Forgotten Embers

Chapter 32: The Arrest

Kelvin walked down the cluttered halls of High Palace uncomfortable with all that he had seen. The term "enemy of the state" had left him with a much more sinister impression than that of the mild-mannered man who had met them at the door of the Kingsmen congregation early that morning. Generally, an arrest was made with much yelling and screaming of curses and revilings on the part of malefactor, but Webber had conducted himself with unparalleled dignity and given himself peaceably to their charge. He hardly spoke a word, even when the soldiers mocked him.

It was an embarrassment to Kelvin to have been associated with such an apprehension, one in which justice seemed crueler than the man at fault. And for all of that, Kallida had recovered a ring, one which he now held and was sent to be delivered to Blackridge along with the simple directive to "see what he says."

Blackridge was conducting interviews regarding the disappearance of the man at the Klauthbrid residence when Kelvin met him.

He bowed, presenting himself as the mage emerged from one room on his way to another. "Lord Blackridge," he politely addressed.

"Kelvin," he responded with a smile. "Welcome back. You're in good time, really. I have one last interview, and I would like to have your help for it."

"Of course," Kelvin replied with a quick nod.

"How was it with Kallida?" Blackridge asked him.

"Very smooth," Kelvin informed him. "Everything went well, and the arrest was made without incident, which reminds me..." he paused, remembering the ring, and reached into his pouch. He removed the metal band, presenting it to Blackridge. "Lord Kallida sent this for you."

Blackridge kept his face from emotion, but his dark eyes told another tale as they reflected his inner sadness. "Thank you, Kelvin," he said, and he reached slowly forward, gently plucking the shining piece of metal from his hand. He took the ring and turned it in the light, carefully examining the intricate crafting of delicate flowers and circular bands. Blackridge let out a soft sigh. "Where did you get this?" he asked him.

"The Ambassador, sir," Kelvin responded. "It was in his pocket when we searched him."

"You're certain there was no one else there?"

"None, sir," Kelvin assured him.

"Right. Well," he murmured, placing the ring in his pouch. "I'll hold onto this, then."

"Yes, sir," he replied.

'Another person? He couldn't know who that belongs to... could he?'

They came to another room for interviews, and the door slid open revealing a dark room with a table and three chairs around it, all of them maurium, and one of which was inhabited by a familiar figure.

'Avera!' His eyes grew wide with astonishment.

"I have good news for you, young lady," Blackridge proclaimed as they entered. "You're being released."

"Lord Blackridge," Avera addressed with some relief, "thank you." She was blinking from the sudden change in lighting. "And Quince!" She smiled. "How nice to see you, also!"

"Avera..." he stammered, and he smiled, unsure of what to say. "Hi."

"Mr. Dehnhardt is my apprentice," Blackridge told her, taking a seat at the end of the table. "He and I will he taking your official statement."

"Avera..." Kelvin began slowly, "what happened? I heard you were nearly kidnapped."

"It's hard to say," Avera expressed. "I was asleep. Then, suddenly, there was a man in my bedroom telling me to come with him."

Blackridge turned his eyes down to his papers and began to fill the information in frantically with his pen. "What time was it about?"

"I don't know," she told him. "It was dark. I was asleep."

"Do you often sleep in your clothes?" Blackridge asked her.

"He had me dress," Avera informed him.

"Please describe the man," Blackridge asked her, adding quickly, "for the state's record."

Avera thought for a moment. "He was tall, about six feet... maybe a little over. He wore a white cloak and tunic accented in gold, and the fabric sparkled in the moonlight."

Kelvin leaned forward, moving to the edge of his seat. "You didn't see his face?" he asked suspiciously.

"As I said, he wore a cloak," Avera reiterated, her eyes locking with his. "I take it that he didn't want to be recognized."

He would have pressed further, but Blackridge stopped him. "That is consistent with the testimony of the guards," the Archmage asserted, still scribbling notes.

"But she was much closer to him than they were," Kelvin protested, and they looked at him, startled.

"Mr. Dehnhardt," Lord Blackridge said sternly, "Avera is not a suspect. Her release has already been granted. The only reason we are here is to get a statement. Is that understood?"

