Chapter 12 - Garzer Keep

He used his right hand to check on himself first. The arrows were removed, and there were bandages in place. He was tucked lightly into a bed. The mattress was rather lumpy. He was completely naked except for the two bandages. He found himself clutching the sheet to him, but then chided himself for foolishness. Even if anyone had been in the room they would see nothing he would need to concern himself with.

He was fairly confident there was no one else in the room with him. There was a faint glow in a line that had to have been the bottom edge of a door. Based on that and the window, he decided the room itself was fairly small. Probably a simple bedroom.

Gingerly he poked as his aching shoulder first. It was a little sore, but that was all. How long had it been, he had to ask himself. He was able to make slow movements with his left arm with only some discomfort.

He tested his abdomen. It also was sore and aching, but did not seem damaged. Very, very slowly he tried to sit up. He told himself that at the first pain he would lie himself back down. He felt fine. Just sore and aching. And he was hungry.

They have a magical healer he told himself, seeing no other explanation. The King had one. There had been a second one in New Callest as well, one who could be hired for the right price.

He turned, pulling the sheet with him as he swung his feet off the edge of the bed and onto the floor. It felt cool against the soles of his feet, and he decided it must be stone. He blinked, trying to adjust his eye to the darkness to see more.

We have no money, he reminded himself, so how could I have been healed? He tried to think of Dir Ketten having arrived back to find them after the attack. Perhaps the nomad had more money that he let on, he tried, but his mind was quickly filling with doubt and worry. Where the blazes am I? he finally asked himself, getting to his feet.

He went to the window first and found himself higher up than he expected. From what he could tell, he was about three levels up, inside one of the towers of the Keep. What concerned him more were the two bars crossing over the window, as if to prevent an escape. His stomach spun and rumbled at him, unhappy that he added his worry to the hungriness. He tried briefly to gauge which tower he was in, in relation to the gate, before going to the door. He tried to fold the sheet and tuck it firmly around his waist, before trying the handle. To his surprise, it opened when he pulled it. He squinted for a moment against the light of the lanterns in the next room, before he could see properly again. He looked out into what appeared to be an office, where a man was sitting at a desk, writing something on a piece of parchment. Behind him were shelves filled with books and piles of parchment pieces. It would have seemed reassuring, if it hadn't been for the man's uniform. Matner recognized the King's colors that suggested the man was one of the ranking King's men here, probably a magistrate, based on the amount of stripes the man's uniform had embroidered into the collar of his shirt, and the jacket that hung on a nearby hook.

Oh no! his mind worried, as the man looked up from his writing. Matner attempted to keep his face blank. Without knowing the situation, he wasn't sure yet what the best way to react would be.

"Ah," the man said, nearly but not quite suppressing a yawn, "you're awake. Good."

"Where am I?" Matner tried.

"Garzer Keep. A long way from New Callest. What brings you so far?"

"I'm sorry," Matner said. "I'm still a little confused. We were attacked...just before dawn, I think."

"That was this morning--well, yesterday technically."

"Are you the magistrate here?" Matner asked, leaning against the doorjam a little.

"Yes." The short and curt reply was not encouraging.

"I'm Matner--"

"Yes," the magistrate interrupted. "I've been told who you are. Yet you carried no identifying jewelry, no seals, no signets. The sword does back up the story, assuming it is not stolen. I'll send a letter in the coming days to inform New Callest of your presence here."

"The elf told us you are trying to help return her to her owner after you were separated from your caravan. And yet I have posters here with their two faces claming them to have been stolen. There's a reward. It's a larger amount than I might get selling them here. The girl could fetch a decent amount. The whelp is of limited value. This, I think, presents you with something of a predicament. Would you perhaps care to offer an explanation for how you came across them?"

"I think," Matner said, taking on a tone of voice he'd heard his father use many times with buisiness associates, "that I would be more than happy to explain everything. After I have had a chance to get dressed. Where might my clothes be?"

He glanced down at the sheet he was still holding around his waist with one hand and then raised an eyebrow at the Magistrate.

"Also, you apparently have my name. You are?" He left the question dangling out there, with a slight edge of irritation on it, but worried he might be taking it too far, when the man gave him a once over before answering.

"Prenish. Magistrate Ardon Prenish. I suppose it won't be a problem for you to have some clothes back."

He reached over to one side and pulled a cord on the wall, and Matner heard a bell jingle somewhere in the distance. Moments later, a man about Matner's age came running in. He, too, was dressed in uniform, although looked rumpled. He was a bit overweight and out of breath when he arrived, and Prenish sighed, as if this was a common occurance.

"I'm sorry, sir," the young man puffed. "I was --"

"It doesn't matter, Irving," Prenish said, waving a hand and shaking his head. "Just bring Matner here some of his clothes."

"Yes, sir! Right away, sir!"

Irving bobbed his head and backed his way out of the room. There was an awkward silence as Matner and Prenish waited for him to return. Meanwhile, Matner's mind raced, trying to piece together an appropriate story for what Sharnellynn had already told the man and to account for the posters as well. Despite the tension in the room, it seemed as if Irving came back far too quickly, not buying Matner enough time to think the matter through enough before he was handed a stack of his clothes to change into. Matner returned to the room he'd woken in to change, relieved that Irving had also thought to bring him a lantern as well.

His sword and armor were not, naturally, in the pile of clothes. Whether it was Irving or someone else that had, the clothes that had been picked out had been the one nice set he had brought. There was also his nicer pair of boots, which had been cleaned. He hoped that was a good sign.

He wished he knew what exactly Sharnellynn had said. He could only assume that the closer to truthful he could keep it the better. He decided to stick with what he would have told anyone on day one. The elves belonged to Lady Emarelle, who was a passenger with the caravan. Not that he actually knew much about Emarelle. He wondered how much Sharnellynn did, if anything.

The room itself was rather plain. Stone walls painted white, one window and one door. He had not thought to check from the outer room how many others there were adjacent. He suspected that this level was ringed with these little rooms. He tried to come up with a good idea to what the rooms might have originally been designed for. The door did not seem to even have a lock. So why the bars, he asked himself.

There was no blood showing on the bandages. He left them on just to be safe, putting his clothes over them. The clothes, he also noticed, had also been washed. They were still just a little bit damp. He wished there was a mirror in the room. As far as he could tell his hair should not look too bad. He stepped back out tentatively.

Prenish was signing one of the pieces of parchment on his desk while Irving waited, already holding a few other pieces of rolled, sealed parchment in one hand. Matner waited, while the magistrate rolled the parchment and then sealed it. He handed it over to Irving with a frown.

"Make sure that you get these to him right away. I don't need that old fool coming here and wasting my time again. He won't like some of my solutions, but you make it clear that my orders are final."

"Y-yes, sir," Irving replied nervously. The man looked unhappily at the parchment rolls in his hands before turning and heading quickly for the door.

Prenish then tidied the seal and wax, blowing out the candle and putting the seal itself back into a small pouch that he put into a drawer in his desk. Then he turned his attention back to Matner, gesturing idly at one of the two sturdy wooden chairs that sat in front of his desk.

"Good. You're dressed. Have a seat then, young man, and explain yourself."

Matner made no effort to hurry to the chair, but walked over to it cassually. He sat in it casually as well, slightly sideways with one arm resting over the back of the chair. The other hand he used for emphasis when he talked, and otherwise rested on his knee, a pose he'd seen his father sit in often enough when talking casually with business associates. He hoped it conveyed the same confidence, yet ease that his father tended to project at the time.

"Well, I was unaware that there were posters of the two. I suppose Lady Emarelle has assumed the worst."

"Lady Emarelle?" The magistrate asked.

"The slaves' owner," Matner repleid. "We picked her, and her slaves, up in Tikor."

"I joined up with a caravan in Calster," he explained. "It had been suggested to me that gaining some real world experience would be a benefit after my schooling at the Royal Academy. My grandfather was a knight, you see. So, I chose a caravan and signed on with them. We picked up a passenger in Tikor, one Lady Emarelle. She had two slaves. A few days out from the city, we were attacked. Since Emarelle was planning to use these slaves in trade for something, I never did find out what it was, she had me take them away from the battle, to keep them safe. The battle, was not going particularly well when we left. We couldn't be sure what happened. But we have been traveling the same route as the caravan was expected to take and have yet to connect with them again so that I can return the two slaves back to Lady Emarelle and get paid. Frankly, it has all been much more trouble than it is worth, but I did make the woman a promise. If she has begun offering a reward, she must assume I have failed. Is there word of her here in the city?"

