AO 5 Ch 32

Chapter 32

I  left the market with Eva through a side street. Hurrying away from the market we found a back alley to camp out in. 

"Alright, Ard, time for you to track them with your dark magic," Eva said. 

I blinked, looking at her. "Huh?" I sounded like an idiot. "Aren't you going to be doing the dark magic?" My comment about practice had been a joke, Raven was my least practiced sphere.

Eva shook her head. "Nope. You've been practicing. You can do it." She gestured out the way we had come, as if telling me I needed to get started before we lost them. 

I opened up my raven sphere. It almost felt rusty compared to the others. I certainly used it far less.

Aurelia and Emlyn formed up on either side of us in the alley, and Eva made a bubble of darkness to hide us in the shadows. My own magic penetrated her bubble, covering my eyes and jumping into the shadow at the end of the alley. 

It was always a disconcerting experience to simply be essentially out of body looking back on yourself, but I had to shift my gaze out of the alley and into the street where we had just been, knowing the guards were roughly two streets over. I doubted any of the guards were a mage, but it was good practice to be subtle with this technique. 

I stared at a shadow across the way, but my vision jumped to it as well before sliding around the building and jumping from shadow to shadow. Like this, I was quickly able to scan down the street the guards had taken the woman through, only to spot them as they marched her further up the slope of the city. 

The woman was whimpering at this point, her head down, her arms folded behind her back, and a piece of rope bound across both forearms. The guards seemed bored rather than malicious. 

"Don't do this," she said. 

"Quiet, you," one of the guards replied. "We have enough prisoners moaning and groaning all day long. Please don't add to their number." 

"When they let me come out and do a walk about the city, it's about as close to a break as I get," the guard that seemed to be in charge said firmly. "If you want to blame someone, blame the lord, or perhaps your parents for your fine looks.”

“That's what it is, isn't it?" She half sobbed.

The guard shrugged. "Don't know. All I know is we were given the orders to arrest you with whatever force we deemed necessary." 

She had her eyes closed at this point, a bumbling step as she walked, her feet catching on several of the cobblestones. The guards grabbed her shoulders to steady her and keep her upright. 

"Now, now, we weren't supposed to hurt you, so please stay upright," one of the guards said. 

"Why me?" she asked. "The lord could have a life mage turn anyone into anything." 

"No life mage," the guard said sounding frustrated by it himself.

"Not even for our lord. His wife and his two mistresses have all started to age quite sharply," one of the other guards said. 

"Age sharply? She looks like a hag without any life mage to change her," another guard added. 

The leader coughed to stop a laugh. "Stop, if anyone hears you, we'll be getting the orders to grab you next. And I'm just doing my job. If those orders come, you'll end up in the cells, and you're not pretty enough for them to remember your name or that you're even down there. We've all seen men, quite literally, rot in those prisons." 

His men all clammed up immediately and stopped joking about the looks of the lord's previous women. I had a foul taste in my mouth at the idea that without serpent mages, the local lord suddenly found himself craving pretty women and capturing them off the street to satisfy such a craving. That was not in any way, shape, or form the way a noble should act.

In fact, the concept of noblesse oblige, which I had grown fond of since becoming a noble myself, was completely absent. Not wanting to continue listening to their conversation, I tuned them out.

My eyes scanned the area, ensuring I could recognize the path they took and their eventual location.

Simultaneously, Maribelle should have been locating the prison herself.

However, when I checked my sense of her whereabouts, I found Maribelle much further up in the noble district, almost at the peak. I realized she had already infiltrated the lord's estate.

The guards continued all the way up, clearly within the noble district at this point, before leading the woman into a beautiful home. They guided her past the opulence of the entryway and quickly down into a deep cellar. I was relieved that my sense of smell wasn't present with my eyes. 

Suddenly, young ladies who looked on with nothing but pity at the woman joining their ranks.

One reached through the bars, whispering, "It'll be okay," only for her hand to be smacked aside by a wooden baton with enough force to certainly cause a bruise.

"Don't make us discipline you," the lead guard said, sounding bored before opening a cell and placing the new lady within.

My mind was already working on how we’d get them out. All of them.

I had seen the exterior of the building and could, without a doubt, point it out if we ventured up to the noble district.

However, it would be challenging for us to wander up to that wealthy area alone. Unlike the merchant and common areas, regular patrols of guards surrounded the noble district, and the streets were nearly empty. It would be quite difficult to walk up there unnoticed.

I pulled away from the shadows, ready to leave, when the cellar door slammed open. 

