Chapter 2 : Betrayed

There was no more discussion. Not that I could have said anything anyway. The next thing I knew, I was being shoved into a crowded lower district jail. I stared at the rusted bars in disbelief. Never in all my life have I ever found myself behind bars.

It's dark aside from candles outside the cells. I turned slowly to the weary and tortured faces of my cell mates. With a cursory glance I saw a few with tattoo's like mine. My mind started racing. Was it a round up? What was my charge? Sure, dark magic is illegal in the Empire but how could they have known I had in the first place?

Then it hit me. For several years, there had been a member of the guild who had been trying to edge me out. Trevorn. It must have been him. He was a two-faced, loser with something to prove. He never liked how much the guild master trusted me. He must have set me up. 

I slid down against the cold metal, staring ahead vacantly. What would happen now? Usually if one of the guild gets caught, the guild master posts the bail. However, now that my tattoo and affiliation had been discovered, there was no way they'd risk exposure. There was no one coming for me. As this realisation rattled around my skull, a sinking feeling took over.

I could already see how it would play out. It's one thing to a voiceless thief, but it also means you have no way of defending yourself. That's why I made sure to never get caught before. Getting caught for someone like me was game over.

As resignation set in, my chief regret was that I didn't have more gold. What a pity. I'm sure I could have accumulated much more. I could have stolen more. Taken more. I was entitled to more. Not entitled because of birth but through my force of will. I knew I could have done much more, but there's no such thing as a penny for your thoughts in jail.

I was content to sit in the darkness contemplating my terrible luck when someone scrambled up to me. It was a desperate looking man with dark shadows under his eyes. He looked somewhat familiar, but in the lower city circles, everyone has the same stench of desperation.

"We've met before...." his voice trembled. "My name's Alto...do you remember me?"

I stared up at him with a blank expression. 

"You're the mute," he paused, "I mean the one who can't talk. With the upper city lending house?" his voice inflected awkwardly, the word 'thief' dying on his lips in shame.  What's the point of trying to be covert here?

I nodded reluctantly and returned my gaze ahead. I was in no mood to talk.

"Yes..yes," he went on regardless, "do you know what this is about?"

He held up his hand weakly. I saw a small hare inked in black on his hand. A demon tattoo? This guy... Really? 

He waited patiently expecting me to give some kind of answer. Eventually I gave an indifferent shrug. He exhaled uneasily and continued to look up at me nervously.

"This thing," he whispered, "Is it really that bad? I only got one because they made me,"

He must have been part of some low level gang. It's a common practice in the underworld. You get a demon tattoo for the power it gives you, but more importantly, you get it to bind you to that life. It's like branding you can't escape. Not that it was like that for me. I got one willingly. When you live a life in the darkness, a deal with a devil isn't so bad.

"It's not even with a big time demon," he rattled on, "I just got it because I had to,"

I turned my face in the opposite direction but I could faintly hear him rambling on, saying the same thing over and over. That's the thing about not being able to speak. People seem to think it's kind of confessional. Save it for the priestesses. I have no redemption to give.

Down the hallway, I heard a slam then the shudder of locks churning. A procession of guard led by the same official who arrested me stepped in front of the cell door. I turned back just to see his lifeless eyes laying into me. 

"What is your name?" he glared at me.

Suddenly, Alto lunged forward, "he can't speak!" he declared in a loud voice.

The official's eyes turned to me expectantly. I couldn't tell whether he expected me to start singing to contest the fact or maintain my silence. I chose the latter. He stared down with thinly veiled annoyances and then turned back to one of the guards.

"We need to get him to speak somehow," he whispered. "I can't let this conviction go up in smoke. He's the only member of the guild we've managed to get our hands on. The other charges might not stick,"

The guards looked at eachother apprehensive. They seemed to be of the same mind. My impression of their expression was that this was above their pay grade. However, there was one at the back with a look of an eager child about to receive a prize. He stopped forward, a youthful looking fellow with a jaunty smile.

"I've heard the tenth paladin knows the language of the streets. She knows how to communicate with just the hands," he said with enthusiasm, not really fitting the dank jail's atmosphere.

"The tenth paladin?" The official stared at the young knight sceptically. "That lady knight?" he added with a derisive snort.

The young knight answered with a nod. The official considered the idea quietly for a moment.

"Well, I have a favour I've been meaning to cash with General Talos," he said at last, "but getting a paladin to come to a lower district jail..." his voice trailed.

The young knight jumped in again, "I've heard she's very noble and kind hearted, she'll surely come to your aid!"

The official eyes narrowed, "The paladins are the most bloodthirsty bunch in the entire royal militia. Damn killing machines on the Emperor's leash. Who knows when they'll break off and bite the hand that feeds them ?" he said bitterly. 

The young knight lowered his head and withdrew. 

"Well I have little choice in the matter," the official relented with a sigh. "Go summon her."

The eager young knight's eyes came up brightly and he set off at once. Within a few moments, the entire group set off, leaving the rest of us back in the shroud of the dark cell. Alto, who had since saddled himself up beside me, turned to me once more with his incessantly bumbling.

"The paladin coming here?" he said in a low voice ,"I never heard of such a thing,"

"I wouldn't be too excited if I were you," A voice enjoined from the otherside.

 I glanced up, finding an old and bloated looking man on the other side. He carried a lion tattoo roaring up his throat and was staring at us with dark restless eyes.

"Why not?" Alto returned, "The paladin's are noble warriors, heroes. They'll have to see the injustice here and have us released."

An outbreak of sniggering drifted across the room.

"What injustice?" one of the crowd sneered, "we are the fucking scum of the earth, us in here. That paladin will come in here with her glowing sword of justice and cut us down. That'll be damn noble justice right there."

"I ain't done nothing so bad to be kill for," Alto hesitated, "They brought me here on false charges,"

"Yeah, false charges," the man with the lion tattoo smirked, "Yeah me too. That damn bitch in the mid district got herself killed. I was just in the wrong the place at the wrong time,"

"That's not what I mean," Alto said with mounting indignation, "Not all of us in the slums are killers."

"But we are all scum," the lion tatto added snarkily, "born scum and there's no cure, shit for brains. So stop whining. You're ruining the nice atmosphere we got going here,"

"What atmosphere..." Alto said under his breath.

The boulder of a man with the lion tattoo came to a stand, towering over us both. He held out his hand. The lion went racing down his neck till it reached his fingertips and leap out with shriek an inch from Alto's face. Alto leapt back timidly. He glanced at me expectantly but I didn't meet his eyes. It wasn't my problem.

"You hear that?" the lion tattoo grinned. There was silence.

"That's the atmosphere I'm talking about. You see anyone else here crying and begging? Hell no! 'Cause no matter what they do to us, it won't matter. Our souls already belong to someone else right?" he gestured to the lion lying now resting on his arm.

Alto swallowed with difficulty and turned his face back to the wall. Lion tattoo retook his seat and it was quiet again. That night, I didn't sleep. I don't usually sleep at night in the first place. I remained staring ahead thinking. How am I going to get out of this?