The docks of Sarth were much the way Thorn remembered them when he had arrived; busy. More ships than he could count and for each ship there were more people than he could count. The noise was choking, the smell was debilitating and the sight was deafening but Betrim found he had one advantage amidst the chaos of the docks. He still hadn't gotten rid of the coat. The crowd parted as folk looked his way then flowed around him, desperate not to come to the attention of an Arbiter. Betrim might have enjoyed it but he couldn't shake the feeling that someone was about to stab him in the back with something long and pointy. Of course he knew full well the only reason he had that feeling was because that was how he had once killed an Arbiter; the fifth one.
He could feel his legs shaking, straining to hold up his weight, despite the loss, due to being locked up in a cell for... Weeks? Months? Betrim still had no idea how long they'd held him there but right now he knew he needed to sit down somewhere, or at least lean against something for a while. A nice long lean would do him the world of good, he reckoned.
Finding a good-looking spot, a small wooden shack where the dock masters could retreat to after inspecting incoming ships and taxing those who couldn't afford to pay it, Betrim relaxed against the outside wall facing the water and settled in with a comfortable sigh. One of the dock masters, a small man with beady little eyes set in a piggy face stared at the Black Thorn for a moment with something that looked to be one part curiosity to three parts terror, before scampering away. Betrim paid him little mind, paid all of them little mind if truth be told, he was far more interested in leaning and scanning the ships arrayed at the docks.
Problem was, he reckoned, was that he was flat broke and ships rarely took on passengers that couldn't pay their way. Problem was also that he wasn't able to work his way across the ocean and back to the wilds as the Black Thorn had a long-term relationship with seasickness, they were in fact very well acquainted. As far as Betrim could see it that left him with two choices; he could either stowaway or try to exploit the Arbiter coat to its fullest.
Stowaways, Betrim was well aware, had a habit of being thrown overboard when discovered and the Black Thorn was known for a great many things but swimming was not one of them. Continuing his show at posing as an Arbiter seemed less likely to end in his death but, if the captain of the ship decided to check with the Inquisition, it could end up with his re-capture and Betrim was fairly sure he'd rather learn to swim.
There was, of course, a third option, something the Black Thorn was very well known for; crime. He could stay in Sarth a while, rob folk, cheat folk, kill folk if need be. There must be some people in Sarth who deserved a good stabbing and, more importantly, those that would pay to have others receive good stabbing. It was all a matter of finding a fixer, someone who knew about the jobs and would match them with someone like Betrim for a small price.
He was just thinking of leaving the docks when Betrim spotted something, a name he knew well;
the Bloody Bride
. Truth was the Black Thorn was one of only a few people left who knew why the ship was named such. Truth was if the captain of
the Bloody Bride
was still Arip Winters, then Betrim might just have found his way back to the wilds.
Jacob Lee
There was no music but Jacob hummed anyway. He hated silence; couldn't abide it. When the world went silent how could you know if it still existed or not? If all noise stopped, for all Jacob knew, the world could have ended and only he and his cell would be left. A daunting and terrifying prospect.
The world wasn't silent today though. Apart from his humming he could hear the people outside. There was only a small window, at the top of his cell and barred, but it opened out just a small way from the courtyard. Most people would be able to hear at least a dim buzz that was many voices talking from a distance but Jacob could hear almost every word.
It's reassuring,
he thought and his mind decided to agree.
The world hasn't ended. It's not just me sat here, alone in my cell, for all time. They haven't forgotten about me. Not yet.
Jacob looked at the door to his cell just as he heard a soft sigh and a knock. He continued humming for a few seconds; letting the man outside reach a level of frustration that made him knock again, more forcefully this time.
“Can I help you, Arbiter Fields?” Jacob asked in a pleasant tone. His voice had always been described as having a musical quality to it. Sarah had once pointed out it was the prettiest thing about him. In every other way he was just normal but his voice was pleasant.
“I... uh... you were humming, Jacob,” the muffled voice said from behind the heavy iron door.
“There's no music, Arbiter. I just felt like humming,” Jacob replied.
“Right. I'm opening the door then.” There was a pause, Jacob didn't say a word. “Is that OK?”