A matronly woman stormed down the steps. I was being polite by calling her matronly. She was stiff, as if someone had shoved a writing crop up her rear, eliminating her ability to flex. Her nose was sharp enough that I figured she didn't need to carry a pocket knife. But her eyes were bright with intelligence. Around them, the skin sagged terribly, as if old age had crept up around her eyes particularly. Suddenly, I realized that without regular life mage touch-ups, this must be what happened. Age began to catch up with everybody, unevenly and more quickly.

The woman scowled at the newest entry, addressing the guards. "Another?" she asked.

"Ma'am," the head guard nodded, "we only do what we're ordered to do."

She snorted, raising a hand as if to slap him, only to drop it back down. It seemed 'we're only following orders' was his best protection from those he was forced to carry out his duties upon and those who disagreed with his actions. Striking him would have done her no good. I knew it, she knew it, and the guard probably knew it too. He was entirely replaceable, and someone else could easily do his job tomorrow.

"Ma'am, please. You're not supposed to be down here," one of the younger guards said, his voice sounding like he was barely old enough to hold a sword.

Her hand was swift, as swift as an anchor, as she backhanded the man. The metal cap on his head cracked, and he was sent flying into the wall, where he fell down in a limp heap. That helmet might have just saved his life, but he was going to have a very sore head the next time he regained consciousness.

"Would anyone else like to spare me a comment?" The matron batted her lashes at the guards. "I thought not. I am fully capable of doing whatever it is I please," she asserted. 

"All right, ma'am. You do understand that we have our orders," the head guard sounded tired once again. "We are to detain these women and ensure that they are unharmed or at the very least unblemished." 

The matron cackled and walked down amongst the cells, dragging her nails along the bars as she peered at the women in them. "I know, I know," she waved a dismissive hand. "I just like to look at the goods from time to time. They need someone to play with. Maybe bring my daughters down here. Let them play with them. After all, we should make sure that they're all eager to please the Lord of Fargo." 

The guard grunted and shrugged. "Make sure they're healthy and unblemished." He seemed to know his limits and that he couldn't get in her way.

Though, I did wonder if she was the Lord's wife or one of the mistresses. My guess tended towards mistress. She struck me as a bitter mistress, afraid she would lose her standing with the Lord from these young ladies. Though with the strength she possessed, I realized she could very well also be one of the Lord's anchors. He was very likely a mage. 

A shout came from the doorway. "Mother, are you down there?" 

"Down here, dear.” The woman responded with the same tone that you’d expect of a woman calling from the kitchen, not a cellar full of prisoners.

“You really should stop playing with the dolls." Another woman walked down, though she was not nearly as stiff or as sharp as the mistress. But she certainly had inherited her penchant for lashing out, especially as I watched one of the guards flinch away from her as she came bounding down the steps. She was a beautiful, young thing. A touch of magic filled her. However, that beauty was only surface deep as she sneered at the newest girl, grabbing the bars of her cell and rattling it much like a kid would a caged animal. 

"Come here. Let me pet you, dear. You should get very used to being petted. You're nothing but a pet to be taken out for walks on occasion. Laying on your back and getting belly scratches, as it were. From time to time, you should learn to enjoy the time you're out of the cage. And remember, you will always go back to it." 

The matron’s eyes became sharp. Yep, this was one of the mistresses, without a doubt. And her daughter was trying to remind these young ladies of their place to try to keep her meal ticket.

All of the other women were pulled back away from the bars, their backs pressed against the stone wall of their cell, and huddling into the corner. Closest to the other cells in their row. They really were like frightened animals in a cage. 

The daughter of the mistress huffed and let go of the bars. "You don't find any more fun ones anymore," she glanced at the guards as if it was their fault. "Find some that are bold and fight back." 

"Ma'am, I have a job to do. I can only grab who we are ordered to grab." He replied. 

"Well, then I'm ordering you to grab ones with more fight. Just pick a couple out of the city. I'm sure you can find some." The daughter bounced on her heels.

The guard put his lips into a flat line and deadpanned at her. I suppose that was a safer response than telling her no. She seemed even more volatile than her mother. His bland response left her huffing and turning around, marching back up the steps. Without any amusement to be found in the dungeon, it seemed she was done. 

"You'll have to forgive my daughter," the mistress said, having stayed quiet during the ordeal. "She's often a penchant for trouble. We'll have to find a mage one of these days that's capable of reigning her in." She clicked her tongue and focused back on the cells. "Wash them, bathe them. I have it on good authority that the lord will be by tonight to select a..." The mistress' lips became a flat line that curled down in distaste as she struggled to get the next word out. "Dinner partner." 

With that, she stepped aside and headed out. There was a sigh of relief from the guards. After the door closed, "Someone check on Timmy," the lead guard said. Another rushed over to check the pulse of the collapsed guard. 

