Zero
Chapter One
“Tell me your name.”
The lawman sat before his prisoner, hands clasped. The silent man sat with his hands tied to the armrests of the chair and his ankles bound to the feet. He stared at the man who had caught him with all the venom of a rattlesnake. He could have kicked himself at that moment – he had been so careless.
He was shabbily dressed in order to blend in with the town he was wandering through. He wore the nondescript garb of a low-class man, brown pants and shirt with worn boots. No one dressed well unless they were in the city or a large town nearby. He had the beginnings of a beard and his hair was mussed from the struggle before he had been caught. He was relatively unharmed, however the lawmen hadn’t handled him very gently when they caught him.
“You know, your face has been in every town from here to Indria. But no one even knows your true name.”
A smile tugged at the corners of the man’s mouth.
“I suppose you enjoy being an enigma. But I don’t enjoy bein’ left in the dark. You are facing some real serious charges.” The lawman paused, clearly irritated that the man before him had not spoken since his arrest. “There are some charges that remain confidential even to me. You must be one mean criminal.”
All he received was another smile from the bound man. This only served to annoy the lawman further. He clicked his tongue with impatience and rose from the chair he’d been sitting in. His clenched fist yearned to connect with nasal cartilage but he wouldn’t let his anger get the best of him. That was exactly what the prisoner wanted.
Besides, he had a family to feed and a job to maintain. He knew that catching this fugitive would earn him a lot of money – the bounty notice did not stipulate the exact amount of money, but he knew it must be a large amount.
“Fine. Stay silent. But it won’t help your case any, sayin’ nothing.”
More silence. The lawman clenched his jaw, stared at the man for a moment before leaving the room. He passed through a short, narrow hallway and turned into a large room where two other men sat. It was sparsely furnished, with a table and chairs and a few shelves and cupboards, but there was a fire to ward off the cold and plenty of grog to settle the lawmen.
The weather was fierce outside as the blizzard continued. The lawman was thankful that he was inside where it was relatively warm and safe – the structure was solid, constructed from stone and a good strong roof.
One of them, a brawny man with one ear, looked up at the lawman entered. “Well, Tyrol? He say anything?”
The man named Tyrol sighed. “He still ain’t speaking. I was hoping he would enlighten me as to who he is. The bounty notice never gave a name, just a drawn-up image. Could be that no one knows it, even.”
“Maybe he’s one of them mutes,” the third man, lean and well-muscled with his age somewhere between thirty and forty, suggested.
“Nah, Stoyan,” Tyrol responded. “He was swearing like crazy when we found him. But since he’s been in custody, not a peep.”
The other man rose from his seat and headed over to the cupboard where he procured a clay bottle. “Either of you want some firebrew?”
Both men inclined their heads. The bigger man got three mugs out of the cupboard as well, before placing them on the table and unstoppering the clay bottle.
“I could use something to fight off that uneasiness... that man... something ain’t right about him,” Tyrol said.
“You’re just all unsettled about his lack of conversation,” the big man said, pouring the contents of the bottle in to the mugs.
“It’s not that, Argyle,” said Tyrol. “He has that look about him. Like he’s always thinking. Also, his characteristics mark him as an Arlian. Those folk are real mysterious.”
“You mean that country in the snowy north?” Argyle inquired as he passed out the mugs of firebrew. “Aren’t they mostly magic folk?”
“I heard they was all savages,” Stoyan said.
“You would hear that, wouldn’t you?” Tyrol asked, with an edge to his voice.
“Now what’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothin’,” Tyrol muttered. He took a huge gulp from his mug and coughed a little as the liquid burned down this throat.
They had all heard stories about the Arlian people. Most of them were just folk tales intended to scare people. The truth was that not many people knew much about the folk of Arle. They were a mysterious race, mostly because few outsiders ventured into the north, and few from the north ventured south. All they had to keep them informed were stories, these days. Stories weren’t exactly reliable, but they gave people something to talk about.
“Did he have anythin’ useful in his possession that could help us?” Stoyan wanted to know.
“Not much other than a knife and some coins,” Tyrol said.
Stoyan looked discouraged. “How did this guy escape from the Agents for so long? The bounty notice has been up for nearly four years.”
“He was in hidin’ for awhile,” Argyle said.
“Where?” Stoyan asked.
Tyrol looked irritated. “We don’t know. That’s why they call it hiding.”
Stoyan muttered a bit under his breath and returned to his firebrew in silence. Tyrol and Argyle exchanged amused glances. Stoyan wasn’t the smartest of the three of them, but he was a good man, and a good lawman. He was the youngest, as well, but he had risen in the ranks swiftly and with great effort on his part.
“He couldn’t be more than twenty-five,” Tyrol said with a shake of his head. “He’s really made a name for himself in that time.”
“I’m just amazed he slipped beneath the law’s fingers all this time,” Argyle responded.
“We don’t know nothin’ about him though. He won’t even tell me his name. Don’t know that I could be bothered, questionin’ him any further.”
“I’ll give it a go later, maybe.”
“Good luck with it.”
Argyle drained the contents of his mug without flinching and poured himself another. “When’re them Agents getting here?”
Tyrol shrugged. “The message should have got to them by now. They’ll be here by morning, most likely. They wouldn’t want to come now, during this storm.”
Stoyan spoke up. “The sooner they get here and take this criminal, the better. It’s damn unsettlin’ having him here.” He glanced uneasily at the hallway where he knew the man sat, waiting to be hauled away to the capital and tried.
“It seemed to me like he was proud of his crimes by the way he smiled all secret-like.” Tyrol shuddered. “Hell, we don’t even know what it is he did. No one tells us nothing these days.”
“He’s probably a cold-blooded killer,” said Stoyan. “Musta killed a whole lot of important people to get the Agent’s attention.”
