The mists of sorrow ms-7

by Brian S. Pratt

  “His name is Kir,” Buka replies. “He’s a bard that is currently playing at the Wallowing Swine. Bring me his right hand and I’ll tell you what you want to know.”

  Kir! He means Perrilin!

  “Very well,” Jiron says with a stiff nod.

  “But…” begins James when Jiron stops him with a wave.

  “In case you have any thoughts about giving me a hand of someone else,” Buka tells them, “you must take it from him tonight during his performance at the Wallowing Swine. I’ll have someone in the audience to witness that it happens. Afterward, come to the compound’s gate and the guards will let you through. Then, and only then, will I tell you what you wish to know.”

  Jiron and Buka lock eyes. Then he replaces his knife back in its sheath and nods. “We’ll be back,” he says.

  “Make sure you are not followed when you come to the gates,” Buka says. “I wouldn’t want to be distracted by an angry mob.” When he sees Jiron nod, he adds, “I trust you two can find your way out on your own?”

  Just then, the door to his room opens and a middle aged slaver walks in. His eyes widen when he sees Jiron and James there in the room. His hand grabs his sword and has it halfway out when Buka stops him.

  “These gentlemen were just leaving,” he says.

  The man glances to Buka and realizes there is no immediate threat. Sliding his sword back into its scabbard, he backs out into the hallway as James and Jiron leave the room. He watches as they walk down the hallway back the way they came until Buka calls him into the room.

  “I want you to put a couple of our men on them,” he tells the man. Then he gives him a brief rundown of what they want and what they said they would do for it. “Make sure there is someone at the Wallowing Swine tonight just in case they actually go through with it.”

  “Do you think they will?” the slaver asks.

  Shrugging, Buka replies, “Maybe. If they do I doubt if they’ll make it back here.”

  “Why do you say that?” he asks.

  Grinning an evil grin, Buka says, “The crowd at the Wallowing Swine loves Kir. They’ll tear those two apart.” Then he and the other slaver break out into laughter.

  James and Jiron follow the same route back out as they did when they came in. Still working to keep from being seen, they reach the wall and this time, once Jiron is on the other side, he automatically makes the loop for James’ foot before tossing the rope over. When he feels the tension increase on the rope, he pulls him over.

  As James lands on the ground next to him, James asks, “You aren’t really serious about doing what he requested are you?”

  Jiron looks at him and replies, “Not exactly, no.” With the rope once more secured around his middle, he steps out and heads back to where they left the others. Walking quietly and quickly, they make it back to the others.

  “You find out what you wanted to know?” Aleya asks. Then she can see the hard set of his jaw and that look in his eye he gets when things aren’t going his way. “You didn’t, did you?”

  “He wants us to do him a favor first,” Jiron replies.

  “What does he want us to do?” Scar asks.

  James glances up to him and says, “Pay a visit to an old friend.” Off to the east, the sky is lightning with the coming of dawn. “Let’s get a room and we’ll explain everything to you.” As they head back to the road leading deeper into town, he glances to Jiron’s back and wonders just how far he’s willing to go in order to find Tinok.

  Chapter Twenty Seven

  Shortly after their arrival at the Wallowing Swine and just before the evening meal is being served, the two slavers whom they saw there the night before arrive. The two men take the same table they had before and proceed to order their meal.

  James and Jiron sit at a table near the stage while the others are at various tables scattered throughout the common room. James is the first to see the two men and point them out to Jiron. “Think they’re the witnesses Buka said would be here?” James asks.

  “I would think so,” replies Jiron. He glances over to where Aleya and Potbelly are sitting at the table closest to the entrance. She sees his look and returns one of her own. Slightly strained and worried, she gives him a brief smile and nod.

  Perrilin is scheduled to begin his performance in an hour so they settle in and eat a light meal of roast lamb and bread. As they eat, the crowd coming to hear Perrilin play begins to arrive. Many of the faces are familiar from the night before. The buzz of conversation within the Wallowing Swine gradually grows as more and more of the tables begin to be filled.

