Feb. 17th, 2013


Feb. 17th, 2013 11:29 am
“Did this Heizer have any contact with children while he was here?” I ask.

“Not to my knowledge,” Tyrol says. “By all accounts, he drove his cart straight to the inn… parked it in the yard, stabled his oxen, and went to the bar. The next anyone heard of him, it was the middle of the night and he was drunk off his ass in the town square, raising an awful ruckus.”

“What sort of ruckus?” I ask.

“The hysterical laughing and dancing kind,” Tyrol says. “Apparently he was saying he was free, free… the watchman who found him took him back to the inn, and that morning he sold his oxen, his cart, and his cargo for a very cheap price, bought a pony, and lit out for parts unknown.”

“You said he was carrying the trunks to the west,” I say. “This wasn’t his original destination.”

“No, not according to his papers. As near as I can figure it, he must have been under some term of indenture back east that he realized did not apply in these lands. When he realized he was no longer beholden to whatever boyar or petty lord had enslaved him, he abandoned his task.”

“Possibly,” I say. “Or maybe he’d freed himself of some unwanted possession by dropping it down your well. It would have been easy enough to hide something among the ballast in those boxes, I would think. But you haven’t told me how you came into the story… you said at the beginning that you only have direct knowledge of the end of it. How did that come about?”

“Well… the trunks really were quite exquisite, and the price was good,” Tyrol says. “Though there was some… confusion… about whether they were his to sell, and he was taking up a lot of space, trying to hawk them from the cart in the middle of a lane.”

“So you confiscated one for yourself?”



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