040 – Local Bullies

Late that morning after completing her chores, Rox paged through one bound volume of The Sorceress’s books, looking for a set of characters that matched a set on a piece of paper that had been left for her. Rox recognized it as an alphabet instead of pictograms, and thought this was very helpful. That The Sorceress had said her index was chronological instead of alphabetic was not. After an hour of looking, she finally found the set of characters, and set the book aside, slipping the paper into its pages with the end sticking out. Rox left the work room, to prepair for lunch.

As she walked the hall, Linell was dragged into the wing by the Page Master, as the stewards showed up for lunch.

He was an average sized man, of no build whatsoever. Rox was glad no one here seamed to know what a comb-over was, or this man might have one over the top of his bald head. She was annoyed that he seemed to look straight ahead at her breasts as he spoke at her. He kept one hand fastened around Linell’s wrist.

“Linell tells me you are teaching her to fight.” His higher pitched voice fit Rox’s already formed stereotype of the man. He reminded her of Diana’s math teacher

Rox smiled. “Yes, I am. Where I am from I teach this to many children her age.”

“Do you teach then to pick fights and start brawls?” His clipped tone amused Rox.

“No. I teach then to avoid them when they can; win them when they can’t; and stand up to the bully while protecting the less able.” Rox kept herself as conversational as she could.

She looked at Linell. Her knuckles on her hands were raw, and one was bleeding. She had food smeared on her uniform, and some in her hair.

“Has Linell been in another fight? Was it the same bully or some of his thug cronies?”

The Page Master tried to puff himself up, the volume of his voice rising as well. “None of My Pages are thugs.”

Roxanne did not know the full power structure or arrangement of things in this palace. Nor did she really know how much trouble she was or was not causing by teaching Linell. But she did know that bullies were a fact of life, in whatever form, and that she would always stand up to them, and help others to do the same.

“Of course not. Children are never that way, unless taught to be aggressive, are they?”

He started to get more upset. “That is not your concern, or the issue. You will stop teaching Linell how to beat up on the others.”

“She is not teaching Linell to beat up on the other Pages.” A new voice did the equivalent of throwing a bucket of ice water on the Page Master. He turned suddenly.

Roxanne turned to the doors of the wing. The Sorceress stood there flanked by two of the Palace guard.

“My Lady.” Rox said in greeting.

The Sorceress strode forward with four other pages, all young boys, in tow behind her.

“Mistress Harem,” the Page Master squeaked out, surprised to see her here.

The Sorceress strode forward. “Master Page.”

Rox realized that The Sorceress was taller than the man.

The Sorceress looked Linell over, as she stopped, placing the Page Master in the middle between herself and Rox. Linell smiled the uncomfortable smile of one hoping a champion has just arrived.

“Master Page, you wish for my apprentice to stop teaching young Linell to defend herself from bullies?” Her tones were of one asking a simple question to a child.

“Yes. This girl had been in two brawls in as many days and …”

The Sorceress interrupted him. “Did she win?”

“Two other pages have needed healing…”

“Did she start these fights, or were they in response to bullying?”

“As far as I am concerned, she started them, and now…”

“I see.” She stopped his rant before it could get up steam. “And your side of the story, young lady?” The Sorceress looked at Linell, dismissing the Page Master to silence.

“Three of Toby’s friends tried to attack me with their lunch plates. I kicked one in the knee, then slugged the next, and hit the third in the face.” Linell slightly smiled.

The Sorceress stood slightly taller. “Master Page, this is not the first complaint against Toby that has come to our attention. Does this need further attention from The Court, or will you be dismissing him yourself?”

The Page Master stuck his lower lip out in frustration, and clenched his jaw. Then finally he spat out some words.

“As you wish.” He started to stomp out, dragging Linell roughly.

The Sorceress stopped the Page Master with her voice again. “Master Page, Linell stays. There is need of her here, now.”

He threw her wrist out of his grip and stomped away. The four pages behind the Sorceress scattered out of his way. The Sorceress turned a stern eye on them.

“Not one word of gossip, or I will have it out of your hides, boys.”

