Vix was of no use whatsoever, if you can believe it. I don’t know what Dylk was thinking, to be honest with you. Wait, yes I do. He was thinking: what was I thinking? or something along those lines.
Anyway, he was well on his way to the next cell, one containing three goblins. Three? One… two… yeah, three goblins.
“I thought there were two of you guys,” he said, entering.
“Times change, pal,” Gob said.
“Yeah, meet our old friend, Clonki,” Hob said, pointing his thumb to the third goblin. “We knew ‘im back in da day.”
“Hey, pleasure to meetcha,” Clonki said in a gravelly voice. He was a lighter green than Gob but just as round.
“Hi, Clonki. Guys, I hate to ask, and I really do hate to ask, but I need your help. We’re going to court and I need information for-”
“I want my lawyer,” Hob said, crossing his stubby arms.
“I am your lawyer.”
“I wanna new one.”
“Y’know what? I don’t need this. Good luck.” Dylk started to walk out but there was murmuring behind him.
“Wait a minute, will ya?” Hob said. “If you wanna be our lawyer, be our lawyer! What sorta information are we talking ‘ere? Come on, firehead, give us the rundown!”
He gave Hob, Gob and the other one the rundown. They were silent by the end of it.
“Well? he said. “Can you help or not?”
“Dylk.” It occurred to him that Hob had never referred to him by name before. “There’s nothing to be done.” It was as if the curtain had lifted and Dylk was talking to the real Hob. Chubark, I guess, he thought.
“Don’t give me that, Hob. There’s a way outta this and it involves me getting as… much… You seem serious. What did you mean by… there’s nothing to be done?”
“You know, Dylk. You know.”
“No, I-”
“You’ve known it all along, you just don’t wanna admit it,” Hob said. “It’s been a setup. The whole ting. I know it, you know it, and dey know it. And you who dey are, Dylk? The council. Dey’re our judges. Always have been. Listen, kid,” he said, looking into Dylk’s soul with his big, round eyes. “If we’re walking outta dis place alive, you need to convince dem we’re more useful to dem dat way.”
Dylk didn’t respond. He walked out of the cell in a daze. I should’ve stayed in the Wood. Everyone liked me in the Wood. Except the council. Why is it always the council?
Before he knew it, he was in the next cell. It was Gnom.
“Dylk!” he said, jumping off the bed. “How’s my little guy?” He hugged Dylk, much to the little guy’s surprise.
“Not great, Gnom, not great.”
“Fair enough,” Gnom said, letting him go. “What’s going on?”
“I’m our lawyer. Don’t ask.”
“Ok.”
“Listen, Gnom, we’re in trouble.”
“Erm, we’re always in trouble?”
“Big trouble.”
“Uhoh.”
“Yeah. You better sit down for this, Gnom.” They sat on the bed.
“Ok, Dylk, lay it on me. Don’t hold back, Dylk, don’t sugarcoat it.”
“We’re gonna die.”
“Hold back a little. Maybe even sugarcoat it.”
“Sorry. The council’s gonna kill us if I don’t convince them not to. I’ve already talked to Hob and Gob and-”
“Oh man, I love those guys. They doing ok?”
“Yeah, fine. Hob said that I-”
“Hob, what a guy. Love that guy.”
“Well, he said it’s a setup and I have to make the council think we’re useful.”
“That’s easy! Just tell them about all the funky adventures we’ve been on! Remember when we killed that dragon?”
“Yeah.”
“Tell them all about it and there’s no way they’ll kill us!”
“Wait, what if that Garrel guy is still here working for them?”
“Garrel guy? Oh, that dude. Yeah, I dunno know, you’ll have to ask Voolio next door. He’s the real brains around here.”
“He’s the… sure yeah, I’ll ask him. Any other ideas before I leave? Dig deep, Gnom.”
“Erm… did you ask Vix already?”
Dylk came to the next cell, the one inhabited by none other than Voolio Realus himself. He was hunched over on the bed, head hitting the wall, but he seemed happy to see Dylk.
“Dylk? Where are we?” he asked, rubbing his knees.
“Did it happen again?”
“I think so. Last thing I remember was a… bear?”
“It was a werebear. Balder tamed it.”
“That’s cool.”
“It was cool for about a minute, then we got arrested for it.”
“Arrested?”
“Mhm. And for Salman killing those bandits. Apparently they were guards.”
“Arrested?”
“Um… yeah, Voolio. Arrested.”
“So, we’re in j-j-j-jail?”
Dylk nodded. v Voolio fainted.
The guard escorting Dylk rushed in as Voolio hit the mattress.
“What happened to ‘im?”
“Wait, wait, he’ll be fine,” Dylk said, waving him off. “I hope.” He poked Voolio with his finger. He was breathing. Good as you can hope for, I guess, he thought, trying not to panic.
“Thank the gods you’re next! Oh, not all of them. Just Moosa now. Thank Moosa you’re next!” Dylk entered Ballin’s cell with a pep in his step.
