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Ioannes dropped low, keeping his body well below the windowpane. Light spilled out from the windows, piercing the black night like spears valiantly attempting to fight back. He could vaguely make out words, as Nonus’s commanding voice was giving orders for the others to keep searching and to bring him anything suspicious.
That put a fire under the gunsmith’s feet, as he turned the corner and saw curtains of an open window lazily dancing in the gentle breeze. The Viskar would need to be thanked again, as Augustus’s earlier escape now became Ioannes’s convenient entrance.
As the laicar crept closer to the window, however, a dim light flickered off the curtains and cast a shadow. Someone was in the room, rummaging through drawers. They weren’t being very gentle either, as the drawers were being pulled open and slammed violently against the ground.
Heavy footsteps came closer to the window, and sweat began to bead against Ioannes’s forehead. If whoever was in that room stuck their neck out the window and looked down, they’d catch him and then he’d have to explain his sneaking to Nonus, which meant he might have to lie. Again.
Why couldn’t things just be easy? Why couldn’t he just ask Nonus to release Katharina and her uncle?
The footsteps stopped at the window, and Ioannes held his breath for a long minute. His mouth felt dry, and fear held his stomach like a vice. Someone was there, he could hear them. Standing, looking out into the darkness, searching for something.
Ioannes waited, silently, praying that whoever it was left. He didn’t think he could stay there forever. What if Nonus went out to the porch to check on him? What would happen if the knight noticed that Ioannes was gone? Would he think the gunsmith had fled? Or would he suspect that Ioannes had lied about who he was?
No. Nonus was sharp. If Ioannes had lied to him the knight would have seen through it. More than likely, Nonus would hunt Ioannes down and put him to the question. If it came to that, Ioannes wouldn’t be able to hold out. He’d buckle instantly and confess what he was planning on doing.
He had to avoid that. He had to get into the room and get his rifle.
There was a grunt from the window, and then whoever it was moved away. They were muttering something, but Ioannes couldn’t make it out. Then, suddenly, Nonus’s voice rang out, “Milo!”
Ioannes’s breath caught in his throat. Was he discovered already?
“Have you found anything?” the knight-captain asked.
Milo replied, his warbling voice giving him away as the enlil, “Rope, sir. It would seem the Vis smile on us.” Milo’s footsteps began to grow faint as he left the room, pausing long enough to snuff out the candle he’d used. Ioannes rose to peer over the windowsill, and caught sight of the avian standing in the doorway. “There’s also some bags, but I think those belong to your man.”
Milo closed the door behind him, and Ioannes climbed into the room. He hurried over to dresser, grabbing his bags before rushing across the room again to slip through the window and disappear into the darkness.
He wanted to be as far from the window as he possibly could.
Luckily, the farm house bordered the swamp, and provided some trees as cover that the gunsmith could use while he planned out the next steps of his foolishness.
“I need to find Crius,” he told himself. He wasn’t sure how, but Ioannes was certain that he could get the basilisk to help. It was a small certainty in his gut, the same feeling he got whenever he held a rifle and knew it would hit the mark.
But how exactly was he going to find the beast without drawing attention to himself? At night, with the wind blowing as it was, and little to no wildlife active, calling to the basilisk, even faintly, was sure to be heard. Even so, what other method could be used? Whispering wasn’t going to get the beast’s attention.
As Ioannes knelt down next to a tree, putting his brain through different scenarios about how to get the creature’s attention, and failing, something warm hit the back of his neck.
Something was breathing down his neck.
He really hoped it was Crius.
Reaching back behind him without looking (what good would it do anyway on a moonless night?) something rough met his hand, and instantly he could make out scales, and a snout. He didn’t dare drop his hand lower, knowing very well that the mouth of a basilisk plenty sharp, and there was no guarantee that Crius wouldn’t snap on him.
That was when the beast pressed their snout forward, into Ioannes’s hand as if wishing him to pet them.
Not expecting such treatment, the gunsmith was put off balance and fell forward. Crius didn’t relent, however, and instead the beast gave what Ioannes could only assume was a pleasant expression among basilisk in the form of a rumbling purr. It pressed forward, nuzzling Ioannes, and the gunsmith couldn’t help but laugh.
Despite Crius’s abnormally large size, the blind creature was about as pleasant as a felis.