"Interestingly enough," Prenish said, "this Emarelle is not listed as the owner according to the posters."

"Really? Who is?"

"One Lord Rilliam Tyvish," Prenish answered.

"Doesn't sound familiar," Matner said honestly after a moment's consideration. "But how are you supposed to know which is the proper owner? It would probably not be the first time such a thing has been done as a political maneuver." He had not heard of a case of slaves being used that way, although he did know of one case that made it to the King's court where two men both claimed to be the legal owner of a fairly large ruby.

"My more immediate concern," Prenish said, "is whether you were, in fact, trying to see the two back to whoever you believed to be their rightful owner or whether you were involved in the theft. So far you don't strike me as a thief, but we'll wait to see if your identity can be confirmed. If so, you'll be free to go. Until then, consider yourself a guest with...limited rights."

"What sorts of rights?" Matner asked, trying to demand without sounding too demanding. It was becoming clear Prenish was not going to be easily persuaded to just let him go. "Am I under arrest?"

"You will remain here on your own recognizance under the conditions that my men know your whereabouts at all times. You will take all meals here, and you will sleep in this room, with a guard here noting the time every time you enter and leave."

Matner considered his options, looking intently at Prenish as he did. He didn't think the man would take well to Matner arguing for a better situation, so he left it for the moment.

"I'd like to see the slaves," he said instead. "Emarelle will likely blame me if her slaves are too damaged and cannot be used for her affairs. Where are they being kept?"

Now it was the Magistrate's turn to consider Matner, and he raised his chin just a little under the man's gaze. He mentally tried to remind himself to pretend as if he was accustomed to dealing with people like Prenish all the time.

"I suppose you may see their condition, but you will not be allowed to speak to them," Prenish conceded, "until your identity has been confirmed."

"I have no need to speak with them," Matner replied. "I merely need to see that they are still intact."

"Irving can take you to see them when he returns. He can also tell you where you can find anything else you need, here in the Keep during your stay. In the meantime, I have other matters here to attend to, if you don't mind."

Prenish waved a hand at the piles of papers and Matner nodded, standing up.

"How long do you expect it to take to confirm my identity?" he asked.

"Within the week. We sent a message by pigeon the day you arrived. Perhaps sooner if you are known well enough there."

"Thank you," Matner nodded. "I'll await Irving in the other room."

He turned on his heel, military-style, and then walked casually back to the room. He left the door open and straightened the covers on the bed before sitting down on it. He leaned back against the wall, his arms behind his neck, and crossed one leg over the other, kicking his foot idly as he thought about the situation.

What will the return message say? he wondered to himself. Do I need to get out of here first or will Father confirm my identity? Will he demand my return home or... Somehow Matner couldn't imagine his Father doing anything other than demanding Matner's return. Then again, there has to be a point where Father realizes I can make my own decisions, he told himself. Then he worried whether or not his father might deny Matner's identity to punish him for leaving home. Fortunately, he heard voices marking Irving's return in the outer room, and he turned his attention back to the present when the young man came tenatively into Matner's room.

"I can take you to see the slaves now," Irving said, not looking quite as nervous as before. "But I'm supposed to remind you you won't be allowed to speak with them."

"Of course," Matner replied. "I understand. Please lead on." He tried to keep his tone authoritative but cordial. He did not want to alienate Irving. He could see that Irving was intimidated by the magistrate, so pushing authority on Irving could not work. Sympathy, now that was an angle that might work. He decided he needed to earn the man's respect. He would start that by treating him respectfully.

Irving led the way through the main room. Matner made a point of noticing there were four additional rooms, not counting his, plus the stairway off the vaguely hexagonal main room. Irving seemed more comfortable once they were in the stairwell, where the light of Irving's lantern lit the stone and brick as the stairs curved their way down through the thickest part of the tower wall. Here and there more little windows were open to the night air.

"So are there always people up this late at night," Matner asked, "or did he keep you up special on my account?"

"Hmph," Irving said, showing some displeasure. "There's always people awake in the castle. I'm not usually up this late. He kinda wanted to be awake when you woke. He's not sure if you're a thief, and he's not sure if he can trust you."

"And what do you think?" Matner asked.

"So far I don't know enough to judge," Irving replied. It was a good place to start from, Matner thought.

They traveled further down the stairs until there were no further windows as they were below ground level. Irving led him across a room to a hallway, lined in wood and stone. They did not need the lantern here, as there were torches lit periodically down the hallway, but Irving kept it anyway, holding it out before him as they advanced down the long corridor. Matner gauged it would be just large enough to walk two horses through, and seemed long enough that he was certain it led straight back to below the central keep building.

It opened out onto a large square room, from which several hallways branched away and a large staircase led upwards. Irving led Matner down one of the hallways, however, which contained a small stairway going down further. They descended, and the lower they got on the stairwell, the worse the air smelled. There was also an increase of heat that Matner normally wouldn't expected when going underground.

"It's warm down here," he commented aloud.

"We also house the forge down here," Irving answered. "Makes it easier to put chains on the prisoners too. And for branding certain criminals and other things."

"Branding?" Matner asked, alarmed.

"Oh, no, not them," Irving said hastily. "Usually the first sentence for a thief here is branding. A second offense means losing a hand. A third offense is public hanging. Of course that depends on the level of severity. Sometimes the branding gets skipped."

Matner felt a bit pale, realizing that he was being accused of thievery himself. He distracted himself with looking at the scene around him as they progressed to the keep's dungeon.

They passed an area that was clearly the forge. There was a larger opening, and a gate ran across it with a smaller door where a guard stood at either side. Inside, Matner could see muscled young men pumping bellows while other men beat on heated slabs of metal, bending them into shape and thrusting them back into the heat again. He heard a hissing sound of someone quenching a hot piece of metal in water. No one in the room spoke as they passed it. There was just the rythmic noise of metal on metal, clanging. It reminded Matner vaguely of the pattern he and Dir Ketten had fallen into when helping Karl chop out the stump.

The next area they passed was off the other side of the hallway. There was a similar gated wall and doorway, but no guards present and the room itself appeared empty. Between Irving's lantern and the dim light cast from a couple of torches in wall sconces, Matner could tell it was the type of area one would take prisoners to in order to interrogate them. Even Irving seemed to step more quickly past the room, filled with strange and dangerous looking devices and a large, thick wooden table at the center, with shackles attatched at each corner. There were also shackles dangling, empty, on the walls as well. The air around the doorway smelled ripe with blood, both old and new. There were other smells that he couldn't identify, although he was sure one was the lingering odor of burnt flesh.

At the end of the hallway, it opened out into a huge room. Along the walls, bars had been built in with doors, and the cells were separated, with thick mortared stone walls between each. In the center of the room were thick metal cages, as one might see for a circus, to contain beasts. He found himself realizing that the people held in the cells were all human. While those crouched down in the animal cages were all elves. Around him, people murmured, moaned, or cried, and the stench of urine and feces was so thick that he gagged on it for a moment.

"it gets easier once you've been down here a few times," Irving commented, though he was grimacing himself. He led Matner over and spoke to the two armor-clad guards that were playing a game with tiles at a small, rickety wooden table. Beside them, two hungry-looking dogs snarled at Matner while Irving explained their presence to the men. Then one of the men led them to a cage at the far end of the room, taking a heavy metal pole out of a sheathe on his belt and banging loudly against the bars of it.

"Ye got company. Liven up!" The guard spat at the cage and clanged the pole again before wandering back to his table. Irving took a step back, allowing Matner to step forward and look at Sharnellynn and Ahriender, clinging to one another, shackled in the cage. His stomach churned in horror as he tried desperately to keep all emotion off of his face so that Irving wouldn't see his reaction. What made it worse was the expression of relief that was clear on Sharnellynn's face when she turned her blue eyes up to look at him.

