Jeth smiled to himself. It was the answer he was hoping for. “60-40! I’m the one that got it from him remember!” he yelled.
From Rashlarr, there was no reply.
...
Tartum sat in the dark. He was positive that it was all a joke. Any minute now, the door was going to fly open, and they were going to tell him they were just kidding. No one could expect him to eat a rat. How would eating a dead rodent prove anything or teach him to be a better thief?! What was this supposed to teach him? No, it was a test; they wanted to know if he had a sense of humor. It had to be. He would wait. They would be coming any moment.
He waited. An hour past, two, three, maybe more. He had no idea. He was beginning to think this wasn’t a joke, and that they really meant for him to eat the rat. The thought was too terrible to accept. He continued to wait.
He was getting tired. Tired of this game. Maybe it was punishment? Maybe Isidor hired these people to capture him, so that the guards could arrest him for what happened in Zerous. That never sat well with Isidor. He might have left him so that this group could apprehend him and collect the bounty on his head. Did he have a bounty on his head? If so, he wondered how much it could be? It didn’t matter now, any minute that door would open, and he’d be arrested. That was fine with him. Anything to get out of this hole.
More time passed. Tartum couldnt tell how much, he had lost track. He heard nothing, saw no one. The darkness and the rat were his only companions. He became tired and laid down. Sleep took him.
When Tartum awoke, he had hoped it was all a bad dream. He willed his room in The Crenshaw to be there when he opened his eyes. When he opened them, the only thing that changed was he could faintly see around the room. Looking around the room, he felt like he was still dreaming. The rat’s corpse was still there. Its lifeless body, silhouetted by the glow of light coming from the bottom of the door. It was that faint light that allowed him to see. The room was small. No bigger than a couple outhouses. About as tall, too. There was nothing inside the room. Four solid walls, a door, a smooth, flat, cold stone floor, and a ceiling that was occasionally dripping a brackish water. It was the worst level of hell, and Tartum was trapped inside.
He sat in the gloom and tried to find a way out. The water that dripped from the ceiling tasted of dirt, but was it enough to quench his thirst. The excess water was running out of the room, through the small gap between the door and the floor. Tartum relieved his bladder against the door. He hoped that whoever walked by, stepped in it and carried around the scent of piss for the rest of the day.
He hated the people that put him inside this tomb. Jeth, with his stupid grin. Tricking him into believing they were friends, just so he could take his staff and then kick him, like a coward.
“Let’s see how well he does against me, once I gets out of here.” Tartum said to himself. He promised he would see Jeth dead one day! He hoped, feverishly, that he was the cause.
Savall, Rashlarr, Vaund, even Elizabeth. He planned to make them all pay for this treachery. Who were they to imprison him in here!? Who were they to take his staff, his pack, and his dog!? When he got out of here, they would pay! All of them would pay!
Tartum’s rage built up inside of him, and he jumped up, attacking the door.
“WHO IN THE HELLS DO YOU THINK YOU ARE!? DO YOU KNOW WHO I AM!?!? WHAT I CAN DO!?!!? WHEN I GET OUT OF HERE, YOUR FATHERS WILL CRY WHEN THEY SEE WHAT I’VE DONE TO YOU! DO YOU HEAR ME!?!” Tartum vented his rage at the door. Not knowing, or caring, if anyone heard.
He threw himself against the door, slamming into it over and over. The cast iron door didn’t so much as shudder. He punched it until his knuckles bled. He kicked it until his feet went numb with pain. He clawed at the sides of the door, trying to find a weakness. Trying to find a fault he could use to escape. When his efforts failed, Tartum fell back against the door and tried, over and over, to open himself to the magic. He tried so hard; time and time again, he opened himself to the magic hoping to feel just a trickle of the power enter him. He felt nothing. Spent and bleeding, Tartum’s rage subsided, and depression took its place. He wept, he didn’t know how long he cried, but in the end, the emotional exertion proved to be too much, and Tartum passed out.