If possible, if his plan succeeded, maybe he’d ask Katharina to show him how to tame a basilisk. Not like how others had, domesticating the creatures and making them beasts of burden, but actually taming them to be a loyal companion. The practice wasn’t so strange, taming, at least in Paludis though few people chose such a dangerous creature as basilisk. Their eyes were too much of a liability, requiring them to be sewn shut.
“Crius,” the gunsmith called quietly between laughter, “Crius stop.” Ioannes shoved the basilisk’s snout away and pushed down the fit of laughter. This was no time for that, though Ioannes did feel better. “Crius, I don’t know if you can understand me, but I need your help. Katharina is in trouble.”
Ioannes wasn’t certain how tamers and their companions communicated. Did the partner understand vocally what the master was saying, or was it something like an empathetic link, where they understood the feelings of their master? If the latter, why was Crius not down by the house right now? Trying to see why their master was… what must Katharina be feeling? Fear? Surely she was afraid with strangers in her home holding her hostage.
Regardless, Ioannes kept speaking to Crius, hoping that the basilisk understood. Rising to his feet, the gunsmith took Crius’s large snout in both of his hands, saying, “Something’s happening, and I need you to be a distraction.”
Crius shivered, but continued to purr. Did it understand? For that matter, if it did, how could Ioannes make it out to be a distraction?
A sudden thought crossed his mind, and the fact that he thought of it made his stomach churn.
To Crius he said, “Down in the barn are some horses that were brought in. I want you to go and break their stalls.” At this Crius withdrew his snout, shaking off Ioannes’s hands as if to say no. “It’s alright,” the gunsmith tried to reassure Crius. “Katharina won’t be angry. In fact, she should be happy.” At least he hoped she would.
Crius gave a low disagreeing rumble, followed by a pointed hiss.
“Please, Crius. Katharina and her uncle are in trouble. I need your help,” he begged. The albino snapped its jaw, as if to ask Ioannes if he was sure. “I promise. If she gets angry, it’s all on me.”
Now he was reassuring a basilisk that it wouldn’t get in trouble. Maybe he was crazy.
But if he was, he wasn’t about to be concerned with it, since Crius seemed to agree finally, and disappeared off into the darkness.
Ioannes let out a sigh.
Now for the hard part.
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Chapter 7.1
WC: 1,316
WC: 1,316
Ioannes dropped low, keeping his body well below the windowpane. Light spilled out from the windows, piercing the black night like spears valiantly attempting to fight back. He could vaguely make out words, as Nonus’s commanding voice was giving orders for the others to keep searching and to bring him anything suspicious.
That put a fire under the gunsmith’s feet, as he turned the corner and saw curtains of an open window lazily dancing in the gentle breeze. The Viskar would need to be thanked again, as Augustus’s earlier escape now became Ioannes’s convenient entrance.
As the laicar crept closer to the window, however, a dim light flickered off the curtains and cast a shadow. Someone was in the room, rummaging through drawers. They weren’t being very gentle either, as the drawers were being pulled open and slammed violently against the ground.
Heavy footsteps came closer to the window, and sweat began to bead against Ioannes’s forehead. If whoever was in that room stuck their neck out the window and looked down, they’d catch him and then he’d have to explain his sneaking to Nonus, which meant he might have to lie. Again.
Why couldn’t things just be easy? Why couldn’t he just ask Nonus to release Katharina and her uncle?
The footsteps stopped at the window, and Ioannes held his breath for a long minute. His mouth felt dry, and fear held his stomach like a vice. Someone was there, he could hear them. Standing, looking out into the darkness, searching for something.
Ioannes waited, silently, praying that whoever it was left. He didn’t think he could stay there forever. What if Nonus went out to the porch to check on him? What would happen if the knight noticed that Ioannes was gone? Would he think the gunsmith had fled? Or would he suspect that Ioannes had lied about who he was?
No. Nonus was sharp. If Ioannes had lied to him the knight would have seen through it. More than likely, Nonus would hunt Ioannes down and put him to the question. If it came to that, Ioannes wouldn’t be able to hold out. He’d buckle instantly and confess what he was planning on doing.
He had to avoid that. He had to get into the room and get his rifle.
There was a grunt from the window, and then whoever it was moved away. They were muttering something, but Ioannes couldn’t make it out. Then, suddenly, Nonus’s voice rang out, “Milo!”
Ioannes’s breath caught in his throat. Was he discovered already?
“Have you found anything?” the knight-captain asked.