There were about a dozen of them in the cages and in that moment he made a decision. Somehow he was going to get them all out and free. What he was seeing was just wrong, and it was making him sick. 'It's okay, he mouthed to them, hoping Sharnellynn would catch it.

He turned away from the cages and back to Irving, letting a little of his distate show on his face. He was pretty sure Irving would interpret it a little differently anyway.

"At least they look undamaged," he said. "My understanding from Lady Emarelle was that their value was an important part of her trade arrangements. Enough has been lost on this trip already. I've seen enough."

Irving looked eager enough to leave, and turned immediately. Matner noticed that the guards relaxed right away, although the dogs were still restless. He judged the guards to be bored and lazy, and were probably lax on their actual duties when not watched. They had no reason to expect trouble. He tried to mark their faces in his mind before he followed Irving out.

This time he was much more aware of the route they took. He wanted to ask where the other passageways went, but he could think of no way to ask that would not be suspicious.

"On our way back," he suggested, "could you show me where to find a few things? For one, I'd like to know where breakfast will be served. My understanding is that I'm free to move about as long as I return for meals and let someone know where I am and where I'll be. If I stay cooped up in that room I think I'll bore myself to death."

"I don't see the harm in showing you around a bit," Irving said, bobbing his head in agreement. "Also, your other belongings, except for your weapons and armor of course, will be returned to you by morning. We've had them washed, and most of them aren't dry yet. But you also had a book, I noticed. I expect you'll be wanting that."

"It might help pass the time, yes," Matner agreed as they made their way back up the stairs.

When they reached the large room with the large staircase going upwards, Irving pointed and explained where they were.

"This room is often referred to as the hub. Each of these corridors leads to one of the towers. They can also be accessed from ground level or the wall, and there are stairways along the walls to get to the tops of those from inside the keep. But, from in here, it is difficult to know which direction you'd be facing so at some point the doorways were marked." He pointed to a carved wooden symbol above each door, with different colored paint on each. Matner recognized the symbols, usually used to mark directions on a sundial or compass, and nodded his understanding.

"Right, that's Northwest, and the tower you're staying in. Magistrate Prenish has charge over that tower. Each tower has a Magistrate. It used to be a Captain during wartime, and there still are Captains assigned to each tower, but during peacetime the Magistrates are in charge. The Captains find... other ways to occupy themselves." Irving shrugged, pointing at the stairway.

"That leads to the center Keep. The upper four levels are reserved for Lord Commander Enniston, and entry to them is obviously forbidden without appointment or escort. Otherwise, I doubt there's really much specifically restricted. I'll show you to the dining hall first. That's where meals are served. Most people eat there, exept for the Magistrates and his Lordship. The Captains do, but they have their own table."

Irving led the way up the massive staircase, which had been left behind when the dirt had been carved down below the keep, leaving the hard earth behind and then reinforcing it with stone and mortar. Matner noticed that there were two guards that milled about at the top of the staircase, and one other who sat in a chair and seemed to be making a point of noticing who went up and down it. The room it led to was a large, tall room with curved walls that went up for several stories before there was an actual ceiling. Beams crossed here and there and there were large open areas on the walls at each story, where people could look down. Birds were perched here and there on the massive wooden beams, which seemed to be offset from where the openings were. Along the wall were two thick staircases, both spiraling upwards from this level and stopping at each of the ones above it until they disappeared up further above the ceiling.

On this level, it appeared that there were three exits, other than the stairways. One looked as if it led out to a marketplace, which Irving confirmed when he began describing things. Half the market was inside the building itself, while it also spilled out into an outdoor marketplace as well. Another door led back towards the barracks and other military areas, Irving told him.

"I suppose you probably shouldn't go wandering around in there either. This way, however, is to the dining hall." Irving gestured towards the third doorway, which appeared to open into a massive open room filled with tables and benches. Matner followed Irving as he led the way into the room.

This room was also hugely tall, although perhaps one level shorter than the main hall behind them. Oversized lanterns hung on wrought iron chains from a ceiling obscured by the lanterns' oily smoke.

There were four pairs of large glass doors one right after the other leading outside. They were all open to the night air. He at first thought it a considerable security risk until he saw huge timber shutters hanging inside above the doors. They were held by chains and looked as though they could be dropped quickly to seal the entrance.

There were also other open doorways that he suspected led to kitchens. The room was easily large enough to seat a couple hundred all at once comfortably. He had seen a larger dining hall at the castle in New Callest, but this was still impressive.

"Your things are at a laundry in the South tower," Irving explained. "Each tower has a partial specialty. South is cleaning and the castle's staff. North is more military areas and blacksmithing. Northwest, your home until Prenish decides what to do with you, is home to our Healer, and is primarily used for treating the sick and wounded. East has the chapel."

"Isn't it a little strange to have a magistrate in charge of a healing facility?" Matner asked.

"Dunno," Irving answered. "I've been here all my life. I couldn't tell you how things are anywhere else. But he likes where he's at. He's got the power to decide who gets better and who doesn't, and sometimes who lives and who dies. He only had you healed in case that sword of yours wasn't stolen. We don't see many academy blades around here, so if you are who you seem to be then I think he doesn't want you offended. Don't get me wrong, but around here everything between the magistrates is status. Prenish'll either take credit for catching a thief or he'll brag about saving your life."

"I'm not sure I like the idea of being used as a status leverage," Matner frowned, shaking his head. "What about the West and SouthEast towers? I know I saw six towers from the outside."

"The SouthEast tower is the merchant's guild mostly. And the West tower is the school and library. It used to be military once, but the school needed more space, so they moved it there, along with the more commonly found books and scrolls. The rarest books and parchments are still kept in the main keep though, within the old library on one of his Lordship's levels. I haven't been into the old library myself. Just the outer office to request things for Lord Prenish."

"I see," Matner nodded. "And where would be the most likely place that a Lady might take up rooms while she is here? If Lady Emarelle arrives, I should like to have a message waiting for her."

"Of course. There are three possible inns that she might stay at," Irving replied. "They are all outside the keep walls, however, so you would have to send your messages by courier. I could have those sent after breakfast. It is still rather late at night..."

"After breakfast would be fine," Matner nodded, giving Irving a smile. "I wouldn't want to rouse anyone unecessarily. How long until breakfast, however? I am feeling extraordinarily hungry right about now."

"That would be from the healing, sir," Irving told him. "And the fact that you were asleep for quite some time. But the healing tends to make people extra hungry. We can go to the kitchens and see if there is anything available. We might be able to get some bread and broth to tide you over."

"That would be fine," Matner nodded again.

Irving led him to the two doors he had thought to be kitchens and as they walked through the heavy wooden doors, Matner found himself overwhelmed by aromas of cooking meats and breads, mingling with other savory smells that had his mouth watering. A heavyset man with a large knife in his hand stood at a counter, slicing off long stips of bacon from a massive piece of pork. He looked up and greeted Irving with a smile. A few other people moved here and there, tending pots or rolling dough, but this man seemed to be a dominant presence in the room. Out of the corner of one eye, Matner noticed the figure of an Elf, huddled under the stairs, attempting to sleep on the hard, stone floor.

"Prenish can't be hungry this late, who's that with you then?" the man asked.

"I'm Matner--"

"He's a guest of Magistrate Prenish," Irving interrupted. "He was healed of injuries earlier today. If you have something he could eat it would help him out."

"It's still hours before breakfast. I've got nothing ready for one or two. Take a seat, though" the man said, indicating a stool. "I'll set up some eggs in a minute."

"Do you have to get back?" Matner asked Irving.

"At this point I think I'll be up for a while. If I get you back now he'll either leave me in charge of staying up in that outer room until a guard change, or he'll send me off on another errand. If we're both lucky, someone else will have come along by the time we get you back and it'll be that guy's job to stay there."

"If you're lucky, he'll have decided that daytime business is for daytime, and he'll have gone to sleep," an older man said as he walked in. The man looked to be about Matner's grandfather's age. Most of his hair was steely gray, but his eyes were still vibrantly alive, even if just then they were a bit droopy from sleepiness. He wore a tunic that could have been a nobleman's if it did not look more like an officer's tunic worn slightly at the shoulders from armor. Matner could not tell for sure in the uneven lamp light.

