“I suppose I’ve seen worse,” he muttered. Once, early in his travels with the Company of the Dragon Shield, Geran had been imprisoned in the dungeons of the lord of Impiltur for a few days. That experience was one he didn’t like to recall. This cell was hardly comfortable, but at least it was clean, and the food they’d set out for him was not crawling with vermin.
He spent some time examining the possibilities for escape. If he could somehow get free of the mage shackles, his magic would be extremely useful in that regard. He still had the word of minor teleportation fixed in his mind, so it would be simple enough to exit the cell. However, he had to be able to see the place he attempted to reach with the spell. All he could see from inside his cell was the corridor immediately beyond the bars, and he was certain he could hear at least one or two more heavy doors between him and freedom. Of course, there was the problem of the guards too. They were armed, and he wasn’t. He might be able to surprise one and get his sword away from him, especially if they didn’t realize that he was out of his cell…
Or perhaps that was exactly what Sergen was hoping he would try, so that he could be conveniently killed while trying to escape.
“Damnation,” Geran growled to himself. He sat down in the middle of his chains. That was just the sort of suspicious notion that would have crossed Hamil’s mind in this situation. Of course, the halfling could have gotten out of the manacles any time he liked, squeezed through the cell bars, and likely walked out right under the guards’ noses without them ever realizing he’d gone. Be patient, the swordmage told himself. Harmach Grigor must be trying to secure my release. Attempting to escape might make that more difficult for the harmach.
Geran used the water in his jug to wash the dried and crusted blood from his wounded forehead, wincing as he did so. There was a knot that felt like a goose’s egg about three inches above his right eye, and it did not feel much better when he finished. Eventually he grew tired again and fell asleep.
When he woke again, more black bread and porridge had been set out for him, along with a fresh jug of water. He ate and drank again, and decided to see what it would take to get out of the mage shackles. The easiest approach would have been to try to abrade or snap the chain securing the rune-carved bands to the ring in the cell floor, but that would still leave the shackles around his wrists and stop him from using his magic. No, he would have to get his hands out of the manacles. Geran didn’t see how he could do that without breaking every bone in his hand first, and even then he might not be able to do it. That left cutting through the bands or pulling the rivets apart. Mostly to occupy himself he spent several hours trying to pry open the manacles, to little effect other than making his fingers sore with the effort.
He slept and ate again and resolved to try to abrade one of the chain links by the floor ring into a tool he could use to work on the mage shackles. But before he got very far, he heard the outer door creak open and the sounds of approaching footsteps. Brighter lanternlight flickered in the corridor. Awkwardly he climbed to his feet. Whatever was coming, he’d meet it standing and face forward.
“All right, here he is.” One of the Council Watch soldiers came into view, holding a lantern. To Geran’s surprise, Kara and Mirya followed, with several more Watch soldiers behind them. “Don’t pass anything to the prisoner, or we’ll have to search both o’ you.”
Kara frowned in annoyance but let the warning pass without protest. “Hello, Geran,” she said. “Are you well? How are they treating you?”
“Well enough,” Geran answered. “The fellows who captured me were none too gentle, but the council men have left me alone. They’re feeding me a couple of times a day. I’ve had worse. Is Hamil all right?”
“Yes, he’s waiting outside.” Kara kept her voice neutral, but her brilliant eyes blazed with anger. “He wasn’t allowed in here, since the Council Watch fears that he would try to break you out.”
“I’m surprised they allowed you to visit me.”
“They’d no liking for the notion,” Mirya said. She wore a plain blue dress with a white shawl and had her hair gathered in a single long braid down her back. Geran noticed that the bruise on her face had almost completely faded. “Two days now I’ve been trying to get in to see you.”
“That might not have been very wise, Mirya,” Geran said quietly.
Mirya crossed her arms in front of her body like a battlement, her face set in a stern scowl. “Oh, I’m not in any danger right now, Geran Hulmaster. Half of Hulburg’s taken up for me, thanks to your way of teaching foreign brigands to think better of wrecking Erstenwold’s. It seems the Verunas have no wish to stir up more trouble on my account-at least for now.” She looked over at the nearest Watch soldier and angrily asked, “Why is he chained up? There’s no call for treating him like that!”
