Thar Shaddin

Moryldar led Camulous and Lucas away from the blood, the porter, and the inane grumblings of one disgruntled prisoner who had more of a death wish than even Chrishton. Of course the blood followed Camulous all the way, leaving a broken trail of red footprints that took the form of his left heel.

He stood at the doorway and ushered the two warriors inside while he snapped his fingers and summoned a healer. Immediately a waifish looking man padded into the room holding a clean towel, some bandages, and a jar of translucent green paste which was their standard healing salve and cure-all.

The office was sterile, which in Thar Shaddin equated to exquisite. White marble walls and floors, polished to a flawless shine. Electric lights hidden behind a geometric, angular piece of glass on the ceiling lit it with clarity like no candle could. The wall behind Camulous and Lucas' chairs was barren but the side opposite the door supported a polished silver shield with the crest of the battlemages etched finely on its surface. Beside it was a black desk that also looked like marble, though it had none of the usual irregularities stone should have. Behind it bookshelves lined the wall with familiar tomes. The First Settlers, treaties on magic, and rows and rows of law. Many of the other books involving magic and the history of Pal Tahrenor were banned in Thar Shaddin.

Camulous had never been inside the office of a judge before, but the novelty of it all was lost on him in his sorry state. He started taking off his cuirass before sitting down, unbuckling it in a hurry to be free of its confines. He pulled it off and set it down on the chair next to his, and then fell into his chair, putting most of his weight on his good side. The healer was on his knees beside the captain and pulling his shirt out of the way before Camulous knew what to think.

Quietly the healer went about his business like he wasn't listening to their conversation. Moryldar clearly trusted him not to divulge sensitive information, because he closed the door, had a seat behind his desk, and began talking like they were alone.

Black robes completely hid the chair, and his beard draped comfortably over his bulging gut. He got straight to business.

"So tell me what happened, Lucas. Who are they, and what happened on Main street that I already know about it from the porter?"

His words were polite but his eyes were unfriendly, cold and bitter. The answers had to be good. There was some reason he wanted to know. It was as if he was always looking for an excuse to have someone killed, and that someone might as well include both Lucas and Camulous.

This was where Lucas's side of the story was thin. He had gone and snatched a man off the street based on the guard captain's word alone. He did have a notion that Dennison was dangerous, but still no proof that he was a magic-user.

But then they did not always need proof.

Lucas wanted to be able to settle back into the back of his chair and relax but he was still tense, anxious, waiting for something to happen. He had not performed well despite having Dennison bound and inside the Justice Hall. He had very nearly let the scum go with the smallest fumble.

Critical errors.

He rubbed his fingers over his leg injury. Camulous needed the green paste more than he did so he hoped the healer would have the good sense to patch up the guard captain first.

"Your honor, the guard Captain arrived at our doors earlier today demanding our assistance. He had reason to suspect the man Samuel Dennison of using magic. Together we accosted Dennison and the others. Dennison was apparently pursuing a woman. I do not know for certain, but the Captain said Dennison was an assassin, so perhaps she was his bounty. She and a young man escaped the scene on foot passing over the bridge on the road toward Shim before we could also grab them for questioning. The woman was badly wounded, by Dennison I suspect, so it is possible a patrol might yet pick them up. I apprehended Dennison personally while the Captain and his men subdued the other one--whatever he is." He looked to Camulous and then back to Moryldar. This was the part he hated, trying to assemble a harried conflict into a report that made sense.

"Your honor, though Samuel Dennison did not use magic in my presence, but he also held no respect for the authority of the city guard and may well have slain that woman in the middle of a busy street."

Camulous did his best to stay focused on the conversation and follow what Lucas was saying, but he found that every few seconds he forgot what was being said or lost track of Lucas' explanation, and had to review the echoes in his mind of the battlemage's last words to assemble the pieces once more. What he heard sounded fine to him although he had things distracting him from the details. Things like staying conscious.

Strong, gloved hands gripped the arms of his chair when the healer touched his wound to wipe the water, blood and dirt from around his wound. He bit his lower lip and his eyes darted to an empty corner of the room where they focused intensely beneath a furrowed brow. He did his best not to flinch or make a noise.

The healer worked quickly, having treated many wounds before, and soon scooped up a large dollop of the green paste in his hand and applied it to the hole in Camulous' side. The captain immediately relaxed as the salve numbed the pain. Such incredible stuff the elven salve was that it even restricted blood flow to the region fast enough that his wound soon stopped dripping and was only a brown, goopy mess.

"A werewolf." He said when Lucas was finished. "He was some kind of wolf man. And the woman was a witch. I saw her instruments come alive."

He reached up with a gloved hand and wiped some water from his eyebrows and forehead. He was pale and looked weathered. Once the pain in his side was gone, there was nothing to keep him awake and looking tough.

"Dennison knows magic too, I'm sure of it. He's more dangerous than she is."

The judge clasped his hands over his stomach and rocked back in his comfortable leather chair while he listened to them speak. While he continued to wear a deep frown, his cold eyes narrowed at the mention of Dennison and he seemed to be listening more carefully. Camulous only piqued his interest more when he insisted that Dennison was the most dangerous of the three.

"This Dennison." He addressed Camulous suspiciously. "How is it you know he has magic if he has not used it?"

"I can see it in his eyes. Besides, nobody sends an ordinary man after a witch." Insisted the captain.

Moryldar nodded, apparently agreeing with the captain's assessment. The healer finished wrapping up Camulous' side and began taking a look at the Lucas' leg, patiently waiting for permission to help. Too many times had he been beaten for touching a battlemage who didn't want to be touched.

"Bringing a foreign, witch hunting assassin to us was a wise decision, Captain. Perhaps with her wolflike friend in our custody she will turn herself in. However..." The old man took his hands from his gut and placed them on the table in front of him so that he could lean forward and emphasize his point. "Until she is in our custody, I expect the two of you to concentrate on her. I want that woman found and brought to me alive. With Chrishton caught, this is your first priority now. Use the descriers to find her if you must. Is that clear?"

The descriers, or scryers, those battlemages who worked entirely from Justice Hall to track criminals, were seldom used as a last resort. His suggestion that they use a scryer to find the witch was somewhat unorthodox for such an insignificant, and badly wounded, 'witch'.