Turn 75

In town:

    "An orderly sort of people," ibn Fadil remarks, sitting on one of the pallets and wrapping blankets around his still-cold feet. "So tell me, Valarin, how is that you never learned the first rule of negotiation?"
    "And which rule would *that* be?" Val asks tiredly. He slumps down with his back to the wall and hangs his head. Anger and fear are just barely in check right at the moment, and he is in no real mood to argue with the half-elf...
    Ibn Fadil hesitates, surprised by a trace of sympathy for the unhappy young man. Sentiment, he thinks irritably. Uncle Karim would be appalled. Still, when he speaks again his voice lacks the censorious tone it started out with. "According to my grandfather, it is 'Never tell an unnecessary lie.'"
    A brief flicker of a smile crosses Val's face. "And here I thought you were going to say it was 'discover the needs of the other person without disclosing your own,'" he says without looking up. There is a hint of bitter humor in his voice; the joke of course being on himself.
    "There are times when the closed hand is preferred," the Zakharan replies seriously. "And other times when the open hand is best. I suppose you have only been taught the former way?"
    "Something like that."
    Val looks across at Alais to see what the mage is doing. He's been awfully quiet; welcome as that may be at times, it is unusual and more than a bit worrisome, but Alais is merely looking around the room curiously; Val does the same. The place is all of wood, with no lock on the door (but a bar on the outside).
    The building is not a large one, a rectangle possessing a single L-shaped hall. They had come in through the front door, seen a closed door to their left, and gone straight to the captain's office - those two rooms were the short part of the L. The room they were in now was on the right side at the end of the long part. They had passed another door on the way, and across from their quasi-cell must be where the rest of the guards were, who had entered at the summons.
    Ibn Fadil sighs and glances around the cell. "Tomorrow," he says, "I would recommend trying the open hand."
    "Tomorrow," Val agrees, "open hand..." After a moment, Val waves at the Zakharan and pantomimes his intent to listen at the wall; he can hear people moving about.
    Ibn Fadil watches him listen for some time before courteously saying, "Perhaps a plan of some sort would be in order?"
    Val nods agreement. Hoping ibn Fadil has learned some of the same 'cant' that he has, he pantomimes that others may also be listening in.
    Ibn Fadil shrugs his indifference to listeners. "May I suggest, sir, that we simply tell them as much as they are likely to believe without substantial proofs?" With a glance at Alais, he adds, "The ship itself would explain much, I am sure, but it is not available to us right now and I would prefer to be believed." He seems to mean exactly what he is saying.
    "Agreed," Val says after considering this.
    "Perhaps we'll make a plan *first* next time?" he says with a wry smile. "And stop calling me 'sir,' would you?"
    "No. Sir." He smiles to take the sting out of the refusal. "Persons in authority will respect other persons in authority. But authority must be demonstrated by your actions and also the actions of those around you." He looks meaningfully at Alais. "You will not be taken seriously unless we treat you with appropriate respect and obedience."
    He watches Valarin think this over for a moment, reading the anxiety that being "in charge" causes the young man. "Or," he says tentatively, "I could make the attempt to salvage the situation, instead."
    Persons in authority.
    Val ponders this for a moment. Tempting though it is to let ibn Fadil 'salvage' things, it is the captain's responsibility to do so. Damn, if only he'd planned things better....
    "No, you're right," he says, almost wearily. "I'm the captain, and I've got to deal with this. Otherwise it's all just a joke, isn't it?"
    The last is more rhetorical, and he immediately hopes the Zakharan does not answer. There is a touch of indignation that ibn Fadil does not think he is capable of salvaging things, but Val tries hard not to show it.
    "So," the Zakharan says, ignoring Valarin's storm of conflicting emotions, "hopefully, sir, when we apologize for the misunderstandings today, and explain that we are simply exploring this area in hopes of establishing a trade in something worthwhile, they will let us go. But what if they do not?"
    "I don't know," Val answers candidly. "If not, then I suggest we think quickly..."
    While they're thinking, time passes. There are occasional sounds of footsteps and a low murmur of curses and chaffing as men come and go from the building. At some point deep in the night the sounds take on an overtone of urgency that catches the attention of anyone still awake. Not long after that, the striking of massive drums comes like sudden thunder.

* * *

    Hiro sheathes the dagger and extends his other hand in greeting.
    "Who-who are you?"
    "I am a sailor. If you sought our attention you have it." The man still looks as if he expects to die at any moment, so, "I mean you no harm. Did the quiet night stir your idle curiosity? If it was nothing more then we shall part ways amicably...." Hiro steps to the side, allowing the man a path to escape. "...If it was something more then know our ears are open."
    He takes off running again.
    Hiro returns back to the ship. "Idle curiosity. Nothing more." He says to Emmett before retrieving a bandage for the slight self-inflicted cut on his hand.
    "You let them GO!?" Nyala says.
    Emmett stifles a laugh at Nyala's indignant expression. "Hiro, did it occur to you that we might have asked them some questions?"
    "They were very uncooperative."
    She gets her expression back under control and glances at Emmett. "I'll go out and have a look around, shall I? If they're coming back...."
    Emmett smiles, "Yeah, a guard might be a good idea. It's damn cold out there, though. Dress warmly."
    Congratulating herself for picking up a new cloak with part of the windfall on Bral, she picks up her bow and leaves the ship. The tracks of everyone involved are plain to see; they're headed back toward the village. She keeps her sigh silent and looks for a good place to keep watch.
    Once Nyala is out of the room, he turns back to Hiro. "Like, taking a shot at you uncooperative, or just panicked beyond all reason uncooperative?"
    "The latter."
    The half man shrugged. "Nothing to be done for it then - it wouldn't speak well of us to our future trading partners if we 'kidnapped' their folk and 'held them at swordspoint', which is too easily how that would be seen. They might just run back to their homes, but if they run to the city it might let the authorities know that the Captain and co. aren't what they seem."
    Indeed, about an hour later Nyala comes in to report, tersely, "Someone rode off toward town. We can probably expect company, if anyone believes him. Haven't seen anyone coming this direction again from the village, but I'll keep watching."

* * *

    The captain--who has had better nights than this--listens impassively to the account related by the shaking peasant. He's found that having an expression as friendly and readable as the cliffs at Highfang served well in his position. When the man has finished and been taken away he sits back and thinks. It didn't take much even for an unimaginative man to connect the day's two entirely inexplicable events, especially since so far it looks as if their mystery prisoners didn't come along the coast at all. And since dragons, according to legend at least--there hasn't been one around the city since the days before there was a High King--are unlikely to leave witnesses and equally unlikely to bear oddly-behaving human cargo, he is left with the assumption that the entire business is some dwarfish feint or other, using human allies. Perhaps they hope to draw off the city's defenses while they carry out other mischief? There's been no hint of trouble in recent years, but isn't that just like the treacherous little buggers?
    You can't be too careful. Drums boom out the alert over the slumbering city, the captain sends a messenger over to the castle to give Lord Tesfaye time to prepare, while sending six men on horseback out to see about this "dragon." As an afterthought, he doubles the guard on the prisoners. If they are quislings, the festival will have far better entertainment than any bear-baiting.
    

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