“Have they told you what’s happening, Dylk? They haven’t told me anything at all.”
“We’re going to trial today and I’m our lawyer.” Dylk jumped onto the bed. It was a bit softer than the others.
“Oh gods! Moosa! I mean. What’re you here for? Shouldn’t you be learning the law or whatever?”
“I was going around for information to build the case but Hob told me it was a setup, so now I’m trying to convince the council that we’re better off alive than dead.”
“What’s the plan?”
“I need something to show off our usefulness. Something that makes sure they can’t afford to kill us, at least for a while. I need-”
“A miracle,” Ballin said, standing up and pacing the room. “There’s no way around it, we need a miracle. Luckily, we have miracle makers among us. Salman and Bauwls got to cells before me, they’ll know what to do.”
“But what if they don’t?”
“Well,” Ballin said, walking to the door and gesturing an arm to the hallway. “Gotta go out somehow. Good luck, though.”
Bauwls was even less useful than Vix. All she said to Dylk was “Moosa will figure it out.” After a heated theological argument between Dylk and a brick wall, he decided it was best to conserve his energy, and left.
“Are you sure you wanna keep this up, buddy?” his guard asked as they walked down the corridor. “I woulda given up afta the orc, myself.”
“Why do you say that?” Dylk said.
“Well, it’s like this, you see,” the guard said. “It seems like the council wants you gone, and when the council wants you gone, you’re gone. But then again, Garrel’s gone. Don’t suppose they wanted that.”
“Wait!” Dylk said, stopping in his tracks. “Garrel is gone?”
“Yup. Skipped town for some village in the forest, so the word on the street is. Got that info from some respectable sources, too. They found his hat on a trail out east, all crumpled in carriage tracks. Yup, he’s long gone.” He leaned against the wall and crossed his arms. “Good thing, too, after what he did.”
Dylk pictured hitting himself with a hammer. The other cultist! he thought. I knew I recognized his voice! And the fourth one was probably Susan!
“Where was all of this twenty minutes ago?” he yelled. “I’ve been running around interrogating everyone, trying to find some hope here and you knew that the whole time?”
“Yup, I really shouldn’t’ve told you that,” the guard said, smiling. “Oh, I really shouldn’t’ve told you that. Oh gods, I definitely shouldn’t’ve told you that.” He sighed. “Welp, what’s done is done, I suppose. Here’s the next one.” He unlocked the door to the cell holding both Salman and Banan. “Good luck again,” he said, standing aside.
The cell was on the other side of the corridor, so it was darker than the others, the sun not coming through the window so well. Salman was shrouded, appearing almost frightening in the shadow. As frightening as the goofy looking dwarves could manage, anyway. Banan was much the same, but Dylk knew better than to be frightened of the guy.
“Master Willum,” Salman said. He stood from the bed and bowed to him. Jail sure does change people, Dylk thought.
“Hey, guys,” he said, bowing stiffly back. “I have news, the council-”
“Is going to kill us,” Salman said.
“You heard?”
“No, I’ve expected it for a long time. They’ve wanted to dispose of us since the moment we outed Garrel. I suspect he still has some control here.”
“Oh, you really haven’t heard,” Dylk said.
“No. If you would let me continue-”
“Salman, Garrel’s gone. The council doesn't want to kill us! Well, I wouldn’t go that far, actually. They still do, but only because they think we killed their guards.”
“I did kill their guards,” Salman said.
“You kill their guards?” Banan asked. He gasped. “Why ever would you do that?”
“It was not my purpose, mister Ryediri. The bandits, our would-be assailers, they weren’t bandits at all. They were…”
“Scrum’s friends,” Dylk said, realizing it at that exact moment. “But why? Why would they turn to banditry of all things?”
“Perhaps it is possible,” Banan said, “that they simply, wanted to?”
“But why, Banan? Damn it, why?” Dylk asked, pounding a fist into his palm. There was a pause, then: “I got it! They saw the werebe- Tunk, they saw Tunk, and they got so scared that they hung up their helmets on the spot. Turned to a life of crime instead!”
“It must be true,” Salman said, holding his head in his hand. “But one piece remains.”
“What’s that?” Dylk asked.
“We have no proof of our claim. No court of law would take such a bold accusation without evidence.”
“So, we are doomed after all,” Banan said, folding into a ball on the bed. “Oh, I wish they’d left me at the mansion.”
“Evidence… evidence…” Dylk muttered. “Oh!”
“What is it, Willum?”
“Balder!”
Dylk ran out of the cell, yelling at the guard to follow him. He looked through every door until he found what he was looking for, told the guard to unlock it, and ran inside.
“Balder!”
“Hi!”
“Do you have it?”
“Mhm!” Balder reached behind his back and showed it to him: the plank of wood from the broken carriage. On it was both an arrow hole and the carriage’s name, The Egregious Mistake. Balder smiled ear to ear. “Is it later yet?”