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Treehugger93
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Firesong--Chapter 10
After we had been walking down the passage for a while, Brinadeen said, “All right, we’re here.” She pulled aside a square of irregular stone, and we slipped into a large room with many doors. The air was filled with groans, sobs, and the occasional scream. It smelled of urine, sweat and blood.
There was a sharp cry of “Oi! You!” Looking around wildly, I saw it had come from a man sitting in a chair near our entrance, presumably a guard. “What’re you… oh. Er… apologies, milady. I… I wasn’t expecting you.” The guard had fallen out of his chair and was now kneeling, head touching the ground.
Brinadeen squatted down in front of the man. “Richard?” she said.
The man raised his head a little. “Yes?” he mumbled.
“I have a favor to ask of you.”
Richard swallowed. “I’ll do my best, milady.” Brinadeen smiled gently.
“I need you to let us walk out of here with a prisoner.”
Richard frowned. “Walk out? What, you mean, let them escape?”
“That’s exactly what I mean, Richard.”
“Oh, no-no-no”, said Richard, waving his hands wildly in protest. “No-no-no-no-no! If I did that I’d get… I’d be… it’s… it’s against the rules, you know that!”
“I do know that, Richard, and I’ll make sure that nothing happens to you for it,” Brinadeen said. “I am head of the house, after all.”
”He didn’t even do it,” I said. “He’s completely innocent.”
“Just who are we talking about, ma’am?” The guard said to me.
“Ardeo Viatoris,” I replied.
“What, you mean the servant who stole the Firestone?” said Richard, raising his eyebrows.
“I already told you, he didn’t take it.”
“Look, ma’am, Mr. Viatoris is going to the chopping block for treason in… oh, about two hours. D’you know how bad it’d look? Me, aidin’ and abettin’ a criminal of his importance, or any criminal at all for that matter? I’d lose me job, at least, if not me ‘ead. Much as her ladyship’s word means in this castle—” Richard gave Brinadeen another bow—“—I don’t think it’d get me out of this. So, no, I can’t help you with this. I do apologize for this, milady,” he said to Brinadeen, “but it’s just too much.”
“I assume you still remember the incident with the sheep,” said Brinadeen, with a small, patient smile. Richard’s eyes bulged, and his face paled and reddened at the same time. It was quite interesting to watch.
“How could I forget?” he said, when he was able to speak again. He glanced around, and sighed. “All right, fine, you can take ‘im. He’s in the stall at the end, on the left-hand side… just hit me on the back of the head, all right? Make it look like I put up a good fight. Here,” he said, picking up an empty pewter tankard from his table and handing it to me. “Hit me hard enough to knock me out, but not so hard I won’t wake up tomorrow morning.” He sighed again, and seemed to be pulling himself together. “All right, I’m ready,” he said, smiling bravely.
I hit him on the back of the head with the tankard. He went over like a log.
“Well, that was easy,” I said, setting the tankard back down on the table.
I had the jail keys in my hand and was turning toward the cells when I heard the sound of a door rattling. I ducked under the table and tried to look as inconspicuous as possible. The door opened, and half a dozen pairs of feet walked in.
“I came to pick up the little traitor,” I heard a voice say. I winced. Correus. “What happened to the guard?”
“I—” started Brinadeen.
“He must’ve fallen asleep on the job”, said Correus. “Make a note of that, men. He’ll be punished for it.” I bit my lip. Poor Richard. The feet moved toward the desk, and I curled up into a ball, willing myself invisible. Keys jangled. Six pairs of feet moved to the other side of the room. A door rattled, and clicked open. “Hello, little brother,” sang Correus, a sardonic smirk in his voice. No response. “Come on, get up.” Nothing. “I said get up, you stupid pansy!”
A loud, sharp noise rang out.
Correus had hit him.
My mouth gaped open in disbelief, and I squeezed my eyes shut so tight they hurt. “Alright, fine, have it your way, little brother,” Correus said. There was a soft grunt, and the sound of something being dragged along the flagstones. Six pairs of feet walking away. Then a click, and the dungeon door had shut behind them.
“Alright, you can come out now, Abigail”, said Brinadeen. I crawled out from under the desk and stood up. Brinadeen was still staring at the door, her mouth set in a grim line. I rubbed my hands over my face, and groaned.
“How do we get out of this?” I said.
“I don’t know, child,” Brinadeen murmured. “I really don’t know.”




 
 
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