Jacob sat up on the stone bench he called a bed and stretched. “I can't stop you.”
“I... hmm.” A few moments later Jacob heard a key turning in the first lock on his cell door, then the second lock, then the heavy metal bolt being pulled aside. Arbiter Fields waited, coughed and then pushed the door open.
Jacob sat on the bed and watched the small Arbiter step into the cell. His face was wrinkled and wore a cautious expression. He was wringing his hands together around the key to Jacob's cell. There was some bruising around the Arbiter's neck, faint but starting to discolour. Whatever had happened to him had happened recently. Jacob could just about make out finger marks in the bruising.
“Arbiter...” Jacob said after the old man had been standing in the doorway for a while.
“No music? You're certain?” Arbiter Fields asked.
Jacob almost smiled but stopped himself; he'd never smile at Arbiter Fields. “No music.”
“It has been a long time, Jacob.”
Ten years since you put me in this cage and left me to rot. It if wasn't for some of the others letting me out from time to time I might have gone crazy.
Jacob laughed inside his head but his face remained as passive as the stone bench he sat on.
“You look well,” Arbiter Fields said. Despite the old man's nervousness he kept eye contact with Jacob the entire time. Jacob decided to sway a little from side to side and he saw the Arbiter take a hesitant step backwards.
“What is it you want, Arbiter?” Jacob asked. “Not often that people come to visit me, least of all the one that put me in here, and when they do there is always a reason.”
Arbiter Fields coughed again, rubbed at his neck and winced at the pain. “Well... Inquisitor...”
“One of them escaped didn't they?” Jacob knew he was right as soon as he asked. “One of your experiments. Your neck...” Jacob pointed at the bruising around Arbiter Fields neck and the old man stepped backwards again.
“How much do you know about recent events?” the Arbiter asked him. Jacob could hear the old man’s heart pounding in his chest.
“This and that.” Jacob stood on his bed and pushed onto his toes. From here he could just about see out of his window into the Inquisition courtyard. “I know Arbiter Karkland failed his three year report. Did they burn him for heresy or did they give him to you? That I haven't heard. Clerk Veril is in love with clerk Yurn but the coward is too frightened to tell her. Probably a good thing; clerk Yurn is sleeping with an initiate. I haven't managed to catch the name yet.
“Arbiter Vance is set to be
promoted to Inquisitor very soon. That could just be a rumour but it seems a lot of people aren't pleased about it. He is very young after all and only graduated a few years ago. It wouldn't surprise me though, him being the son of the Grand Inquisitor and...”
“You know that Inquisitor Heron was killed then?”
“Of course,” Jacob said, still staring out of the window. “It was all anybody talked about for a long time. She was a heretic, or so I hear. Arbiter Darkheart tried her for heresy himself, without the approval of the Inquisitors. I heard they let him go. Is that true?” He turned to Arbiter Fields to find the man squinting at him.
“You heard all of that from here?” the Arbiter asked. Jacob didn't answer; he didn't feel the need to. “Hmm. What you may not know is that we recently captured the man known as the Black Thorn.”
“The thorn in the Inquisition's side. What were you doing to him?”
“I was treating him, his injuries. He was to stand trial for the murder of six Arbiters. Only he escaped earlier today.” The Arbiter lied, Jacob knew that he lied but he wasn’t sure how much of it was a lie.
“Which one of them sent you to me?” Jacob asked.
“What?”
“You know what I mean, Arbiter. I'm only allowed out of my cage under the direct orders of an Inquisitor. So which one was it?”
Arbiter Fields grumbled a curse under his breath. Jacob pretended not to hear. “Inquisitor Jeyne.”
“Ahh. Yes. Inquisitor Jeyne always did have a soft spot for me. I believe he appreciated my directness. You're aware, of course, I don't bring them back alive, Arbiter Fields?”
“That's why Jeyne ordered me to send you, Jacob. He wants the Black Thorn dead.”
“And what do you want?”
“I want you to not make me look bad while you're outside. The Black Thorn escaped only a few hours ago. He is most likely still in the city. We believe he will try to secure passage back to the untamed wilds as a priority. That means the docks are your best chance of catching him.”