He awoke to the sound of the door slamming shut. He had no idea how long he was out. Carefully, he flexed his fingers, expecting there to be pain. He was worried he may have broken his hands when he was punching the door. There was no pain. In fact, other than feeling hungry, he felt physcially great. Tartum moved towards the door and placed his hands down by the small amount of light that crept under it, so he could better examine them. They were completely undamaged, this confused him throughly. He also noticed someone had removed his pouches that were filled with his spell components. Not that it mattered, he couldn’t work magic in here, anyway.
He continued inspecting himself for wounds that should have still been there. He was perfectly fine. There was no torn skin, missing fingernails, his feet didn’t hurt from kicking the door. He had been healed! Someone had been in here! Someone was watching him! Someone was out there!
“Hello!? Is someone there!? Anyone? Vaund? Is that you out there? Are you the one that healed me!?” Tartum stepped on something. Looking down, he saw it was the rat. Not the one from before; it was fresher, and much larger. He kicked it away. He would not eat a damned rat! He couldn’t hear anyone outside, but he hoped that however they were watching him, they could hear him.
“Vaund? It’s ok. I’m not mad at you! Thank you for healing me! Could you open the door? Maybe? Just slide open the slot, so I can get some light? Please? I don’t want to be in the dark anymore.” Tartum said. He hoped someone was out there.
He heard movement! Something on the door clicked, and then the slot opened up. When Tartum’s eyes adjusted to the light, he looked up, thinking to see Vaund or Elizabeth, or maybe even Isidor! Isidor had come to rescue him! He had killed all the thieves and came to rescue him, like he always had!
Focusing on the slot in the door, his eyes adjusted. The hope in his heart died, as quickly as it was born. The eyes staring back at him, laughing at him, weren’t the eyes of his old master. They were the eyes of Jeth. The sinister, mocking eyes of Jeth, The Appraiser. Hate began to bubble up inside Tartum’s stomach.
“Enjoying your stay in our fine establishment, are you?” Jeth said. His mocking laughter echoing in the small room. It made Tartum feel like there were six Jeths, all laughing at him at once. It did nothing to ease his anger.
“How much longer are you gonna keep me in this hole, Jeth?” Tartum growled.
“Me? I’m not keeping you in there. I’ll let you out right now. Just eat the rat. Go ahead. I’ll wait.” Jeth said. His voice was no longer playful. He was all business.
Fury took hold of Tartum, and he threw himself at the door. This time, he was careful to keep his fingers away from the slot.
”Open the Gods damned door, Jeth, and I’ll let you live! I will never eat that fucking rat! Do you hear me!? NEVER!” Tartum’s vision went red. Jeth’s eyes got big for a moment, he looked like he was surprised by something, and he slammed the slot door closed.
“Oh you’ll eat the rat, Tartum. Or you’ll die in there. Those are your choices. You will not get out of there any other way. You will not get to do things your way. It’s our way or death. Get used to it, or hurry up and die. I have better things to do than put up with your temper tantrums. Besides, eventually I’ll get you to eat that rat!” Jeth called back through the door. Tartum wasn’t sure, but he thought he’d heard Jeth’s voice shaking. Was Jeth afraid? The thought snapped something inside Tartum.
Pounding his fists against the door, Tartum screamed. He made no intelligible words. He just kept beating on the door and screaming. It was all he could do. It felt good to know Jeth might be afraid of him. He wanted that man to fear him! When he got out of here, he would show him just how well placed that fear was!
Tartum continued screaming, until his voice w
as strained. Then he screamed at the door until his voice was gone. He didn’t care. He punched the door, over and over. Blood cascaded down his arms, as he broke his hands, and the bones pushed their way through the skin. He started to feel weak, his body was feeling sluggish. He felt funny, cold, it was hard to think. He became dizzy and sat down on the floor. He couldn’t talk, couldn’t resist; again, Tartum passed out.
...
He came to. Clearing his throat, Tartum walked over to the door, still groggy from waking up. Relieving his bladder against the door, he walked over to the drip in the ceiling and did his best to quench his thirst and quiet his screaming hunger. He had lost all track of time. He felt like he had been down there for weeks. He realized his body had to do more than piss and wondered where he should go. He decided the best place would be in a corner, farthest from the door. He would hate to pass out again and have his head fall into the mess.
As he was finishing up, he noticed the new rat in the room. Just as dead, but not as decomposed. He found it odd, that they kept switching them out. Standing up, he picked up the rat and used it to wipe himself. He threw it in the pile of excrement and laughed.
