Chapter 24

"Master, there is someone here to see you."

"I don't wish to be disturbed," Garishnie said miserably from behind his desk. He looked up to see his seneschal still standing in the doorway. "Didn't you hear me? I said I didn't want to be disturbed."

"Yes, Master," the man said nervously, "but they're from the Guild and they said they must see you now."

"The Guild?" Garishnie whispered. "Gods, no!" Slowly he stood and waved his man to precede him.

Garishnie found Jon and four other elderly Warriors standing in his atrium. Each was decked out in full parade dress, armor brightly polished, bejeweled weapons ready. The formal attire didn't relax Garishnie at all. He was absolutely certain that for all the finery the weapons were razor sharp and ready in an instant for use. If anything the formality scared him when he thought being even more scared was impossible.

"Gentlemen," he said with a quivering voice. "How may I be of service? Does the Guild wish to purchase more slaves? Maybe a new one for administration, or for pleasure? I am sorry to say we don't have the selection I normally enjoy but..."

"Garishnie, you bore me," Jon said. "If you don't know why I'm here then you're dumber than I thought and to be honest I didn't think that was possible if you still know enough to breathe."

"I assure you I have no idea..."

"This morning a Guild member under contract to you took two slaves belonging to another Guild member," Jon interrupted. "I want to see that Guild member and the two slaves now."

"Well yes, I do have one of your illustrious members in my employ but I can assure you he has been here all morning as have I."

"Interesting, since you were seen coming out of the Putram's Palace just hours ago. Do you now know how to be in two places at once? Never mind that. I wouldn't expect the truth from you even if it might save your life, which it could by the way. Get the Guild member out here now!"

"Very well," Garishnie said stiffly. "But I protest!" Jon gave an offhanded wave to acknowledge the complaint. Turning, Garishnie sent his servant to find and bring Escaro. Moments later they both returned. Escaro frowned when he saw who was waiting for him.

"What do you want?" he said with no pretense.

"Is that anyway to great your Guild leaders, Warrior?" Jon said mildly.

"You get the respect you earn," Escaro blustered. "Now, what do you want?"

""Very well. Where were you this morning?"

"Right here where I am supposed to be."

"So you weren't in the Cracked Cask where you took two slaves belonging to another Guild member?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Escaro huffed.

"That's interesting since we have heard witnesses say you did just that. They also claim you were wounded in doing so. Is that a bandage I see on your arm, brother?"

Escaro glanced at the white linen wrap covering his forearm. "This was an accident, happened in the kitchen. What, you would take the word of slaves over mine?"

"Who said anything about slaves, brother?" Jon suddenly waved his hand impatiently. "Enough of this playacting. We know what happened and we know you did it. You realize this is very serious; you have interfered with another member's property. At the very least he will be able to personally challenge you because of it."

"Ha! That little pussy doesn't scare me!" Escaro laughed.

"Hmm, you are dumber than I thought," Jon said with a slight smile. "Regardless of any challenge he has with the two of you I have filed a grievance against the both of you in his absence. I hereby officially demand you produce the two slaves and hand them over to the Guild pending further grievance action."

"Fuck you!" Escaro shouted and took a step towards Jon who remained calm and motionless. Almost instantaneously four swords left their scabbards and were at the ready, their owners poised to go like compressed coiled springs.

"Easy, brother," Jon said in that same mild way. "You may be young and strong but surely you aren't foolish enough to think you can best the five of us?"

"Don't call me brother, you bastard!" Escaro screamed. Grabbing the Guild badge pinned to his tunic he ripped it off and threw it to the ground. "Here's what I think of you and your stinking Guild."

With what could have been a small sigh Jon glanced down at the badge and then stooped to pick it up. Holding the badge in his hand he said, "I declare your contract null and void. Warrior Escaro, you are ordered to return to the Guild Hall and await a disciplinary hearing."

"Are you fucking stupid or what?" Escaro shouted again. "I quit, you bastard! Do you hear me? I quit!"

"I heard you quite well, but you know as well as I that you can't quit."

"Watch me," Escaro growled.

