Page nine of Aces and Eights
Harvey Smith
Once I had cleared the village and outlying farms, the forest was light, mostly scrub. Some of the larger, more twisted trees inhabiting the area strongly resembled bristlecone pines (Pinus aristata for any other Forestry majors) from Shadow Earth. Observing the mild green things around me, I rode along, stopping only once at a crossroads in order to again send out feelers for the men that I followed. After that, I selected the right pathway and quickened the pace, knowing that they were not far ahead.
A couple of hours later, coming upon the still-smoldering butt of a cigarette, I dismounted. As I crushed out the smoke, I inwardly cursed anyone who had so little concern for the world. I searched the area, noting that my targets had left the road and entered the wood, which had grown continually heavier as I traveled. Oddly, the tracks I saw indicated only one man. Out on the road, there had been too much recent traffic to note this. I wondered if one of the thieves�the one without the pendant�had split off. Or maybe he and his partner had entered into a squabble that had ended in murder. You know what they say about thieves and honor. I, too, departed the road.
A short distance away, I loosely tied my sweaty horse with a long tether, spoke to her for a moment and began running ahead, parallel to the road. When I was about an eighth of a mile away, I stopped. Standing in a small clearing, I removed my shirt and tucked it into my pack. One at a time, I pulled off my boots and put them away as well. Arching my neck and looking up at the sky, I allowed my body to relax. I rolled my shoulders and stretched. Then, when I felt a bit loosened, I started to shift my form.
My skin darkened first, causing no discomfort whatsoever. The next few stages�the lengthening of my teeth and nails, the pointing of my ears, et cetera�were equally painless. When I moved into the major alteration of my body, however, I began to feel some distress. So I slowed down some, pausing to again relax.
I felt that I could have taken the thieves (or thief) in man-form, but it might have meant sustaining unnecessary injuries. Even when you regenerate, sword wounds are no fun. In my altered shape, I would be somewhat stronger and faster; with my senses enhanced, I would be able locate the men (or man) quicker. I had moved away from my mount, because I have learned that most mundane animals do not harbor any interest whatsoever in the workings of magic. I proceeded with the change.
The whole process took just under five minutes. I can do it faster when the situation warrants, but doing so usually has some painful repercussions. Standing a foot taller, my muscles much harder, I grabbed my pack and started out. It did not take long.
He had set up a small camp, complete with cooking fire. Either he was not worried about being followed, or he was a fool. The only man I could see was sitting with his back to me, plucking some sort of bird. He sat upon a stump, with feathers lying around his feet. I could smell the blood of the bird and mingled with that odor I could smell the man. He smelled foul, so to speak. Quietly, I moved forward.
I had decided to render him unconscious as fast as I could, search him for the gold phoenix pendant, then transport us both back to the castle, via Luke's Trump. There the king could do as he saw fit with the thief. When I came close to the man, I reached out with one dark-clawed hand and roughly pulled him backward off the stump and to the ground. Bird feathers flew everywhere.
I pinned the guy to the damp earth and was about to punch him into REM state four, but I saw something that made me hesitate. Above his left eyebrow, he bore the same tattoo that I had seen on the man who had given me the enigmatic Trump. Another thing that seemed strange was the fact that, as he lay there looking up at me, he did not appear immediately shocked. Normally, when someone is pounced upon by a werewolf, it causes them considerable alarm (trust me on that). This man, however, simply regarded me for a moment, a confused look on his face, as if he were trying for some recognition. Then, not finding it, fear slowly spread across his features.
I wasted no more time. Flipping the man over, I held both of his wrists behind his back with one hand while retrieving a set of police-issue handcuffs I had picked up back home on Shadow Earth. I shackled him, rolled him onto his back and performed a careful check through his belongings. I carefully collected two curved daggers (both looked silvered�I tossed them far away), a short, studded mace, various personal effects and finally the pendant.
Then I considered the implications of the man's tattoo. Quite stumped, I left him there on the ground, while I sat on his log seat. "Feel like answering a few simple questions?" I asked in Thari.
"Piss off!"
The language he used was unfamiliar, but my ring translated his words well enough. Vaguely, I thought I had heard his accent somewhere before. "You don't even know what I'm going to ask, yet."
He remained silent this time, so I decided to try another approach. Removing the Trump given to me by the dead man, I held it up before him. "Recognize this?"
He craned his neck, staring at the card intensely. Too intensely. "Sorry," I said, snatching it away before he had time to activate it.
"But thanks for answering my question." He sighed, easing his head back to the ground. I studied the tattoo. It was definitely a match with the one I had seen over the brow of the man who had given me the Trump. This caused me to feel more than puzzlement; I grew concerned. The matching design seemed to indicate that, not only was there a connection between the theft of Luke's phoenix and the strange Trump, but also that whoever had been behind the incident was accomplished enough as a sorcerer to create the Trump in the first place. That raised the whole matter to an elevated threat level. No longer did I think it probable that the matter was entirely my concern. Still, I wanted more information before I contacted Luke.