"I don't normally get this much company at night," the cook said. "What brings you down here, Sir Arnish?"

"It seems someone thinks I'm just some old fool who doesn't need his sleep. So now I'm awake and I don't think I'll be able to just fall asleep. I thought I'd drop by for a snack...again."

"So," Arnish asked, indicating Matner, "who's this then, Irving?"

"He claims to be a Matner Tibrum of New Callest. Showed up with an academy blade."

Realizing that the man was military, and high ranking too, Matner found himself automatically saluting the man, from years of academy training. Arnish raised an eyebrow at Matner, looking curious.

"Academy, eh? Well, someone taught you to salute at least. At ease, young man. Take a seat."

Matner nodded, keeping his thoughts to himself as he sat down at one of the smaller tables in the room. Irving took the seat next to him, while Sir Arnish took the seat across, giving Matner a once-over in the process.

"Tibrum? That name sounds vaguely familiiar, although I can't place it just now. And anyone can pluck a name out of a hat and pretend to be them if they're far enough away from home. But not many can pretend to have attended the Academy in New Callest. Let's see if you're telling the truth or not, shall we?"

"If you can confirm who I am, I'd be glad to answer any questions you have, sir," Matner replied, wondering what the man had in mind.

"Well, then, someone seems sure of themself," Arnish chuckled.

"If I am who I say I am, then is there any reason I shouldn't be?"

"No, I don't suppose so. But then Master Pru might have answered differently when teaching the class on religion, don't you think?"

"Ahh, I see. Except that Master Gaern teaches religion. Master Pru has only ever taught some of the advanced weaponry and melee combat classes, and not many anymore at that. I'm fairly sure that Master Pru has never taught a religion class."

"But do you know why that is?" Arnish leaned in, with an amused-seeming smile on his face.

"I -- " Matner paused, realizing it was something he hadn't given any thought to prior to that moment. Arnish laughed.

"As a boy the good Master Pru was tossed out on his ear for stealing from the donation bowl in a church of Saith. A week later, they caught him trying to do the same at a church of Salith as well."

"He was a thief?" Matner looked at Sir Arnish in astonished disbelief, which only made the old man laugh again.

"Indeed he was! Nothing more than a steet urchin in his youth until he found a knight who took him in as his page and then later squire. Master Pru was given an opportunity and took it with both hands and truely made something of it. Master Gaern, on the other hand..."

"What about Master Gaern? He helped me decide which of the Gods to pledge, don't tell me there's anything scandalous in that man's past." Matner frowned, suddenly feeling a certain loyalty to the teachers he'd had.

"No,no. In fact Master Gaern would have been a priest if he hadn't of fallen in love. He was one year away from taking his vows to the church when he decided to take vows with her instead."

"No wonder he was so intent on helping us make the right choices," Matner said, reflecting for a moment on some of the conversations he'd had with the man.

"What about Drake? What can you tell me about Drake though?" Arnish asked, a challenge in his voice.

"Master Drake? Only that Drake is actually his first name, not his last. No one knows why he goes by that when all the others use their surnames instead. And all the students felt pretty sure he was older than he appeared. He looks younger than the rest of the Masters, but acts just as old when you talk to him."

"He is older, son. But his little secret is one I'll keep for now. I can't give you all the exciting details of your teachers in one sitting."

"So, you've done your homework, then," Arnish said. "How many levels to the north tower?"

"There are three north towers," Matner countered. "Two at the north gate, and one in the keep. The tower gates are three levels tall each. The north keep gate is four levels above ground, with two basement levels. Above ground levels are easy, though. Not so easy is Master Allan's forge one level down, with the coal cellar below that. Master Allan is missing his left pinky, he can poke like nobody's business with his forefinger."

"At the top of the tower," Matner continued, "is the sword room. There are seventeen swords on display there, one for each master that has led the academy in the almost two hundred years it has existed. The door to that room squeaks loudly. If you ask Master Allan, he'll tell you that the framing for the door is the problem, and that it's harder to fix than it's worth. But if you happen to catch him when he's been drinking--which is not easy, mind you--he'll tell you that he inentionally bent the top hinge. The room is like a shrine to him, and entering it should be a solemn thing done with a purpose, so no one should be able to just quietly sneak in."

"You got him to tell you that?" Arnish asked.

"I didn't understand why he was drinking at first, but it seemed the right time to get the answer to something that was bothering us. I told my friends that he didn't say anything."

"But can you tell me why he was drinking?" Arnish asked next.

"That seemed to be because of a woman's death. I got the impression it was his wife."

"Did you get her name?"

"Marya," Matner answered.

"Alright, one more question," Arnish siad, with a smile. "In the attic above the top floor of the dormitory, what is carved into the wood to the left of the small window on the north side."

Matner had to think for a minute, picturing the room in his mind and slowly turning his attention to the window. He was suprised that Arnish would even know about that, since the attic was the unofficial playroom for the students. While he knew the Masters knew about the attic, they never went up there, allowing the students some space to "sneak" away and relax in at night and during off hours. There was usually a small stash of both alcohol and tobacco hidden in floorboards and the like around the small space as well, smuggled in as students could find them. It didn't seem like the kind of place that Arnish would have been at any point, much less recently enough to be sure that an etching in the wood would still be there.

"Integrity," he said, finally remembering the single word, etched in large, blocky letters, sideways, along the edge of the window. "But how would you know that?"

"Did you know that Master Pru waters down the bottles he finds up there?" Arnish laughed. "Can't have a bunch of students always hung over each morning. Not good for the school's reputation."

"I didn't know," Matner admitted, "but now that I think about it I don't think I'm surprised."

"He is who he says he is, Irving," Arnish said. "You can tell Prenish I said so."

"I don't know if that'll be good enough for him...," Irving said. "There's also the matter of two slaves he arrived with. They've been stolen, and Prenish is trying to determine the rightful owner. There's a reward."

"Of course there is," Arnish said. "There's always a reward. If Matner swears he did not steal them then that's good enough."

"I did not," Matner answered truthfully. "I was traveling in a caravan with a Lady Emarelle. They were with her. We were attacked by bandits and separated. I have been following the route they had planned, hoping to be able to reunite them."

"And this Emarelle gave you no reason to suspect they were stolen?" Arnish asked.

"No, she did not, although I did not have much chance to speak with her. I do know that they had been owned by someone else at one point. There was also a run-in with the local thieves' guild shortly before we left. Perhaps that prior owner made a poor business decision and thought to cheat his way out of it by claming them stolen. What is the burden of proof here?"

"I will have to speak with Prenish about that. I don't know enough about the situation to guess before I do."

"Well, Irving here has already suggested he can get messages to the inns Emarelle is most likely to stay at. If the timing works out, perhaps she can settle the situation. Or, it's possible I may have missed her already. We've been sidetracked a couple of times now along the way. She was planning to use the slaves in trade for something, but if I cannot return them in time..." Matner shrugged and sighed in frustration.

"How did you wind up in Prenish's hands to begin with?"

"He came in needing healing," Irving put in. "The female slave said they were attacked."

"Oh?"

"We made camp just outside the city. Some men attacked us while I was asleep. They had an archer who managed to put a couple of arrows into me before I got to him. By the time I had finished the fight, the arrow in my abdomen had proven more dangerous than I'd hoped."

"I see," Arnish said, seeming as if he was envisioning the scene in his head. "And the slaves brought you here then?"

"Apparently, yes. This is where I awoke."

"Yes, but with the misfortune of ending up in Prenish's juristiction," Arnish chuckled. "He won't let go of this easily, even if I vouch for your identity. Captains don't hold the clout they used to, you know. At least not old Captains who've been retired to here."

"Retired, sir?" Matner asked, a bit confused.

"Back in the days before the war, young man, Garzer Keep was important. Now that New Callest and the King own all the lands between both sets of mountains, however, this keep is right in the middle of nowhere. So, it's a nice, sturdy keep with no strategical value whatsoever. Which means it's nothing more than a glorified trade city at a crossroads. They're even building a road north to Randolph Keep to bring more commerce. Look around you, Matner. This place is slowly falling apart. They only send unruly Captains they don't know what to do with here. And, sometimes, they send old Captains like me, too old to be of any use to them now."