  By the time Perrilin makes his appearance, all the tables are filled. The proprietor has even placed stools and chairs against the walls to accommodate the number of people who showed up. “Would have to be a crowd tonight wouldn’t it,” Jiron states.

  “Yes,” replies James.

  Finally, the noise at the rear of the common room increases as Perrilin makes his way from the back to the stage where he places his instrument on its stand. Again, he puts the time-worn wooden bowl on the stage then returns to the back. The crowd murmurs in delighted anticipation as they know this means that he is about to come and perform.

  Several minutes later, Perrilin exits from the back and applause follows him all the way to the stage. Taking up his instrument, he turns back toward the crowd and an expectant hush descends onto the common room. Then he strums the strings and launches into a rollicking ballad full of daring-do and love.

  He’s into the third stanza when he sees James and gives him a brief grin and a nod. James returns it. Glancing around the common room, he sees how much the people are enjoying the music, and it saddens him how they’ll react to what they’re about to do.

  The two slavers keep casting glances to him and Jiron. Whether the looks are telling them to get on with it or whether simply because they don’t like them, it’s hard to tell. Whatever the reason, James decidedly doesn’t care for it.

  For two and a half hours they sit there in the common room while Perrilin performs. When he leaves on his second break and heads to the kitchen, James locks eyes with the others positioned in the room and nods his head. They return the nod knowing the time has come.

  “You ready?” he asks Jiron.

  “Yes,” he replies with a glance to the door leading into the kitchen. “When he’s on his way back.”

  “Right,” agrees James.

  Just then, one of the two slavers gets to his feet and begins walking toward their table. “Not now,” whispers James to himself. Jiron hears him and sees the man coming toward them.

  Then the murmur in the back of the room suddenly swells as Perrilin exits from the kitchen. He pauses a moment to exchange words with a man at one of the tables.

  The slaver is almost to them when he’s bumped into from the side. Ale splashes all across his front as the man who bumped into him loses control of his cup. “Sorry about that,” Reilin says in a manner that suggests he’s entirely too drunk to be walking around. Using his hands, he tries to brush off the liquid that is beginning to soak into the slaver’s clothes.

  By this time, Perrilin has finished his conversation and is heading toward the stage.

  “Fool!” the slaver says as he knocks Reilin’s hands away.

  “I’m truly sorry about this, sir,” Reilin says then places his left arm around the man’s neck and begins laughing. Those nearby who have been observing him and the slaver chuckle at the sight.

  When Perrilin moves adjacent to their table, James and Jiron get to their feet. James gives Perrilin a greeting and holds out his right hand.

  “Get off me you idiot!” the slaver yells and pushes Reilin away.

  Stumbling backward, Reilin hits the edge of a table with his leg and crashes into a man and woman.

  Perrilin stops and takes James’ hand to shake it with a glance over to where Reilin is now laying across the two people’s laps. Then from behind him, Scar jumps up and grabs him around the chest just as James g
rips his hand hard and stretches his arm across the table.

  Jiron produces a hatchet from out of his cloak that acquired earlier for just this moment and raises it high. Bringing it down hard, he severs the hand from the arm.

  Perrilin cries out as blood spurts forth from the bloody stump and the room becomes still from shock.

  Then a woman screams and the room bursts into action. Scar lets go of Perrilin who falls to the floor clutching the bleeding stump and moaning in pain. He knocks the slaver whom Reilin spilt ale on to the floor as he clears a way for Jiron and James to make their escape. They make it halfway to the door before three men move to block the exit.

  Cries and shouts erupt as the people surge forward toward them.

  Leading the way, Scar pulls forth his double swords and begins striking out at the men barring his way. One man manages to draw forth his sword but Scar batters it aside and plunges the point of his sword into the man’s shoulder.

