He stared at the dagger, his gaze then shifting to her. "How do you know I named that dagger, Cutter?"
"She told me," she said, pointing to the blade.
Clare looked at him and gestured towards the dagger. "May I?" Seeing him nod, she delicately touched the blade and retracted her hand after a moment. She nodded in acknowledgment.
"The blade conveyed an impression of its name to me." Clare said.
He appeared slightly annoyed as he picked up the dagger and put it away. Then, he picked up the Slate. "It appears that the slate acknowledges you and changes your name to Cassandra Keep." Looking up at her, he inquired, "Are you by any chance related to the Keep family?"
She shrugged. "I've been an orphan abandoned at the orphanage since I was a baby. Sister Fost gave me the name Sandra Hope, or so I was told. When I woke up in the dungeon, I..." She paused, glancing at Clare and detecting a hint of mischief in the elf's eyes, while simultaneously hearing the words in her mind. [I'm not reading your mind, so whatever secret you have is your own.] Clare turned her head away, fixing her gaze on the wall.
"I have a memory from my childhood of a woman kissing my forehead and revealing my real name." The truth wasn't far from that. Her name was Cassandra, and her mother, Jesse Keep, passed away shortly after giving birth to her. Cassandra never knew the identity of her father.
"So, should I address you as Baron?" Cassandra gazed into his eyes, aware of the need to remain cautious, as she could easily become lost in them.
Clare suppressed a laugh, snorting once again.
[Hey, it's not my fault you're broadcasting that thought. You need to learn to block better!] Clare smiled and winked at her.
Cassandra found herself growing more fond of the elf, returning the wink. She realized it was time to concentrate on finding a way out of her current predicament.
"You mentioned that someone from my hometown would be coming. If it's Stacy Hart, she was involved in the kidnapping attempt, but I doubt she's the mastermind behind it all," she informed the Baron bluntly.
"Stacy Hart of the Hart Merchant Guild?" he pondered deeply. "My name is Nicholas Blades. I am a Landless Baron, a title bestowed upon my father posthumously. 'Blades' became our family name after he valiantly defended a fort for four days before help arrived. Unfortunately, my father did not survive.
Everyone who knew him, including my mothers and sibling, remembered him as Blades. The King granted our family the name in honor of my father's bravery."
"As a servant of the King, I work as an Investigator in the Ministry of Justice. Your case, involving the assumption of a deceased person's identity, has fallen under my investigation. The ability to alter an identity slate could have significant implications for the Kingdom. While currently deemed impossible, we must thoroughly examine the matter to either confirm or refute its plausibility."
"You can provide Clare with information regarding Stacy Hart, and I will assign a member of my staff to investigate her. Since this extends beyond mere identity forgery, I will send a document to the Adventurer Guild to verify your true identity and grant you the freedom to travel. However, I strongly advise against remaining in this area once the investigation concludes. The Hart Merchant Guild, though not large, has a firm grip on the region, stretching far to the north for about fifty leagues or more. They have their influence embedded in every aspect of life."
Standing up, he turned to Clare and said, "Please interview Mrs. Hart when she arrive and give me a report. Follow up on any leads.
Miss Keep, I apologize for the treatment you received." He sat a small pouch on the table, making a clinking sound, and continued, "I hope this will go a long way in showing my deepest apology."
Cassandra looked at the pouch, then at the Baron, and finally at Clare, who seemed surprised.
"I graciously accept your apology and hope that you can educate your guards on treating their guests. 'Innocent until proven guilty' in the court of law," she said, noticing a fleeting look of surprise on his face.
"Is that all?" Cassandra asked.
"Actually, no. I want Clare to stay with you until we resolve this. You have accused some people of attempted murder and kidnapping. There is also the attack on the detention center at the North Gate that needs to be looked into. You still haven't explained how you avoided being killed while inside your jail cell. Even an illusionist could not have survived several fireballs and a burning building.
You can give Clare your statement, and she will fill out the Edict of Witness so we can detain those who try to harm you." Turning to Clare, he continued, "She is in your care. I expect to see her in a few days after your report on Mrs Hart."
"Again, Mage Keep, I apologize for the guards' actions." With that, he nodded to both of them, and left the room.
Clare raised an eyebrow, waiting for the door to close. "Wow, woman. He must really like you. I've never seen him apologize for anything in the year I've served under him." Blushing when Cassandra raise her eyebrow and grin at her words.
