Judo awakes to an odd sound… a thumping sound. It must be… a hammer on shingles? No, not quite. It sounds more like a rug, being beaten free of its dust. But it doesn’t sound muffled enough for that… perhaps the rug has no felt? Or it’s the backside of a rug. Yes, that sounds right – a woman beating the backside of a rug.
Except that doesn’t make any sense, because Judo is in a Perian jail-cell full of sweaty men.
A steep, morning light presses against his eyes. He groans and shifts to his back. Then he looks up in time to see Feter toss a rubber ball against the sandy brick wall.
“That’s… where did you find that?” Judo mumbles.
“The warden had it. I think he likes me.”
Judo looks out from the cell. The hallway outside forms a colonnade, its pillars brick, which surrounds a simple, open-aired water-garden on three sides. Stables occupy the wings, probably for the city police, and the whole complex opens to Pera’s harbor-way. This is a good sign. They wouldn’t put high-priority prisoners here.
The warden sits at a table nearby sipping water from a pitcher. He frowns when he notices Judo, but he says nothing.
“He doesn’t seem the type to hand out toys,” Judo says.
“Believe it, Judo. He has an excellent sense of humor.”
Half the crew has awoken at this point. Judo quickly counts them off – thirteen – and confirms his suspicion. Everyone is here but the captain.
Eventually, someone asks the question on everyone’s mind. “What do you think the sentence will be? Any ideas?”
“I’ve heard stories….” Another frets. “They’re getting tougher on this sort of thing.”
“What in the heavens are you talking about?” Gaus interjects as he urgently shakes his head to shut them up.
For hours, nothing happens. A light breeze betrays the day’s growing heat, pushing handfuls of sand idly along the bricks. People pass up and down the harbor-way and pay them little attention. A couple of sea-birds chatter from some unseen perch, and the sound of breakers drones on constantly.
Then, finally, Judo hears the sound of a creaking gate from the side of the complex. He presently lies on his stomach, – watching a spider spin its web under the cell’s bars, – and after a moment, a pair of feet steps into his view. He looks up – and finds none other than Neeta looking smugly down at him!
She certainly appears to have had a better morning than the crew. Her hair has seen a comb, her skin a proper wash. And even more strikingly, she’s replaced her ragged shirt and pants for a smooth, clean gown, with a belt and scabbard at her waist. What a difference one day can make for an appearance! – she looks… livelier, more comfortable, older. Judo might actually believe her claim to eighteen years, now.
But he will no longer believe this is her first time in Pera. Clearly, that was a lie.
Several of the others, when they see her, jump up and rush to the bars. “You!” Gaus exclaims. “You turned us in!” He proceeds to hurl the most vulgar of insults at the girl as she reclines casually against a pillar. The others more sensibly try to convince her of their innocence, but to no apparent avail. She only stands there, saying nothing, with a wide smile on her face.
Judo looks to Feter, who reflects his confusion with a scowl. All that time, they had a spy in their midst.
Before long, Neeta turns toward the harbor-way just as an entourage of armed guards, led by a strong, elderly man in a mail-suit, enters the complex. Neeta turns again to the prisoners and puts one finger against her lips. Quiet.
The guards assemble in the garden, and the old man approaches the cell with two from their rank. “Give me your cooperation and I’ll make this as brief as possible,” he briskly says. Then he notices Neeta and gives her a reproachful look. “And I see my squire has beaten me here, as expected.”
Judo’s eyes go wide, and the men at the bars back off, stunned. This man is a knight. The captain let a member of the Third Order onto his ship, the incredible fool.
“My name is Sir Fanon,” the old knight states. “And as you probably have determined by now, you have been detained under the authority of the Andonian government – and its most pious King Koman the Second – for taking part in the illegal smuggling of brown-leaf. And as you may not be aware, your imposition of this toxic herb harms the good people of Andonia greatly by the treacherous powers of its aroma. Now, I wish to see the ship’s chief mates at the front of the cell, and the rest at the back.”
That would be Gaus and Feter, the two most privy to the captain. The crew does as Sir Fanon ordered, and then the two accompanying guards remove Gaus and Feter from the cell and lead them out of the complex. Gaus gives the rest of the crew one last look before he disappears – one of reproach, it seems, as they stand and do nothing in response.
Then, strangely, Sir Fanon leaves the cell’s door open as he continues. “As for the rest of you… my squire has indicated you signed to this crew blindly, and in fairness, you should not be considered complicit.” Some of the men dare to relax at this. “The guards here will mark this date upon the backs of your right hands and allow you to recover your belongings from the ship, and then you will be free to go. But be warned – if you have failed to leave this city in a week’s time, you will suffer the full weight of a thief’s punishment. And do not expect the lords of this country to show you hospitality.”
Minutes later, Judo breathes a sigh of relief as he emerges from the complex. Neeta must have been woefully naïve, or perhaps incredibly merciful, to have absolved them all as she did. Each and every crew member, himself included, knew very well they were signing on as smugglers. A legal shipping company pays nothing worthwhile to grunts like them.
Of course, the authorities have just scored a great victory all the same. The ship’s captain was a powerful trader in the illegal markets, and Judo has never seen a larger cargo of doskikfaylay. It seems luck is on Judo’s side, in the end, to be walking away from this with nothing more than an unsightly scar.
Now if only luck will stay with him a while longer, perhaps he will be home two months early! Empty-handed, true, but home. Hopefully Miss Fali won’t be too disappointed.
Tales from the Thornlands 