"He's alive, sir.” They reported.

“Careful with the head. Four of you do it carefully. One of you hold the head in line. Three on the body, we don’t have a serpent mage to patch him up if his neck’s injured. Find him a spot to lay down on." The leader of the guards rubbed his brows. "The rest of us, back to duty. You two, start pumping water. We'll have to fill the buckets and splash wash on these ladies." 

"Please just let us go." One of the ladies pleaded from the bars.

The leader of the guards merely shrugged. "Sorry, ma'am, just following orders." He turned back around to assist the others, presumably working the spigot. 

Meanwhile, I slid along the shadows, using my sight to check on each of the ladies. If I could get their physical descriptions down, perhaps Eva could tell me which one was their spy. 

"Hey, Eva, what's her hair color?" I asked from my present body. 

"Whose hair color?" she replied. It was always odd, seeing and hearing from what felt like two different bodies. 

"The lady that used to work at the inn," I clarified, trying not to say 'Spymaster'. 

"Oh!" Eva smacked her fist into her palm. "Blonde. Shoulder-length hair. Green eyes." 

I scanned the ladies. "Okay, well I hate to tell you this, Eva, but apparently the Lord has a type. A very particular type.”

“Blonde hair and green eyes," she sighed, mimicking her earlier description. 

"Ding ding," I grinned. "So we're gonna have to do a little better than that.” 

“What are they all wearing?" 

I glanced through the ladies. "Most of them are wearing a simple white dress, or it was white. The place is fairly clean though. Most of them are just dusty." 

"Well, that does make this difficult," Eva admitted. "We'll have to get someone in there to tell them apart. I don't think you can go around whispering in each of their ears and seeing if you get a response. Heck, one of them might have been captured for long enough that they're starting to rely on their captors." 

I wrinkled my nose. "I don't even want to know what that is or how that happens." I pulled my vision back. "Well, I know where they are, and I know what's happening." 

Emlyn glanced over her shoulder and raised a brow in question.

“It sounds like the lord's wife and mistresses are quickly becoming old without access to a life mage." I answered.

Emlyn's face dropped. "Wait, because they look old now, he's seeking these ladies in the city?" 

"Yep, that seems to be the case," I replied, pulling my vision back and gesturing vaguely uphill. 

"That’s disgusting," Emlyn declared. “Why is it every time you give someone too much power they become shit people?”

“Because the type that seek this kind of power are always shit people at their core?” I hazarded.

“At least the Mistresses are looking the part now. Probably the lord too.” Emlyn grinned to herself.

"Yeah, it's slightly disturbing what people begin to look like when there isn't life magic to top them up," I agreed. "It's like old woman eyes on a middle-aged woman's face. Not to mention, she kind of had jowls like a big dog." 

Eva nodded. "I haven't actually seen them, but I had heard in my studies that if you had modifications to reduce your age, your body reacted differently to re-aging and sometimes it could be quite quick." 

I shrugged. "The mistress seemed quite bitter about the ladies being brought over. Perhaps we could use that against them." 

"It's a thought," Eva agreed. "However, we'll have to talk with your father before we get to that." 

Whenever someone used 'your father' in our current ruse, they meant Uncle Valken, but a part of me had this small glimmer of hope that jumped out hearing that my father was here. I had to squash it down every time. 

"In this care I wouldn't mind doing something that disadvantaged that hag," Emlyn chuckled. “We should put them in a tight spot with whatever we do. Their appearance must be really bad."

I agreed. "It is. There's something just wrong with it. Having droopy, saggy eyes like an old woman, but a face like she's in her mid-thirties and then little bits of skin hanging down. There's something just not right." I repeated. Some part of my human brain rejected that combination of traits.

"Well then," Eva seemed to want to conclude the conversation. "Let's move on and finish up our tasks for the day so we can meet back up at the inn and start coming up with a more formal plan.”

"Ooh, right," I said, my eyes opening wide. "We have to send more secret messages."

"Yes, more secret messages," Eva said, smiling and taking my arm. "Not to mention we need to show the city that we are fiancés to keep our ruse up. Also, you should probably find a few things that you like to sell elsewhere on our journey."

I shrugged. "I'm a very critical merchant. I didn't see a ton of interesting sales in the market, but I'm always happy to walk through and at least compare prices." That was something Zuri had asked me to do while she was off trying to arrange a few bulk good deals with what we had brought in.

I took out a small scrap of parchment and a small stick of coal. "Let's go through, and this time I'm going to do what Zuri asked." I tapped the coal against the parchment. It wasn't a huge piece, but I would cram as much information as I could into it for Zuri.