A World Without Heroes - Brandon Mull [72]
Kale continued to thrash on the ground, one hand on his throat, the other grasping helplessly, eyes rolling back.
“Not true,” Jason blurted. “These men were trying to abduct me at knifepoint. My friend stepped in to help me.”
“Lies!” shrieked Tad with surprising sincerity.
“The limb dropper struck first,” said a bald man across the room. “I saw it plain enough, constable. He hit the little one over the head, then smashed his friend in the throat when he came to help.”
“And the girl?” the constable asked.
“She entered the brawl,” the bald man reported. “She helped the limb dropper take down the fellow on the floor.”
The constable shook his head. “Sure as storm clouds bring rain, drifters bring trouble. You four will have to spend some time in the lockup, until we get this sorted out.”
“Four!” Tad yelled. “I’m the victim! My best friend is dying!”
Kale’s struggles were subsiding into random flinches and spasms.
“Then why aren’t you trying to help him?” the constable asked. “You’re protesting too loudly, friend. Harlin, did the little guy pull a knife on the young man?”
“He may have had a knife out when the limb dropper struck,” the bald man said without much conviction. “Same knife you can see on the floor near his feet.”
“Burn the limb dropper and call it even,” a harsh female voice cried.
A few others muttered agreement.
The constable held up a hand. “I administer the emperor’s justice. Under our laws even limb droppers get a trial. Patience. We’ll make examples of these troublemakers, all in due time. Silas, how fares the man on the floor?”
A gray-haired man had crouched over Kale. “Not conscious. Still alive, for the moment.”
Tad, Jason, Rachel, and Ferrin were led away.
The constable and his men took them to a low stone building, one of the only structures in town not made of wood. Three cells, with stone partitions between them, occupied the rear wall of a spacious room. The heavy bars of the cells were set close together. A bearded man sat in one cell, staring into a corner with his arms folded.
Jason’s cloak was taken, and after a quick search his poniard was removed from a pocket. Ferrin, Tad, and Rachel were searched as well. Jason held his breath as a man checked Rachel’s cloak, but he did not seem to notice the crystal sphere. Tad had left his knife behind in the tavern.
One of the men in bandoleers retrieved a key ring from a peg on the wall. Ferrin and Jason entered the center cell. Tad was placed in the cell to their right, with the bearded man. Rachel went to the cell on their left.
Once the prisoners were in their cells, the constable departed with three men. The remaining guard relaxed in a chair, leaning back, filing a piece of cream-colored wood.
Ferrin sat beside Jason in a rear corner of their cell. “I know the reputation of this constable,” Ferrin said quietly. “He’s a stern one. When Kale dies, and unfortunately he will die, the three of us will be sentenced to death.”
“He mentioned a trial,” Jason said.
“In this town Constable Wornser has final say in matters of sentencing. He’ll be judge and jury. To acknowledge the law we’ll receive a cursory hearing, and then we will be executed.”
“Is there anything we can do?”
Ferrin smiled. “They evidently do not appreciate the abilities of a displacer. If they did, I would not be in a cell such as this.”
Jason raised his eyebrows. “Can you split apart and slip through the bars?”
“Perhaps, though I would not risk it. Separating myself longitudinally is highly dangerous. If I place too much strain on my displacement field, I come apart permanently. Once the cross-dimensional connection is lost, my body would function just like yours. Namely, my innards would slop out all over the floor.”
“Sounds appetizing. If you can’t get through the bars, what can you do?”
“Wait until tonight when things quiet down. You’ll see.”
CHAPTER 12
JAILBREAK
When Jason awoke, a single oil lamp lit the room, casting parallel shadows of prison bars into the cell. Ferrin knelt beside him, shaking