"I... I didn't know..." Matner stammered, unsure of how to respond. To his surprise, Arnish chuckled again.

"No worries, Matner. I may have been relegated to fighting my battles with nothing but my wits, and against Magistrates like Prenish, but only because I find it amusing to toss a timber into the fire every now and again to see it blaze a little. I'll talk to Prenish in the morning, after the pompus fool has pulled himself from his latest bedwarmer and gotten back to business."

Eventually plates of eggs were offered everyone. Irving took one, too. They all munched on the eggs, lost in their own thoughts.

Irving yawned around trying to suggest to Matner that he get back to his room and get some sleep. Rest was an important part of the healing process, Irving explained. Matner said goodnight to Arnish, and thanked the cook, who shrugged and went on with what he was doing.

Irving pointed out a few more sights on the way back. Matner tried to make note of what he could as Irving pointed down passageways and mentioned the kinds of things that could be found in each direction. But Matner was yawning, too.

Prenish was gone from the central room before his. A guard was sitting in his place, looking at cards spread out on the desk in the lantern light. The guard looked up when they arrived.

"I'm sure Prenish told you to watch him," Irving said, indicating Matner. "This is Matner. He's a guest. His identity has been confirmed, but that'll get resolved in the morning.

"Whatever," the guard said and yawned before going back to the cards. He picked one up and moved it to another row.

Matner said goodnight and went into his room. The room was dark once he closed the door and was without Irving's lantern. Outside it looked like the sky was just starting to lighten. He crawled into the bed and slept.

His dreams were fragmented and uneasy. Images of elves being beated and branded haunted him, and he kept hearing Dir Ketten's voice telling him that he couldn't save them all. Prenish saying Matner was a liar and a thief as he put a seal on a piece of parchment. When Matner woke, it was in a cold sweat, and he shivered in the cool morning air.

He couldn't sleep after that, and paced the floor for a while, trying to plan out what he needed to do. It seemed an impossible task, and he worried that if he was able to find Dir Ketten, the nomad would be unwilling to help. On his own, Matner knew that he wouldn't stand a chance of getting them out of the dungeon, much less out of the Keep and city itself.

If I can get them out of the dungeon quietly enough, he thought to himself, perhaps I can diguise myself and smuggle them out without the rest of the city knowing. He tried to imagine how he could possibly smuggle out all of the elves they had imprisoned in the dungeon and came up empty for ways to do it.

I need Dir Ketten, he told himself. Together, we'll come up with something. He left the room, telling the guard he was going to breakfast and then to browse the marketplace. The guard shrugged and reminded him to check back in before lunch. Matner assured him he would.

Twice he found himself doubting his memory of what was where. His head still felt a little foggy. But he found his way to the dining hall without making any wrong turns.

The hall was crowded, nearly packed. There was a line formed at the kitchens entrance, and he made his way to the end of it. There was a mix of people around him. There were soldiers and laborers and some finer dressed folk all mixed together some. Mostly different groups grouped together, but there did not seem to be any clear distintions for where anyone belonged. There were no elves to be seen in the room.

He had to wait about ten minutes in line before he was offered a plate with eggs and crunchy bacon. There was also a biscuit doused with gravy. He took the plate and wandered looking for a place to sit. He took the first spot he could find.

The table was mostly soldiers and guards. Several of them paused to look at him when he joined them. They did not stop their conversation. They were eagerly a sporting tournament scheduled in the coming weeks. Some of them discussed which sports they wanted to watch and which ones some of them wanted to participate in.

He sat in silence and ate. The eggs had tasted better in the night. He supposed the cook had been much more hurried this morning. He wondered how many people had been working in that kitchen to prepare all this. It was a challenge he decided he had no interest in taking up for himself.

He spared a glance at the table he'd been told the captains normally sat at, but it was the only empty table in the room, it's heavy wooden chairs conspicuously devoid of occupants, while the long benches along the rest of the tables in the room teemed with people. None seemed to notice. Everyone was busy with their own conversations and food.

The sheer number of soldiers eating in the dining hall made his different potential plans seem futile, at best. He wondered why there were so many if, as Sir Arnish had suggested, the keep was no longer of any strategic importance. And yet he also noticed that most of the men were young, and had clearly never seen combat before. He doubted many of them had done more than break up a bar fight, but then he hadn't exactly been in any wars himself. He realized, with a strange feeling of detachment, that he would have gotten along just fine with them if he had been here before meeting Sharnellynn and Ahriender. So much had changed since then.

He finished his eggs and returned the plate and utensils to one of the wooden bins that were out along a side table for them. He saw an elf, the one he'd seen sleeping on the floor the previous night, carrying the heavy bins full of dirty plates back into the kitchen, and replacing them with empty bins for more. The elf limped slightly when he walked, and never looked up except fleetingly to make sure he wasn't in anyone's way.

Next he made his way back to the marketplace. Half the market was inside the keep's central building, protected from the weather by it's thick stone walls. Mater saw merchants selling books, silks, spices, and elaborate jewelry in there. It was the second half of the marketplace that looked as he was accustomed to seeing. The outdoor markets were rougher fabrics, foodstuffs and overall, a much wider variety of things most men might be able to afford. He was not surprised that it was here that he turned a corner to find the familiar face of Dir Ketten.

He hugged the nomad immediately, which brought quite a look of surprise. That was followed by a look of frustration.

"I can explain," Matner started right away and stepped back. "We were attacked in the night. We fought them off, but I took two arrows in the process. One of them was bad. Sharnellynn brought me here for help. I've been healed, but we have some problems."

"Of course we do," Dir Ketten said flatly. Dir Ketten led them off away from the crowd so they could talk. They found a spot between two vending stalls that they could step back out of sight.

"There is a wanted poster for the two, declaring them stolen and offering a reward," Matner explained quietly. "A local magistrate is holding them in locked cages beneath the keep. He has also sent word back to New Callest trying to confirm my identity. He is holding my sword and armor until then. I do have a local officer vouching for me, so that might help."

"We cannot wait here weeks for word to get there and back," Dir Ketten pointed out.

"I know," Matner agreed. "That officer will talk to the magistrate some point today. I'll find out more after that, I think."

"There are a lot of soldiers here," Dir Ketten said.

"I think we'll have to rely on stealth and sneak them out, rather than do anything by sheer force," Matner suggested.

"There are a lot of soldiers in the city," Dir Ketten repeated, frowning. "If you are thinking you just slip in, release them, and slip away, you haven't thought it fully through."

"I've been trying to work out several possible scenarios," Matner put in, somewhat defensively. "Every one of them seems more likely to fail than the next." This time it was Matner's turn to sigh in frustration.

"Stealth will play a role, but first we need to garner some support within both the keep and just outside if we hope to make it away before we are noticed. We're best doing it at night - there are less men on guard at night when the rest of the city is sleeping. I shall see who might help us on the outside, but you will need to determine who is trustworthy here in the keep. Be wary, however. The magistrates here are a greedy, power-hungry bunch. Even if we did have the money to do so, I wouldn't want to bribe anyone as they would probably take the money and go straight to a magistrate to report us anyway. There is a power game being played here. The captains play it some as well, although from what I've seen they are more prone to brute force tactics than political games."

"See who in the keep might be sympathetic to our cause and introduce yourself," he continued. "I will do the same outside the keep walls. Tomorrow, we will meet again. Walk the market after breakfast again and I will find you."

"How will I be sure I can trust them?" Matner asked.

"If you have a doubt, don't risk it. We can't afford to make mistakes right now, it would only make the situation worse."

With that, Dir Ketten turned and walked off into the marketplace, leaving Matner standing alone between the tents. He looked around, hoping no one had heard their hushed conversation, but no one appeared to have been in earshot. He then wandered the marketplace himself for a while, watching the people and merchants, attempting to determine what sort of people might be sympathetic enough to help Elves escape captivity. He realized he hadn't told Dir Ketten yet of his plan to release all of the elves in the dungeon.

