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Description
A Confrontation

“Terris, I’ve found Joxil. He’s set himself up on the Faywald river road just outside the city. There are nine others with him. They’re not soldiers. Five men, three women and a child. One of the men and the child have magic, and Joxil doesn’t seem bothered about it. I couldn’t see any other soldiers in the area. I don’t know what’s going on here, but I don’t think anyone’s here against their will.” He tapped the Leystone with his thumb again and the light within it flared, then faded.

“What are you up to, Joxil?” Boone spoke aloud as he glanced back towards the road in the distance.

Terris tapped his Leystone and the image it had been projecting faded. He turned to face Dax with a concerned and questioning expression. Dax shrugged. He had listened to the message himself and found the situation just as confusing as the brothers.

“The Empress would never send Praetorians on a slave run,” he explained, “it’s considered well beneath their skill-set. Even if things have changed since I deserted, sending one man with a slave party is unheard of – especially if any of the slaves are magic-users. Her standing orders on that are to put them to death immediately.” He sighed and shook his head. “If you thought having magic in Domania was dangerous, it’s fatal if you’re a slave and found to have it.”

Terris leaned back against the outside wall of the stable. They had stepped outside when Terris felt his Leystone vibrate in his pocket and left Dobson inside to prepare the food for the horses under his care. He looked at the small shard of crystal in his hand again and contemplated replaying the message in case he had missed something. Dax could see the look in the man’s eyes and laid his hand over Terris’ own. Terris looked up at him and Dax shook his head.

“I don’t understand what’s going on any more than you,” he offered. “Boone said the people with Joxil don’t look to be there against their will. And he said Joxil wasn’t fazed by the use of magic. I don’t know what he’s up to, but it goes against everything the Praetorians are taught.”

Terris nodded. As Dax withdrew his hand Terris flicked his Leystone, and addressed it directly.

“Message to Boone Wintercreek,” he spoke quietly so as not to be overheard from within the stable. “Message received. Dobson says Joxil is coming to his stables tomorrow, so at least we’ve got time on our side.” He flicked the stone again, which flared and dimmed. He was about to slip it back into his pocket when he felt it vibrate again. He lifted it and tapped once more. A miniature image of Boone’s face appeared in front of the stone and spoke.

“Tomorrow?” the image said. “That’s not what I heard. Joxil said he was planning to enter the city at nightfall. Said he’d collect the horse, then head for the circle. I imagine he means the one in the Commercial Quarter. I saw him talking to the Shikanti there earlier. It’ll be nightfall in a few hours, brother. We’ve barely any time at all.”

The image faded.

“Shit!” Terris spat. “Now what do we do?”

“I…” Dax was about to speak when the rough voice of Dobson interrupted them.

“Pretty obvious, ain’t it?” he said.

Rengarth’s first two suns had fallen below the horizon, and Third Sun was limping slowly behind them. It left a very faint tint of red on the edge of the clouds it left behind. As the sky grew dark a solitary figure moved quietly through the streets of Dorn and made its way to Dobson’s stables. As it moved through the city it kept to the shadows, steered away from the lights that still shone in the windows of commercial buildings, and from the lamps that lit the roads of the district, but when it came to the stables it stood in the main courtyard and looked around as though waiting to be seen. After a few minutes passed and no-one confronted it, the figure walked casually towards the main stable building, looked over the low doors towards the black horse with the white bone markings, then hopped over the door to approach it.

A hand grabbed a hold of the figure and yanked the hood from its shoulders. The figure’s head turned and Joxil barely had time to recognise Dobson before the man’s foot came down on his leg, which forced Joxil to fall to one knee with a cry of pain. That cry was stifled as Dobson’s gloved hand grabbed a hold of his throat and the other hand lifted a blade towards his face.

“Ya see this?” Dobson growled as he nodded towards the sword he held. “This was me dad’s, and ‘is dad’s before ‘im. Me dad got attacked by bandits on the way to Honeydale one time and ‘is sword broke.” Joxil grimaced but, despite the pain, he tried to shift his position. Dobson’s grip tightened on his throat and twisted slightly, pushing Joxil off-balance. “‘E found a blacksmith in a village on the way,” Dobson continued. “They spent the night together. They shared a bed. From the story I got told by me dad, they screwed each other senseless till dawn.” He leaned close enough for Joxil to smell Dobson’s breath. “Yeah… two men, going at it like rabbits. Your people don’t like that shit, do they? But when me dad woke up, that blacksmith ‘ad fixed ‘is sword like new. And ever since that day it’s never broke, never got bent, never needed sharpenin’…” then his voice grumbled into a growl, “… and it’s never lost a fight. Now, I’m not into all that religious stuff, but I still give tribute to Brogan the Blacksmith God every Compline-day ‘coz I reckon that horny bastard nailed me dad, ‘n’ this ‘ere sword was a gift to remember ‘im by. So you better start talkin’ to me two mates ‘ere, or I’m gonna test it out on you… one fuckin’ limb at a time.”

