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Matter of Thyme by Vlork
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“Commander Bledwell?” croaked the raven. “That’s a good one. You’ve
come up in the world!”
“It allowed us to gain entry, Quom,” the man said. “And as ruses go,
this is rather useful. The persona of a commander in the First
Regiment carries with it certain prestige. Besides, my past personae
have all been in other lands. No one will suspect us. And I rather
like the name Bledwell.”
Quom contorted his face and managed to create a remarkable
approximation of rolling his eyes. “Whatever floats your boat, James.
At least we’re in.”
The sounds of the storm were muted inside to a soft patter of rain on
the roof. The front door of the castle led into a large hallway,
filled with light from bright torches. They looked around. The opulent
hall made one feel as though dripping rainwater onto the polished wood
floor was some kind of profanity. The high walls, on which hung huge
tapestries, were made from some sort of gleaming marble. They
stretched up to a vast ceiling at least fifty feet off the ground.
Empty suits of gleaming armor stood in alcoves spaced about every ten
feet. The effect was just short of ostentatious, yet managed to be
tasteful at the same time.
“Nice place,” Quom croaked.
James strode through the hall, his footsteps echoing throughout. His
eyes unfocused momentarily in thought. Then he abruptly turned right
into another corridor, branching off from the main hallway. It was
somewhat dimmer, with a much lower ceiling. As he walked down the
hallway, Quom croaked.
“Are you going to tell me what the Master told you?”
“No.” James turned again and opened a small door set in the wall and
walked through.
This new passage was a sharp contrast to the brightly lit, wide open
spaces of the entryway. The ceiling was barely above James’ head. Here
and there, a lone torch flickered, trying in vain to suppress the
surrounding darkness. The walls were made of brownish clay, and the
floor a slick black stone. James smiled, and the raven cawed softly.
They slipped into the shadows and crept down the corridor.
“Where was it?” James asked.
“Blue button, left wall, past third door on right,”
“Ah. Right here,” James said, pushing a small blue stone implanted in
the wall.
A portion of the wall slid back, revealing an unlit, narrow
passageway. The man and the bird stepped into it, and it closed behind
them with a dull thud. The only sources of illumination in the
passageway were Quom’s eyes, which glowed yellow as he scanned the
passageway. James walked down the pitch-black passage, feeling along
the smooth stone wall as he went. He stopped at a patch of rougher
stone and touched the tip of his finger to a point on the wall. With a
creaking sound, a massive stone block swung into the passageway,
revealing a poorly lit hall near the castle kitchens. James and Quom
slipped out.
“Which way?” James whispered.
“Left, I think,” Quom croaked.
“You think?” James shrugged and started walking. Something skittered
across the floor in front of him. He jumped back. Quom flapped his
wings for balance and squawked.
“Calm down! It’s only a rat!” He leapt down from James’ shoulder and
glided to the ground.
“I don’t like rats, Quom.” James said. There was a soft crack, then a
crunching sound.
“Mmm. I love ‘em,”
“You’re disgusting!” James sighed. “Can we go now?”
“Sure.” As they started walking, Quom suddenly stopped and cocked his
head. “Hold on. Guards. No time to go back to the passage.”
James pulled a bag from his pocket, and began stuffing the contents of
his pockets in it. He tossed it on the floor and kicked it around the
corner.
“Go, Quom.”
The bird launched itself off from the ground, and flew up to an empty
torch bracket, settling in the gloom. James stepped forward, away from
the bag. He saw a door, yanked it open, slipped inside, and pulled it
closed as the guards ran around the corner. Inside the unlit room, he
felt around the wall. It was small, nothing more than a closet. He
leaned back, and just managed to grab a broom before it fell to the
ground. Suddenly, the door burst open. Five men in chain mail vests
stood outside the closet with drawn swords. They wore green cloaks
with a picture depicting crossed swords below a crown. James
stiffened.
“King’s Guard! Keep your hands where we can see them.” a guard shouted
at him. James stood up slowly with his arms held above his head.
Two guards walked forward, grabbed him and pulled him out of the
closet.
“You are under arrest for assault, robbery, trespassing and
threatening the safety of King Fredrick.” the captain said.
“Stand down, soldier. Commander Bledwell, First Regiment!” the man
snapped.
“Oh, really?” asked the guard. “I’ll add impersonation to the list of
charges. I’m going to take you into custody until I confirm your
identity. And might I remind you that in the castle, the word of the
King’s Guard is law in matters pertaining to the safety of our beloved
monarch. We outrank even the First Regiment. What exactly are you
doing down here, might I ask?”
The man sighed. “I have important business here.”
“In a broom closet?”
“All you need to be concerned with right now is your identity check.”
James said as he was led away.
Quom watched the men leave, and swooped down to the floor.
* * *
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