He didn't have money, so he had to repeatedly fend off some of the mre aggressive merchants. Fruits, pies, and coffees were frequently being held under his nose for him to see and smell and after a few hours his stomach rumbled at him for lunch. As he made his way back he saw Sir Arnish off to one side. Arnish was wearing a crisp, clean uniform, and was talking to another man who was dressed similarly. Then the two finished their conversation, and Arnish walked across the marketplace, back towards the dining hall. Matner hurried to catch up, hoping the Captain had had a chance to speak with Prenish by now.

He caught up to Arnish walking into the dining hall. The dining hall was already full and bustling. The high ceiling echoed back the sounds of talking and laughing and the clangs and clanks of mugs and plates. He followed Arnish to the line for food.

"Ah, hello," Arnish said.

"Good morning, sir," Matner said.

Arnish laughed. "You definitely aren't from around here..."

"You noticed, huh?" Matner said light heartedly. "Any chance I could bother you with a couple of questions while we're waiting?"

"I usually eat alone...," Arnish said, trailing off at the end.

"Oh, well, I wouldn't want to bother you while you're eating," Matner said.

"I usually eat alone because the others tend to avoid me. Every now and then company is good. Come, sit and eat with me, and you can help me remember long lost academy days."

"So how are you enjoying your stay here at Garzer Keep so far then, Matner?" Arnish added, with a wry smile, before stepping up to take a plate and mug from the counter. Matner chuckled as he took a plate and mug of his own and followed Arnish towards a table.

"I suppose the circumstances could be worse, considering I arrived wounded," he admitted, with a smile.

"That's the spirit," Arnish laughed, taking a seat.

Matner noticed they were sitting at one of the Captain's tables as Arnish gestured to the seat next to his. There were very few Captains actually at the tables, although Matner did make a point of noticing the faces of the ones that were. He noticed the amount of slaves running to and fro seemed exceptionally high around their tables. None of the other Captains had waited in line to get their food.

"They all have slaves," he commented between mouthfuls, attempting to seem casual. "Don't you?"

"Who's that?" Arnish asked, looking up from stabbing a vegetable on his plate. Matner nodded his head in the direction of the other Captains and Arnish cast a glance over at them, his look changing to one of disapproval.

"Oh. Them," he replied, shaking his head. "They believe it is the will of the Gods themselves that they have slaves to serve them night and day. While I do have a couple of the Elves in my sservice, I also think that the Gods willed that I have two perfectly good hands, and idle hands make a man dull of wit. While there are plenty of things I do have them do for me, I am not an infant who needs to be spoon-fed, if you catch my meaning."

Matner took a second look over at the Captains, and saw that Arnish was, in fact, speaking literally about one of them. He had one of the elves kneeling on a chair next to him, feeding him mouthfuls one spoonful at a time, while another stood behind him, massaging his shoulders. Both were female, and dressed in so little it made Matner's cheeks flush as much due to modestly as in anger. He quickly did his best to mask both. He looked to the other slaves, of the couple of other Captains sitting there. While one pair seemed to be kept running to and fro to fetch more food for the heavyset man, the other pair stood behind the chair of the third and one would rush to obey any command he gave. It was clear by the large purple area on one of the elves' faces that the Captain was harsh in dealing with mistakes.

"They're not all like that," Arnish commented. "Those three are close friends and watch each other's backs against the others. One of the Magistrates is often seen with them too, although it is questionable whether they aim to control that Magistrate or if he is attempting to manipulate them. It's all a man-sized chess game here. Each trying to checkmate the other."

"So, I'm guessing you just don't play?" Matner asked.

"It's the only way to win," Arnish replied. "Besides, it frustrates them to no end. So sometimes frustrating them is my own game."

"Now, we've also thrown something new at them, so you deserve to be warned about it."

"What's that?" Matner asked, suddenly concerned.

"Guests don't usually join us at these tables," Arnish explained. "When one of them has guests, they usually arrange their own private meals. They're probably going to read something extra into your sitting here with me. They might take a sudden interest in you."

Matner worried about that a little. He wondered if it would be harder to find potential allies with the others scrutinizing him. He also assumed that Prenish would try to affect Matner's reputation before he even had one by calling him a thief.

"Prenish thinks I'm a thief, unless you've talked to him already," Matner pointed out.

"I did speak to him this morning," Arnish said. "He'll no longer be attempting to keep you under his silly house arrest, so you're free to get an inn room. The rest of your things should be waiting for you in the room you've been using."

"There's a bit of a problem with that," Matner explained. "I was robbed, and I have no money for an inn room."

"Hmm," Arnish said around a mouthful of lunch. Matner waited, eating a forkful of his own food and trying to figure out a solution himself.

"I know a man who runs an inn here and owes me a favor," Arnish told him. "I could call that favor in for you. However, you'd then owe me a favor instead."

"What sort of favor?" Matner asked, wondering what the Captain had in mind.

"I'm not sure yet, but I have a suspicion I'll need something of you before you have to leave. If not, then you'll just have to promise to do something for someone in need at some point in the future when you technically have no reason to."

"Alright," Matner nodded. "It's a deal. But I don't plan on staying long. Did Prenish say anything about the slaves?"

"He is still trying to decide how to best determine ownership. I expect he will hold them until that has been figured out. Mind you, I think he may lean towards collecting that bounty himself. It would be best if you could find your Lady Emarelle and she could prove ownership in some way. Otherwise he is likely to hold them until someone from Tikor can come pay him and fetch them. But I suggest we discuss that matter back at my office while I write up that letter for the innkeep, shall we?"

Arnish gestured at the empty plates and Matner nodded in response. He followed Arnish as they dropped their plates off on the side table and made their way outside the main keep. Arnish seemed to smile to himself as they made their way across the grassy courtyard to the West tower.

"Irving said this was the school tower," Matner commented as they walked.

"Yes it is. Technically, I'm the oldest and most experienced captain here, however they seem to feel that is a good qualification for someone to watch over the library and a bunch of students and teachers. They wouldn't want to risk my experience being useful in any military capacity. After all, I'm old and forgetful you know."

Arnish gave him a wink, complimenting his sarcastic tone and causing Matner to chuckle as they entered the tower. They made their way up a staircase for several levels before going down a hallway and into a large office and sitting area. Matner immediately spotted an elf sitting by the window darning a sock with a small wicker basket of more of them at her feet. She immediately set the sock aside and stood up as they entered, but Arnish waved and shook his head at her.

"It's alright Miraselle, we're fine. This is Matner."

In contrast to the slaves of the other Captains Matner had seen in the dining hall, Miraselle was dressed in a modest dress with a high collar and slightly puffed sleeves. Her hair was tied neatly in a bun at the back of her head and Matner could tell she was older than most of the other elves he'd seen at Garzer Keep, with the possible exception of the Elven man in the kitchens. She nodded and smiled in greeting to both of them before sitting down and returning to the socks. Arnish gestured to one of the chairs in front of his desk as he went and sat down behind it. He pulled out parchment and pen and took a few minutes, writing on it before rolling it and sealing it.

"So, let's discuss those slaves then," Arnish said, tapping the rolled parchment on his desk before setting it off to one side instead of handing it Matner. "Since I find it unlikely you're going to let him send them back to Tikor. I wasn't born yesterday, young man. Is Emarelle really the owner? Does this Lady of yours even exist?"

Matner hesitated, unsure what to do. Dir Ketten's warning to not risk anything if unsure came back to him. But he also doubted his ability to deceive this man, which made him wonder if he would have any chance of deceiving any of them. He was in over his head on this, and he knew it. He had to take a chance. He chose truth.

"Any chance we could talk...privately?" Matner asked. Arnish cocked his head, regarding him for a moment before politely dismissing Miraselle.

"It's not that I don't want to trust her," Matner explained, "but if what I say could cause problems I didn't want to give her ideas."

"She does exist, and when I first met her it did appear that the elves were hers. The truth is a little different. One of the elves is only half elven. He was hidden away, but the mother wanted him to live free. The caravan I was traveling with was part of an underground movement to free elves and smuggle them to towns they could live freely in."

"So they are stolen...technically," Arnish pointed out.

"Technically," Matner conceded, "although I think 'escaped' might actually be more precise. I did promise to keep them safe. I haven't exactly succeeded at that, but I'm not done trying."