“Enjoy cleaning that one up, you pigs!” Tartum called out.
It was then he realized, he wasn’t hurt anymore. His throat was fine, and his hands no longer bled. With the exception of the hunger, he had no other injuries. Why? Why would they keep healing him, if they just wanted him to sit in here and rot? What were they playing at? Why would they keep healing him, if they didn’t intend to kill him. Did they really expect him to eat the rat? Could it be that simple?
Tartum looked at the shit covered rat, laying in the pile of dung. He wouldn’t be eating that particular rat. The thought of eating a rat was beginning didn’t sound so repulsive anymore, he noticed. He couldn’t remember a time in his life that he felt hunger like this. His stomach felt like it was trying to eat its way out of his body. His throat felt like it was on fire. The trickle of the dirt flavored water helped, but it was barely touching the hunger now. He would have to find something soon. He didn’t want to starve to death.
Not having anything else to do, Tartum decided to talk to the door again. He hoped someone was outside listening to him. Someone had to be near, they kept healing him! He thought that seemed logical.
“To hell with it.” he said to himself. “Hello? Vaund? Elizabeth? Savall? Rashlarr? Is anyone out there? It’s ok, I know you’re not going to answer. You’d probably just get yourself in trouble if you did. Don’t answer, just listen. My name is Tartum Fuin. I’m nineteen years old, and I’ve never done anything to anyone that didn’t deserve it, or try to hurt me or someone I cared about first. I’m not mad at you anymore. I just want to be let out of here. I’m really hungry, and if I don’t get some food soon, I’ll die. Please don’t let me die. I have money! I have spells! I could teach you! I’ll give you all the money I have, I’ll even give you my spell book! I have a dog. Do you like dogs? You can have him too! He’s a good dog, and if you don’t like him, you could probably sell him if you wanted. Please, just let me out of here. I won’t tell anyone. It’ll be our secret...please? Say something...?” Tartum finished. He didn’t hear anything. He put his head against the door. He was so hungry. He knew he was rambling, but he just wanted to be outside this room. He wanted to see sunlight. He wanted to eat a horse. He wanted out.
There was a shuffling sound, and the slot opened up again. Tartum didn’t look up. He knew better than to get his hopes up when that slot opened.
“Hello Jeth.” was all Tartum said.
“Hello Tartum. So you’ll give me all your worldly possessions if I let you out, huh? What else would you give me? Do you have a girlfriend? Do you have a mother? How about your staff?” Jeth was mocking him again. Tartum didn’t care. He didn’t care about anything. He never felt so defeated in all his life. Especially since all those things Jeth just asked for, Tartum would gladly give, if he believed for a second it would open the door. The thought crushed what little hope he had left.
He fell against the door and sighed. “Jeth, would any of it matter? You’ll never open this door will you? I’m going to sit in here until I die, aren’t I? All those promises Savall and Rashlarr made were lies, weren’t they?” Tartum asked. He wanted to know.
“Lies? No. No, Tartum. Everything we’ve told you has been true. All you have to do is eat that rat. You’ve had the control the entire time. You’re the only one keeping yourself in there. It’s just a little rat. Scarf it down, and we can move on to your training.” Jeth’s tone was almost sympathetic.
Tartum looked at the rat that was still sitting in the corner, in the pile of his excrement. With a great force of will, Tartum stood up and walked over to the rat. Picking it up, without regard to the refuse that coated it, Tartum walked over to the slot in the door. He looked into Jeth’s eager eyes.
“Go on. Eat it. After the first bite, it gets easier. Go ahead, Tartum. You can do it. Eat it.” Jeth was practically cooing at him, urging him to eat the rat. For a moment, Tartum contemplated the idea. His stomach rumbled at the thought of being fed. He thought about believing what Jeth had told him. He thought about how the rat would taste, and where he would begin. Should he bite off the head? Try to drain out the fluids? Would he be able to tolerate the taste without retching? What would the fur taste like? Would raw rat really be that bad? Tartum was about to give in, when a spark inside of him flared.