Sputtering, "you know what I mean." the blush on her cheeks have reached Clare's pointed ears.
"How old is he?" Cassandra asked, picking up the pouch and looking inside. She gasped as she saw fifteen gold Crowns staring back at her—a significant amount, enough to sustain a farmer and his family for a few years or support a mage their magical research and living expenses for several months. The realization of her interest in the man made her hope Clare hadn't noticed.
"He is a hundred twenty years old, dear. The King granted him his title and a job to investigate those who pose a threat to the Kingdom. He captured three traitors who gave away secrets that led to his father's death," Clare explained, noticing Cassandra raising an eyebrow. She laughed, saying, "Honey, I'm just as fascinated by him as you are. I'll be turning fifty-one this year, still a teenager to my people, though," she winked as a faint blush came to her cheeks.
"Besides, you're older than me by a few years," she added, grinning.
Cassandra sputtered, trying to process the information. "How? But... there..."
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Patting Cassandra's hand, Clare reassured her by talking in her mind, [By the way dear, I am a Mental Mage, and singing in your head is not an effective defense against someone like me. I've had years of practice. The singing would keep most spells and devices from learning anything, but not me. I know who you are, Cassandra Keep, and I know what you are. Don't worry. You're not the first, and I doubt you'll be the last. My family has been waiting for someone like you to show up. You are the fourth visitor in the last four thousand years to appear in our world. My grandmother was the first in our family. She is an elf, and my grandfather met another—a Roman, he called himself—who built a vast empire and was killed by his own people. My mother met the third, a gnome who died in an accident while trying to create something that caused an explosion, leveling several homes and businesses and killing many people. Now it seems I've met the fourth. Before you worry, I can't read your mind all the time. I prepared a spell before coming here and expended a lot of energy to cast it so I can read your mind. We had to know if you are a threat to the Kingdom.]
Cassandra's eyes widened as she stared at Clare, a flurry of questions cascading in her mind. Clare's eyes twinkled as she gently patted Cassandra's hand. "How about we gather your belongings and head to the house I'm staying at? I've regained some of my energy, so at least I won't stumble and fall," Clare suggested with a warm smile.
Cassandra instinctively reached for her belt to check for the missing pouch and key that the guards had taken when they brought her to the barracks. Frowning, she suddenly felt a movement in her sleeve where she had hidden some silver. Curiously, she reached over to investigate and sat back, puzzled and somewhat surprised. The key already returned to her!
Clare was already near the door when she turned and asked, "Are you coming?"
As they exited the barracks, Cassandra's belongings were handed back to her. She carefully placed what little money she had left into the pouch that Nicholas had given her. Examining her staff, which was smeared with soot, she used a cloth to wipe it clean, relieved to find no damage from the fire. A sigh of relief escaped her lips. She was informed that her backpack, containing her spell books, had been locked up at the Mage Hall, which would be their next destination. With Clare's assistance, it took them an hour to retrieve her backpack and books. Later that day, they found themselves sitting outside a small cafe that served delectable cakes accompanied by Wilderberry tea.
"Mmm, this tea is delightful!" Cassandra exclaimed. "I feel like I could run all day!"
Clare's eyes sparkled mischievously as she teased, "As good as your coffee?"
"Oh no, nothing compares to coffee. This comes close. Wait! Hey! No fair reading minds!" Cassandra playfully protested.
Clare chuckled in response. "My grandmother used to speak of coffee as if it were the elixir of the gods. When you return to your house, maybe you could bring some for my grandmother?"
"I don't know how to get back to the house, let alone stop you from reading my mind. By the way, your grandmother is still alive?" Cassandra asked, her excitement evident in her voice.
"Of course she's alive! She's an elf. We live for tens thousands of years or more. The some of oldest elves are ten thousand years old, although they tend to avoid interactions with people. We can only meet our demise through violent means or by choosing to relinquish our lives, to be reborn again with or without our memories.
Many of our elders have transformed into trees to commune with the earth's mother, no longer desiring to engage with the world. But not Gram. She's too busy striving to prevent the other races from destroying this world with what she calls pollution," Clare explained, shaking her head.
Blinking her eyes as she processed what had been told to her, Cassandra asked, "What year did she say she's from?"