“Thank you, Arbiter. I am well aware of how to hunt.”
“You're to come straight back here once you are done so...” Arbiter Fields started.
“So you can lock me back up again.”
Arbiter Fields swallowed down a reply. Jacob could hear the man's heart beating rapidly, could see the perspiration leaking from his old skin, could smell the fear rising from him. “You're the one that requested the locks on the door, Jacob.”
Locks on the inside to keep things out. Locks on the outside to keep things in.
Jacob heard a single note from somewhere. The start of an epic ballad or maybe just a tawdry little ditty. He rarely knew the song, never knew the words, but he had to dance all the same.
He looked from the Arbiter to the cell door to the small hook that held his Arbiter coat dyed black where most Arbiters' coats were brown. Jacob hopped down from his bed, crossed to the hook that held his coat and reached towards it. His hand stopped just inches from the coat as another note drifted by.
“This job may have to wait until tomorrow, Arbiter,” Jacob said to the old man, his hand still hovering close to his coat.
“I don't think it can, Jacob. Every moment is another the Black Thorn could...”
Jacob turned to look at Arbiter Fields and the old man went pale. A moment later and he was scrabbling out the door to the cell and fumbling to put the key in the locks.
Jacob took his black Arbiter coat and slipped his arms through the sleeves. The band was just starting to play now. Sounded like a lute and maybe some pipes as well. It was a sad song, full of regret and loss and sadness. It reminded him of Sarah. Jacob started to dance.
Thorn
“I need ta speak ta ya cap'n,” Betrim said in his harshest rasp.
“Yeah well I don't reck...” the sailor stopped mid-sentence and froze. “Shit.”
“Any time, eh.”
“Right. Yes'sir.” The sailor left the crate he was attending to and ran up the gangplank. A moment later another man's face poked over the railing of the ship, glanced once at Betrim and then disappeared. The Black Thorn waited, smiling to himself.
The Bloody Bride
looked much the same as she always had. A big ship, three masts and plenty of white sail. Good strong planks of wood all kept clean with daily scrubbing. The figure head was a woman, dressed in her finest and bleeding from her eyes. She was the spitting image of the ship’s namesake. Sent a shiver through Betrim when he looked at it, always had.
The captain descended the plank holding the bridge of his nose between his right thumb and forefinger and muttering to himself. He shook his head once, spat into the water and stepped up in front of Betrim, pulling his collar straight.
“What is it I can do fer ya, Arbiter... Fuck me! Thorn, is that you?”
Betrim was well known for his flat, expressionless features but even he couldn't stop the grin that spread across his face at Arip Winter's surprise. For his part the old pirate recovered quickly and grinned right back. It was damn good to see Arip again, even if he was looking a little grey these days.
“Damn it, Thorn. I heard you was dead,” Arip grabbed Thorn in a meaty hug and slapped him three times on the back. Betrim was a little shocked he didn’t snap in two from the assault.
“Do I look dead?”
Arip winced. “A little bit, truth be told.”
Betrim couldn't say he'd looked in a mirror recently. Truth was he'd always tended to avoid them whenever possible given that, even before the burn and the scars, he'd never been described as anything but ugly but it was more than possible that right now he looked much like a walking corpse.
“What happened ta ya eye? It recent?” Arip asked, pointing at the empty socket as if Betrim might think he meant the other one.
“Aye. Arbiter took it... shit I dunno. How long I been gone?” Betrim poked at the empty socket and saw his old friend shiver at the sight.
Arip snorted. “Fuck. Last I heard o' ya was what you did at Hostown.”
Betrim spat. He didn't like to be reminded of that place but he had to know what was being said about him in his absence, that and who was saying it. “How long back was that? An' how much o' it is gettin' pinned on me?”
Arip gave him a sympathetic smile. “All o' it. An' must be nearin' a year since I heard 'bout it.”
Betrim almost groaned. That was the second town ransacking that was being blamed on him now. If he wasn't careful he'd get a reputation for single-handedly burning entire cities to the ground. Not that such a thing would be a bad addition to his list of supposed abilities.
“What're ya doing wearin' that coat anyways? Don't ya know the penalty for impersonatin' an Arbiter round here?” Arip said.
