FROM THE SCRIBBLINGS OF RANY

I went to witness Sammyl’s execution this morning.

To be honest, I do not care much for Meridea. To be more honest, it is the fucking pit of hell. If, that is, the pit of hell is freezing, windy and snowing.

The city looks impressive enough. I come from Crille, which is a great big city. Meridea is even bigger. More people, more buildings, taller buildings, lords and ladies everywhere, impeccably attired soldiers, streets zigging and zagging, horses, livestock, traders with wagons, merchants with shops and stalls, beggars, minstrels, jugglers, magicians, dancers, taverns. Then there are parks, large grass fields, flowers and ponds filled with ducks, geese and swans. It is a city that has it all, but it knows it, and it is full of itself.

In the very center of the city is the Imperial Palace, on an island in a small lake. I had to whistle to myself and stare when I saw the palace. Gigantic, made of solid stone, centuries old, impregnable. Somewhere within those walls was the Empress herself.

And then there are the gallows. They lie in the foreground of the palace, in the city square. I wondered idly how often they were used, or if perhaps they are there just for show. As those thoughts lingered, a guard yelled at me for standing on “the Empress’s grass.” I did not know it was the Empress’s grass. It looked like ordinary grass to me. It was quickly becoming covered by a blanket of snow. It had begun to snow the moment I arrived in the city. I was wondering what would happen to me if I felt the need to piss on the Empress’s grass, when the guard yelled that he would not tell me again. Yelled at by the Imperial Guard. How surprising to learn that they are utter pricks.

I began checking inns for Sammyl. No sign of him, but then there were a lot of inns to check. I could not find a poker game anywhere. Soon enough I learned why. Poker was outlawed in Meridea. The penalty if caught playing – death.

There were plenty of dice games to be found. The problem with dice is it is a game of pure chance. Unless you cheat of course. I would never do that. And the penalty if caught cheating – death.

I had enough gold for a nice inn, but knew I would not find Sammyl in one of those. So I went from one shitty inn to another. If I went inside and the place looked nice, I moved on. I knew Sammyl would choose a place with lots of whores, so I asked a fellow where the whores could be found. The man gave me a withering look and did not even deem my question worthy of an answer. It turned out whoring was outlawed in Meridea. The penalty – death.

After checking a few likely places without finding Sammyl, it was approaching dark. Nobody was allowed on the streets after dark. The penalty? As if I need to say it.

Not wanting to die just yet, I found myself some accommodations. I was now in the shit section of the city and had to settle for a third rate inn, but this wasn’t my first time staying in such an establishment. These were my kind of people anyway, to be truthful. I had to share with two other men a tiny, windowless room with piss poor, likely pissed in beds, but if I were to ask someone in this place where all the whores were, he would not look at me as if I had just pissed in his tea. He would simply say, there are none.

I tossed and turned in the piss poor bed all night, then woke to find my coin purse gone. Gods damn it all.

First, surely the penalty for stealing a coinpurse is death, so the thief was a ballsy bastard. And looking back, I have to admire his skill – I could barely sleep the entire night, and I know all the tricks of stealing a coinpurse, yet he still managed it. I had to check my boots and smallclothes to see if he got the coin there as well. He did not.

I gave the innkeeper an earful, but I might as well have been screaming at the wall for all the good it did. She did have the nerve to ask me if I had any coin to pay for breakfast, if you could call what she served breakfast.

I ate half of the cold goopy mess and stormed out, vowing never to return.

Back in the snow covered streets, there was a bit of excitement in the air. I asked someone passing by what the hell was going on, and he looked at me as if I had just asked what all the white stuff on the ground was.

“It’s Hanging Day,” he said, in a tone that suggested I was an imbecile.

Oh. Of course. How could I not know about Hanging Day?

I decided, what the hell, hadn’t seen a good hanging in some time, and maybe I’d see Sammyl there.

And that is exactly where I found Sammyl. He was waiting his turn to be hanged. He was fifth in the queue, standing there with a quite forlorn look on his face.

I jostled my way through the crowd, yelling “Sammyl! Sammyl!” I got cursed at by people in the crowd and shouted at by a guard.

Sammyl looked at me as if he thought I was there to break him out again, but all I could do was look at him and shrug. Then he looked even more miserable.

Everyone stood there for a while, waiting, in the cold wind and snow. The crowd grew impatient. I think even the condemned men were beginning to think they should just get on with it.

Finally some trumpets blew, music played, and some arsehole dressed like a lord stood up in front of everyone and made a speech about justice, law and order.

The lord read the crimes of the first man in line. High treason. That will do it. The crowed booed and jeered at the traitor. Even I joined in.

They put the noose around his neck, let the suspense build for some time, released the trap door, and the man swung and jerked a bit, then hung lifeless, his corpse swaying in the wind.

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More time passed while they took the body down, put up the second noose, and so on. The next man’s crime was sodomy. Executing a man for sodomy? Gods in hell, this fucking city. Well, that man hung too, and I watched him die and get taken down.

The process was repeated again and again, until they got to Sammyl. He was last. I found myself a bit curious to hear what they had him for. Had they found out about Crille, or was this something new?

The lord read Sammyl’s crime. “This man stands before you guilty of insulting the Empress!”