At the mention of ‘two mates’, Joxil turned his eyes and head as far as Dobson would allow, and saw two med approach from one of the horse stalls. His eyes widened in shock as they came to rest on Dax.

“Dax?” Joxil croaked. “You…” he choked again. Dax glanced at Dobson, who released his grip on Joxil’s throat and took a step back. Joxil coughed and rubbed at his throat, but all the while he kept his eyes locked on Dax. “I… you’re dead!” he finally managed to say. “I saw your body… I cremated you myself! How…”

“I don’t ‘ear any talkin’,” Dobson growled. He poked at Joxil’s broad leather belt with the tip of his sword. The blade easily pierced the leather and caused Joxil to wince and pull away.

“What?” Joxil barked quickly. “What do you want to know?”

“What are you doing here, Joxil?” Dax asked. “Looking for me?”

“No!” Joxil answered, “Why would I? Everyone thinks you’re dead, killed by the Shirian Sultana. They sent your body back to Domania. Like I said, I cremated you myself. How can you be alive?”

“It’s good to have friends in high places,” Terris replied. Joxil’s eyes glanced at him briefly before they returned to Dax.

“It’s good to see you my friend,” he said and tried to rise, but then winced. A combination of another poke from Dobson’s sword, and the already-growing pain in his leg kept him on his knees.

Dax looked up at Dobson. “A bit heavy-handed?” he suggested.

“No more than this Domanian scum deserves,” Dobson growled, then glanced at Dax. “No offense,” he added.

“None taken,” Dax replied back. He returned his attention to Joxil. “So, if not for me, then why are you here in Dorn? The Sultana warned the Empress about straying where she has no business.”

“The Empress doesn’t know I’m here,” Joxil replied.

Dax raised an eyebrow. “I doubt that,” he grunted. “No Praetorian moves without the Empress’ knowledge.”

“She doesn’t know about this,” Joxil said. “I swear it, on my life.”

“That ain’t worth the stink o’ my piss,” Dobson tapped Joxil with his sword again, which made him flinch.

“Fine!” Joxil shouted. “Take me to a truth-seer, then. I know you’ve got them here in Dorn. Take me to one of them. They’ll confirm everything I tell you.”

Dax glanced at Terris. “They’ll arrest him, whether he’s telling the truth or not,” Terris said.

“Maybe that’s for the best?” Dax suggested.

“But what if he is telling the truth?” Terris asked.

Dobson coughed and drew Dax and Terris’ attention. “Yer brother said ‘e was ‘eaded for that Shikanti Circle in town, right?”

“So?” Terris asked.

“Those Cloud-Skiers’re shady bastards,” Dobson explained. “I’ve ‘ad dealings with ‘em before. They skirt ‘round the truth, but they don’t lie. Ask silver-eyes there what this one’s up to.” He poked Joxil with his sword again.

It took a while for Dax, Terris and Dobson to march Joxil back through town and to the Shikanti Circle. While Joxil’s leg wasn’t broken, it did give him some trouble as they walked through the streets. Dobson kept Joxil close to his blade and gave him an occasional reminder of its presence as they walked. When they arrived at the heart of the commercial quarter where the Shikanti Circle stood, the blue-haired figure who tended it leaned against one of the circle’s outer pillars and picked idly at one of his fingernails. When he saw Joxil approach with three other men he stood upright, dusted down his tunic and approached.

“Greetings, friends,” he smiled at the approaching quartet. “What can…”

“What’s this Domanian piece of shit up to?” Dobson barked at the Cloud-Skier.

The Shikanti frowned. “I’m not sure I understand the question?”

“It’s a simple enough…” Dobson raised his voice.

“What my friend means,” Dax interrupted, “is that we know Joxil met with you earlier. Something was discussed. We want to know what that discussion was about.”

