A World Without Heroes
Page 47
Jason’s cloak was taken, and after a quick search his poniard was removed from a pocket. Ferrin, Tad, and Rachel were searched as well. Jason held his breath as a man checked Rachel’s cloak, but he did not seem to notice the crystal sphere. Tad had left his knife behind in the tavern.
One of the men in bandoleers retrieved a key ring from a peg on the wall. Ferrin and Jason entered the center cell. Tad was placed in the cell to their right, with the bearded man. Rachel went to the cell on their left.
Once the prisoners were in their cells, the constable departed with three men. The remaining guard relaxed in a chair, leaning back, filing a piece of cream-colored wood.
Ferrin sat beside Jason in a rear corner of their cell. “I know the reputation of this constable,” Ferrin said quietly. “He’s a stern one. When Kale dies, and unfortunately he will die, the three of us will be sentenced to death.”
“He mentioned a trial,” Jason said.
“In this town Constable Wornser has final say in matters of sentencing. He’ll be judge and jury. To acknowledge the law we’ll receive a cursory hearing, and then we will be executed.”
“Is there anything we can do?”
Ferrin smiled. “They evidently do not appreciate the abilities of a displacer. If they did, I would not be in a cell such as this.”
Jason raised his eyebrows. “Can you split apart and slip through the bars?”
“Perhaps, though I would not risk it. Separating myself longitudinally is highly dangerous. If I place too much strain on my displacement field, I come apart permanently. Once the cross-dimensional connection is lost, my body would function just like yours. Namely, my innards would slop out all over the floor.”
“Sounds appetizing. If you can’t get through the bars, what can you do?”
“Wait until tonight when things quiet down. You’ll see.”
CHAPTER 12
JAILBREAK
When Jason awoke, a single oil lamp lit the room, casting parallel shadows of prison bars into the cell. Ferrin knelt beside him, shaking his shoulder.
“You have an astonishing capacity to sleep through commotion,” Ferrin whispered.
Jason felt disoriented. Sleeping slouched in the corner had left his neck sore. He squinted at the displacer. “What’s going on?”
“Not long after you went to sleep, the constable returned to report that Kale had died. People have been in and out all evening. Our hearing will be tomorrow. Fortunately, we won’t be here.”
“How?”
“You’ll see. You knew those men who attacked you. Tell me about them.”
Jason sighed. “I tried to save a bunch of musicians from intentionally going over a waterfall. I meant to help, but it turned into a mess. I knocked the shorter guy, Tad, into the water. He only had one arm back then. Kale fished him out. I knew they were angry, but I’m surprised they cared enough to track me down all this way.”
“You say Tad had only one arm?”
“Yes. Unless this is his brother. Wait, maybe he’s a displacer too!”
Ferrin furrowed his brow. “Probably not. More likely they were conscripted. Maldor has the power to restore limbs. A conscriptor must have used the replacement of his arm as leverage to gain his service.”
Jason recalled how the Blind King had explained that Maldor had offered to restore his sight. “A conscriptor sent a boarhound after me as well.”
Ferrin nodded. “They are masters of coercion. If conscriptors are sending assassins after you, the emperor must be more interested in you than I appreciated. On to more immediate concerns. Only one guard remains in the building.”
Jason started to sit up, but Ferrin pushed him down. “No need to look. He has fallen asleep in a chair with his back to our cell. I suspect a second guard awaits outside the front door.”
“How do we get out of the cell in the first place?”
“I do not wish to permanently harm the guards if possible. They acted against us with no malice. But we cannot allow ourselves to be unjustly executed. My first plan involves the two of us feigning sleep. You begin groaning louder and louder, as if in the grip of a relentless nightmare. I’ll lie near the bars. When you hear me make my move, come lend a hand.”
Taking off his shirt, revealing a sparsely hairy chest and moderately developed musculature, Ferrin plucked off his left arm at the shoulder and set it on the floor. He replaced his shirt, and then sprawled on the floor with his back to the bars, concealing the fact that he held his left arm in his right hand. He winked at Jason, who lay gawking at the disconnected appendage.
Jason closed his eyes. Rolling over, he uttered a mounting series of moans culminating in a shout. Through the slits of his eyes Jason saw the guard stir in his chair. Closing his eyes, Jason let out a long, painful groan, tossing his head from side to side.
“That’s enough,” the guard growled.
Jason began panting, then commenced a fresh series of grunts and groans. He heard footsteps, and risked slitting his eyes fractionally. The guard stopped well out of reach of the bars.
“Hey, you, wake up and shut up!”
Jason turned his head away from the bars, then back. He groaned louder, growling at the end.
“Pipe down,” called a voice from a neighboring cell.
The guard took a step closer. “Wake up!” he demanded.
Through his cracked eyelids Jason saw Ferrin leap to his feet and lean against the bars in a quick motion, holding out his severed arm to extend the length of his grasp. The hand of his detached arm caught the guard by the throat, and Ferrin hauled him brusquely against the bars.
Jason dove over to the bars, staying low and seizing the guard’s ankles. Ferrin released his hold on the severed arm, which continued to squeeze the guard’s throat. With his free arm Ferrin seized the man by the back of his head and pounded his forehead against the bars. Jason clung tightly to the struggling feet until the guard sagged.
After yanking the guard’s legs and arms through the bars of the cell, Ferrin told Jason to keep hold of the guard’s feet and to watch him closely. Welts began to discolor the guard’s face. Ferrin took off his shirt again and seamlessly reattached his arm. Then he reached through the bars and made an underhand motion as if he were pitching a horseshoe.
As his arm swung forward, the hand detached from the wrist and sailed through the air, bumping against the wall near the peg where the keys hung. “Prongs!” Ferrin spat, using the word as profanity. The hand scuttled back to the cell on nimble fingers. Ferrin reattached it and tried again. This time the hand hit the keys but failed to catch hold of them. They jingled tauntingly as the hand slapped to the floor.
