release the man. To the man he says, “If you and your folk had a hand in the killing of my men, I will cut the throat of every man, woman and child here and raze this town to the ground!”
Fear in his eyes, the man exclaims, “We didn’t!”
“We’ll see,” and then waves his hand, dismissing him. The man turns and flees down the street as fast as his legs will carry him, never once looking back.
The officer and his men confer for a few minutes and then return inside the jail.
“Damn!” Jiron quietly exclaims. Why did he have to say ‘magic?’ Hopefully they won’t put, as James says, two and two together. He continues watching but everything remains quiet. His horse remains tied to the post outside the jail, along with the others.
Figuring on a wait before he’ll be able to reclaim his horse, he looks through the house and discovers some bread and fruit in the kitchen. He pulls a chair close to the window so he can keep an eye on what’s going on outside as he eats.
Nothing of interest happens while he’s eating, soldiers continue to come and go from the jail, and the occasional townsman runs past carrying a shovel or some other item used to combat the fire. After he’s finished, he tries to think of a way to retrieve his horse while he sits there looking out the window. The last twenty four hours begin to catch up with him and he finds himself yawning and rubbing his eyes.
Deciding on a short nap since he has to wait anyway, he climbs the stairs to the second floor and finds a bedroom with a suitably large bed. He places the backpack beside him on the bed as he lies down and then takes out one of his knives, keeping it in his hand in case of trouble.
Closing his eyes, he quickly falls asleep.
Voices from below waken him. He sits up abruptly and then makes his way to the bedroom door to listen. He can hear two, maybe three people downstairs talking in the Empire’s tongue, soldiers most likely. Returning to the bed, he grabs the backpack and then silently makes his way to the top of the stairs.
Looking down, he can see one of the soldiers with a partially filled sack in his hand, opening drawers and looking through them. Occasionally, he would take something out and put it in his sack. Looting, Jiron thinks. The soldier says something to the others and then makes his way to the stairs, looking as if he means to go up to the second floor.
Thinking fast, Jiron hurries into the bedroom again, flips a coin on the bed and then swings the door all the way into the room as he hides in the space between it and the wall. Shielded behind the door, he listens to the footsteps of the soldier as he comes up the stairs.
His heart beating fast, Jiron hears the soldier coming down the hallway toward him. When the footsteps come to the open door, he hears the soldier pause and then gasp as he sees the silver coin sitting on the bed. Jiron then hears him enter the room, hurrying over to pick up the coin to put in his sack.
As the soldier reaches the bed, Jiron silently comes out from behind the door with both knives drawn. Catching the soldier by surprise, he’s able to quickly take him out with minimal noise. Easing the dead body of the soldier onto the bed, he takes back his coin and then returns to the hallway, shutting the door behind him.
Returning to the top of the stairs, he listens as the other two are still rummaging around downstairs. One of them raises his voice and then pauses. He speaks louder this time and again pauses. The two down below begin whispering among themselves and then Jiron hears them both hurrying to the foot of the stairs.
Jiron returns quickly back toward the room with the dead soldier and enters a closet sitting across the hallway from the room. He closes the door just enough to leave a thin opening through which he can see out. Looking out through the crack, he observes the other two coming down the hallway, going from room to room as they holler for their companion. When they come to the room where the dead body lies, they both rush in. He hears them say something and then a moment later one of them exclaims and they begin to hurry out of the room.
When the first one exits and is close enough, Jiron kicks the door to the closet open, catching him in the shoulder, causing him to stumble and fall to the floor. With both knives drawn, he advances on the other soldier as the man exits the room.
Having seen his friend being knocked down by the swinging door, the last soldier draws his sword and thrusts at Jiron’s midsection.
Easily deflecting the blade with the knife in his right hand, Jiron slashes with his other, scoring along the man’s forearm. Keeping an eye on his companion, he presses the man with a series of attacks which soon has him