They all looked at her smiling. Collective “Yes, Ma’am’s” were followed by the four young pages scattering into the palace.

The Sorceress took a breath and blew it out. “I’m going to hear about this later.”

She took Linell in tow. “Apprentice, let's get this young lady patched up and fed.”

Roxanne performed some healing magic on Linell, under The Sorceress’s guidance. The Sorceress turned this into a lesson on healing magic. Her hand was closed up with the two dislocated fingers reset. The black eye was accelerated in its healing, as was her bruised foot.

Linell joined them for lunch, and was as formal as The Sorceress in her manors. As they talked over lunch, it came out that Toby was the Page Master’s nephew, and had become a careless trouble maker who had been shielded by the Master. As for the three cronies, two could be reformed once Toby was away, and the third was wanted by the Army.

*          *          *

Journal of Steven Caplan: Day 41

Finally, some proof we are going the right way.

On entering the city the three first took their hides and leftover meat to the proper merchants and sold them for a tidy sum. After cleaning up in a public bath, they decided to split up and do their shopping separately. Abey went after food and other provisions. Caspian would take Steven and show him some better quality weapons, also more expensive. Also to see whether there was anything else for him to change out of his costume.

At one stall Steven found a weapon smith, and a larger crossbow. After some bartering and haggling Steven was able to trade up to the better crossbow. This one was closer to a size that fit Steven’s frame.

As Steven walked away, he realized that the purse he had carried on his belt was now missing. A quarter of his local money was gone that fast. Steven quickly shook himself briefly, taking stock of the weights in his coat and on his back, then turned and stepped to Caspian at another booth, in irritation. Steven stopped and stood by Caspian.

“I’ve just been robbed. My purse is gone.” Steven kept his tone as conversational as he could.

Caspian nodded. “Right, lets get out of the way and check over the rest to see if anything else is.”

The two men moved through the throng and into a café, then around the side of the porch between buildings. Steven put his crossbow onto the table, and then he unbuckled his backpack straps and swung it off. Next was his coat. Steven looked through the bag, and nothing was missing. Then he went through the coat, and there was nothing missing from it. He patted his belt down and nothing else was missing.

“Anything besides the one purse missing?” Caspian looked around, and did his best to block out prying eyes.

“No. Just the one purse. All the rest is still here.” Steven picked the coat back up and put it on, and settled it. Then he put the bag back on, and settled it.

“Well, teach me to leave my money visible,” Steven remarked dryly, as he shouldered his new crossbow.

They walked out into the street, and continued their shopping. A light misty rain swept past, as the afternoon moved on. Caspian and Steven were in a minor hurry to meet Abey at the town gate. She had volunteered to get the food, as she found Caspian’s cooking passable, and Steven’s just too rough.

As they crossed a market, they passed a few wagons, with a cage attached to one. Caspian just kept going past the group. Steven glanced, and almost came to a stop, staring at the locked cage with five naked people. He took a few steps farther and saw some rings and other things on a merchandise table. One of the rings glinted and caught his eye, causing a double take. He stopped, and took a closer look. The two platinum bands, one with a medium sized diamond set low into the band, the other matching snug against it.

“Wait a moment,” Steven muttered.

A man stepped up to Steven’s side, as he picked up the rings and turned them over. There was that one rub mark…

“Can I help you?” the voice from his left said.

Steven turned to face a well dressed man. He was about Steven’s comparative build and almost his height, with thick dark hair graying at the roots, and tied into a tail. On his belt he had a small purse, a ring of keys, and a knife. Steven quickly understood what this man’s employ was, and found himself offended by this man, and the idea of a slave trade.

Caspian stopped short, realizing that Steven had stopped. He turned around as his magic senses blazed telling him something important was about to happen. They rarely did this: Caspian’s talents were more of the artistic and technical magic’s; he could sense when things had been used for magic, or been the target of it; people casting magic within a certain scope of distance always got his attention, and so forth. Precognition and its related fields were not usually in his scope, though like all practitioners, he was subject to particularly strong happenings. This was one.