What? All the shit Sammyl had done, and he would hang for this?

The crowd booed and jeered Sammyl. I pretended to join in.

They put the noose around his neck. They pulled it tight. We waited, as we had for the others. I was cringing, afraid to watch but feeling as if I had to.

Then the lord yelled, “Hold! The Empress, in all her wisdom and glory, has sent word to us that this prisoner may be offered her mercy! He only has to apologize for his wrongdoing, swear allegiance to the Empress, and he will be spared!”

The crowd cheered.

Sammyl wasted no time croaking, “I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I will never do it again!”

“Do you swear allegiance to the Empress?”

“I swear! I swear!”

“By the grace and mercy of our beloved Empress, you are spared, Prisoner. Guards! Cut his rope! Release this man and let him go free, to spread word forever of the greatness and wisdom of Her Majesty!”

They cut his rope and he stood there for a bit as if unsure that he could really go. The lord urged him on, and Sammyl departed the gallows, looking quite happy and relieved.

The crowd cheered him again. People parted so he could move through, and he came to me, and embraced me fiercely.

There were more speeches and trumpets and the crowd quickly dispersed. Sammyl was already forgotten.

We looked at each other.

“I think we could use some ale,” I said.

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Sammyl wanted to get the fuck out of Meridea.

I could not blame him, and I was not so fond of the city myself, as I mentioned.

“Imagine if they find out about Crille!” I said. “You’ll be right back up there!”

“Oh Rany, we need to get out of here. Why are we even sitting here in this tavern?”

“We are drinking,” I said. “In truth, you may be the safest man in the city for now."

"How could that be?

"They won’t want to put you back on the gallows any time soon – not after the Empress pardoned you. It would embarrass her!”

“I didn’t even insult the bitch!” he said, way too loudly.

“Easy, easy,” I said, glancing around. “You never fucking learn anything, do you? Anyway, let’s give it a few days here, see if Alec shows.”

“Did you know they have no whores here?”

“I know. I know. Doesn’t matter much at the moment. We are almost out of coin.”

“What? Gods damn it Rany, what did you do with our gold?”

“Got robbed.”

“What? You?”

I told him about the inn. I nearly wanted to blame him, as he was the reason I had ended up in such an establishment. But now was not the time to needle him.

As it was, he was ready to storm over to the place and start bashing faces. The idea had its appeal, but I quelled him.

Sammyl wanted to know my next plan, and I did not have one.

“We have enough coin to last a day or two,” I said. “Three if we stretch it. Not much to travel on, really. I say we find a job.”

“A job? Have you gone mad?”

“I don’t mean a job like sweeping streets. I mean a job of the sort the outlanders get. A quest or whatnot. Those jobs are all over the place, it seems. And they pay well.”

“But only the outlanders ever get those, from what I’ve seen.”

“We pretend to be outlanders then. Or at least one of us does. What’s to stop us from doing that? Nobody knows us here. Well, they don’t know me, anyway.”

“But they move funny. Talk funny.”

“Jesus H. Christ, what the fuck are you talking about, you jackass? Are you a noob or something? Hang on, I’ve got a phone call.”

I made my body go still and my face vacant.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

“Pretending to be an outlander.”

“Oh. Well, you might need a bit of practice.”

I started swaggering around the city as if I owned it, sprinting like a madman as if I was impatient to get from one place to another.

I treated Sammyl like a servant. A few times I had to remind him it was an act. He nearly took a swing at me on one or two occasions.

It did not take long to find a job.

I went into a shop on Market Street. I swaggered inside, looking about as if I found everything there boring and disappointing.

“Are you looking for provisions, good sir?” the proprietor inquired. “I offer items you won’t find anywhere else in the country! And at excellent prices!”

“No shit,” I said. “Never heard that before.”

“It is the truth,” he assured me. “Take this book here for example. The History of Aventine. It is the only edition of this book known to exist. As rare as it gets. And very informative.”

It did sound a bit intriguing, in truth, but I feigned disinterest.

“I hear you might have some jobs that need to be done,” I said. I looked around as if utterly bored and prepared to sprint off at any moment.

“Ah yes, of course. I may have a few.” He peered at me for a moment. “Don’t believe we’ve ever met before. I am Leonis.”

“You got any fucking jobs or what? I’ve gotta log off soon.”

“Of course! Of course! It’s just that I have several. I want to offer one that is commensurate with your ‘level.’”

“Fuck that. What do you got that pays the most?”

“Oh, but they all pay well.” The fat man grinned, displaying an utterly horrific set of rotten teeth. “I am not the employer, you understand. I'm a middle man. I do a lot of business with a lot of people. Some of these people need things done. All kinds of things. All legitimate of course!” He laughed at the last sentence as if he had told the funniest joke ever. If Alec were here, he’d probably put his sword through the man just to shut him up.

“Whatever,” I said. “I’m outta here.”

“Just a moment,” the man said. “I can set up a meeting for you this afternoon. The Golden Stag – be there at the second bell. That means ‘two p m.’”

“I know what it fucking means.”

“Ask for the table in the back corner, and order the house brandy. Someone will join you shortly after. That person will have a job for you. Very lucrative!”

“Thanks,” I said. I said it over my shoulder as I was walking out.

“Are you not going to buy anything?” he called after me.