John Anderson - The Dungeoneers

“I assure you, dear lady, there are many that live in castles who have no claim to a throne. Just ask the men hanging in their dungeons. No. Point of fact, I am neither prince nor king. I am only a humble teacher.” He took a sip of his water and flung another sidelong look Colm’s way. Colm took a step back, tucking his hands into his pockets, making them harder to get to.

Mina Candorly cast a similar squinted look in her husband’s direction. “A teacher of what, exactly?”

“Do you mind if I sit?” the stranger asked, pointing to the long oak table that barely held the lot of them for supper, even with Elmira sitting on her mother’s lap. “A bit of a trek, as I said.”

Colm’s mother nodded and found a seat of her own. Colm’s father sat as well. Everyone else stood, including Colm. He wanted to be able to bolt for the door. Always be sure you can outrun them. But one look at this mysterious Mr. Argos was enough to convince Colm that he wouldn’t be fast enough.

“I teach lots of things,” the stranger said, adjusting the hilt of his sword. “History. Economy. Engineering.”

“Engineering?” Mina Candorly said.

The man nodded. “I am well versed in the inner workings of certain mechanical contraptions.”

“That’s a lot,” Kale remarked.

“It keeps me in demand,” the stranger replied.

“And what…” Mina Candorly paused, as if gathering enough breath to speak again. “What function do you serve for the magistrate, exactly?” Colm knew what she was asking. She was asking if he was here to carry out Colm’s sentence, whatever it was.

The confident smile surfaced again. “I do not work for the magistrate of Felhaven,” Finn replied.

“Then why — ” Mina started to say, but stopped when Colm’s father put a hand on her shoulder. He and the stranger exchanged looks.

“Perhaps, Mr. Candorly, I could take my cup to your porch. The stars are just starting to peek, and it’s a nice view out here near the countryside. That might give you and Mrs. Candorly some time to converse.”

“That would be most appreciated,” Colm’s father said.

Then the stranger turned to Colm.

“Would you like to join me?”

Colm could think of very few things he would like less. Stepping into the near darkness with this man and his two metal teeth, sword at his side, and only four fingers on each hand. Colm glanced over at Celia, then looked at his father. His father nodded sternly. He didn’t have a choice.

The stranger grabbed his cup and held open the door.

“After you,” he said.

Colm waited for the shackles. For the sack to be thrown over his head. For the thick rope to be slipped around his neck. But nothing of the sort happened. Instead, the strange Mr. Argos with the blue eyes and the single scar found one of the wood stools that Colm had helped his father build and pulled it across from the other, motioning for Colm to have a seat. Colm noticed the man had another blade strapped above his boot, tucked away.

“Eight sisters.” The man whistled, shaking his head. Colm sat. The stools were uncomfortable — Rove Candorly was an expert on shoes, but a terrible maker of furniture. Finn Argos didn’t seem to mind. Colm got the impression he had been in much less comfortable places. “I only had two sisters myself, and it was enough to make me run away from home when I was a boy.”

“You ran away from home?” Colm asked.

“Five or six times,” Finn replied. “I had trouble sitting still. An adventurous spirit. Always on the move. Wore out several pairs of boots — your father could help with that, I imagine. When I was about your age, I ran away for good. Not from something, exactly, more to anything . I had heard stories growing up, of men who made their fortunes out in the wilds.” The stranger waved a four-fingered hand at the horizon. “Who ventured out with nothing but a sharp sword and fierce determination and who came back rich as kings. Men — and women — who banded together to descend into the darkness for the promise of a better life. And I was determined to be one of them.”

The man laughed at some joke that he shared only with himself. Colm smiled politely. He wasn’t sure what to say. Outside of their missing digits and some annoying siblings, he and this man didn’t appear to have much in common. Colm had never run away from home. And he certainly had no scars like Finn’s, which gave his smile a sort of lopside effect, somehow adding to its charm.

And there was the fact that he was obviously here to punish Colm for what he’d done. This man was dangerous, that much was plain. Colm decided it was better not to say anything.

“I suppose you want to know why I’m here.”

There was no good answer to that question. It all depended on what the answer to that question was. The man took Colm’s silence as invitation to continue. “It’s no small feat, fleecing a sheep, though admittedly easier when there’s a herd of them. Still, six or seven purses? And in the daylight. With no training.” He shook his head and whistled. “Granted you have small hands, but it’s still impressive.”

“Impressive?” Colm croaked.

“And illegal,” Finn added, almost as an afterthought. “Completely illegal. And morally reprehensible, I’m sure. But still… impressive. You turned it all over to your father, of course. The money you stole?”

“Of course,” Colm said, swallowing hard. Then he remembered the one piece of silver. Tucked into these same pants, one of only two pairs he owned. He instinctively reached his right hand to the pocket. The secret pocket that nobody knew about.

He panicked.

The pocket was empty.

Finn Argos cleared his throat. “Looking for this?” The man held the silver coin pinched between two fingers.

“Hey, that’s mine!” Colm reached out for it but was much too slow. The man closed his fist and made a tiny gesture, then opened his palm again. The coin was gone. “Wait. How did you?” Colm began to say.

“First off, it seems rude to say, ‘Hey, that’s mine!’ when we have just established that you stole it from someone else. It is only yours while it is in your pocket. So it was. Now it’s not. Such is the way of the world. Second, we will have to work on your lying. Not that I recommend it, of course. In most cases the truth is preferable, though keeping your fool mouth shut is always the best plan of action.”

“Can I get my coin back?” Colm huffed, then corrected himself. “Excuse me. Can I get the coin back?”

“I don’t know. Can you?” The stranger’s tone was lighthearted, but the expression on his face held a note of challenge.

Colm took a deep breath. Obviously this man wasn’t here to chop off his hand or to take him away in chains, or he would have done it already. He would have heard his mother wailing from the kitchen or seen his seven sisters come pouring out the door to his defense. So then what was Finn here for? And how had he managed to get that silver piece from Colm’s pocket without him knowing? Was it when Colm passed by him to come outside? And what did he mean, he was from a castle? There were no castles within a hundred miles of here, just one small village after another. Felhaven was about as far from royalty or adventure as one could get, and yet this man looked like he had seen his fair share of the latter, at least.

“ You’re the one who’s lying,” Colm said. “How about you tell me who you really are?”

“I told you, I’m a teacher… or more of a mentor, really.”

“Of history?”

“And geography. Though admittedly my focus is on economics.”

“Economics?”

Finn nodded. “Namely the acquisition of resources, shiny or otherwise.”