Brian Pratt - The unsuspecting mage

James takes the amulet and puts it in his pocket. “You’re welcome,” he tells the merchant as he walks away from the stall.

He hasn’t taken two steps before the voice of the amulet seller once again joins the cacophony of his fellow merchants, each trying to out shout the others in the hopes of enticing those passing by to their stalls.

As he leaves the cacophony of merchants behind, James heads further into the city where the types of businesses gradually begin to change. Where the ones closer to the entrance into the city were noisy and boisterous, the ones further away from the outer gate are calmer. These are the businesses that the people of the city use on a more regular basis.

There are chandlers, butchers, and shops for every need. These do not require a loud spokesman to try to persuade prospective buyers to enter. These are well established, long time businesses known by the locals, so don’t need all the noise to attract customers. Enjoying the more peaceful environment, James strolls down the street, no longer afraid to window shop. Here there is no fear of having someone attach themselves to him like what he experienced back with the amulet merchant.

One sign draws his attention. It depicted a large pie with steam radiating off it. Must be a bakery, he thinks to himself. Maybe they have tarts. Remembering how delicious they had been in Bearn, he walks over and opens the door. His stomach begins to growl as a mouth watering aroma wafts through the open door.

A young man greets him upon entering. “Hello,” he says as he puts down a broom and comes over to the counter. “What can I do for you this evening good sir?”

“I was wondering if you have any tarts?” he asks.

“As a matter of fact we do,” the young man says. “My father makes really good tarts. Today we have some apple tarts that are especially good.”

“Okay, I’ll take six of those,” James says. Wanting some variety he asks, “Would you have a specialty, something that you do better than anybody else?”

“Yes we do sir,” the young man replies as he begins taking apple tarts from behind the counter and places them into a bag. “We are especially proud of our crumb cakes. It’s a secret recipe handed down from father to son that’s been in our family for generations. Would you like to try one?”

“Sure,” agrees James. “How big is it?”

“Wait a moment and I’ll show you one,” the young man says. He sets the sack of tarts down onto the counter and then passes through a door into the back. After a few seconds he returns with a medium sized cake, which to James reminds him of a cinnamon swirl crumb cake that his grandmother used to make. “It’s a silver for the cake and another six coppers for the tarts.”

Taking out his purse he hands over two silvers and the young man gives him his change. He’s glad Miko isn’t here to get on him about not haggling. He just doesn’t like doing it, unless of course it’s with someone he doesn’t care for. Hating to admit it, he did have fun with the amulet merchant.

While James waits for the boy to put the cake in a box, he looks around the shop at all the other delectables and then glances outside. Through the window he spies a very nice carriage beginning to pass by, drawn by two identical white horses. Intrigued, he comes closer to the window to get a closer look at it as it passes.

“Oh my god,” he whispers to himself as he feels a shiver run up his spine. For there in the window of the coach is the face of the man that had been yelling at them when they were being chased from Lord Colerain’s estate. Lord Colerain is here in Cardri!

Ducking away from the window so as not to be seen, he waits until the carriage passes then goes over to the counter and collects his baked goods. With a quick goodbye he leaves the bakery and hurries back down the street toward the Dancing Squirrel.

The light is beginning to fade as the sun nears the horizon. The street is not nearly as crowded as before, though many are still out and about. He steps quickly, but doesn’t run as he wants to avoid drawing attention to himself. It doesn’t take him long to reach the inn, and as he enters the common room, turns toward the stairs and races up to the second floor.

Going down the hallway to his room, he opens the door and finds Miko lying bound and gagged on the bed. Dropping his sacks of tarts on the floor he rushes over, drawing his knife to cut the bonds. Miko is on the bed, eyes wide and trying desperately to say something.

“Hang on Miko,” James says as he reaches the bed. “I’ll have you free in a second.”

Just as he brings the knife close to cut Miko’s bonds, he hears a floorboard creak behind him just before something cracks him in the back of the head. His knees buckle as darkness takes him.

Groaning with pain, James returns to consciousness. The pain throbbing in the back of his skull beats a steady rhythm. Lying on what feels like a cold dirt floor, he opens his eyes, or at least he thinks he does as there is nothing to see but darkness. He attempts to rise but discovers his legs and arms are bound, and is able to do little more than wriggle about. Slowly, so as not to aggravate his headache, he looks around to see if there may be a crack of light that would indicate a door, but none are to be found. Either I’m blind or in a hole in the ground, he thinks to himself.

“Miko,” he whispers. “Are you here?”

“Oh, thank god James,” somewhat muffled, Miko’s voice comes to him from the dark. “I feared you might be dead. You were out for a long time.”

“Where are we?” he asks.

“I don’t know,” Miko replies. “They put a hood over my head before they took us out of our room. After that, we were loaded in a wagon and I think they covered us up. I was told to be quiet or they would slit my throat.” He paused a moment before saying, “I’m not sure how long they had us in the wagon before we stopped. I am pretty sure we were brought inside a building. They brought us down some stairs and then dumped us in here. That was hours ago. I tried to wake you when we got here, but you didn’t respond.”

“Were they the ones who we encountered after leaving Bearn?” James asks.

“No, I didn’t recognize any of them,” he answers. “Why?”

“I was coming back to tell you that I saw Lord Colerain here in Cardri,” James explains. “Perhaps our being here and his being in Cardri are related. I can’t think of any other reason for us to be in this situation.”

“You’re probably right,” agrees Miko. “What are we going to do?”

“Did you mention to them that I can do magic?” he asks.

“No, I haven’t said anything since they surprised me back in our room,” Miko replies.

“Then let’s hope they don’t find out. It may be the edge we’ll need to get out of here.” James concentrates and casts his light spell, the effort of doing even so little magic causing the pain throbbing in his head to increase. When the light appears, he discovers they are lying in what looks to be a root cellar. Sacks, along with several boxes, are stacked against all the walls save one. That one has an old wooden door, apparently the only way out.

He looks over at Miko who’s bound like himself, with the hood still covering his head. Scanning the room, he sees what looks like a little hand trowel, similar to what his grandmother used in her garden, wedged in between two of the sacks. He slowly wriggles his way over to it and maneuvers himself to grab the handle with his fingers. Holding it as tight as his position allows, he twists his body sharply and rolls away from the sack in an attempt to dislodge it. But it’s wedged in there too tightly and the handle slips from his fingers.