Kelvin was taken aback by his instructor's sudden change in tone. "Yes, sir. I understand," he muttered, bowing his head. "My apologies," he added quickly, turning to Avera. She still seemed stunned by the outburst, and he felt a twinge of conscience.

"Alright, Avera," Blackridge continued, putting the interview back on track, "so, this man appeared in your room and told you to get dressed... then what happened?"

Avera wet her lips nervously. "He heard the soldiers and took me to the roof," she said, carefully choosing her words. "He was trying to figure a way out. That's when he started dragging me back towards the edge. One of the men, an officer, I think, told him to release me and surrender."

Blackridge nodded. "That was probably Colonel Garner. He claimed to have had an exchange with the suspect, and I've heard several testimonies to that effect. How did the man respond?"

"Well, he did let me go, but then he..." she shook her head, "he just dove off the edge, right behind me. I felt him fall. Then, when I went to look, he—"

"Vanished?" Blackridge concluded, taking a pause to look up from his paperwork.

"Yes!" Avera responded, appearing frazzled and frightened.

Kelvin frowned. 'I may have misjudged this. I should offer a better apology later.'

"There was some mention that he may have said something to you," Blackridge diplomatically stated.

Avera shook her head. "You'll have to trust me," she told them, recalling the words. "That's all he said."

"I see," Lord Blackridge said. "Thank you. I think that's all we needed from you, Avera."

"Wait," Kelvin said, his mind still on the vanishing prospect.

"Yes?" Blackridge addressed with a tone of interest and warning.

"Lord Blackridge, people don't just disappear. I mean, surely, he didn't hit the ground, but... he must have gone somewhere."

Blackridge nodded. "Yes," he said. "Somewhere. Are you familiar with translation, Mr. Dehnhardt?"

Avera's eyes widened.

"You mean like Pyrean to Obedi or Seacrish to Camadonian?" he asked, fairly certain of his own lack of understanding.

Blackridge smiled with amusement. "Not quite. Translation is a known occurrence wherein a man is somewhere and then he isn't. The individual who is translated is carried away as if by the wind and without natural explanation. In one instance, he is somewhere, and in the next, he is another place entirely. There are accounts of this recorded in the Kingsmen Chronicles and a handful besides."

"You knew about this?" Avera asked, surprised.

"Of course," Blackridge said, mildly perplexed. "It's not a secret."

"Don't you find that a little strange?" Kelvin cut in, finding the whole thing unrealistic.

Blackridge looked to him, questioning. "Not at all. The man was an armorial, wasn't he? He would have been familiar with the tales, as I am from my studies with Webber. I'm sure that he would not have jumped had he not known he would soon be landing elsewhere."

"But teleportation is a complex spell only effectively executed by the most powerful mages. How could this man—"

He stopped, his words brought to an abrupt halt by the intensity of the burning gaze of the Archmage, his dark eyes like smoldering coals which pierced him.

"Need I explain Kingsmen power structure to you, Mr. Dehnhardt, or do you not understand what many men seek by force they receive without measure or merit?"

Kelvin was speechless. "Yes, sir," he sputtered. "I understand plainly."

"Perhaps," Blackridge muttered, turning his face to Avera. "Is there anything else?" he asked her.

"Yes, actually," she replied nervously. "I don't suppose that there's a trial tomorrow?"

"There is," he said and paused, considering.

'Yes, but she shouldn't be aware of that. No one is.'

"I see," Avera muttered softly.

"Will Ben be there?" Blackridge asked, his eyes locked on hers.

'What the... who is Ben?'

She nodded. "He's the one who told me about it," she replied, her voice hesitant and low.

"Thank you," Blackridge replied, picking up his papers and rising from him chair. "I'll look for him." He turned to Kelvin. "Mr. Dehnhardt, would you be so kind as to show Avera out, please?"

"Yes, sir," Kelvin readily consented.

His master smiled. "Thank you," he said. "After that, I want you to report to Master Kallida. I have some personal business to attend to," he told him as he turned to go his way.

Kelvin turned to Avera and smile, beginning to relax again. "Well," he said sheepishly, somewhat ashamed of his unregulated zeal, "I'll walk you to the door, then."

"Why, thank you, Mr. Dehnhardt," Avera grinned, seemingly amused by his obvious embarrassment. "You are most kind."