"I think she said she was a child of the sixties, whatever that means," Clare waved her hand in the air. "She's considered strange by the elders, but they agree with her on being stewards of this world, planting trees, and cleaning up pollution in cities. You wouldn't believe how many mages we have to purify the sewers. The only thing that really gets her angry is the nobles and the temples holding onto the healers. I'm sorry, I seem to be blabbering away," Clare added, looking a bit embarrassed.
The more Cassandra listened to the woman talk, the more she liked her. She needed a friend and an ally in this world. "It's okay. So, how did you convince Nick to let me go?"
Clare laughed, "Don't call him Nick. He gets angry. Only his mother calls him Nick or Nicky!" She giggled. "I kind of told him that you would be safer with me and that I might be able to gather information about you more easily." Clare looked around. "I've read your mind. It's a shame that Sandra got killed like that. My grandmother told me not to reveal anything about who I find if I come across someone from another world unless they pose a threat. I can tell you're not a threat to this world!" Her eyes widened, and she tilted her head.
"Time to go! Some men are looking to grab you! Their emotions are strong! The house I'm staying at is just two blocks from here. We need to hurry! They'll be here in a few minutes!" Clare grabbed Cassandra's hand and pulled her along the street to the west.
Glancing over her shoulder, Cassandra saw several men moving down the street. Despite the presence of other people, most hurriedly moved away to avoid the men. Not even remembering grabbing the key from her sleeve, Cassandra could feel a tingle of magic and a pull towards an alley. She pulled Clare in that direction.
Clare tried to pull Cassandra back towards the street. "No, no, that's a dead end!" Seeing two more men approaching from the direction they were heading, she stopped pulling and pushed Cassandra down the alley. "Go! Go! Go!"
The alley was wide enough to accommodate a horse and wagon, at the end of the alley stood a brick wall with a door. The key was still pulling Cassandra towards the door as she heard someone yelling for them to stop. Hearing the sound, Clare pulled out her sword. As they were running, Cassandra glanced back and spotted one of the men entering the alley; he was the gate guard at the Rat Dungeon. Stumbling for a moment, they both collided with the door and came to a halt. Clare stared back, concentrating, and a bolt of energy appeared between her eyes before shooting out and hitting the guard, knocking him to the ground. Frantically, Cassandra tried to insert the key into the door lock.
As the key slipped into the door's lock, it shimmered and transformed into the shape of the Magic House door. With a click, the lock released, and Cassandra swung the door open, quickly pulling out the key. Clare slammed hard into her, falling into the foyer with a crossbow bolt embedded in her shoulder. The sword skidded across the floor and hit the bottom of the stairs with a thud. Shaking off the blow, Cassandra heard footsteps running towards her. She slammed the door shut and turned the key she had inserted into the lock on this side when the door made a thumping noise as someone hit it from the other side. The door's lock clicked, and it glowed for a moment as she pulled the key out, the sound of banging fading away.
Reaching Clare's side on the floor, Cassandra saw her pass out, and panic filled her as she knelt beside the woman, taking a shaky breath. She noticed blood pooling on the wooden floor.
"Okay, Cass, let's calm down. You can heal, but how do we get the arrow or bolt... whatever it is, out of her," Cassandra muttered to herself. She placed her hand under Clare's shoulder, feeling for the part of the arrow sticking out of her back.
"Think, girl! What would John Wayne do in one of his westerns if an arrow hit? Okay, it looks like it has a barb, so I can't just pull it out," she thought aloud, letting out a breath. "And I can't let the feathers through to infect the wound." Cassandra reached into her backpack and pulled out a dagger. She began cutting the feathers off the bolt, laying the blade on the ground. As she worked, she stared at Clare's face, gently brushing the girl's hair off of her face. Cassandra could feel the fever on her forehead and noticed the wound's blackened veins, taking a wild guess that it was iron poisoning.
"I will not let you die, girl. I need a friend. So please forgive me," Cassandra whispered, her voice filled with determination. Placing her palm on the end of the bolt, she used her other hand to lift Clare's shoulder, pushing hard on the bolt to push it through, resulting in a gush of blood. With a firm grip, she grabbed the bolt and pulled it the rest of the way out.
She carefully laid Clare on the ground and pressed one hand on her forehead and the other over her heart, channeling her healing spell into the woman. A soft glow spread throughout Clare's body as a bright light flared out of the wound, gradually fading away. Exhausted, Cassandra passed out.