CHAPTER 11
The surrounding walls were made of solid stone the color of sand. There were no windows in the small room nor were there decorations of any kind. The only object breaking the stone’s surface was a single wooden door, the door he can come in though, guarded by a Pillar standing as rigid as a plank of wood. The man kept his eyes forward, staring at nothing but the stone wall sitting across the room, only fifteen feet away. He didn’t seem to notice the simple wooden table sitting in the center of the room or the two chairs next to it, one of which was filled with a murder suspect. He didn’t look at the flames that danced at the top of the half dozen torches lining the walls either. He only kept his eyes straight, displaying the iron hard discipline that had been drilled into him.
Druzeel sat in silence, watching the guard with a mixture of respect and admiration. The man must have had amazing self-control for in the hour that Druzeel had been sitting in the room, the man had not moved. He just stood as still as a statue, guarding the prison’s guest. Though he was not technically a prisoner, Druzeel knew that if he did anything threatening or tried to leave the small, uncomfortable room, the guard would spring to life and stop him any way he could. Captain Risner, who had brought him to the prison and ushered him in to the square room, told him to sit and wait. Someone would be by shortly to question him about the caravan and his apparent involvement in the death of almost two dozen Pelartians. That had been an hour ago and still no one had come to see him. He just sat in silence, wondering if the others were receiving similar treatment. His mind also wondered to the events that had led them to this predicament.
As soon as they had reached the city and gone through the gates, the party was rushed through the streets. While he was able, Druzeel studied his surroundings, seeing dozens of towers, many hundreds of feet high and others only a few stories tall. Smaller buildings that looked similar to the ones in Atlurul lay in the shadows of those spires of steel and stone and were no less marvelous than their giant neighbors. Though they were alike in general shape to the small businesses and houses back home, the buildings lining the streets of Pelartis were much more elegant. Many held beautifully designed columns, elegantly carved reliefs, complex stained glass, and spectacular sculptures that surely took days to create. The entire city was a work of art and every citizen seemed bent on displaying its architectural beauty for all to see. The names of the guards and the magistrate suddenly made sense to Druzeel for the Pillars protected its citizens from falling into ruin and the Colonnade was a group of people that help ensure the safety and security of the city. Even the name of the judges, Justicars, gave a sense of lawfulness and fairness to the city. It was both fascinating and ingenuous in the way they had named these organizations. Druzeel found himself wanting to find out more but the men moving him along would not allow for such inquiries.
Most of the people he saw were dressed in a similar fashion as those in the caravan. Their cloths were simple and often plain, holding no interesting designs or patterns. It looked as though the people of the city reserved their artistic expression for the buildings, but he did see some wearing bright colors and elegant clothing. These citizens must have been part of the upper class of the city for their extravagant shirts, shiny gowns, and glowing dresses looked to cost a decent amount of gold. He caught many eyes turning in his party’s direction as they moved through the streets, coming to an obvious shadier part of the city.
In this area, the buildings were simple structures, with some being made from wood or other drab material. Many towers still decorated the landscape, but they had a worn look, as if they had been some of the first structures built in the city. Why they were left in their degraded state, Druzeel did not know. He would have liked to ask the guards or wandering citizens but knew any attempt to speak would be met with a harsh reaction. He just kept quiet and observed, taking in everything he saw.
Shortly after entering the less-than-elegant part of the city, they had followed the Pillars around to a large tower built from millions of odd tiles, made from what looked to be bronze or a similarly colored stone. They had been carefully and meticulously set in a swirling pattern, making the building look like it had risen from the ground, turning as it went until it reached hundreds of feet into the sky. It truly was masterpiece of architectural design and looked somewhat out of place in this area, but Druzeel quickly realized what this place was and knew why it was kept in such good condition. It was meant to keep criminals off the streets and it wouldn’t do to have one escape through a cracked wall or broken window. The building looked impervious and Druzeel wanted to see more, but before any of them had a chance to study it more closely, they were marched inside. When they entered, the captain ordered them to be separated into individual rooms. Druzeel was taken away from the others and led into a small stone room with only one door.