The lawman sat before his prisoner, hands clasped. The silent man sat with his hands tied to the armrests of the chair and his ankles bound to the feet. He stared at the man who had caught him with all the venom of a rattlesnake. He could have kicked himself at that moment – he had been so careless.
He was shabbily dressed in order to blend in with the town he was wandering through. He wore the nondescript garb of a low-class man, brown pants and shirt with worn boots. No one dressed well unless they were in the city or a large town nearby. He had the beginnings of a beard and his hair was mussed from the struggle before he had been caught. He was relatively unharmed, however the lawmen hadn’t handled him very gently when they caught him.
“You know, your face has been in every town from here to Indria. But no one even knows your true name.”
A smile tugged at the corners of the man’s mouth.
“I suppose you enjoy being an enigma. But I don’t enjoy bein’ left in the dark. You are facing some real serious charges.” The lawman paused, clearly irritated that the man before him had not spoken since his arrest. “There are some charges that remain confidential even to me. You must be one mean criminal.”
All he received was another smile from the bound man. This only served to annoy the lawman further. He clicked his tongue with impatience and rose from the chair he’d been sitting in. His clenched fist yearned to connect with nasal cartilage but he wouldn’t let his anger get the best of him. That was exactly what the prisoner wanted.
Besides, he had a family to feed and a job to maintain. He knew that catching this fugitive would earn him a lot of money – the bounty notice did not stipulate the exact amount of money, but he knew it must be a large amount.
“Fine. Stay silent. But it won’t help your case any, sayin’ nothing.”
More silence. The lawman clenched his jaw, stared at the man for a moment before leaving the room. He passed through a short, narrow hallway and turned into a large room where two other men sat. It was sparsely furnished, with a table and chairs and a few shelves and cupboards, but there was a fire to ward off the cold and plenty of grog to settle the lawmen.
The weather was fierce outside as the blizzard continued. The lawman was thankful that he was inside where it was relatively warm and safe – the structure was solid, constructed from stone and a good strong roof.
One of them, a brawny man with one ear, looked up at the lawman entered. “Well, Tyrol? He say anything?”
The man named Tyrol sighed. “He still ain’t speaking. I was hoping he would enlighten me as to who he is. The bounty notice never gave a name, just a drawn-up image. Could be that no one knows it, even.”
“Maybe he’s one of them mutes,” the third man, lean and well-muscled with his age somewhere between thirty and forty, suggested.
“Nah, Stoyan,” Tyrol responded. “He was swearing like crazy when we found him. But since he’s been in custody, not a peep.”
The other man rose from his seat and headed over to the cupboard where he procured a clay bottle. “Either of you want some firebrew?”
Both men inclined their heads. The bigger man got three mugs out of the cupboard as well, before placing them on the table and unstoppering the clay bottle.
“I could use something to fight off that uneasiness... that man... something ain’t right about him,” Tyrol said.
“You’re just all unsettled about his lack of conversation,” the big man said, pouring the contents of the bottle in to the mugs.
“It’s not that, Argyle,” said Tyrol. “He has that look about him. Like he’s always thinking. Also, his characteristics mark him as an Arlian. Those folk are real mysterious.”
“You mean that country in the snowy north?” Argyle inquired as he passed out the mugs of firebrew. “Aren’t they mostly magic folk?”
“I heard they was all savages,” Stoyan said.
“You would hear that, wouldn’t you?” Tyrol asked, with an edge to his voice.
“Now what’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothin’,” Tyrol muttered. He took a huge gulp from his mug and coughed a little as the liquid burned down this throat.
They had all heard stories about the Arlian people. Most of them were just folk tales intended to scare people. The truth was that not many people knew much about the folk of Arle. They were a mysterious race, mostly because few outsiders ventured into the north, and few from the north ventured south. All they had to keep them informed were stories, these days. Stories weren’t exactly reliable, but they gave people something to talk about.
“Did he have anythin’ useful in his possession that could help us?” Stoyan wanted to know.
“Not much other than a knife and some coins,” Tyrol said.
Stoyan looked discouraged. “How did this guy escape from the Agents for so long? The bounty notice has been up for nearly four years.”
“He was in hidin’ for awhile,” Argyle said.
“Where?” Stoyan asked.
Tyrol looked irritated. “We don’t know. That’s why they call it hiding.”
Stoyan muttered a bit under his breath and returned to his firebrew in silence. Tyrol and Argyle exchanged amused glances. Stoyan wasn’t the smartest of the three of them, but he was a good man, and a good lawman. He was the youngest, as well, but he had risen in the ranks swiftly and with great effort on his part.
“He couldn’t be more than twenty-five,” Tyrol said with a shake of his head. “He’s really made a name for himself in that time.”
“I’m just amazed he slipped beneath the law’s fingers all this time,” Argyle responded.
“We don’t know nothin’ about him though. He won’t even tell me his name. Don’t know that I could be bothered, questionin’ him any further.”
“I’ll give it a go later, maybe.”
“Good luck with it.”
Argyle drained the contents of his mug without flinching and poured himself another. “When’re them Agents getting here?”
Tyrol shrugged. “The message should have got to them by now. They’ll be here by morning, most likely. They wouldn’t want to come now, during this storm.”
Stoyan spoke up. “The sooner they get here and take this criminal, the better. It’s damn unsettlin’ having him here.” He glanced uneasily at the hallway where he knew the man sat, waiting to be hauled away to the capital and tried.
“It seemed to me like he was proud of his crimes by the way he smiled all secret-like.” Tyrol shuddered. “Hell, we don’t even know what it is he did. No one tells us nothing these days.”
“He’s probably a cold-blooded killer,” said Stoyan. “Musta killed a whole lot of important people to get the Agent’s attention.”
♠ ♠ ♠
Enjoy!