“You got a patron?” One-ear asked.
“Do I look like a painter or poet to you?”
“Not that sort. You’ll need someone to get you out of here.” One-ear peered at the prison guard who snoozed in his chair, head drooping onto his chest and drool wetting his shirt.
Erich wasn’t familiar with the Neolyra legal system, but he was fairly sure a patron wasn’t necessary. In Sundland, a magistrate heard evidence of the crime before passing judgment, and since Erich hadn’t committed a crime, he assumed come morning, they’d let him go.
“You’re not from here, so you might not know.” One-ear picked at a sore on his pockmarked chin.
“Know what?” Erich said with a sigh. Maybe if he humored him, he’d get to the point and then leave him be.
“This time of year, you’ll be lucky to be out of here in a month.”
Panic made him sit up straight, and on instinct, he looked out the window. Even though a cloud blocked it from view, he remembered distinctly it was a crescent moon tonight. One night since the last new moon and thirteen days until the next full moon and the change. He’d planned after his release to find some way out of the city, fleeing to the remote mountains to wait out the transformation before moving on. But if One-ear was telling the truth, then he’d die in here. As soon as symptoms presented, they’d kill him. Fear gripped his chest, and Erich steadied his breath to not let real panic set in. Think. This dealer of death wouldn’t have told him this out of the kindness of his own heart.
“What do you want from me?” Erich asked, keeping his tone neutral.
“Then you’re not just a pretty face. Boss is looking for another big guy to help with some new business ventures.”
“Quiet in there.” The dozing guard roused just long enough to shout at them before his head slumped back onto his chest.
One-ear pressed a greasy piece of paper into Erich’s hand. “Give the morning guard the code, and you’ll walk out of here a free man.”
A free man indentured to thugs. Even as desperate as he was, and he was pretty desperate, he wouldn’t work with scum like him. Erich crumpled up the paper and tossed it into the nearby shit bucket.
“No, thanks,” Erich said, before rolling over and turning his back to One-ear.
Arms crossed over his chest; he reached into his pocket and grasped his mother’s ring in a tight fist. There was one way he could walk out of this cell without selling his soul, but it was nearly as bad. Back in Soccicio, he’d gone to see an old friend at the Sundland Embassy, and a servant at the gate informed him that Ivar had been transferred to the Sundland Embassy in Neolyra. If it were true, and he had no way of knowing for certain, then he might get out of here without undoing six years of work. If he was wrong, then he’d start over, go as far away as he could. Father would never find him if he could help it.
His mind made up; he stood up and approached the bars and knocked on them, trying to get the guard’s attention.
“Stop that, or I’ll give you a beating,” he snarled, not even bothering to look up.
“I need to send a message to the Sundland Embassy,” Erich said.
“There’s no messages. You wait for the magistrate to hear your case when it’s your turn.”
“That doesn’t work for me. I don’t have time to waste, you see?”
Growling, the guard stood up and grasping his cudgel; he stomped over to where Erich stood and slammed it against the bars, rattling them and sending a sharp ringing sound echoing across the prison cells. Erich didn’t flinch, meeting the guard’s gaze with defiance.
“Now, look here. I told you once to be quiet,” the guard said, pointing his cudgel at Erich’s face.
Erich thrust out his flat palm, revealing the ring with the golden three-headed dragon, eyes made of rubies and topaz flames bursting from the center dragon’s mouth, flickering with life as if the dragon might lift off the ring and take flight.
“Are you familiar with this emblem?”
The guard’s eyes widened before narrowing in suspicion. “Where did you get that?”
“From my father.”Technically true, he’d stolen it from him when he was a teenager, but the guard didn’t need to know that.
The guard snatched it from him. “If you’re lying to me, you’ll be flogged.”
“And if you keep a prince captive, what will happen to you?” Erich pitched his voice low as to not alert his cellmates.
The guard swallowed, and either the obvious opulence of the ring or the tone of his voice convinced him. His gaze darted down the hall. “It doesn’t change the fact that I can’t get you out before sunrise.”
“Then I’ll wait until morning.” Erich settled back down onto the cold ground.