"This is not the end, Escaro, but right now I have other more important things to take care of." Turning to Garishnie he asked, "Where are the women? Answer quickly or I'm likely to start cutting off parts of you that can't answer."

"The Putram," Garishnie whispered. "The Putram has them."

Nervous as a cat in a dog kennel, Dent paced deck of the pilot bridge as if his own energy would help propel the ship along. They were a day out of Salas and the weather was fair helping to speed them along at a good clip. Vel was about to order him below if for no other reason then to calm the nerves of the wary watch-standers who kept glancing over at him.

"Sail ho!" came the cry from the topside lookout."

"Where away?" Vel shouted up into the rigging.

"Two points off the port bow!" came the reply.

Using his farseeing glass Vel found the group of white rectangles on the horizon.

"What is it?" Dent asked suddenly by Vel's side.

"I don't know," Vel admitted. "But it's big and under full sail, coming right for us."

"Coincidence?"

"Could be, but somehow I doubt it. Better have your men ready their equipment just in case."

"Can't we just outrun them?" Dent wanted to know.

Vel shook his head. "Not from the direction they're coming, not unless we turn and run back the way we came. Even then as burdened as we are I doubt we could outrun anything but another merchant and if it's another merchant we have nothing to worry about."

"No running," Dent said grimly.

"I thought you might say that," Vel chuckled.

"It's the Thin Blade," Vel said still looking through the glass at the ship still bearing down on them now only ten miles away. "I wonder how they found us?"

"Bad luck?" Dent interjected.

"If it is, it's the most gods awful bad luck I've ever seen," Vel answered. "She was supposed to be patrolling well away from here. With the Vengeance gone she was pulled back closer to Malshall."

"I wonder what they're doing way out here?" Dent mused.

"It's almost like they knew exactly where we were going to be," Vel said. Looking at the sun hanging low on the horizon he continued, "Nothing they can do today anyway. Maybe we can lose them tonight. However, with the clear skies and the moon... My guess is we need to be ready for a fight in the morning."

"Damn it!" Dent said hitting the rail with his fist. "We don't have time for this shit! No way you think they'll leave us and go past?"

"What do you think?" Vel asked.

Dent sighed, "No. If nothing else they want vengeance for the Vengeance."

"That's pretty much what I think too," Vel said as he walked off to supervise the trimming of the sails, trying to eke out what little extra speed they could.

"Tell His Excellency Jon of the Brotherhood is here to see him."

"His Excellency is indisposed right now," said the Putram's nervous seneschal."

"Then dispose him," growled Jon. "And get deBrisil out here too."

A short time later deBrisil joined the Guild's contingent in the audience chamber. DeBrisil was wary; anything involving the Guild could result in disaster and having the Guild "officially" visit was almost a guarantee of such happening.

"What can I do for you, Guild Master?" he said.

"Tamer you know well enough I'm not the Guild Master, but I am here on official Guild business."

"Of course, of course," deBrisil stammered. "What can we do for you?"

"Two slaves were stolen from a Guild member this morning and brought here to the Putram. I want them brought out now."

"I'm sure there must be some mistake..."

"Yes, but I'm not the one making it. Tamer, I'm about two shakes away from voiding all Guild contracts with Jeevel and every second I stand here the shaking gets stronger."

"You can't do that!" deBrisil wailed, the blood suddenly rushing from his face. "That would leave us virtually defenseless!"

"That's an internal problem," Jon said with a nonchalant shrug of his shoulders. "I'm here to resolve a grievance for one of my members and right now what I see is Jeevel in violation of the Code and in breach of contract. So it would be in your best interest to find the Putram and get his skinny little weasel ass out here."

"His Excellency isn't feeling well this morning," deBrisil said nervously.

"So? What's wrong with him?"

"I'm sure I don't know," deBrisil answered.

"The hell you don't," Jon barked. "You know every time he takes a shit and what color it is. Don't play games with me, Tamer. What's going on?"

"Ah, well, it is rumored he had a small problem with one of his slaves," deBrisil muttered.