Milo replied, his warbling voice giving him away as the enlil, “Rope, sir. It would seem the Vis smile on us.” Milo’s footsteps began to grow faint as he left the room, pausing long enough to snuff out the candle he’d used. Ioannes rose to peer over the windowsill, and caught sight of the avian standing in the doorway. “There’s also some bags, but I think those belong to your man.”
Milo closed the door behind him, and Ioannes climbed into the room. He hurried over to dresser, grabbing his bags before rushing across the room again to slip through the window and disappear into the darkness.
He wanted to be as far from the window as he possibly could.
Luckily, the farm house bordered the swamp, and provided some trees as cover that the gunsmith could use while he planned out the next steps of his foolishness.
“I need to find Crius,” he told himself. He wasn’t sure how, but Ioannes was certain that he could get the basilisk to help. It was a small certainty in his gut, the same feeling he got whenever he held a rifle and knew it would hit the mark.
But how exactly was he going to find the beast without drawing attention to himself? At night, with the wind blowing as it was, and little to no wildlife active, calling to the basilisk, even faintly, was sure to be heard. Even so, what other method could be used? Whispering wasn’t going to get the beast’s attention.
As Ioannes knelt down next to a tree, putting his brain through different scenarios about how to get the creature’s attention, and failing, something warm hit the back of his neck.
Something was breathing down his neck.
He really hoped it was Crius.
Reaching back behind him without looking (what good would it do anyway on a moonless night?) something rough met his hand, and instantly he could make out scales, and a snout. He didn’t dare drop his hand lower, knowing very well that the mouth of a basilisk plenty sharp, and there was no guarantee that Crius wouldn’t snap on him.
That was when the beast pressed their snout forward, into Ioannes’s hand as if wishing him to pet them.
Not expecting such treatment, the gunsmith was put off balance and fell forward. Crius didn’t relent, however, and instead the beast gave what Ioannes could only assume was a pleasant expression among basilisk in the form of a rumbling purr. It pressed forward, nuzzling Ioannes, and the gunsmith couldn’t help but laugh.
Despite Crius’s abnormally large size, the blind creature was about as pleasant as a felis.
If possible, if his plan succeeded, maybe he’d ask Katharina to show him how to tame a basilisk. Not like how others had, domesticating the creatures and making them beasts of burden, but actually taming them to be a loyal companion. The practice wasn’t so strange, taming, at least in Paludis though few people chose such a dangerous creature as basilisk. Their eyes were too much of a liability, requiring them to be sewn shut.
“Crius,” the gunsmith called quietly between laughter, “Crius stop.” Ioannes shoved the basilisk’s snout away and pushed down the fit of laughter. This was no time for that, though Ioannes did feel better. “Crius, I don’t know if you can understand me, but I need your help. Katharina is in trouble.”
Ioannes wasn’t certain how tamers and their companions communicated. Did the partner understand vocally what the master was saying, or was it something like an empathetic link, where they understood the feelings of their master? If the latter, why was Crius not down by the house right now? Trying to see why their master was… what must Katharina be feeling? Fear? Surely she was afraid with strangers in her home holding her hostage.
Regardless, Ioannes kept speaking to Crius, hoping that the basilisk understood. Rising to his feet, the gunsmith took Crius’s large snout in both of his hands, saying, “Something’s happening, and I need you to be a distraction.”
Crius shivered, but continued to purr. Did it understand? For that matter, if it did, how could Ioannes make it out to be a distraction?
A sudden thought crossed his mind, and the fact that he thought of it made his stomach churn.
To Crius he said, “Down in the barn are some horses that were brought in. I want you to go and break their stalls.” At this Crius withdrew his snout, shaking off Ioannes’s hands as if to say no. “It’s alright,” the gunsmith tried to reassure Crius. “Katharina won’t be angry. In fact, she should be happy.” At least he hoped she would.
Crius gave a low disagreeing rumble, followed by a pointed hiss.
“Please, Crius. Katharina and her uncle are in trouble. I need your help,” he begged. The albino snapped its jaw, as if to ask Ioannes if he was sure. “I promise. If she gets angry, it’s all on me.”
Now he was reassuring a basilisk that it wouldn’t get in trouble. Maybe he was crazy.
But if he was, he wasn’t about to be concerned with it, since Crius seemed to agree finally, and disappeared off into the darkness.
Ioannes let out a sigh.
Now for the hard part.
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