Hisn-Mansur was a small city - a town, really - with two gates. One that faced north and connected to the road to Ancyra and one east that led to a road that eventually reached the Mediterranean or split southwest across the Euphrates and led to the Far East, the main road used by the Silk Road caravans.
Renier entered through the eastern gate - the Ebon that guarded it didn’t even notice - and continued on the main street until he reached the inn he had stayed in many years ago and got a meal. To his surprise, a poster with his likeness and description from four years before offered a reward for information on his whereabouts.
"What's that about?" he asked the innkeeper.
"A group of Royal guards came about two years back, posted it, and said not to take it down," he answered, "I told them a boy with that description had been here and killed two men, but he disappeared," he added complaining, "didn't give me so much as a copper!"
"A murderer then?"
"I don't think so. Those two he killed…. I don't want to talk about the dead, but they weren't exactly devoted men."
"What do the Royal guards want with him?"
"Rumor has it that the boy was fleeing from a massacre that happened near Ancyra. They say everyone in Mustafa Pasha's estate was killed. Some say the boy was part of it. Others that he was just there."
"Troubling times. The roads are full of bandits and mysterious armed men, and I must travel precisely to Ancyra. Hopefully, I can join a caravan, my friend."
The innkeeper perked up, "You're in luck. A captain who was staying here told me he was looking for guards. Go to the center square. Tell him I sent you.”
Renier finished and left a silver for a tip. One of the things he had learned from the Keeper during his classes on spy craft was that "silver greased wheels" and having the innkeeper on your side was never a bad thing.
He walked on the narrow street that led to the merchant square when a man in his mid-thirties rounded the corner and passed by him. Renier gracefully stepped to the side and let the man pass. Distracted by the curious book the man held, he didn’t notice the portly priest who rounded the corner and plowed into him. Both of them went down, but Renier quickly stood and extended his hand to help the priest. As the priest took his hand and looked at his face, his eyes opened wide and asked, “Gazi?”
“Selamün aleiküm, imam, my name is Ohran,” replied Renier as he thought, ‘I should change that.’
“Aleiküm selam,” the priest answered automatically. Then added, “By heavens, you look exactly like my cousin Gazi when we were young.” Coming to his senses, he excitedly said, “Quickly, Efendi, help me catch that thief.”
But when they turned to follow, the man was nowhere to be seen. Renier spread his senses and found the man running into a house about three streets over, but he didn’t want to get involved. ‘Keep on mission, Renier; you have a bad tendency to get distracted,’ he told himself, thinking back to the many times he had heard the same admonishment from the Keeper.
“Hoca, my apologies for my carelessness. I’ll take my leave now as I still have matters to attend to. May God protect you,” said Renier, trying to disengage and continue towards the square.
“Yes, young Efendi. It is uncanny how much you look like my late cousin; go with a smile,” the priest answered, resignation to the loss on his face. But whether it was the relic or his cousin, Renier didn’t know.
At the priest’s words, Renier felt remorse; he was obviously related to his former instructor. Despite the Keeper’s words, Renier said, “Hoca, I can take you to where the thief is hiding. Follow me.” Although surprised, the priest followed.
“He’s in here, Imam. Let me go in first,” said Renier as they reached the wooden door of an old run-down house. It seemed like a light push, but the latch broke, and the door violently swung open. Surprise and fear showed on the face of the thief, and a young, beautiful woman cried beside him as Renier and the priest entered the home.
After the shock, the man hurriedly said, “Imam, please forgive me, I need this. They’ll take my daughter!” while dropping to his knees in front of the priest.
The old manuscript laid on a table next to them.
“Kasim, you could have just come to me,” answered the priest, “tell me what happened.”
But Renier wasn’t listening. As soon as he entered, he noticed the strange Mu seal on the manuscript. ‘This is unexpected,’ he thought, ‘I’ve seen that seal before.’
“Imam, three men broke in last night,” recounted Kasim, “ they said since I worked in your house, I could get the manuscript. They took my youngest daughter, Nadia, and said they would be back tonight, and if I didn’t have it, they would sell her.”
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‘It’s as if a soul stone is nestled between the cover. Could it be that thin?’ Renier pondered as the Imam and Kasim talked.
“… We’ll wait here for them and get your daughter back,” Renier heard the Imam say as he brought his attention back to the conversation.
“Hoca, perhaps it would be best if I stayed,” said Renier as he put his hand inside his satchel, concealing the yataghan that appeared. As he pulled it out, he continued to explain, “I trained under Çavuş Akkaya some years ago and have some skill.”
“How were you to signal them that you had it?” As he asked Kasim, Renier extended his senses but found no one nearby.
“They said they would come tonight and that I should have it, or I would never see my daughter again, Efendi,” answered Kasim shakily. Hope slowly returning to his eyes.
“Hoca,” Renier turned to the Imam, “perhaps it would be best to take Kasim Bey and Hanim Kizi?” He questioned, unsure of the young woman’s status, “to your home along with the manuscript, and I’ll wait here for them. Two haydut will not be a problem.”
“Give them the manuscript, young Ohran. It is precious, but not as much as a child's life,” answered the Imam, partially agreeing with Renier’s suggestion and handing him the manuscript.
“Kasim Bey, how can I recognize your daughter, Nadia?”