So now, he sat in that simple stone room, waiting for someone to come and question him about the caravan massacre. He was in a situation that was new to him, one in which he would have never pictured himself getting in to. He knew he should be nervous, anxious, or scared, but none of those emotions touched him. Though he was irritated by having to wait so long, the only thing he felt was serenity, which was a surprise. Whether this came from the knowledge that he had indeed done nothing wrong or from the training that Graeak had given him, training that helped him calm his mind and focus, he did not know. What he knew was that he was innocent and had nothing to hide from his captors.
A small part of him wondered how Dex and the others were feeling. Brask and Ristil would most likely be annoyed and letting their anger build. Vistalas and Thorstar he saw as being calm though Thorstar may be mightily annoyed at having been separated from Brask. Jannda had her soothing voice to keep her company and Dex was probably experiencing a mixture of feelings. Whatever their emotions, he hoped they handled their questioning with a calm and collected head.
Finally, after an hour and a half, the door opened and a serious looking dwarf walked into the room. He was average height for one of his race, standing a little over four feet and was dressed in a similar matter as his fellow Pillars, with orange platemail edged with bright blue trim, only his armor consisted of many more layers of plating and had golden stripping down his breastplate and gauntlets. With all the metal covering him, he appeared as wide as he was tall. A bright blue sash was wrapped around his wide waist and his helmet, tucked underneath his arm, carried a golden plume instead of a blue one. A large black beard, well groomed and carefully trimmed, covered half his face and most of his chest. His hair, equally well cared for, was long, reaching well past his shoulders. His skin looked rough and was the color of tanned leather and his eyes, a piercing gray-blue, held decades if not at least a century of wisdom and experience. Druzeel knew that the lifespan of dwarves covered over two and a half centuries, sometimes as many as three. The dwarf before him looked to be at least in his second century of life, perhaps nearing his third. One thing Druzeel did know was that this was not someone to fool around with. He would stick to the truth, no matter the consequences.
After closing the door behind him, the dwarf walked up to the table. When he reached it, he set his helmet on top. Then he pulled the chair back and took a seat. The wood groaned in protest under his tremendous weight, but stayed together. He raised his eyes and set a stare at Druzeel that went right through him. It was meant as intimidation, as was the room itself and making him wait for so long, but Druzeel felt none of those feelings. He remained calm and just kept reminding himself that he was innocent.
“My name is Xavdak Warstout and I am High Captain of Pelartis.”
At first, Druzeel was a little surprised. The dwarf’s voice was gravelly and rough, as he expected, but he spoke without an accent. Usually when dwarves speak of themselves they say me or I be and they have a dialect that drops the last letter of joining words like and or or. They also have a habit of switching out letters in words, dropping an o for an e or a for a u. This dwarf, to put it simply, spoke like a hum
an or elf, but Druzeel wasn’t about to tell him that. Comparing a dwarf to a human or an elf, especially an elf, was considered a grave insult in dwarven culture. Had Xavdak been raised by humans? Maybe he had been around them for so long his accent faded away. It’s not important right now, Druzeel told himself. Concentrate on answering his questions then worry about his background.
“My name is Druzeel Sesstar,” Druzeel said after the dwarf paused. He assumed the high captain wanted him to speak for he had gone silent after he said his name.
“I know who you are,” Xavdak responded flatly. “You are part of the mercenary band known as the Knights of the Chipped Blade and are a wizard. And you have been accused of the murder and massacre of over two dozen Pelartians as they traveled to the city of Atlurul, a common trading party with us. You and your companions claim to have nothing to do with the murder of these people and that you happened upon the caravan after the battle.”
“That’s correct,” Druzeel said when the dwarf looked him in the eye. He held that gaze, remaining confident, refusing to look away.
“Explain,” Xavdak said plainly.
“A few weeks ago in my home of Atlurul,” Druzeel began, “a thief broke into my mentor’s tower and stole a–”
“Your mentor?” Xavdak interrupted. He had only just started before the High Captain cut him off. This was going to take a long time if he kept butting in before Druzeel even got started.
“Yes,” Druzeel said, remaining calm. “Graeak Loyalar is my teacher and has been since I was five years old.”
“Hold on,” the dwarf said, taking on a surprised look. “You’re a student of the archmage Loyalar? You actually live at The Fount?”
“Yes,” Druzeel said, now thoroughly confused himself. “You know of Lord Loyalar?” He probably should not have been surprised that Xavdak knew about his mentor for Graeak was widely known throughout the surrounding lands. This sudden knowledge that the person questioning them knew of his mentor, someone synonymous with honor and goodness, made Druzeel think that this issue would be cleared up far sooner than he expected. Perhaps now the others would see how useful he actually was.
