swarming with guards and soldiers. It’s only been by a miracle that they haven’t been discovered yet.
Staying just one step ahead of the patrols, they slowly made their way further from the courtyard where the dead body lies. The Parvati is wearing the hooded cloak that Jiron had grabbed from the pavilion to better hide his features. A tall, extensively tattooed man is hard to miss or forget.
Jiron pokes his head out into the street and finds it devoid of guards at the moment. “Come on,” he whispers as they follow him into the street and quickly move to the other side. Staying against the buildings, they hurry down to where he sees another alley entrance, past several more buildings.
Before they have a chance to reach it, light from one of the searching patrols is seen approaching from a side street. Realizing they are not going to have time to make it, he moves to the door of the building next to them and tries to open it.
Finding it locked, he throws his shoulder into it and smashes the door open. The sound of it seems to reverberate through the streets as they rush inside. Closing the door rapidly, Fifer moves to a window and looks out to see if anyone is coming to investigate.
“Anyone?” Jiron asks after a moment.
Shaking his head, Fifer says, “Doesn’t look like it. The patrol which was coming into the street went down the other way.”
“Good,” says Jiron.
The building they find themselves in looks to be some kind of rug maker. Several looms are placed throughout the room with partially completed rugs still attached to them. Massive rolls of string and twine are lying upon shelves along most of the walls.
From above them, they hear a floorboard creak as if someone’s walking around. They freeze and listen carefully as another creak sounds a few feet away from the first one. Someone’s up there moving around.
Jiron motions for the other two to remain still as he moves to the doorway leading further into the building. The sound of the steps becomes more pronounced as whoever it is begins descending a stairway on the other side of the door.
The Parvati and Fifer move to the side of the room so as not to be readily noticed should the individual come into the room. Jiron positions himself near the door.
The footsteps reach the bottom of the stairs and they hear them coming toward the door to the room in which they’re hiding. As the door begins opening, Jiron makes ready and then as the person begins walking into the room, he grabs them from behind.
A knife wielded by the man in Jiron’s clutches strikes out at him and he’s forced to let go. Fifer and the Parvati move away from the walls, their swords in hand. “We don’t want to hurt you,” Jiron says to the man.
“What are you doing in my shop?” he asks with fear in his voice as he comes to understand there are three of them.
“We’re not thieves or murderers,” Jiron tells him. “Drop the knife and I promise we won’t hurt you.”
After only a moment’s hesitation, his knife falls to the floor. Just then, light from a passing search party begins playing upon the window overlooking the street. Jiron nods to Fifer who moves to the window and looks out.
The light gradually increases as the patrol moves toward them along the street. Jiron has his knife against the man’s throat to keep him from raising the alarm. When the patrol at last moves past and the light begins to diminish, Fifer glances back to Jiron and nods.
Removing his knife, he says, “My pardon good sir.”
“You are the ones they’re after!” he says in amazement.
“We don’t have time to talk, I’m afraid,” Jiron says to him. Motioning him over to one of the looms, he says, “Move over there please.”
“What are you going to do to me?” he asks, as he does as Jiron commanded.
“Tie you up, nothing more,” he explains. Fifer comes over to supply the gag to keep him quiet and they proceed to tie him with the thread and twine from his own looms. Once the man is secured and not likely to escape, Jiron leads them through the house and to the rear door leading into the alley behind.
A quick glance to make sure the alley is empty and they’re through the door, slowly making their way to the end of the alley. “Do you know where you’re going?” asks Fifer.
“Not really,” he says. “I just want to find some place where we can hole up until James finds us.”
“How is he going to find us?” Fifer asks.
Jiron just stares at him a moment before Fifer says, “Oh yeah, right.”
The end of the alley opens upon a small area enclosed by the backs of several buildings built against each other. Several sleeping forms are huddled in and around the refuse lying on the ground. Each wall has a doorway, all closed but one.
Jiron steps carefully over a sleeping body as he moves toward the open door. The opening is dark and nothing can be seen on the other side, not even shadows. Moving carefully, he enters through the door with the others following. A knife held in one hand for comfort, he moves deeper into the building.
His right shoulder bumps a wall and when he reaches out with his other hand, encounters another wall on the left. It’s not a room but a corridor extending further into the building.
Moving deeper into the building, the sound of the searchers roaming the streets outside begins to diminish. Jiron keeps his right hand against the wall as they walk to hunt for doors. After passing ten feet or so into the building, his hand encounters one.
“Just a second,” he whispers to the others behind him as he moves his hand along the door in search of the handle. “I think there’s a door here.” Upon finding the handle, he turns it and pushes the door open slowly.
The door’s hinges protest loudly as he swings it open enough to allow them to enter. Darkness greets him on the other side as he tries to see beyond the door. “Might be a room where we can hole up for awhile,” he tells them.
“Doubt if they’ll find us here,” Fifer says as he follows him through the doorway. Once the Parvati is in, he closes the door to the protestations of the hinges. “Anybody have a light?” Fifer asks.
Nearby in the dark, sparks begin to be seen from where flint is striking and soon, the soft light of a candle blossoms to light. The Parvati stands there, the candle in hand as he looks to his new found companions.
“Good,” Jiron says approvingly. The room they find themselves in is dirty and looks as if beggars or other street people have at one time or another called it home. Dirty blankets are strewn around and one corner of the room reeks from where it has been used as a latrine. Rats scurry away from the light.
“What a disgusting room,” says Fifer in dismay.
“Disgusting it may be, but at least we’re not out there,” he says, indicating the streets where the patrols are still searching for them. “Now,” he says as he turns his attention back to the Parvati, “just what’s your name and why did you have to go and kill that man?”
Setting the candle down on a broken crate that looks to be currently used as a table, he says, “I am Qyrll. I am truly sorry for having brought trouble upon you, but I could not bear the insult which he ascribed to me. Far too long have I endured such by him, honor bound to take the abuse without reprisals. I thank you for my freedom.”
“You’re welcome,” replies Jiron. “I just wish we could have done it without raising the whole city against us.”
“I can see why you are called Shynti,” Qyrll says. “You are truly a great warrior.”
“Thanks,” he replies.
“Could you tell me of my homeland?” he says. “It’s been many years since I left.”
“Seems we have the time,” Jiron says as he makes himself comfortable amidst the refuse. “It was your brother whom we first encountered after we…” For several hours Jiron relates his experiences in the Parvati homeland to Qyrll and Fifer as well as learning about this new companion of theirs.
“Hear that train a comin’, it’s rolling round the bend, I ain’t seen sunshine since I don’t know when,” James’s voice echoes in the room with the holding cells. For the past hour he’s entertained himself with various songs of his world, the last being an old Johnny Cash song which seemed appropriate for the occasion.
The songs from home have given him comfort, though he’s not too concerned about his own safety. He’s grown in his ability as a mage and feels confident to take care of himself should that become necessary. As long as the powers that be don’t try to hurt or drug him, he’ll go along peacefully. The last thing he wants is to antagonize