He made his decision. Not today. He wasn’t hungry enough to eat raw rat, slathered in human shit. Moving faster than he thought he could, he stuffed the rat into the slot in the door. The sudden movement startled Jeth, and the rat made it about half way through, before Jeth stopped it with the door.
“Not today, Jeth. Bring me some roast beef tomorrow, and we’ll talk.” Tartum laughed, weakly.
“Gods damn you, Tartum! What’s all over it? Is that...is that shit!? By the gods, you’re a disgusting little brat. It’s JUST A RAT! Gods!” Jeth pulled the rat the rest of the way out of the slot and slammed it closed. Tartum could hear him venting his disgust as he went away. Faintly, Tartum heard Jeth yell back; “Eventually, I’ll get you to eat that rat!”
Tartum laughed hard. It felt good to feel something other than hunger. He must have been weaker than he thought. The interaction with Jeth had drained him greatly. He lay down on the floor and slept.
...
Tartum woke up. His stomach woke him. The pain was increasing and made thinking hard. He was getting weaker. He couldn’t stand long, so he lay on the ground and let the water drip into his mouth.He didn’t bother standing to relieve his bladder anymore, and he just wet his pants when the need hit him. His whole body felt thrashed.
“This must be what dying feels like” he said to himself.
He felt awful. So much potential, so much life ahead of him. All gone, because he had trusted. Ended before he could begin Tartum felt sorry for himself. Without knowing why, Tartum cried. He laid there, with pants full of piss and water dripping on his face, simply crying. He heard the bottom panel of the door slide open. Heard something wet hit the floor. Heard the panel slam closed. Looking towards the door, Tartum saw a new rat laying on the floor.
He wept. He wept and wept, until he had no more tears. His body shook with emotion, as he let it all out. He was accepting the fact that he was going to die in this dark, damp, miserable hole. There was a strange sense of relief that overcame him. Nothing mattered anymore, life was no longer his concern. Tartum accepted that his time had come, and that he did all he could in the time he’d had. He had loved a woman and then killed her, made and lost a good friend, traveled some of the world, learned a small amount of magic, had trusted, betrayed, and been betrayed. He had led a full life, a short one to be sure, but a full life. At peace with the situation, Tartum lay his head down to rest. He took small solice in the knowledge that, at least he didn’t eat the rat. At least he had won that final fight. Sleep took Tartum once again.
Ta
rtum woke in a daze. There was someone tapping on the door.
“Go away, Jeth, I’m not going to eat your rat today. Try tomorrow. Heh!” Was all Tartum could get out. Defiance was all he had left. He was going to die, but he would deny Jeth his victory.
“It’s not Jeth, Tartum, it’s Savall. I came here to talk. You don’t need to say anything. I know you’re weak with hunger. Believe it or not, I had to go through this too. Just listen now, son. I want you to ask yourself why. Why are you fighting this? Why don’t you want to eat the rat? What victory do you gain from it all?” Savall’s voice was kind, his tone not mocking, but mournful. Tartum truly believed that Savall felt bad for him. It confused him.
“You...had me put in here. Why...should I...eat the rat? Why should...you win?” Tartum asked.
Savall’s tone didnt change. “Tartum, what do I win by you dying? What makes you think I want you to die? If I wanted you dead, I could come in there now and stab you to death. I could have done that the moment we met or whenever I felt like it. No, son, I wanted you to understand. Understand why you’re in there. Your acceptance of that knowledge is eating the rat. Do not let your life end because of misplaced pride or a warped sense of honor. It’s good to have pride, but not for the wrong reasons. Being captured by the enemy, and dying to protect the location of your friends is honorable. Not eating a rat, so that you can starve to death, just so you can have the final laugh over one man isn’t honor. It’s stupidity. Do not believe the fairy tales. No white knight will save you. This is reality, Tartum. You need to remove the cloud of your old reality, and recognize the true brutality of the world. You will die, and you will find no comfort in your false victory. If you die we all lose. Especially you. Your magic, your staff, your dog, and your future are just on the otherside of this door. You can leave, as soon as you understand why we do this. Think, Tartum. You’re a smart boy. Think, and then save your own life.” Tartum heard what sounded like a chair, scrape across the ground outside and then footsteps falling away. Savall was gone.
The Jade Mage: The Becoming: Volume 1 Page 20