  Then Jiron is there beside him and the other two men are quickly thrust aside. With the way to the door clear, he yells, “Come on!” With the other two behind him, he bolts for the door. Before he can reach it, another man, rather large and angry, moves to block his escape.

  Barely slowing even a little, Jiron strikes the man with the pommel of his knife just before Scar hits him with his shoulder and knocks him out of the way. Moving out into the street, they race into the night. Behind them, they hear another woman scream as she swoons into unconsciousness and just happens to fall into the men rushing after them.

  Aleya’s body hits the first man who was trying to catch them, which knocks him into the second one and suddenly the doorway is jammed with bodies writhing on the floor. By the time they are able to untangle themselves, their prey has disappeared into the night.

  Splitting into search parties, the men begin combing the streets to find the two who did this to Kir. The most beloved and skilled bard they have ever had the pleasure to experience. Blood is on their minds, and if they should come across the men who did this, there is little confusion as to what they will do.

  Back in the Wallowing Swine, Reilin, who by this time has become miraculously sober again, shouts for all to hear, “We have to get him to a healer!”

  Three men come and pick up the moaning and blood soaked Perrilin. Then Reilin shouts again, “This way!” and begins leading them out the back door. He and the three men who are carrying Perrilin race out the back and into the courtyard there. Several of those who were there to see Perrilin perform follow them out.

  Then, racing across the courtyard, they leave through the courtyard’s gate and enter the street. Turning right and away from the tavern, Reilin leads Potbelly, Stig and Shorty who are carrying Perrilin, as well as the crowd following them, quickly down the street.

  Ducking into a side alley, James puts the severed hand into an empty pouch and ties it shut. Then the sound of running feet comes and they plaster themselves against the alley wall. Holding still, they wait for the group of men to race past before returning to the street.

  “Scar,” Jiron says, “Go after the others and make sure they make it to the rendezvous.”

  He gives him a nod then runs back down the road to the tavern. “Now,” begins Jiron as he points to the blood soaked pouch, “let’s get rid of that and get out of here.” He then turns down the street in the direction leading to the slaver’s compound. Breaking into a run, they race along the street all the while keeping eyes and ears alert for anyone in the vicinity.

  “The whole city will be searching for us before long,” James says. Forced to hide in the shadows as two guards make their way down the street, they wait and watch as the men come forward. By the way they’re just walking along, it’s unlikely they have yet to learn about the events at the Wallowing Swine. Whether they have or haven’t, he and Jiron aren’t likely to run the risk that they have.

  After the two guards turn the corner and disappear, they return to the street. “It’s not far from here,” announces Jiron. And sure enough, the gate to the slaver compound appears before them shortly. It’s closed and stationed out in front of it are two slaver guards.

  Jiron brings them to a halt before the guards at the gate have seen them. “If they don’t let us in,” he says to James in a whisper, “we’re going in anyway.”

  “What about your promise to Azku?” he asks. “If we should do anything to hurt or destroy this place or its people, you will be breaking your word.”

  Jiron looks at him and replies, “If he breaks his word, then what I agreed to is no longer binding.”

  James gives him a look like he still thinks it should. “Whether someone else keeps their word or not, doesn’t affect your own honor. Only your choices. You swore to leave Baku as you find him, and you should.”

  An argumentative look crosses Jiron’s face as he stares back at him, “We’ll see.” Moving out from the shadows, he heads toward the gate with James right behind.

  The guards are quick to notice them coming in their direction. They stay where they are and make no movement or gesture as they arrive. “Come back in the morning,” one says when Jiron comes to a stop several feet away.

  “We have a package for Buka,” Jiron says.

  “What kind of package?” asks the second guard.

  “The kind that I’ll have to kill you if I tell you,” replies James.

  The first guard whispers something to the second who nods and turns back to them. “You two match the description of two we were to keep an eye out for.” He looks them up and down, taking in the blood staining both their clothes. Then he nods to the first guard.