The Shikanti shook his head. “Then I am afraid you’ve come to me in vain. Protocol does not allow me to divulge…”

“Tell them,” Joxil said softly. “It’s alright. I relieve you of your obligation to keep our dealings private.”

The Shikanti looked quizzically at Joxil. “Are you sure?” he asked. Joxil nodded his reply. “Very well,” the Shikanti sighed and looked up at Dax and the others. “My patron here came to me asking for transport for a group of people to the City of Barakeesh. I recognised his origin – Domania – and I told him that no Shikanti will transport troops between circles. He told me that the people he wished to transport are not troops. They are refugees.”

“Refugees?” Dax repeated the word.

“Indeed,” the Shikanti confirmed. “Mages, lovers, former slaves, those who fall foul of the Domanian rule of law. I told him that I would need to seek confirmation before agreeing to this. He paid me in advance and told me that he would return tonight. This gave me ample time to…”

“Confirmation?” Terris asked suddenly.

“Indeed,” the Shikanti nodded. “My patron told me he had transported these people already, from a circle in Ten Inlands to The Dammerdans. Then from another in the Lands of the Eagret to…”

“It’s a military tactic,” Dax interrupted. “I’ve used it myself. Travel between two circles, then march to another and use that to move on. You bounce around so much that it makes you almost impossible to track.”

“It bemuses me as to why,” the Shikanti shrugged. “We never divulge the details of any transport. We guarantee discretion.”

“Domanians trust few people,” Dax replied. “The Praetorian Elite trust no-one other than their own.” He focused on the Cloud-Skier. “So what did you confirm?”

“That his story was accurate,” the Shikanti replied. “Three of my brethren have already transported my patron and his refugees. Two of them were unsure about fulfilling the contract. They did not feel it appropriate to become politically involved.”

“I told them if they didn’t, those people would die,” Joxil interjected. “And, most likely, I’d be the one ordered to kill them.”

Terris looked up at Dax, who nodded. “He’s not lying. I’ve been ordered to do the same,” Dax confirmed. He looked to Joxil. “When did you suddenly become the savior of the oppressed?” he asked.

“I’ve been doing this for over a year,” Joxil replied. Dax’s expression took on a look of surprise. “Yes, my friend, even while I was under your command. And it’s not just me.”

Description
A Confrontation

“Terris, I’ve found Joxil. He’s set himself up on the Faywald river road just outside the city. There are nine others with him. They’re not soldiers. Five men, three women and a child. One of the men and the child have magic, and Joxil doesn’t seem bothered about it. I couldn’t see any other soldiers in the area. I don’t know what’s going on here, but I don’t think anyone’s here against their will.” He tapped the Leystone with his thumb again and the light within it flared, then faded.

“What are you up to, Joxil?” Boone spoke aloud as he glanced back towards the road in the distance.

Terris tapped his Leystone and the image it had been projecting faded. He turned to face Dax with a concerned and questioning expression. Dax shrugged. He had listened to the message himself and found the situation just as confusing as the brothers.

“The Empress would never send Praetorians on a slave run,” he explained, “it’s considered well beneath their skill-set. Even if things have changed since I deserted, sending one man with a slave party is unheard of – especially if any of the slaves are magic-users. Her standing orders on that are to put them to death immediately.” He sighed and shook his head. “If you thought having magic in Domania was dangerous, it’s fatal if you’re a slave and found to have it.”

Terris leaned back against the outside wall of the stable. They had stepped outside when Terris felt his Leystone vibrate in his pocket and left Dobson inside to prepare the food for the horses under his care. He looked at the small shard of crystal in his hand again and contemplated replaying the message in case he had missed something. Dax could see the look in the man’s eyes and laid his hand over Terris’ own. Terris looked up at him and Dax shook his head.

“I don’t understand what’s going on any more than you,” he offered. “Boone said the people with Joxil don’t look to be there against their will. And he said Joxil wasn’t fazed by the use of magic. I don’t know what he’s up to, but it goes against everything the Praetorians are taught.”

Terris nodded. As Dax withdrew his hand Terris flicked his Leystone, and addressed it directly.

“Message to Boone Wintercreek,” he spoke quietly so as not to be overheard from within the stable. “Message received. Dobson says Joxil is coming to his stables tomorrow, so at least we’ve got time on our side.” He flicked the stone again, which flared and dimmed. He was about to slip it back into his pocket when he felt it vibrate again. He lifted it and tapped once more. A miniature image of Boone’s face appeared in front of the stone and spoke.

