Alaire tried to sheathe his sword before one of the constables could catch him with it in his hand, but it was too late; the one nearest him caught him in the act. Oh, Gods, now what? he thought, dismayed.
What have I got into?
The entire population of the tavern froze. Kai glanced over, his sword raised in mid-slash, looking disappointed. His opponents backed away, slithering towards the rear exit, where more of the official-looking men appeared, blocking their way.
"You, and you," the first man said, pointing at Kai and Alaire. "Come with me. Now."
Alaire briefly toyed with the notion of running like a scared rabbit once they got outside. Heaven only knew what penalties were waiting for them. He didn't think diplomatic immunity extended to tavern-brawling.
He looked to Kai for cues. But the boy seemed defeated, sullen, as if cheated of some bizarre pleas- ure. He sheathed his sword with an air of disgust.
Alaire did the same, and followed the uniformed men into a store room stacked high with ale kegs. No chance to run here....
He noted however, with interest and hope, that the constables didn't ask for their blades.
Diplomatic immunity, after all? Do they know me already? I must have some kind of diplomatic immu- nity in this situation....
Alaire thought frantically. No, they couldn't possibly know who and what he was yet, not down here in the city. But Kai, he has something better. He's the Prince! Does he do this often enough for the constables to recognize him? Would his rank cover me as well?
Could I try a little Bardic persuasion -- no, better not!
He paled, remembering there were severe penalties for using magic. Better not even think too directly about that.
The uniformed men instructed them to sit, and Kai sat on the top of an upturned keg, carefully dusting it off first, so as not to soil his clothing. His long legs dan- gled awkwardly over the edge. He didn't seem too concerned about the situation.
But then, he hadn't been concerned about picking a fight with five men who were all much bigger than either himself or his companion.
"What's going on?" Alaire said to Kai, finally, unwill- ing to play the guessing game any longer. "Are we going to gaol, or do we need to bribe someone?"
Kai waved the question away, as if it didn't matter.
"Don't be silly. Neither. I just need to see -- " he started, then another man entered the door to the storeroom, and his face lit up. A broad, slightly ridicu- lous grin spread across his boyish features.
The uniformed man, this one in solid black, with a larger, golden star on his lapel, perhaps indicating higher rank, strode in, sweeping them all with a single glance. From the way the others deferred to him, he was obviously their superior.
"Ah, what do we have here at The Dead D Inn this time?" he began, then stopped when h Kai.
"Well hello there, Mac," Kai said, legs dangling against the keg. "What brings you to this infamous part of town?"
"Oh gods," Mac, said, his face falling. "Is this what I get for being a Watch Commander and your father's friend from University? Putting up with your antics whenever you get a wild idea and a little too much wine in your belly?"
He walked over to Kai, shaking his head. "And this time," he continued, glancing over at Alaire, "you brought an accomplice. Just what I need. I suppose it's the same old story -- "
"I didn't start it," Kai and Mac said in unison. One of the Mac's men laughed discreetly behind his back.
Mac sighed. "Of course, of course. But why can't you 'not start it' in your own playground, hmm? Don't you have enough young swordsmen in that court of yours to keep you busy?"
"We've been through this before," Kai admonished, shaking a finger reprovingly at the Watch Com- mander. "They would never kill me, or even dare to spill a single drop of my royal blood. That takes all the fun out of it. Here, on the other hand, at places of such high repute as this inn and others in the neighbor- hood, I have a more sporting chance of fighting someone not afraid to kill me. Therefore, the chal- lenge. Therefore, the fun."