“Lord Sergen’s orders, mistress,” the Watch guard said. “He’s known to study elf magic, so the Keeper of Duties instructed us to keep him in mage shackles. We can’t risk him using magic to escape.”
“Lord Sergen’s got a generous definition of his own authority,” Kara muttered. She fixed her bright gaze on the guards. “Give us some privacy. On my honor as a Hulmaster, we’ll do nothing but speak with him.”
The Council Watch soldiers shifted uncomfortably and looked at each other. “We’ll allow you some leeway, Lady Kara,” the first one said. “But keep away from the bars, or you’ll have to leave.” The guards moved out of Geran’s sight down the hallway, but he could tell from Mirya’s glance that they were not very far off.
“This may sound awful, but-what day is it?” Geran asked.
“It’s the fourth of Tarsakh,” Mirya answered. “Early in the morning, in case you couldn’t tell.”
Geran glanced down the hallway and couldn’t see the guards. He lowered his voice a little. “Did Durnan Osting get the Spearmeet companies to take to the streets?”
“No, but apparently Hamil did. He went down to the Troll and Tankard and spoke on your behalf.” Kara put on a studied frown of disapproval. “Now I’ve got six or seven vigilante bands roaming all over town, shadowing every foreign armsman they see and picking fights. There was an ugly brawl late last night in the Tailings-twoscore Spearmeet under one of Osting’s sons rousted out a gang of Crimson Chains and beat them senseless. Several people were badly hurt. It’s only a matter of time before this turns to killing, Geran. You’ve got no idea what you’ve started.”
“Perhaps,” Geran admitted. “But I certainly won’t shed a tear if the Chainsmen discover that Hulburg isn’t to their liking anymore. Are the Spearmeet really doing that much more than you would if you had a couple of hundred more Shieldsworn?”
Kara grimaced. “Well, if I had that many Shieldsworn, of course I’d be able to keep the harmach’s laws in the city without any call for the Council Watch. But the Spearmeet musters aren’t Shieldsworn.”
“They’re not the Spearmeet, Kara,” Mirya said. “Only the harmach himself can call out the Spearmeet, you know. It’s the Moonshields you’re speaking of, and they’re just Hulburgans who choose to associate with other like-minded folk and make sure to step in if they see someone in need.” She allowed herself a sly smile. “If most Moonshields happen to be Hulburgans who also belong to the Spearmeet, well, that’s just a coincidence.”
“Moonshields?” Geran asked.
“Well, I think the official name is something like the League of Good and Loyal Defenders of Hulburg and Protectors of the Moonsea Coast, but Hamil suggested that we ought to find something to serve as a nickname.” Mirya reached into a pocket hidden in her skirt and drew out a small emblem-a plain silver shield-shape with a blue crescent moon painted on it. “Some of the storekeepers are painting this device on their doors and signboards to let everyone know where their loyalties lie.”
“You too, Mirya?” said Kara.
“After word of Geran’s arrest got around town, Durnan Osting begged me to come to the Troll and Tankard and speak,” Mirya answered. “These are my friends, my kin, and my neighbors, Kara. What else can we do? The Council Watch works for the foreigners. Who’s to keep the law in Hulburg if we don’t stand up now?”
“Speaking of my arrest, Kara,” said Geran, “Sergen claims that he’ll arrange a special council session to try me for murder under Mulmaster’s laws. I never studied much of the harmach’s laws, but I seem to remember that the harmach himself has to hear high crimes like murder. How is it that the Merchant Council can hold me?”
Kara fell silent for a long moment, and her mouth tightened. “That’s currently under dispute,” she said.
“Under dispute? What’s there to dispute? If I’m accused of murder-and I shouldn’t be, since Urdinger struck at me first and it was a fair fight after that-then it’s a matter for the harmach. I’m not so arrogant as to think that Hulmasters are above the law, but I don’t understand why the harmach’s allowing the Merchant Council to usurp his authority.”
“The Verunas have found several so-called witnesses who say you rendered Urdinger helpless with an evil charm, then cut his throat,” Mirya said. “I’m sorry to say it, Geran, but there’s more than a few folk-most of whom ought to know better-who find themselves wondering whether you killed Urdinger in self-defense or murdered