One of the men in bandoleers retrieved a key ring from a peg on the wall. Ferrin and Jason entered the center cell. Tad was placed in the cell to their right, with the bearded man. Rachel went to the cell on their left.
Once the prisoners were in their cells, the constable departed with three men. The remaining guard relaxed in a chair, leaning back, filing a piece of cream-colored wood.
Ferrin sat beside Jason in a rear corner of their cell. “I know the reputation of this constable,” Ferrin said quietly. “He’s a stern one. When Kale dies, and unfortunately he will die, the three of us will be sentenced to death.”
“He mentioned a trial,” Jason said.
“In this town Constable Wornser has final say in matters of sentencing. He’ll be judge and jury. To acknowledge the law we’ll receive a cursory hearing, and then we will be executed.”
“Is there anything we can do?”
Ferrin smiled. “They evidently do not appreciate the abilities of a displacer. If they did, I would not be in a cell such as this.”
Jason raised his eyebrows. “Can you split apart and slip through the bars?”
“Perhaps, though I would not risk it. Separating myself longitudinally is highly dangerous. If I place too much strain on my displacement field, I come apart permanently. Once the cross-dimensional connection is lost, my body would function just like yours. Namely, my innards would slop out all over the floor.”
“Sounds appetizing. If you can’t get through the bars, what can you do?”
“Wait until tonight when things quiet down. You’ll see.”
CHAPTER 12
JAILBREAK
When Jason awoke, a single oil lamp lit the room, casting parallel shadows of prison bars into the cell. Ferrin knelt beside him, shaking his shoulder.
“You have an astonishing capacity to sleep through commotion,” Ferrin whispered.
Jason felt disoriented. Sleeping slouched in the corner had left his neck sore. He squinted at the displacer. “What’s going on?”
“Not long after you went to sleep, the constable returned to report that Kale had died. People have been in and out all evening. Our hearing will be tomorrow. Fortunately, we won’t be here.”
“How?”
“You’ll see. You knew those men who attacked you. Tell me about them.”
Jason sighed. “I tried to save a bunch of musicians from intentionally going over a waterfall. I meant to help, but it turned into a mess. I knocked the shorter guy, Tad, into the water. He only had one arm back then. Kale fished him out. I knew they were angry, but I’m surprised they cared enough to track me down all this way.”
“You say Tad had only one arm?”
“Yes. Unless this is his brother. Wait, maybe he’s a displacer too!”
Ferrin furrowed his brow. “Probably not. More likely they were conscripted. Maldor has the power to restore limbs. A conscriptor must have used the replacement of his arm as leverage to gain his service.”
Jason recalled how the Blind King had explained that Maldor had offered to restore his sight. “A conscriptor sent a boarhound after me as well.”
Ferrin nodded. “They are masters of coercion. If conscriptors are sending assassins after you, the emperor must be more interested in you than I appreciated. On to more immediate concerns. Only one guard remains in the building.”
Jason started to sit up, but Ferrin pushed him down. “No need to look. He has fallen asleep in a chair with his back to our cell. I suspect a second guard awaits outside the front door.”
“How do we get out of the cell in the first place?”
“I do not wish to permanently harm the guards if possible. They acted against us with no malice. But we cannot allow ourselves to be unjustly executed. My first plan involves the two of us feigning sleep. You begin groaning louder and louder, as if in the grip of a relentless nightmare. I’ll lie near the bars. When you hear me make my move, come lend a hand.”
Taking off his shirt, revealing a sparsely hairy chest and moderately developed musculature, Ferrin plucked off his left arm at the shoulder and set it on the floor. He replaced his shirt, and then sprawled on the floor with his back to the bars, concealing the fact that he held his left arm in his right hand. He winked at Jason, who lay gawking at the disconnected appendage.
Jason closed his eyes. Rolling over, he uttered a mounting series of moans culminating in a shout. Through the slits of his eyes Jason saw the guard stir in his chair. Closing his eyes, Jason let out a long, painful groan, tossing his head from side to side.
“That’s enough,” the guard growled.
Jason began panting, then commenced a fresh series of grunts and groans. He heard footsteps, and risked slitting his eyes fractionally. The guard stopped well out of reach of the bars.
“Hey, you, wake up and shut up!”
Jason turned his head away from the bars, then back. He groaned louder, growling at the end.
“Pipe down,” called a voice from a neighboring cell.
The guard took a step closer. “Wake up!” he demanded.
Through his cracked eyelids Jason saw Ferrin leap to his feet and lean against the bars in a quick motion, holding out his severed arm to extend the length of his grasp. The hand of his detached arm caught the guard by the throat, and Ferrin hauled him brusquely against the bars.
Jason dove over to the bars, staying low and seizing the guard’s ankles. Ferrin released his hold on the severed arm, which continued to squeeze the guard’s throat. With his free arm Ferrin seized the man by the back of his head and pounded his forehead against the bars. Jason clung tightly to the struggling feet until the guard sagged.
After yanking the guard’s legs and arms through the bars of the cell, Ferrin told Jason to keep hold of the guard’s feet and to watch him closely. Welts began to discolor the guard’s face. Ferrin took off his shirt again and seamlessly reattached his arm. Then he reached through the bars and made an underhand motion as if he were pitching a horseshoe.
As his arm swung forward, the hand detached from the wrist and sailed through the air, bumping against the wall near the peg where the keys hung. “Prongs!” Ferrin spat, using the word as profanity. The hand scuttled back to the cell on nimble fingers. Ferrin reattached it and tried again. This time the hand hit the keys but failed to catch hold of them. They jingled tauntingly as the hand slapped to the floor.
