The Destiny Detour

Prison

Drake

"Just tell them I'm not involved," Cade begged Drake.

Cade's panicked blue eyes reminded him of Rosaliy's—minus the panic, of course—and he would have helped the man was it in his power. In this situation, any argument Drake might try would make things worse for Cade. Guards were not in the habit of releasing prisoners from dungeons just because they had stories that matched.

He tried anyway. "Silas," he attempted as the guard with a personal vendetta pulled him out of the wagon. He was proud of himself for finally remembering the man's name. "Let me explain." Granted, he was unsure what he was going to explain.

"If you speak to me again, I will punch you so hard, you will lose teeth," Silas threatened, yanking Drake's chains until they bit into his wrists.

Drake found his teeth a convenience he'd rather not go without, so he kept his mouth shut until they were safely down in the dungeons of Kianne castle, a heavily-guarded sprawling labyrinth of a place. Kianne clearly enjoyed legality and doling out justice.

A mountainous man lumbered over to meet them them inside a set of iron gates, the single entry and exit to the dungeon. The man had the pale, sun-starved look of someone who worked in a dungeon. The ledger in his hands and the giant ring of keys dangling from his belt implied he was the warden. Drake noticed all these things without really meaning to.

A triumphant Silas handed the warden the weapons he had confiscated: Drake's sheathed sword—largely decorative anyway—and Cade's hammer.

Cade launched into the same argument that had fallen on deaf ears with the guards. "I don't even know him!"

Unlike the guards, the warden raised his bushy eyebrows at Silas, implying a glimmer of hope for Cade.

"I found them together," Silas argued, "and he was quick to come to Drake's defense."

"After this guard punched this man in front of me," Cade yelped in indignation.

The wrinkles on the warden's face tightened, creating sharp, dark lines in the torchlight. "Silas, we've talked about how Kianne is not some sort of law-of-the-strongest backwoods town."

"My reaction was not exemplary," Silas admitted with clenched teeth, the vein on his neck betraying his stress level, "but Drake here is a dangerous criminal." He jabbed two fingers into Drake's chest in case there was some doubt who he was talking about.

"Cool down, Silas," the warden chided before taking down Drake's name and crimes. Silas was more than happy to provide an exhaustive list of wrong-doings. Some of them were true. Some of them were rumors. Silas seemed to believe Drake was personally guilty of every crime in Bayselle.

Eventually, the warden chuckled at the growing list and tossed the quill from his massive hand. "It would take me all day to write half that, Silas. Can you sum up?"

"He's the Baysellian lowlife who was blackmailing half the Via Mar troops to ignore the attacks on the merchant vessels coming into port."

In Drake's defense, plundering was much easier that way and safer for everyone. There were fewer accidental deaths when law enforcement did not feel the need to insert themselves in the situation. On second thought, that was probably not a good defense.

"You're not going to object to those claims?" the warden asked Drake.

"Would it do me any good?" Drake asked.

The warden's hard face split into a grin. "You're my kind of criminal," he said. "Sense of humor is sorely lacking in the underworld nowadays. Everybody considers themselves serious rebels against society or too self-important to be taken lightly."