III:IV

True Loyalties

With a great “huff”, Ali landed roughly on the floor, a great many splinters ruining his expensive gown.

“Stand up, prisoner,” the warden said curtly.

Ali, with as much grace as he could muster, stood up to a respectable stance: one arm bent behind his back, the other at his side in the style of the gentry of Eastra. His pointed shoes, which bent during his debacle with the guardsmen, caused him a great degree of annoyance—even in the face imprisonment or torture, proper attire and etiquette was always a priority in Ali’s mind.

“Do you know why you are here, Easterner?”

“Aye, affendi. To experience the fine rooms in this lovely estate of yours?” Ali ventured.

A scowl and a nod from the warden signaled the closest guard to strike Ali squarely in the stomach with a gauntleted hand. Ali coughed and choked on the air and fell to his knees, but after a great deal of effort he once again erected himself to a respectful stature.

“I say again, Easterner, do you know why you are here?”

“Perhaps you were concerned I was treating with a rather lovely young barmaid at your exquisite tavern? She was rather taken with me, yes? Though I pretty sure she be married.”

The same exercise was repeated from before, but the guardsmen allowed himself a kick while Ali grasped for air on the ground. At length, and with great effort, Ali stood up and faced the warden.

“I tire of this, Easterner. And I have no qualms with locking you in your cell to rot for another three days. Now, I’m going to allow you one more chance to answer me true. Do you know why you are here, Easterner?”

Ali looked about him and concluded that his usual fanfare and charm would likely be wasted on such a tough audience.

Ali cleared his throat. “I was asking questions in the tavern yonder, yes?”

“That is correct,” the warden said unkindly. “What questions were you asking?”

“Well, ‘are you married?’ never seemed to come up, yes?” The guardsmen raised his hand before Ali followed up quickly, “But I also ask about the Conrath soldiers I see everywhere.”

“Dey la Conrath, Easterner. You were asking about Lord Beren’s troops.”

“I suppose I was,” Ali agreed, wondering where the warden was leading him.

“Do you work for Beatrice Tellman, Easterner?”

Ali was somewhat put off. “I beg your pardon?”

“What lord do you work for? Who has charged you with these questions?”

“I work for myself, affendi. I am a simple traveler wandering the world in search of knowledge and adventure.” The answer felt obtuse, even in Ali’s head, but the annoying part of it was that it was mostly true. The guardsmen were not so believing, however, and let Ali know their concerns with gauntleted fists and booted kicks.

Ali spat blood before he could stand straight again.

“Easterner, I have warned you already. Rarely do I give a second chance, but you are a foreigner to these parts and I am feeling generous.” One of the guardsmen drew his sword and let Ali see the crusted mark of blood upon its blade in the torchlight. “So I will give you one, final, chance to answer me rightly. Otherwise, I have no disquiet with sticking you one and leaving you to die in obscurity in the dungeons below. Once more, I will ask you a question, and you will answer it to my satisfaction: do you work for Beatrice of House Tellman, Maid of the same, and servant to the House of Valnor Conrath?”

Ali, somewhat dizzy in the head and in a great mess of pain, spat blood from near his gold tooth, before answering quite headedly, “No, affendi. I serve the Caliph of Raajik Quasim, Fahima, and the Protector of this realm and Lord of Lords: King Daniel Dragonfell.”