Caspian approached and reappraised the arrangement of the situation. The trader had three carts in a row; the one on the far left as they were faced had the slave pen attached to it. On the other end was one with a merchandise table. Caspian guessed that, as he had not seen any other slavers in this city, this must be the only slaver in the area. Therefore this was the most likely person for the bad guys to have sold Roxanne to, had that been the actual disposition of her.

Steven had some rings in his hand looking them over then looked up, as a man of reasonable size with a salt-and-pepper ponytail and mustache, and rough looks, stood to his left.

“Yes.” Steven held the rings out in his palm. “Where did you get this?”

“Why do you ask?” He moved to take it back, but Steven closed his hand to prevent this.

“Because it is my wife’s wedding ring.”

Caspian took hold of Steven’s arm, and turned him from the merchant, to face him. Caspian addressed Steven in English. “Give me the rings. I will take care of this. Get out of here.”

“But,” Steven started to protest.

“But nothing. You will cause a scene we don’t need. Trust me. Give me the rings.” Caspian held his hand out, still holding Steven’s arm with the other. He spoke evenly, but his countenance had visibly hardened. Cyrril had reared up from his lounging, and fanned his wings a bit, hissing in agitation.

Steven looked at Caspian, and back at the merchant. Then put the rings in Caspian’s hand and scowled. “I want these back where they belong.”

Steven stalked away, carrying a cloud of anger with him.

Caspian put the rings down on the board with the rest, and Cyrril dropped down to crouch on the board and held on to the rings.

Caspian waited for Steven to be out of earshot. He then turned to the merchant.

“How much for the rings?”

The merchant’s eyes twinkled a moment, as he sized up Caspian and also Steven’s reaction. “How much are you willing to pay?”

Caspian glanced briefly around again. Then lunged at the man, grasped him under his jaw with his left hand, and pinned him against his cart, his toes off the ground. The man’s hands went to Caspian’s hand, trying to pry it loose. Caspian finished his muttering of a spell feeling energy flow from his staff, and across the man as he spoke.

“I will pay you your life, your livelihood, and fair market value for the set of rings. Is that agreeable?”

The man pried at Caspian’s hand a bit more, gurgling a bit, so Caspian thumped him against the cart once.

“I asked if that was agreeable!”

The man looked like he wanted to snarl a bit, but couldn’t say anything. Caspian knew that he had not yet won the bargain so he continued to hold the man.

“I can keep this up for some time. All you need to do is say ‘yes’.” Caspian’s staff turned to point under his left arm at the man’s wife who was approaching from around the wagon.

--Stand there, ma’am. And be silent-- Caspian said this in Elfish. Then changed back to the local language. “Your husband and I are bargaining.”

She froze in her tracks, unsure of the situation, but wanting to help her husband. However, she found that she could not use her legs, or her mouth.

Caspian turned back to the man. “What is fair market value of that set of rings?”

The man struggled a bit, and then seemed to give in. “Fifteen in gold.” He still tried to pry at Caspian’s hand to no avail. But Caspian was not trying to choke him. Just hold him there.

“All right. I will give you sixteen in gold for the rings.”

At that, Cyrril took the two rings, and flew away.

“Now. Tell me what you did with the woman you took them from.”

The man gurgled a bit more, as he tried to get Caspian to let go.

“It’s no use trying to lie, or get me to let go. Just tell me what I want, and I will be on my way.”

“There have been several women.”

“Yes. But you would remember this one. She would be very tall, and slender. Almost half-elven in features and frame. About four or five weeks ago.”

The man struggled a bit within himself. Caspian noticed his wife thinking a bit, and then nodding at her husband. The man spoke again, sounding a bit strained at having a hand at his throat. “She was given in tax. To cross the boarder.”

Caspian plopped the man down to his feet, and let go, and stood his staff up, releasing the woman.

“Thank you.” He then reached into his purse, and pulled out a handful of gold coins. He counted and dropped these into the board that the rings and trinkets were on.

“Eighteen, for your services.” Caspian then walked away as casually quick as he could.