  Removing a ring of keys, the first guard moves to the gate and unlocks it. Pulling it open, he says, “Was told to tell you to meet him in the same place as you had before.”

  James gives them a nod, “Thanks.”

  Without a word, the second guard waves them on through.

  Passing through the gate, James and Jiron enter the slaver courtyard as the gate swings closed behind them. The sound of the turning of the lock tells them the guards have locked it again. Lanterns are hung at intervals around the courtyard, filling it with abundant light. From one of the buildings nearby the cry of a slave is heard.

  Something about this just doesn’t feel right to Jiron. Maybe it’s the events of the night that has him rattled, whatever the reason he has a hand resting on one of his knives. “Be on your guard,” he whispers to James.

  “Think he’ll try something?” James asks.

  “I don’t know,” he replies. As they cross the courtyard, he realizes the place is deserted. For this time of night there should be someone out on one errand or another. A noise from the darkness causes him to stop in the middle of the courtyard and peer in that direction.

  “What?” asks James.

  “I don’t know,” he replies. When the noise doesn’t repeat itself, he says, “May just be my imagination.” Resuming their trek across the courtyard, they come to the building wherein they met Buka the night before.

  As they are expected, Jiron makes no attempt at stealth and opens the door. Entering the hallway, he passes through it to the door separating the two halves of the building. At the next door, he opens it and continues into the next hallway. Moving down, he comes to the door wherein Buka had been the last time. This time however, he knocks upon the door.

  “Come in,” is heard from the other side. Opening the door, they find Buka sitting at the table with three other men there with him. One of the men they recognize as having been a guest at the Wallowing Swine this evening. The other two slavers they saw there, the ones James was sure had to be the ones Buka sent to observe the taking of the hand, are not.

  “You have it?” Buka asks.

  James removes the blood soaked pouch and tosses it onto the table in front of the slaver Guildmaster. Buka nods to the man sitting to his right who then takes the pouch and opens it. Upending it over the table, the hand drops out and lands before Buka. A trail of blood o
ozes its way across the tabletop from the severed hand.

  “We have kept out part of the bargain,” Jiron says.

  Nodding, Buka replies, “So it would seem.”

  “Now, tell us where the owner of the necklace can be found,” demands Jiron.

  “Calm down, young man,” Buka tells him. “I always keep my word. Can’t rise to a position such as I have if you don’t.” He nods to two of the other slavers there with him and they take the hand and leave. Once the two men have left the room and the door once again is closed, Buka gives them a look and starts to laugh.

  Startled by the unexpected reaction, Jiron asks, “What’s so funny?”

  Bringing his laughter under control, Buka says, “The knowledge of where your friend is will do you no good.”

  “Why is that?” James asks.

  “For one thing,” replies Buka, “you can’t get to him even if you know where he is.”

  “Where is he?” demands Jiron.

  “Five days ago, he and several other slaves were taken to Ith-Zirul.” He pauses a moment to see what affect his words are having. When neither of them reacts to the name, he shakes his head and chuckles.

  “Why is that so funny?” asks Jiron.

  “Because,” he says with a grin, “none who go there ever come out.”

  “Where can we find it?” Jiron asks.

  “Ah,” Baku says as he holds up a hand, “I only agreed to tell you where you could find your friend, and I have.”

  “But we need to know!” demands Jiron.

  Baku’s face darkens as all signs of amusement leave him. “Our bargain is concluded,” he states, tone getting an edge to it. “I suggest you leave now.”

  James can see the storm building behind Jiron’s eyes. Laying a hand on his arm, he says, “We should go.” When Jiron hesitates, he adds, “At least we know the name of the place. Trust me, we’ll find it.”

  With a slight nod, he allows James to lead him to the door. Never once taking his eyes from Buka, he hears the door open behind him. “Come on,” James tells him. Passing out into the hallway, his eyes continue to bore into those of Buka until James closes the door.