“We know of Graeak,” Xavdak said, looking as if he was searching his mind for something.
“Then you should also know he is the one that hired the Knights. In fact,” Druzeel said, thinking he can help their situation even more, “he asked for Brask personally.”
The High Captain leaned back and started rubbing a few strands of his beard between his thick fingers. Druzeel could tell he was thinking hard and wasn’t about to interrupt him. After a few moments, the dwarf placed his hands back on the table and placed that hard gaze back on Druzeel. “Continue,” he said.
“If you contact my mentor he can vouch for me and the others,” Druzeel said, seeing an even quicker way to resolve this. They would surely take Graeak's word. “In fact, I can even–”
“Right now I am only interested in what you have to say,” Xavdak said, cutting Druzeel off. “If we deem it necessary, we will contact Lord Loyalar, but for the moment, continue your explanation.”
Druzeel looked at the dwarf in confusion. If Xavdak would only speak with Graeak, he would see that he and his companions were not capable of such terrible crimes. Well, Druzeel thought, thinking about the people he was traveling with, not all of his companions were capable of such acts. At least, that was his hope. Knowing what he knew of Brask, he just nodded and started telling the High Captain about his journey. He started where he left off, with the assassin, and told the dwarf everything that had happened up to the point the guards confronted them outside of the city. He left nothing out and told the truth for he knew that was the only way to clear their names. He knew Brask would never approve, but he would not lie. That was not who he was.
Xavdak sat and stared at him for a few moments after he finished his story. Druzeel could see the wheels turning in his mind. The dwarf was pouring over everything he had just said, scanning every detail, searching for signs of deception. After sitting there in silence for a few seconds, Druzeel started thinking about his words as well. He kept coming back to the part where his companions had looted the bodies. He had told the whole truth, leaving nothing out. Thinking about it more, Druzeel thought that maybe he should have embellished just a little for his words made the others look pretty bad. But that’s what happened, he told himself. He would just have to hope that their poor judgment wouldn’t land them in the dungeons. They had given the items back after all.
“So you’re telling me,” Xavdak finally said after many moments of silence, “that against Dex and your objections, the others looted the bodies of the dead and took their things as their own? That is what you are saying?”
Druzeel cursed in his mind. Out of everything he had said, that was the one thing the dwarf wanted to draw attention to. Well, he would just have to try to make their actions seem positive, no matter how much they offended him. He couldn’t let them be detained for Graeak was depending on them.
Damn, Druzeel thought, finding himself in the middle of a moral dilemma. He hated what the party had done and knew they should face the consequences but he couldn’t let them be thrown in the dungeons. Too much was depending on their success. Is this what adventuring was like? He hadn’t remembered these types of situations in the stories he had read.
“Yes,” Druzeel finally answered. “They took from the dead, but even though I find it objectionable, I can hardly fault them in their actions.”
“Oh?” Xavdak said in surprise. “Just a moment ago you seemed ready to condemn them.”
“That was my heart speaking,” Druzeel said. “Not my head. Mercenaries lead hard lives, sometimes not knowing where they will be or what type of situation they will find themselves in. They have to find advantages in any situation, be it tragedy or victory. They saw what was left behind from the massacre as things that may go to waste, so they took them, thinking to use them in the future, to help them survive. And though it was wrong, you got all the items back and those who lost their loved ones will be able to have some type of peace.”
To Druzeel’s confusion, Xavdak actually smiled. The look didn’t seem right on his hard face and the young wizard wondered what exactly had amused him so. The dwarf leaned back and gave Druzeel a knowing look.
“You’re new to the Knights, aren’t you?”
“Y...Yes,” Druzeel stammered, still in a state of bewilderment. Where was the dwarf going with this? Was his position in the group really that obvious? “Graeak bade me go with the Knights, to help recover his staff and bring the thief to justice.”
“And I can understand why,” Xavdak said, still with a grin on his face. “You’re intelligent and cunning for one so young, but a bit naive. It is actually a little refreshing to know there is such innocence still in the world. However, I do think it a tragedy for one such as you to be involved with such a quest. I fear your nobility will not survive for very long.”
“I don’t–” Druzeel began, not understanding the dwarf’s comments, but once again, Xavdak spoke over him.
