Champion: Part IX

The frustration Ian felt about failing to capture the prowler alive so he might question him was soon replaced by irritation with the Campeador's son. When Diego saw Ian was wounded, and the guards mentioned finding a dagger on the floor by the door to the suite, he launched straightaway into a stream of deep apologies and heartfelt thanks. "You saved my life! That would have hit me in the back if you hadn't shoved me aside!"

"You merely stepped in the way; the dagger was meant for me." Ian said through clenched teeth as the guards escorted them back to the Library. Luckily, Diego assumed the half-elf's wound was the cause of the irritability and now expressed concern over its seriousness. It was one of the longest walks in Ian's short life, as he fought to keep on his feet and Diego's voice seemed to echo. But at long last he saw Ferret's face appear in front of him, and capable hands steered him to a chair in the now well-lit Library. Ibrahim pushed his way past the guards blocking the doorway and with a soft `tsk' cut away the shirt from Ian's wound.

"He's lost much blood. This should be cleaned and bound right away, Captain Ferret." He smiled to Ian. "You must stay abed a few days, but you shall be fine."

Ferret's face seemed a bit less grim. "We'll post some guards in case there is another attack. Harold!" He motioned the large axeman closer, but stopped as Ian shook his head.

"He wasn't trying to attack me; if he had been, he would have stayed and fought. He was a thief. All he wanted to do was escape." Ian felt himself grow even more lightheaded and scowled as he struggled to stay clear. "He was after that damn Scroll. Did they find anything on the body?"

Ibrahim asked the head of the guard detail a question in Arabic, then shook his head. "They found nothing. If he was a thief, my young ifrit, he was a most unfortunate one. They will display the head in the zorcander on the morrow with a reward offered for any who can identify him. Perhaps one of the merchants will recognize the face. I'm afraid that is all we can do, my young friend."

"Good. Then he didn't find it. It's in here someplace, Ferret, hidden in plain sight." He tried to stand, Ibrahim murmuring disapproval as he did. "Maybe I can sense it if -" He sat down heavily as the room began to spin and blinked. "Maybe I better do it later."

"Ah, at last, common sense!" Ibrahim looked back at Ferret. "Captain, if you would have some of your men bring him across to his bed, I will attend to the wound there."

"Of course. Harold and Timmons there will help him. Could you ask the guards to tighten the detail here?" He waited as Ibrahim did so, the guard captain answering in what seemed an angry manner. "What did he say?"

The Moorish physician glanced up briefly as he watched Ian being led out garden door. "He said that one of his men just died here. He asked if you expected that he would take that lightly?"

"I'm a fool. Please tell him I share his anger, and I apologize for any offense my words might have caused." He nodded to the man as Ibrahim translated, then he waited as the man replied.

"The guard captain accepts your apology and says it is one thing you and he have in common, the anger when a man dies senselessly." Ibrahim grimaced as he started for the door. "But don't we all?"

*********

"There must have been a second man." Ian sat on the corner of his bed as Ibrahim first bathed the wound clean, applied some powdered herbs and then bound the shoulder tightly with clean linen. "I can't move my shoulder!"

"Good! That's the general idea; if you could move it, the wound will open again. The more you keep still, the faster it will heal. And let me know if it feels hot or it throbs; the blade might have been poisoned, you know." He turned away to a nearby table and added some powder to a cup of juice stirring it as he poured. Ian didn't notice as he was facing Ferret.

"Why do you say that, Ian?" Ferret lit his pipe as he let the boy talk.

"The man I chased didn't have the stomach for a fight. He ran. I doubt he had the nerve to sneak up on a guard and slit a man's throat."

"So you think the other man removed the guard first, then the thief entered the Library?"

He nodded, then winced as the motion caused a twinge in the shoulder. "He most likely thought his accomplice would do for me when I followed him out into the hall, but the killer has already left."

"He was on his own once he got inside the Library. Did you notice there was only one guard? Where was the other?"

Ibrahim handed Ian the juice. "The captain of the guard already reached the same conclusion. The palace is being searched at this moment; if he is still here, they will find him. Drink this, please."

"What is it?"

"Juice." Ibrahim smiled blandly as Ian took a sip, found it was sweet, and then downed the whole cup. "With some sugar, and some juice of the poppy. You should sleep well."

"But I don't want to sleep!" Despite the words, Ian's eyes began to droop.

Ferret walked over and helped Ian lie back in the bed. "I don't think your body agrees. Rest! Do what Ibrahim tells you and let me worry about all this."

In a few minutes, the half -elf was finally asleep, and the two older men left the room.

Red eyes blinked once in the shadows of a far corner, and then vanished.