"I see what you mean about not wanting to give Miraselle ideas. That was rather wise for your age. So you think to somehow break them out of their cages and somehow escape with them?"

"Basically, that is the idea, yes," Matner admitted, trying to watch the man for clues to his reaction.

"I see," Arnish said, steepling his hands in front of him and looking at them for a moment, seeming deep in thought. Matner waited, nervously worrying the man would call the guard next.

"When you graduated from the academy, Matner, you swore an oath to the King,.." is what the man finally said. He left the words dangling, clearly waiting for Matner to give an explanation. Matner's heart seemed to be lurching around in his stomach unhappily.

"to serve the King and Kingdom, to lead in all actions by shining example, and to always strive to advance myself and those around me," Matner recited.

"I doubt the King would be very pleased with your actions," Arnish commented, raising an eyebrow.

"I also pledged to Salith that day," Matner countered, "to protect all life as I find it, and strive to bring peace to all that I meet."

"One might argue that the actions you've been taking and are planning to take aren't precisely peaceful, young man. Other's might argue whether or not Elves qualify for protection any more than a dog or mule might."

"Most dogs I've seen are better treated than the Elves I've seen in this Keep." Matner replied, his anger rising for just a moment.

"Besides," Matner continued, "I think I could do a better service to my King if I could remind him that the Elves have paid their debt. They should have been allowed to go free long ago. It is one thing to have taken all their lands and held them in service in the first place. They agreed to that. But their debt has been paid, sir. For some, more harshly than others. Emarelle may have taken them, but the man before her treated Sharnellynn cruelly, from what I understand. I'm sure that was never part of the arrangement made by the Elves with the King."

"Enough." Arnish did not say it angrily. It felt more like a warning instead. Matner's stomach lurched again and his worry grew as he watched the Captain take the piece of parchment he'd written and begin burning it over the candle. Matner opened his mouth to protest, but Arnish held his other hand up, forestalling him. The two remained silent as they watched the paper burn. Arnish set it on a metal plate once it was burning well, and by the time it finished there was just some ash and wax that was black and bubbling for a moment before it went out, a wisp of smoke trailing into the air between them. Arnish looked at Matner, as if considering him for a moment.

"If you give away your secrets this easily, young man, you won't be safe at an inn. You'll need to stay here for now. Otherwise you're likely to get me in trouble with the others."

"Sir, I... I'm confused," Matner admitted. Arnish opened a drawer in his desk and pulled out a piece of fabric, unfolding it onto the desk in front of Matner.

"Do you see this?" he asked.

Matner looked closely, recognizing that it was a family crest. Many knights would have one embroidered upon being knighted, and he'd seen his grandfather's. Matner knew that Arnish was the third knight in his line, based on the two varients off the first knight's symbol. Arnish's family was represented by a stag and a sword. Matner's grandfather's crest was of an eagle with a sword held in it's beak. Matner had always hoped to add himself to the family crest one day, and had spent many hours between classes wondering what small alteration he might make to represent himself. Arnish had added one word, although Matner couldn't read the language it was in. He looked up at the Captain, as curious as he was still confused.

"What language is that?" he asked.

"It is Elven," Arnish said. "It seemed appropriate at the time I was knighted. Can you guess what it says?" The Captain folded the fabric back up, tucking it away again while waiting for Matner's answer. Meanwhile, Matner thought back to one of the previous conversations he'd had with the man.

"Integrity?" he asked, remembering the word scratched into the wood at the Academy.

"Good memory," Arnish nodded, leaning back in his chair. "My father was among the first wave of solidiers sent to Elven lands to fight the giants. The few that made it out of that battle alive told horrible tales of what occurred there. I, myself, was just out of the academy at the time. My father did not come back, so I foolishly signed up to go in the next wave. A small part of me hoped to find my father alive somewhere. But that was not meant to be. By the time we were far enough that we could see the mountains, the war was over. Patrols reported that the giants had just picked up and left. Others reported a small group of individuals who had left the mountains wounded, but saying the war was over. I spent almost two years, posted just at the base of those mountains. We even took scouting parties in to check. But giants were gone."

"Then there was the orders to round up the Elves. Not only did the King take credit for the victory, but made sure that the Elves honored the agreement they had made for him to send troops in the first place. Those of us who'd gone to the front line and survived were knighted and allowed to choose two elves to serve. That's when I acquired Miraselle and Loridan. They are married."

"At the time, there was no secret made of the amount of time the Elves were to be indentured for. So I'm well aware of when the debt ended. But, by that point the King had died and his son owned the Kingdom. He has seen no reason to honor the arrangement made by his father. To control the Elves means more power. It also, however, means peace. If we were to free them now, they might want their lands back. And try to take it back by force. Or, at least, this is how the King views it. He sees it as his way of keeping the proud nation of New Callest from facing another war."

"But what do you think?" Matner asked, still unable to be sure if he was reading the man correctly or not.

"I think you remind me a lot of me at your age," he said with a smile. "So I think you're probably going to attempt this with or without help."

"I also have a friend outside," Matner added. "I spoke with him in the market this morning. He's a warrior from over the mountains--the other mountains, he's not a giant."

"You'll need more help than that," Arnish pointed out. You'll need help getting to them and getting them free. Then you'll need some kind of distration to slip them out. It might be best if you had a wagon to hide them in."

"Yes, I don't think going over a wall is a viable option," Matner remarked.

"The walls are tall, and the guard towers have good visibility," Arnish explained. "The only inconspicuous way in or out is through the gates."

Matner tried to think of other options, knowing that if he had others he could feel more comfortable choosing the one that seemed best. As far as he could tell, surprise was going to be the only advantage he would have. And the more elves he tried to rescue the harder it would be. He did not know how to decide how many, and then which ones.

"My friend is looking to see who can be trusted just outside the keep," Matner said. "I'm supposed to do the same here."

"You're going to have a difficult time finding help amongst the soldiers, most certainly," Arnish told him. "You'd be better to work on the merchants. Mind you, some of the most obvious of allies will also be under scrutiny from the Matgistrates and military. Slaves are a long-standing tradition here at Garzer Keep. Those who have them or are in a position to acquire them soon, are more diligent about making sure that no one disrupts that tradition. It is here and Randolph Keep where the harshes measures are taken with slaves who try to escape and those who help them. The fact that there is a bounty on them is the only thing keeping your two Elves alive. Greed runs high here. If they are returned to Tikor, the child will likely be killed and the woman returned to her Master so he can decide her fate. If there weren't a price on her head, she'd be scheduled to die already."

"Is that what will happen to the others down there?" Matner asked.

"Most of them, yes. Most times a slave owner is expected to discipline their slaves themselves. But if one tries to escape, an example must be set for the others. Lord Tyvish will compensate the owner for the loss and execute the slave publicly. The manner of execution is decided by the owner, however, so sometimes it is a long, drawn-out process." Arnish frowned, in obvious disapproval.

"A few are down there because they have become too old or sick and their owners have abandoned them, because they are considered worthless. They, at least, will have a quick and quiet execution. There are some, however, who have proven troublesome to their owners. When an owner cannot control his slave, he can pay the Lord Tyvish to have his men break them, as one might a horse. Once broken, they are returned to their master."

Matner closed his eyes for a moment, trying to count in his head the number of slaves he had seen in the cages.

"There's about a dozen down there," he said, opening his eyes.

"Plus one more who tried to escape this morning. A child who tried to escape thrugh the sewers under the keep. She was caught by one of the guards posted just outside to prevent such things. Children are usually beaten before being returned, unless it's their second attempt. She'll be killed. The Elves currently in servitude here will be brought to watch that one. But then you're thinking of trying to take them all, now aren't you?"

"I can't just leave them!" For a moment, Matner allowed his horror to show on his face. "It's amazing you don't run out of Elves to kill from the sound of it!"

"Haven't you heard? Some of the noblemen are selectively breeding them now. The more docile and beautiful ones are brought together and encouraged to mate."

"How can you watch this and not do something?" Matner asked. "I was told they should have been released years ago, and instead we're breeding and breaking them like horses? It isn't right!"