“Efendi, please only call me Kasim. It is too much honor otherwise. This is my oldest daughter, Amira,” The hopeful look in Kasim’s eyes did not go unnoticed by Renier, “my daughter Nadia has a red birthmark that looks like a butterfly on her left hand. She is ten with long black hair and very thin.”
He ushered them out while assuring them, “I will get your daughter back, Kasim Bey,” then to the Imam, “ and try to capture the men.”
Renier repaired the broken latch as best he could and closed the door. Then started to meditate by the hearth waiting for nightfall.
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“The team at the ravine reported no one had come out, but when I returned, the two teams on the road were gone. No footprints, no signs of struggle, no bodies, nothing. Just a cold fire pit,” reported the older Ebon to his team leader. Puzzlement showed in his face.
“If they had been captured or killed by the guard patrol, we would have seen them when they came into the city,” he ended.
‘Report this to Viper and double the men at the gates. Maybe he’s out, and they missed him,” the leader ordered, "check every caravan heading out. Any man, even if the age doesn't match. I'll start extending my senses daily."
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Two gruff-looking men silently crept to the house, but to Renier’s senses, they might as well have made all the noise they wanted. The problem was that the girl wasn’t with them.
‘It wouldn’t be that easy,’ Renier brooded as he stored the manuscript he had left on the table in his ring, phased into a shadow, and waited.
The men entered, knives in hand. They searched everywhere and returned to the entrance, frustrated. “That damn son of a btich. I guess he figured it was better to lose one daughter than both and his life,” complained one of them.
“I least we got a gold for the little one. I tell you, they like ‘em young,’ commented the other.
“We’ll have to steal it from the Imam, but he’s probably alerted. We’ll have to wait till they calm down.”
A kinedisc smashed the taller one’s face and knocked him out as Renier phased out of the shadow and put the yataghan at the other one’s throat.
“You have five seconds to tell me where the girl is before you become a corpse, and your friend answers,” growled Renier, “five… four… three…”
“She’s on a caravan heading to the sea. They left this morning. Please, she’s alive and well. They won’t mistreat her. On a fast horse, you can catch up easily. Please let me go. We’re just getting the book for someone.”
“Who do you work for?”
“We’re from the Karga. I only know our baskani ordered it, and our kaptan assigned it to us. Please, we’re just thieves; we wouldn’t kill anyone,” the thief pleaded. Renier’s senses told him he was telling the truth.
He cleanly broke their arms and legs; he just wanted them to stay here, not die. Then he secured them with a rope from his ring and flew out of the house.
He phased into a shadow by the road about three hundred meters outside the eastern gate and extended his senses as far as possible. The two Ebon hiding by the gate felt something but could not see anyone. Regardless, they had been ordered to check everything, so one of them started to walk down the road.
Fifteen minutes slipstreaming on the road and, he could see the caravan camp. He umbraskimmed by one of the wagons and watched. He just wanted to kill all these slavers, but they weren’t doing anything wrong here. Unless they did something unspeakable, he would just negotiate in the morning.
The camp started to come alive with the dawn, and Renier skimmed a kilometer away and started to stroll towards them. He figured he’d give them time to start the day and then talk to the caravan master and get Nadia.
Conspicuously, he walked toward the two guards by the road, “Selamün aleiküm,” greeted Renier with a smile.
“What do you want?” Answered the guard in accented Turkish.
“I need to speak to the caravan master.”
“Just keep on walking, kid. The caravan master is busy!”
“Well, if you say so. I just wanted to warn him about a catastrophe that will befall this caravan.”
The guard looked puzzled and turned to his companion, whispering, “What do you think?”
“It’s best to have the master decide.”
‘Wait here!” Yelled the second guard, turning towards the camp.
A robust, middle-aged man with weathered skin walked towards them, “I swear, I don’t know why I pay you. What do you want?”
“Selamün aleiküm, caravan master. You took a young girl in Hisn-Mansur. I’m sure it was a mistake. She is not a slave. I came to take her back,” answered Renier in a no-nonsense, commanding tone.
“I paid good money for that girl!”
“Regardless, she is faithful and from a family that works for the Imam. Hand her over, and we won’t report this transgression,” Renier explained; more guards approached and started to surround him.
“How do I know that you’re not lying and just want a free slave?”
“I’ll give you the gold coin you paid for her. I have the two that sold her in custody,” Renier could see as the caravan master made his mental calculation, then turning, he shouted, “Take him!”
The seven guards that surrounded Renier dropped dead before any had even put a hand on their swords. “Hand over the girl before I massacre every person in your caravan!”
‘What had happened,’ the dumbstruck caravan master could understand. Finally, his sense of self-preservation kicked in.
“Efendi, please, I’ll get her immediately… it was my mistake… my eyes did not see your magnificence,” the caravan master implored on his knees.
“Get the girl, now!” Renier’s anger started to boil. ‘I just wanted the girl. All of these scumbags are the same. They don’t deserve to live.’ It took conscious meditative breathing for him to calm down while they got Nadia.
A young girl, dressed in rags, was brought, the restraints that bound her hurriedly taken off. Renier took her left hand, but there was nothing. “Show me all the girls in your caravan!”
He checked the hands of the sixteen girls; none had a birthmark. He had been tricked! The Ebon, hidden behind a tree about fifty meters away, watched.