“Believe it or not,” he said, “I know of the Knights. There is hardly a band of adventurers that comes through this city that I am not aware of. I know of their deeds and the way they do their work. I assure you, though I’m quite certain you know it as well regardless of your attempt to paint him in a positive light, survival was the furthest thing from Brask’s mind when they looted those bodies. They saw only gain from the dead, as most men do. Like you, I cannot blame them for acting they way they did. I was a mercenary once and know the value of taking everything you can.”
“So,” Druzeel said, still a bit confused, “you believe us?”
“I didn’t say that,” Xavdak said, flustering Druzeel further. “Whether they stole from the dead or not is not why we are here. We are here to determine if you or your companions were involved in the murder of our citizens.”
“What I told you is true,” Druzeel said, “and I believe th
e assassin is the one that gave you the false story and he is the one that sent the stalkers upon the caravan. Talk to the others. They will–”
“I intend to,” Xavdak said, cutting in. “They will be put to question just as you are. Don’t worry about them. Worry about yourself.”
Druzeel’s mouth snapped shut. He was so unused to being treated in such a way, but calmed himself and kept his eyes focused on the dwarf. Remember, he told himself, you have done nothing wrong. This is all just intimidation. Just stick to the truth and you will be fine.
“You say that these shadow stalkers leave behind a black residue upon death,” Xavdak asked, continuing the questioning. “Will we find any when reaching the caravan?”
“I doubt it,” Druzeel answered. “It fades quickly, leaving no trace of the attackers. That is the advantage to the spell. It covers the assassin’s tracks.”
“How convenient,” Xavdak said. “No trace or proof of the crime.”
“I know what you are implying,” Druzeel said, “but that is how the spell works.”
“And do you know this spell?”
“No,” Druzeel answered truthfully. “It is beyond my power and even if it wasn’t, it is a spell of evil and one I would never touch.” Xavdak raised any eyebrow at that comment. He looked liked he wanted to say something but he kept his words to himself.
The dwarf asked a dozen more questions, about the attack, his companions, and even a few about Graeak. Druzeel answered them truthfully and honestly each time, his answers about the attack being exactly the same as before. He knew the High Captain was trying to see if the story would change or if Druzeel would alter any of the details, but he stayed true and recounted everything as it happened each time he was asked. It was hard to say if the dwarf was satisfied with his answers for his face stayed hard and unreadable. Truthfully, Druzeel cared little if his interrogator was pleased with what he heard. It was the truth.
“Do you trust your companions?” Xavdak then asked. That question Druzeel had not expected and he fumbled for a response. He found his resolve suddenly having cracks in it.
“Wh...What do you mean?” he stammered. He knew what he should have said, knew he should have answered yes immediately, but he was caught by surprise and his thoughts had not yet caught up to his mouth.
“It is a straight question,” the dwarf replied without emotion.
“Yes...Yes,” Druzeel finally answered, forcing the word out of his mouth. It had been the only answer he considered a lie. He didn’t even believe what he had just said and by the look on Xavdak’s face, the dwarf didn’t believe it either. Damn it, Druzeel cursed in his mind. He expected Xavdak to say more, to accuse him of lies, but he just pushed himself from the table and stood up.
“Am I...So what now?” Druzeel asked with uncertainty. He was in a complete state of confusion now. Though he still held confidence that they would be set free–they had done nothing wrong after all–the dwarf had him thoroughly confused. Xavdak had given no indication on what he planned to do with him and left Druzeel’s last response without one of his own. Surely, he would not just leave him sitting here in the cold stone room.
“You wait,” the dwarf said, showing Druzeel that leaving him here is exactly what he planned. “If your story matches the others, then you will be released. If not, then you may be here for an extended period of time.” Xavdak turned and walked to the door. He opened it and stepped out into the hallway, but before disappearing from sight, he faced Druzeel one more time.
“You are no criminal, Druzeel Sesstar.” The comment made Druzeel raise his head and look the dwarf in the eyes. He saw only calm resolve. If possible, the dwarf’s words and expression baffled him even more. “I’m just afraid you may have thrown yourself into a band of them.”
Xavdak disappeared down the stone hallway, the door swinging shut behind him. Druzeel was once again left alone in the small room, with only his uncomfortable thoughts and a stone-faced guard to keep him company.