"Ha! I'll bet he tried to fuck one of those collared women," Jon laughed. "I'll bet that hurt. In fact I'm surprised he's still alive."

"Alive, yes," deBrisil sighed. "From what I heard it was like he was struck by lightning. It threw him clear across the room and he's still in pain this morning."

"Serves him right, the idiot," Jon said still grinning. Then his grin disappeared like it was never there. "I'm serious about the contracts. You know me, I don't bluff. I want to see him and I want to see him now!"

Still pale and shaken deBrisil hurried over to one of the Putram's personal guards; like most of them he was also a Guild member. Jon followed.

"Where is His Excellency?" deBrisil hissed.

"Ah, he's in his private chamber, Lord, but he left specific instructions not to be disturbed for any reason."

"Brother, do you know who I am?" Jon said from behind deBrisil.

"Yes, Steward!" the guard snapped to attention.

"Be it known," he intoned, "that I Jon, Steward in the most Benevolent Guild of Combat Consultants, is here to adjudicate a grievance between Westel deClover, also know as the Putram of Jeevel, and one Warrior Dent, Guild member. In such capacity I override your contract and enlist your aid until such time as this adjudication is complete. Do you understand and comply?"

"Yes, Steward!" One of Jon's companions snickered.

"Fine, now that we have that bullshit out of the way, show me to the Putram right now!" Jon ordered.

They moved quickly through the Palace until they came to a set of sturdy doors with two guards posted. Nervously they fingered their weapons until Jon's enlisted aide gave them a Guild hand sign meaning "Steward on Official Business". As soon as they saw that they immediately released their weapons and came to full attention.

"Open the door," Jon's temporary aide demanded. With only a slight hesitation one guard lifted the latch and pushed open the door. They immediately heard the slap of leather on flesh and a scream of pain.

"You bitch!" they heard. "You'll pay for what you did to me! Your death will take weeks and every second you'll pray for the release you'll never get!"

Jon stepped through the door and saw two woman tied to a whipping rack and the Putram of Jeevel standing behind them with a short vicious whip in his hand. Their backs already bore the marks of more than a few bites of the lash and a few cut deep enough for blood to seep from the wounds. Hearing them enter, Westel spun around. He was breathing hard, spittle dripping from his lips and off his chin; his eyes were wide and had the same intensity of that of a madman.

"How dare you!" he screamed. "Get out now! Guards! Guards!"

"Your Excellency," Tamer said stepping around Jon. He was embarrassed by the condition they found his ruler in. He was naked and obviously had been aroused by his beating of the women although his penis looked very red and somewhat deformed.

"Lord, Jon is the Guild Steward and he seems to have a grievance against you. This is serious and must be taken care of!"

"Grievance? Against me? Why whatever for?" Suddenly the Putram's face became oily and smooth; he walked over to a bench against the wall and picked up a robe. While he was putting it on he continued, "I have no idea what you could be talking about."

"These slaves belong to a Guild member," Jon said. "They were taken without his permission this morning."

"Oh you're quite wrong, Lord Jon," Westel said smoothly. "These are contraband confiscated due to the non-payment of taxes."

"Are they?" said Jon as he moved over and looked into Nesho's eyes. "Funny but I saw these two with their Master just a few weeks ago."

"Yes but if you don't pay..."

"And in his hand," Jon continued as if he hadn't been interrupted, "he had the receipt for the tax paid on these two."

"Obviously a forgery."

"Actually it was signed by your tax assessor, you probably remember him: short fat fellow, deBabear by name?"

"I'm sure it was a forgery."

"Not according to deBabear. He admitted to receiving the tax and signing the receipt."

"Lies! Lies! All Lies!" the Putram screamed. "I demand a formal hearing!"

"A formal hearing?" Jon smiled. "That could possibly be arraigned." He reached out and cupped Nesho's chin in his hand.

"Dear, can you understand me?" She nodded her head, yes. "Good. Now, can you feel your Master?" Again she nodded and this time a gleam of hope came to her eye. "Is he getting closer or further away?"

"Closer!" she hissed and Jon smiled again.