“Tomorrow?” the image said. “That’s not what I heard. Joxil said he was planning to enter the city at nightfall. Said he’d collect the horse, then head for the circle. I imagine he means the one in the Commercial Quarter. I saw him talking to the Shikanti there earlier. It’ll be nightfall in a few hours, brother. We’ve barely any time at all.”

The image faded.

“Shit!” Terris spat. “Now what do we do?”

“I…” Dax was about to speak when the rough voice of Dobson interrupted them.

“Pretty obvious, ain’t it?” he said.

Rengarth’s first two suns had fallen below the horizon, and Third Sun was limping slowly behind them. It left a very faint tint of red on the edge of the clouds it left behind. As the sky grew dark a solitary figure moved quietly through the streets of Dorn and made its way to Dobson’s stables. As it moved through the city it kept to the shadows, steered away from the lights that still shone in the windows of commercial buildings, and from the lamps that lit the roads of the district, but when it came to the stables it stood in the main courtyard and looked around as though waiting to be seen. After a few minutes passed and no-one confronted it, the figure walked casually towards the main stable building, looked over the low doors towards the black horse with the white bone markings, then hopped over the door to approach it.

A hand grabbed a hold of the figure and yanked the hood from its shoulders. The figure’s head turned and Joxil barely had time to recognise Dobson before the man’s foot came down on his leg, which forced Joxil to fall to one knee with a cry of pain. That cry was stifled as Dobson’s gloved hand grabbed a hold of his throat and the other hand lifted a blade towards his face.

“Ya see this?” Dobson growled as he nodded towards the sword he held. “This was me dad’s, and ‘is dad’s before ‘im. Me dad got attacked by bandits on the way to Honeydale one time and ‘is sword broke.” Joxil grimaced but, despite the pain, he tried to shift his position. Dobson’s grip tightened on his throat and twisted slightly, pushing Joxil off-balance. “‘E found a blacksmith in a village on the way,” Dobson continued. “They spent the night together. They shared a bed. From the story I got told by me dad, they screwed each other senseless till dawn.” He leaned close enough for Joxil to smell Dobson’s breath. “Yeah… two men, going at it like rabbits. Your people don’t like that shit, do they? But when me dad woke up, that blacksmith ‘ad fixed ‘is sword like new. And ever since that day it’s never broke, never got bent, never needed sharpenin’…” then his voice grumbled into a growl, “… and it’s never lost a fight. Now, I’m not into all that religious stuff, but I still give tribute to Brogan the Blacksmith God every Compline-day ‘coz I reckon that horny bastard nailed me dad, ‘n’ this ‘ere sword was a gift to remember ‘im by. So you better start talkin’ to me two mates ‘ere, or I’m gonna test it out on you… one fuckin’ limb at a time.”

At the mention of ‘two mates’, Joxil turned his eyes and head as far as Dobson would allow, and saw two med approach from one of the horse stalls. His eyes widened in shock as they came to rest on Dax.

“Dax?” Joxil croaked. “You…” he choked again. Dax glanced at Dobson, who released his grip on Joxil’s throat and took a step back. Joxil coughed and rubbed at his throat, but all the while he kept his eyes locked on Dax. “I… you’re dead!” he finally managed to say. “I saw your body… I cremated you myself! How…”

“I don’t ‘ear any talkin’,” Dobson growled. He poked at Joxil’s broad leather belt with the tip of his sword. The blade easily pierced the leather and caused Joxil to wince and pull away.

“What?” Joxil barked quickly. “What do you want to know?”

“What are you doing here, Joxil?” Dax asked. “Looking for me?”

“No!” Joxil answered, “Why would I? Everyone thinks you’re dead, killed by the Shirian Sultana. They sent your body back to Domania. Like I said, I cremated you myself. How can you be alive?”

“It’s good to have friends in high places,” Terris replied. Joxil’s eyes glanced at him briefly before they returned to Dax.

“It’s good to see you my friend,” he said and tried to rise, but then winced. A combination of another poke from Dobson’s sword, and the already-growing pain in his leg kept him on his knees.

Dax looked up at Dobson. “A bit heavy-handed?” he suggested.

“No more than this Domanian scum deserves,” Dobson growled, then glanced at Dax. “No offense,” he added.

“None taken,” Dax replied back. He returned his attention to Joxil. “So, if not for me, then why are you here in Dorn? The Sultana warned the Empress about straying where she has no business.”

