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Matter of Thyme by Vlork
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James sat in a small, dark, damp cell, quite unbecoming, he felt, of a
First Regiment Commander, even a fake one. He stood up and walked to
the other side of the cell, feeling his way along the slimy wall as he
went. He turned around and took two steps back to his cot and sat down
again. He waited, wrinkling his nose at the stench of the dungeon. The
steady drip-drip of water was starting to annoy him. Light began to
filter into his cell through a narrow window in the upper corner of
the cell. It was almost six o’clock. He was running out of time. Where
was Quom?
The growing light allowed him to see his cell, although it was not a
great improvement. Now it looked miserable, in addition to sounding,
smelling, and feeling miserable. He waited a while longer. Suddenly,
he heard a small flutter of wings.
“About time, Quom,” James stood up.
“Sorry.” Quom croaked, spitting out the key he had been holding in his
mouth. “It took time to find the keys, and your bag was heavy. We’ll
get there in time.”
Quom dropped the large bundle he had been carrying in his claws, and
landed near the bars of the cell. James reached out and grabbed the
bag. He pulled it through the bars, and returned the contents to his
pockets. Then he reached out grabbed the key, and unlocked the door.
“Do you know which spice, Quom?” he asked.
“The thyme. That’s where the poison is. And we can’t steal it, because
if we do, they might put more poison in something else.”
“Blast.” There was a click and the door swung open. “That did it.
Let’s go.” He closed the door, and locked it behind him. They set off
down the passageway.
“To the kitchen, then, again.” He reached into his pocket. “I think I
have what we need.”
As they reached the end of the hall and rounded the corner, six
guards, led by the same King’s Guard captain who had arrested James
before, stood waiting for them.
“Get them!” the captain shouted.
James and Quom turned and ran, with the guards close behind. They ran
around a corner, with the King’s Guard close behind them. The guards
rounded the corner and saw a door swish closed. The captain smiled.
The door led to a small closet, from which there was no escape. The
guards drew their weapons, and the leader kicked the door open.
“We’ve got you now—” He stared into the closet. It was empty.
* * *
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