Amber and Ashes - Margaret Weis [107]
Gerard put out his hand, caught Rhys by the shoulder, and spun him around. The sheriff’s face was red, his blue eyes flaring.
“What? What woman? What in hell do you mean by telling me this now, Brother? What do you mean letting him get away? By the gods, I’ll hang you in his place—”
“The woman’s name is Lucy,” said Rhys. “Lucy Wheelwright.”
Gerard stared at him. “Lucy Wheelwright? Why, Brother, you’re daft. I saw her alive and well as you are this morning. She and her husband. I asked them what they were doing up so early, and she said they were off to one of the neighboring villages in the east to visit a cousin.”
Gerard’s gaze narrowed, hardened. “Is this some sort of joke, Brother? Because if so, it isn’t funny.”
“I apologize if I upset you, Sheriff,” Rhys said quietly. “I merely posed it as a hypothetical question.”
Gerard eyed Rhys. “Don’t do it again. You nearly got yourself throttled. Here we are. Not much to look at it, but it gets the job done.”
Rhys barely glanced at the building that was located on the outskirts of the city. It looked more like a military barracks than it did a prison, and in this, Rhys recognized the hand of Gerard, the former Solamnic knight.
Gerard led the way inside the structure that was made of wood covered with plaster. Numerous small iron-barred windows, no larger than man’s fist, dotted the walls. There was only one door, only one way in or out, and it was guarded twenty-four hours a day. Gerard nodded to the guards as he led Rhys into the prison.
“One of the prisoners has asked to see you,” said Gerard.
“Asked to see me?” Rhys repeated, startled. “I don’t understand.”
“Me neither,” muttered Gerard. He was still in a bad humor, still annoyed by Rhys’s earlier pronouncement. “Especially as this person is also a stranger here in Solace. Asked for you by name. I sent over to the Inn, but you’d already left.”
Taking a key from the jailer, Gerard led Rhys down a long corridor lined with doors on either side. The prison had the usual prison stench, though it was cleaner than most Rhys had seen. One large open cell was filled entirely with kender, who waved merrily as the sheriff passed by and called out in cheerful tones to ask when they would be set free. Gerard growled something unintelligible and continued down the corridor past more large open cells that he termed holding pens.
“Places where drunks can sleep it off, couples can get over their spats, con artists can cool their heels.”
Rounding a corner, he entered a corridor lined with wooden doors.
“These are our private cells,” he said. “For the more dangerous prisoners.”
He thrust a key into the iron padlock on a cell door, turned the lock, and as the door opened, he added, “And the lunatics.”
A ray of sunshine slanted through the small window, leaving most of the cell in shadow. At first Rhys saw nothing in the cell except a bed, a slop bucket, and a stool. He was about to tell Gerard that the cell was empty, then he heard a rustling sound. Huddled in a corner of the cell, crouched in the darkest part of the cell, was a dark and shapeless bundle of clothes that he assumed held a person. He could not tell for certain, for he could not see a face.
“I am Rhys,” he said, stepping inside the cell. He did not feel fear, only pity for the person’s obvious misery. “The sheriff says that you asked to see me.”
“Tell him to leave us,” said the person in a muffled voice, the face still hidden. “And close the door.”
“Nothing doing,” said Gerard firmly. “Like I said—crazy.”
He rolled his eyes and wiggled his fingers around his temples.
“I am capable of taking care of myself, Sheriff,” said Rhys with a faint smile. “Please …”
“Well, all right,” Gerard said reluctantly. “But five minutes. That’s it. I’ll be down the corridor. If you need me, yell.”
Gerard shut the cell door behind him. The room grew darker. The air was stuffy and smelled of rain. Rhys propped his staff against the wall, then ventured closer to the prisoner. He knelt down beside the shapeless bundle.