After a moment, a voice from the other side says, “Who’s there?”
“It’s no one,” Jiron says.
They hear a bar being removed and a lock turning just before the door swings open. An armored man stands there before them, a dimly lit hallway extending from the doorway behind him.
“Put your weapons on the table there,” he says, indicating a small table just within the hallway. He shuts the door and secures it again with the bar.
Fifer looks to Jiron who nods his head and they begin removing their weapons and placing them on the table.
Once divested of their weapons, the guard checks them to be sure they haven’t ‘forgotten’ any and then says, “Follow me.”
Moving down the hallway, the guard passes two doors before stopping in front of the third. Opening it, he steps aside and allows them to move into the room.
The room is richly furnished, surprising to find such a room here in this part of town. Oil lamps give the room plenty of light and a large desk sits in the middle of the room. A man is bent over the desk, looks like he’s going over the books. He looks up as they enter and asks, “What do you gentlemen want?”
“We understand that you take bets on the fights which occur in the courtyard outside,” states Jiron.
“Yes, we do,” he says leaning back in his chair.
The guard which had let them into the building takes position behind them, hand resting upon the pommel of his sword in the event they were to do something rash.
“I would like to place a bet on the outcome,” Jiron tells him. “I understand there’s a foreign champion which is to meet a newcomer tonight.”
“That’s right,” he says.
“What are the odds on the newcomer?” he asks as he moves closer to the desk.
“Ten to one,” the man replies.
Removing his pouch, Jiron moves closer to the desk and upends it, spilling out its contents.
Seeing the amount of coins the pouch contains, the man’s eyes widen slightly. “All of it?” he asks. “You do realize that the champion hasn’t been beaten don’t you?”
Jiron shrugs.
Then the man’s eyes narrow in suspicion. “Why?”
From behind them, a voice says, “It’s because he is the challenger.”
Turning, they see Lonn entering the room.
“You know him?” the man behind the desk asks.
“You could say that,” he says. “They gave me a beating last night.”
Laughing, the man behind the desk says, “I see.” Taking Jiron’s pouch, he upends it on his desk and counts the contents. One of the gems from the cavern under the Merchant’s Pass is in among the silver and coppers. Picking it up, the man examines it and asks, “Where did you get this?”
“I found it some time ago,” he replies. “It’s my hedge against adversity.”
Nodding, the man says, “Do you want to include this in with your wager?”
“Yes,” replies Jiron.
“Very well,” he says. “With the gem you have seventeen golds and five silver. Is that the sum you wish to wager?”
“The gem’s worth more than fifteen golds,” he objects.
“Maybe so, but that’s all I’m appraising it for here and now,” the man says.
“Very well,” agrees Jiron.
The man takes out a piece of paper and after annotating the amount, signs it before sliding back across the desk to Jiron. “If you win, this piece of paper is worth a hundred and seventy five golds. If you fail to win, you lose,” he says.
Taking the paper, he says, “Deal.”
“Good luck tonight,” the man says.
“Luck’s got nothing to do with it,” he replies.
To the guard, the man behind the desk says, “Show them out.”
“Come on,” the guard grunts as he leads them back down the hallway. At the table, he pauses a moment while they collect their weapons and then opens the door for them. Once outside, the door shuts behind them and they hear the bar being placed against the door.
“Still over an hour before the fight,” Fifer says.
The sun has just cleared the horizon and the shadows are deepening. “Let’s get a small bite to eat,” suggests Jiron.
“Alright,” agrees Fifer.
They leave the courtyard where in just a short while Jiron will be facing a champion said to have the habit of leaving his opponents dead.
Chapter Seven
The room in which the Royal Court meets is large. Upon a throne across the room from where he enters, James sees a regally dressed man of middle years sitting upon an ornate throne. A simple golden crown sits upon his head. That must be the King of Cardri.
In lesser chairs flanking him on either side are six other individuals, three to a side. These must be the other members of the Royal Court. Whether they’re here to advise or are part of the ruling body he isn’t sure.
The officious man leads him forward to stand before the King. The room is full of onlookers, all but a very few are dressed in garments the cost of which would enable a poor man to live a year. All eyes are upon him as he’s led forward.
“Your majesty,” the officious man announces once he’s come to a stop. “May I present, the mage known as James.”
James stands straight and gives the king a deep bow.
“We appreciate you coming with such alacrity to our summons,” the King says.
“I would not wish to keep your majesty waiting,” he replies.
“Indeed.” The King stares at James in silence for a moment, as if he’s taking his measure. Behind the king, stands a man in robes. As the silence mounts, James suddenly feels the familiar tingling sensation which heralds another doing magic in the vicinity.
Eyes flicking around the room, they finally settle upon the man standing behind the King. James figures him to be some sort of court magician or wizard. In a world where magic is practiced, it would make sense for a monarch to have one at his side. James refuses to take the bait and keeps his magic still.
“What are you, sir?” the King finally asks.
Startled at the question, James asks, “Your majesty?”
“There have been many strange tales told of a rogue mage traveling our kingdom,” he says. After pausing a moment he then adds, “And abroad. Stirring up mischief and if the tales are to be believed, killing at will.”
“I have killed no one who has not tried to kill me first,” insists James. “I have never initiated any hostilities against anyone.”
“So you do admit to the taking of lives?” the king asks.
“Well, yes,” admits James. “But only in self defense. I am a peaceful man, wishing only to be left alone.” The wizard behind the king whispers something in his ear and James can see the king nod in response to what was said.
“You have been summoned here to answer the charges laid before us,” the King explains. He turns his head and nods to the side where a guard stands before a closed door. Opening the door, the guard steps inside briefly before returning with two other people.
James gasps when he sees a person dressed in the garb of the Empire walk through. The other man is similarly dressed.
