FORTY-TWO
He should be back by now -- what's taking him so long? Folken had long ago given up trying to get any work done. Instead of reviewing the weapons schematics on the damaged guymelfs as Juri had instructed, he was instead pacing the length of his front room waiting for Marco Dimetra to return. Damn it -- why isn't he here yet? With a frustrated sigh, Folken threw himself down in the chair. What if Jin wasn't at the shop -- what if he missed her? Still, he should have been back by now. C'mon Marco, where the hell are you?
As if on cue, there was a knock on the door, "Folken -- open up, it's me."
Rising, Folken hurried to the door and pulled it open. "Damn it Marco -- where the hell have you been?" He grabbed the other man by the sleeve of his coat and pulled him into the room, slamming the door behind him. "What took you so long? I was starting to get worried. Did you have any trouble? Was she there -- did you talk to her?"
"Slow down -- I can only answer one question at a time. Gods, you'd think you were getting married or something." Marco said with a mischievous grin as he sat down in one of the wingback chairs. Folken took a seat across from him, "C'mon Marco, out with it -- did you see Jin -- did you get a chance to talk to her?"
Purposely making his companion wait, Marco slumped down in the chair trying to get comfortable and put his legs out in front, crossing them at the ankles. Folken made an exasperated sound in his throat, "Will you stop it! Tell me what happened -- did you see her?"
Marco gave him a rakish smile, "Oh yes, I had a rather nice chat with your very charming fiancé. I spent the better part of our visit trying to convince her to leave you for me. You know -- the worldly, older man instead of the brash, inexperienced youth."
"Marco . . ." Folken's voice held a hint of warning.
"Unfortunately, I was unable to sway her to my side -- for some odd reason; she kept insisting that she was in love with you." In a dramatic gesture, Marco put his hand over his heart, "And so I return, defeated and heartbroken." Looking at Folken, he couldn't help laughing at the expression on the younger man's face. "Oh lighten up man -- everything is just fine -- I met with the very lovely Miss Roh and am happy to say that the two of you should be happily and lawfully wed three weeks from tomorrow."
Folken sat back in his chair, "Three weeks -- so soon?"
"Oh, so now you're not in such a hurry anymore? I didn't know you were so fickle."
"Be serious Marco -- there's just so much that has to be done; three weeks isn't a lot of time." Folken rose and walked to his work table. Reaching for a blank sheet of paper and a pencil, he started to write as he thought aloud, "Lets see . . . the registrar . . . some new clothes . . ." he turned towards Marco, "I was thinking of having a new set of clothes made -- something a little more . . . formal. What do you think?"
"It's your wedding day Folken, I guess you can wear whatever you want -- although I think Jindra would prefer you to look a little more . . . upscale for the event."
Folken nodded his head and continued writing, "we've got that covered . . . now we need . . . and then . . . the ship . . ." He turned back towards his companion, "We need to book passage on a ship . . ."
Marco rose and joined Folken by the table, "Bad news there, I'm afraid. The best I could find was a small Egzardian merchant ship -- but it won't be back through here for other four or five weeks."
"Four or five weeks? We can't wait that long -- I was hoping that we could leave the same day that we got married."
"I'm sorry Folken, but that's the only ship that I could dig up that would be able to take on passengers here. You forget, it's storm season in the mountains -- most traders don't like to come here during this time of the year, it's too risky. If you were willing to go by horseback or overland in a merchant caravan, I might be able to set up something -- but ships at this time of the year are exceptionally hard."
"Damn it, I knew this seemed too easy. You're sure there was nothing else?"
Marco shook his head, "I was all over the docks after I left Jindra at the shop. I swear Folken; there isn't a ship to be had for at least another month." He ran his hand through his dark curls, "I'm sure that Jindra will understand -- you said her family were merchants."
Folken shook his head, "Her mother's family -- they're from Palas. Her father was born here, in Zaibach." Folken threw his pencil down on the table top. "Why is it that nothing ever goes right what I need it to? What are we supposed to do for two weeks, Marco?" He snorted, "I get married and then have to wait another two weeks before I can be with my wife! Jin is understanding, but even that is going to push her patience to the limit."
"Oh, I don't know -- she seemed like a pretty level-headed young woman. I'm sure that if you just explain the situation, she'll be alright. There's nothing you can do about the weather . . ."
"I know . . . it's just that we've waited so long -- I don't want to ask her to wait even longer." Marco heard the defeated tone in Folken's voice, "Besides, once we're married, it won't take long for someone to find out about it -- it will be public record -- and then what? How long before someone in the tower finds out -- before Dornkirk finds out?"
"You could postpone the marriage for another two weeks." Marco offered. Folken shook his head, "No -- if I had my way, we'd be at the registrar's office tomorrow; Jin is the one that wanted to wait a few weeks. Damn it all! I can't believe it -- we're so close and now this . . ."
