“From what I’ve seen of the Empire’s soldiers, nothing surprises me anymore,” he says.
Throughout the hallways and rooms they find more of Asran’s slain priests. In one room, they find coffers smashed open where the soldiers had looted the temple’s treasure. A dozen slain priests lie just within the treasure room where they had died defending it. Shaking his head, James just continues on.
Room after room they search for anything which may indicate Morcyth or the Star of Morcyth, but fail to find any. “I don’t think we’ll find anything here,” Jiron says as they reach the furthest room from where they entered the temple.
“I’m sure there are others close by we can check before it gets light,” states James.
“Most likely,” replies Jiron.
As they make their way back toward the stairs, they hear from up ahead of them the sound of footsteps coming down the stairs. James immediately extinguishes his light as they duck into a side room. Holding still, they listen as the footsteps reach the bottom and begin to come their way.
It sounds as if there are two people coming, the light from their torch beginning to illuminate the hallway outside the room where they wait. The ones approaching are talking amongst themselves and Jiron glances to James when they realize it’s the speech of the Empire they’re using.
In Jiron’s hand, James sees the light from the approaching torch reflecting off the blade of a knife. He pulls a slug from his belt and then gives Jiron a nod as they ready themselves.
The footsteps continue to come closer but then suddenly turn into the room just prior to theirs. The torchlight greatly diminishes as the bearer passes into the room. Jiron motions for James to wait while he goes and sees what they’re doing in the other room.
He moves to the edge of the doorway and looks inside to find them going through the shattered remains of some priest’s living quarters. They’re tossing things out of drawers as well as the chest by the foot of the bed in their search for anything that may have been overlooked by previous looters.
Jiron comes back to James and whispers, “They’re busy looting. We might be able to slip by without them noticing.”
Nodding, James motions for him to lead the way.
Coming into the hallway, Jiron pauses a moment to check within the room where the Empire’s soldiers are looting and then motions for James to follow him.
Moving quickly, they pass by the room and hurry down the hallway without being seen. Upon reaching the stairs, they glance back and see that the guards are still busy looting. They ascend the stairs and move on to the next building.
Coming back from their third night of seeking signs of Morcyth, they enter the home they’ve been using as a base of operations since the first night. Except for the slave work crew clearing the streets, this part of town has been relatively quiet. The majority of the soldiers and civilians from the Empire are congregated in what used to be the Government Quarter of the city.
Sitting down against the wall, Jiron looks to James and says, “I don’t think we are going to find anything.”
“We can’t give up,” he insists. Taking out a portion of his remaining rations, he takes a bite before continuing. “Somewhere in this town, there has to be something which will tell us where the priests went.”
“Why?” Jiron asks. He’s asked this same question daily since the first night turned up nothing. “Just because the last high priest was born here doesn’t mean he came back here.”
James just gives him a look of frustration, “There just does.”
“We’re running out of food,” he tells him. “And I just hope no one discovers the bodies of those guards we left in that cellar, the hunt will be on for sure.” Yesterday, while they were searching through an old building, three soldiers had stumbled upon them and were disposed of quickly. They stashed their bodies in the building’s cellar and then stacked old boxes and crates around them to better hide them.
The morning light continues growing as the sun peeks over the horizon. Shortly the sound of the slave gang can be heard approaching as they come to continue working to clear the streets.
Today, the work gang comes to just in front of the building where James and Jiron are hiding. Jiron glances out the window and sees them beginning to clear the rubble away from where the wall from the building next to them has fallen out into the street. It had been one of the ones gutted when the fire had raged in this area.
They decide to move upstairs to avoid accidental detection should anyone wander into their building. Directly above them they find a room with a window which overlooks the area where the slaves are clearing away the debris.
Taking turns at watch, they settle in to await the coming of darkness when they can once more resume their search. As Jiron had taken the first watch yesterday, James takes it today.
There are times when it’s hard to keep yourself awake when you have nothing to do, especially when you are unable to do anything for fear of being discovered. James sits near the window taking advantage of the slight breeze coming through. His mind wanders to a life which now seems so long ago.
He thinks of his grandfather and grandmother, both had always tried to do their best, but he was at that age when nothing anyone told him meant anything. Homesickness strikes him and he wonders if he’ll ever go home.
Dave. Just what is Dave doing? He must be worried sick about him, as he supposes everyone who knew him is right now. If he ever does make it back, will role playing games ever mean the same to him again? After having lived it? He wishes that some day he’ll get the chance to find out.
The sound of the men outside working continues to give him some added distraction, albeit not very much. There’s only so much rock clearing you can watch at a time. Every once in awhile he can catch a snippet of what they’re saying, for the slaves are the former citizens of Saragon and thus, he can understand them.
From down below, he can hear one of the men sneeze. Such an occurrence has been common, what with all the dust being raised by the removal of the rubble.
“Gesundheit,” he hears another of the slaves reply.
He continues to reminisce about home when his mind turns to Meliana. Oh, Meliana. The way he felt when she had held his arm while he walked her home is still strong. How she swayed while they danced, her laugh when he said something whimsical. She’s been in his mind a lot lately, perhaps when he gets back to Cardri and all this Morcyth business is concluded, maybe he’ll find a way to return to Corillian and find her. See if there’s actually something between them.
Suddenly, his mind snaps back to the here and now. Gesundheit? Did he hear that correctly? A chill runs through him at the realization that that is not a word native to here. That’s a word from home! Since coming to this world he’s not once heard that particular expression.
Going to the window, he peers down and sees the same slave gang that he’s seen the last few days since they arrived. A dozen men of varying ages, from early teens to even one old grandfatherly looking individual, none of which immediately stand out as the one who spoke.
He continues to watch them and after a half hour, the scene repeats itself. Someone sneezes and the grandfatherly individual says “Gesundheit.” Excited, he keeps a close eye on the old guy. The other slaves near him help him out. He does less than everyone else due to his age, but the slaver must allow it for no recriminations are forthcoming from him.
Every once in awhile the old man sits down and takes a break while the others continue working. From what Miko had told him of his experiences with slavers, he was surprised the old guy is being allowed to rest. Guess different slavers work differently.
Waking up Jiron, he tells him what’s been happening and the significance of that old man saying the word he said.
“You think he’s from your world?” he asks incredulously.
“Yes,” he says with conviction. “I can’t think of any other reason he would say that.” When Jiron looks at him skeptically, he adds, “If I can be here, others can too.”
“True,” agrees Jiron. “But there’s still no reason why he has to be from your world. He could’ve picked that word up anywhere. Or it could even be a different word that just sounds similar.”
Shaking his head, James says, “No. He said it at just the right moment under just the right circumstances. Not once, but twice.”
Jiron gives him a silent look for a moment before saying, “Okay, then. What do you plan to do?”