“The Empress doesn’t know I’m here,” Joxil replied.

Dax raised an eyebrow. “I doubt that,” he grunted. “No Praetorian moves without the Empress’ knowledge.”

“She doesn’t know about this,” Joxil said. “I swear it, on my life.”

“That ain’t worth the stink o’ my piss,” Dobson tapped Joxil with his sword again, which made him flinch.

“Fine!” Joxil shouted. “Take me to a truth-seer, then. I know you’ve got them here in Dorn. Take me to one of them. They’ll confirm everything I tell you.”

Dax glanced at Terris. “They’ll arrest him, whether he’s telling the truth or not,” Terris said.

“Maybe that’s for the best?” Dax suggested.

“But what if he is telling the truth?” Terris asked.

Dobson coughed and drew Dax and Terris’ attention. “Yer brother said ‘e was ‘eaded for that Shikanti Circle in town, right?”

“So?” Terris asked.

“Those Cloud-Skiers’re shady bastards,” Dobson explained. “I’ve ‘ad dealings with ‘em before. They skirt ‘round the truth, but they don’t lie. Ask silver-eyes there what this one’s up to.” He poked Joxil with his sword again.

It took a while for Dax, Terris and Dobson to march Joxil back through town and to the Shikanti Circle. While Joxil’s leg wasn’t broken, it did give him some trouble as they walked through the streets. Dobson kept Joxil close to his blade and gave him an occasional reminder of its presence as they walked. When they arrived at the heart of the commercial quarter where the Shikanti Circle stood, the blue-haired figure who tended it leaned against one of the circle’s outer pillars and picked idly at one of his fingernails. When he saw Joxil approach with three other men he stood upright, dusted down his tunic and approached.

“Greetings, friends,” he smiled at the approaching quartet. “What can…”

“What’s this Domanian piece of shit up to?” Dobson barked at the Cloud-Skier.

The Shikanti frowned. “I’m not sure I understand the question?”

“It’s a simple enough…” Dobson raised his voice.

“What my friend means,” Dax interrupted, “is that we know Joxil met with you earlier. Something was discussed. We want to know what that discussion was about.”

The Shikanti shook his head. “Then I am afraid you’ve come to me in vain. Protocol does not allow me to divulge…”

“Tell them,” Joxil said softly. “It’s alright. I relieve you of your obligation to keep our dealings private.”

The Shikanti looked quizzically at Joxil. “Are you sure?” he asked. Joxil nodded his reply. “Very well,” the Shikanti sighed and looked up at Dax and the others. “My patron here came to me asking for transport for a group of people to the City of Barakeesh. I recognised his origin – Domania – and I told him that no Shikanti will transport troops between circles. He told me that the people he wished to transport are not troops. They are refugees.”

“Refugees?” Dax repeated the word.

“Indeed,” the Shikanti confirmed. “Mages, lovers, former slaves, those who fall foul of the Domanian rule of law. I told him that I would need to seek confirmation before agreeing to this. He paid me in advance and told me that he would return tonight. This gave me ample time to…”

“Confirmation?” Terris asked suddenly.

“Indeed,” the Shikanti nodded. “My patron told me he had transported these people already, from a circle in Ten Inlands to The Dammerdans. Then from another in the Lands of the Eagret to…”

“It’s a military tactic,” Dax interrupted. “I’ve used it myself. Travel between two circles, then march to another and use that to move on. You bounce around so much that it makes you almost impossible to track.”

“It bemuses me as to why,” the Shikanti shrugged. “We never divulge the details of any transport. We guarantee discretion.”

“Domanians trust few people,” Dax replied. “The Praetorian Elite trust no-one other than their own.” He focused on the Cloud-Skier. “So what did you confirm?”

“That his story was accurate,” the Shikanti replied. “Three of my brethren have already transported my patron and his refugees. Two of them were unsure about fulfilling the contract. They did not feel it appropriate to become politically involved.”

“I told them if they didn’t, those people would die,” Joxil interjected. “And, most likely, I’d be the one ordered to kill them.”

Terris looked up at Dax, who nodded. “He’s not lying. I’ve been ordered to do the same,” Dax confirmed. He looked to Joxil. “When did you suddenly become the savior of the oppressed?” he asked.

“I’ve been doing this for over a year,” Joxil replied. Dax’s expression took on a look of surprise. “Yes, my friend, even while I was under your command. And it’s not just me.”