"Two weeks isn't that long -- you'll just have to be very careful that's all." Marco clapped the younger man on the back, "Don't give up yet -- if you want this badly enough, you'll make it work -- you can do it."
There was a hint of strength and confidence in Folken's voice and stance, "Oh I want it -- I want it so bad that I can almost taste it. I swear Marco, once we leave here -- I'm not letting go of Jindra Roh for a very, very long time -- you'll have to kill me to get me away from her side."
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Anton Lefebvre watched the dark-haired sorcerer's apprentice leave the bookshop. Maybe I'm only being paranoid -- just because a sorcerer goes into a bookshop doesn't mean that he's there to meet Jindra. But what if he was? What could he, of all of them, want with her? Pondering that thought, Anton waited for Jindra to emerge. After perhaps another fifteen or twenty minutes, Jindra at last left the shop and made her way down the street. Quickly crossing the street, Anton followed her. When the two had traveled for a few blocks, Anton called out to her.
As Jindra turned at his voice, Anton saw the look of surprise on her face. "Anton? Gods -- where have you been?" She retraced her steps and met the young man halfway. "I've been so worried -- what happened to you? Where have you been? My father -- my father said . . ."
Anton cut her off, "Apparently, good news travels fast." Jindra heard the bitterness in his voice. "Always nice to be the topic of hot gossip."
"I don't appreciate your sarcasm, Anton. My father really liked you -- he seemed upset when he found out you had been dismissed from the academy. He-he knew that you and I were friends and he thought that I should know. We weren't gossiping about you." She didn't mean to be harsh with him, but she couldn't help it.
Jindra took in Anton's appearance; his hair was pulled back but several long tendrils had escaped to hang along the sides of his face; there was a dark shadow of beard on his face -- he apparently had not shaved in several days; his clothes were plain and a bit rumpled; and his dark blue eyes were red-rimmed and bloodshot. It must be true -- he looks like someone who spent the better part of last night in a wine bottle. Anton -- how could you have fallen so far? What happened to make you like this?
Anton looked away from her, "I'm sorry Jindra, I didn't mean it to sound like that. It's just that -- every time I see someone from the academy . . . I-I-I just can't stand the way they all look at me -- like I'm something they should pity."
Jindra reached out and touched his arm. "Anton, what happened? Why were you expelled? I know what my father said . . . but there has to be more to it than that. I know how much the academy met to you -- how could you throw it all away like that?"
He looked at her, his voice once again bitter. "Is that what you think -- that I purposefully got myself expelled?" Jindra dropped her eyes from his accusing stare. "I won't deny that most of what happened was my own fault . . . but there were -- there were circumstances . . . circumstances that I had no control over."
Jindra looked back up at him, "My -- my father . . . told me about your family. He-he said . . ." Blushing, she broke off speaking.
"That my family was penniless -- that my father gambled us into the poorhouse?" Anton supplied for her in a hard voice. Jindra once again dropped her eyes. "Now you know why I hate him so much -- for what he did to us."
He turned away so that Jindra could only see the profile of his face. "Have you ever heard the expression 'Caught between a rock and a hard place' or 'Damned it you do, damned if you don't'? That's been my life for the past few months, Jindra. I could help my family and damn myself in the process; or I could do nothing and let them slip further down into despair and poverty."
Jindra moved towards him and put her hand on his arm. "What do you mean? What did you do, Anton?"
He turned to look at her and he placed his hand over hers. "I did the only thing I could, Jindra. I was offered a chance to clear my father's debts and restore my family's reputation. It wasn't a very difficult decision -- until I had to fulfill my end of the bargain. . . "
"What do you mean? I don't understand . . ."
Anton lifted his hand and pulled his arm away from her, "I-I-I made an agreement with someone. An agreement that would ensure my family's future. B-B-But I didn't stop to consider the consequences . . . and now it's too late . . ."
Jindra thought she understood what he was trying to say, "Did you get yourself mixed up with moneylenders, Anton?"
He laughed bitterly, "If only it were something that simple and harmless. Moneylenders I could handle, Jindra -- my father owed quite a number of those too." He shook his head, "It doesn't really matter, I made my choice and now I have to live with it -- or try to anyway." Anton turned his face away once again, "I consider my expulsion from the academy to be a fair trade for my mother and sisters."
The two remained silent for several moments. Turning back towards Jindra, he gave her a grim smile, "But I've found a position, so you needn't worry that I'm wondering the streets cold and hungry. The pay is nothing compared to what I would have made as an officer, but I can live on it -- plus I get room and board included."
Jindra's eyes widened, "What kind of position?"
"As a guard -- I'll admit it isn't the glamorous life of an officer, but it's a job and the work isn't overly demanding." Jindra felt a fluttering in the pit of her stomach, "A guard -- where?" Please gods, don't let it be . . .
Anton looked her in the eye and smiled, "The black tower -- I'm a sergeant-at-arms in the sorcerer's tower, Jindra."