"The only ways one might be able to change what is would be if they had an army or could convince the King and all of his advisors that it wrong. Personally, you'd be better off with an army. And somewhere strategically safe to base yourself. Otherwise, to try and do anything will either bring pain or death upon you or someone you care about." Arnish paused for a moment, his face grim.

"I will help you, Matner," he said finally. "However, the length to which I am willing to go is not up to me. The last time I attempted to intervene on the behalf of a slave the cost was not mine to bear. I will discuss this with Miraselle and Loridan. They will decide how much help I can be to you. Miraselle will also know of others in the keep who might be willing to help. There might be a price, however. There may be things asked of you in return. How willing are you to do what is needed to help these Elves?"

"This isn't something I can walk away from, Sir. I've already nearly died helping these two, and I can't pull them out and leave the rest of them down there. I've already promised myself I'll do this, and I don't make promises lightly."

"I just want you to think over what this will mean," Arnish said. "Go back and see if the rest of your things have been returned yet or not. Buckle on that sword, and think about what it, and the academy, and all you were taught there mean to you. Your identity is known here. You will not be some unknown thief. You will be labeled a traitor to the king. You will never be able to go home. There will probably be reward posters for you in some cities." Arnish stopped and tidied up his desk. The room felt unnaturally quiet.

"You need to decide what's more important to you, Matner, your name and standing in the kingdom, or your actions. You may also have to ultimately decide between their freedom and your own. Every other decision you will ever make after this will be affected by it."

"It won't be the first big decision, and I think a lot of decisions had led me to this. But I understand what you mean, and I will think it over carefully. You're right that I should, just to be sure."

"Take the afternoon," Arnish ordered. "Eat dinner. Then, if you're going to go forward come back here after dinner. Miraselle and Loridan will be waiting to show you to a room. If you do change your mind, I will write you that letter to the innkeep."

"Yes, sir," Matner said, standing and saluting with a smile.

"Go on then," Arnish waved a hand towards the door, "and send Miraselle in on your way out. She'll be just outside in the hallway."

The elven woman was in the hallway when Matner left the room. She had been sitting several feet away from the door, still working on darning socks from the basket. She immediately dropped the sock into the basket and stood up when Matner came into the hall, looking in his direction but mostly looking at his feet rather than at his face.

In his father's house he'd never felt any hesitation at passing on an order to either servants or elves, but suddenly he found his mouth go dry at the prospect of telling Miraselle to do anything. There was an awkward moment of silence before he found the words to say anything at all.

"He... um... I mean, S-sir Arnish would... like to... f-for you to go in... again."

He saw her eyes flit up for a moment, as if she was trying to catch the look on his face as he stammered out the words. His cheeks flushed as he realized how idiotic he must sound, and he was sure he saw a brief instant of amusement on the elf's face before she snatched up her basket and curtsied.

"Yes, sir. Thank you."

Her voice was soft and she moved around him into the room so quickly it almost felt as if the words were spoken after she had left the hallway, echoing lightly off the stone floor beneath his feet.

He made his way back, out of the West tower and across the courtyard, thinking both about Miraselle and his conversation with Arnish. He hardly noticed the people moving to and fro as he made his way through them, towards the Northwest tower.

If I go through with this, I can never go home again, he thought to himself. Although I don't think I was honestly expecting to anyway. I suppose I should write a letter to my parents, explaining... He stopped, both in thought and physically, and was almost bowled over by a man coming up behind him with a heavy basket filled with what looked like dirty laundry. The man cursed at him as he nearly dropped his load and Matner apologized and moved out of the man's way. He then moved off to one side of the courtyard and sat down on a small bench at the edge of a flower garden, to continue his thoughts.

What would I say? I can't exactly tell them I'm about to become a traitor as far as the King is concerned, can I? That would devastate both of them. How do I explain that what I'm about to do is the right thing to do? Would either of them even begin to understand? He thought that perhaps his Mother might be able to be convinced if he was there in person, but he was unlikely to persuade her in a simple letter.

He supposed that part of his concern was knowing that they would find out one way or the other, and wanting to control how. In the end he decided it was not something he was going to focus on just then. First he had to decide what he was doing.

He sat for a while on the hard wood bench and partly looked at the flowers and partly watched the people walking to and fro about their daily business.

The flowers were thriving mostly on their own. He was reasonably convinced that they had been watered now and then, and sometimes weeded. But they grew a little haphazardly, where more of the flower gardens he had seen back home had been methodically planted and tended in orderly rows and patterns. These were mixed flowers growing seemingly randomly in bunches, filling in squares between paving stones.

He saw people walking slowly and people walking quickly as if they might be out on some important business. He saw people walking empty-handed and people burdened by baskets and bundles. A bored guard paced back and forth along a section of wall. A chicken wandered into the area and clucked rudely, jumping back from people that walked too close to it.

He found himself thinking about the caravan and the people he had met. He remembered that Frank had been a bandit first, and then a caravan guard. Frank would have been able to give him valuable advice. He tried to imagine what Frank would say about his current predicament. He suspected Frank would tell him on one hand not to throw away a good thing, but that on the other hand he had to be true to himself. Maybe, he decided, Frank would not have been that helpful anyway.

Then he remembered the strange and lonely oracle out in the tower with his wolf. What had the man said? He would help some people, and fail others. He would make some mistakes, but it would work out good in the end. The man had said to follow his heart and his instincts. Both said to help the elves. He decided. He stood up and walked purposefully back to Prenish's tower.

Prenish was not in his office, but a young man dressed similarly to how Irving had been, sat at Prenish's desk, busily writing on some parchments. Matner attempted to stride in and past without stopping, keeping his walk purposeful and going straight to the room. True to what Arnish had told him, all of Matner's bags and belongings seemed to be piled neatly onto the bed. The scuff of boots behind him suggested the young man had followed him to the room.

"You must be Matner," the man said as Matner turned to look at him.

"I am," Matner said, nodding. "Where would I find my horses being kept?"

"Oh, um, they're in the keep stables. I can show you if you like."

"And what's your name then?" Matner asked.

"I'm Brent," the young man told him. "It's my shift now. You met Irving before."

"Well, Brent," Matner said, extending a hand, "nice to meet you."

"You as well, sir." Brent replied, shaking Matner's hand.

"I would like it if you could show me where my horses are being kept. And then I would like to know if there is somewhere I might bathe before dinner, if you wouldn't mind."

"Of course. I can arrange that as well."

"Wonderful, thank you." Matner gestured towards the door and Brent led the way, taking him down to the stables. He was shown to a large stall where the three horses he, Sharnellynn, and Ahriender had were being housed together. They looked a bit cramped, but seemed otherwise well-taken care of. Then Brent showed him to an area within Prenish's tower, where there were several small bathing tubs lined up in a room together, some already full of water. A kettle boiled merrily over a stove against the wall.

"It's not the same as what the Master Healer, Magistrate, and Captain each have," Brent said, apologetically, "but it's what we have available. Most people brought in for healing have somewhere else they can go afterwards. This is the bathing area for students of the Master Healer and attendents to the Magistrate and Captain. I hope you don't mind."

"Not at all," Matner replied. "This will do fine."

"Then, if there's nothing else?"

"No, Brent. Thank you."

The young man nodded and headed off, back towards the office. Matner pulled off his clothes and added some hot water to one of the tubs before bathing. Then he dried off with one of the towels and pulled his clothes back on. He took a moment to refill the kettle on the stove before heading back to the office. This time, neither Brent , nor Prenish were anywhere to be seen, although a bored-looking guard stood next to the door as always. Matner wondered if the man was there due to him, or if he was always on guard. He didn't ask, but pulled the door to the room shut behind him and quickly checked through his belongings to be sure nothing was missing. Everything seemed to be in order, so he strapped on his sword, leaving the armor in one of the bags. Then, once everything was ready to take to Arnish's tower afterwards, he went down to the dining hall again, for supper.

The hall was noisy and crowded with people either sitting in groups eating or standing in line. He took a place at the end of the line and took the moment to think while casually watching the people.

There were a few guards and soldiers standing around with swords. Few others wore them. He watched one of the captains, who was wearing a sword in a decorative scabbard, go directly to the front of the line and get f