Trapped

The man was slow to answer, maybe because his collision with the table had knocked the wind out of him. Impervia lifted him slightly, then slammed him down on the table again. "Your name?"

"Uhh… uhh… Dee-James. Dee-James Mak…"

"Well, Dee-James Mak, I've told you what I'm here for. A boy is missing from Feliss Academy. Have you seen him?"

Dee-James shook his head.

"Do you know anyone who might have seen him?"

Dee-James shook his head again.

"The boy might have booked passage on a boat. Do you know any boats that left harbor tonight?"

"N-no," said Dee-James.

"Who would know something like that?"

Dee-James didn't answer. Impervia thumped him against the table again. "Who would know?"

"Uhh… uhh… Hump."

"Who is Hump?"

"Me." The single word came from the table where Dee-James had been sitting, far in the shadowy corner. A chair scraped across the floor and thudded into the wall. A man rose slowly to his feet-an extremely large man. Because of the darkness, I couldn't see details… but size is size, and this man's size was intimidating.

Except, of course, to Impervia. "Yes," she said, "you certainly look like a Hump." She let go of Dee-James, who remained sprawled on the table. "Mr. Hump, would you care to tell us what we want to know?"

"Get fucked."

"I've taken a vow against that."

"Vows were meant to be broken," Hump said.

The good sister shook her head. "I may break your arms or your kneecaps, but never my vows."

"Impervia, shut up!" the Caryatid whispered.

"Don't worry," Impervia whispered back. "This is still my show of strength." She raised her voice. "Well, Mr. Hump?" She spoke in her best Intimidating Teacher tones. "Do you have any answers for me? Or is your mind a blank? Have your thoughts gone dry? Is that it? Are you a dry Hump?"

For a moment, the tavern went utterly silent. Then someone snickered. The noise was immediately stifled, but similar choked laughter sounded all around the room.

"Ah jeez," the Caryatid muttered. "That did it."

She was right. Growling obscenities, Hump kicked his chair over and began lumbering forward with murderous intent. He showed none of the qualms that Dee-James had about shoving people and furniture out of his way. Folks who got beer dumped in their laps only made soft damp gasps; they knew better than to complain. Considering that the ale-drenched people looked tough as nails themselves, the behemoth stomping our way must be the meanest ass-kicker in the bar.

With the possible exception of Sister Impervia. She turned to the Caryatid and me. "See? My plan is working."

I didn't feel much reassured. As Hump came closer to the light by the door, I could see he was no drunken fisher-lout, all blab and no balls-he virtually had enforcer branded on his forehead, not to mention tattooed on his knuckles and etched across his sharply filed teeth. He was a mean-eyed sneer-faced bruiser, dressed in leather that he probably ripped off the cow with his bare hands.

Considering how many Doverites took part in smuggling, it required someone special to keep them in line: someone so terrifying, nobody would dare skim the take or turn crown witness for the contraband cops. I conjectured that Hump was the man who cracked that whip… and for the sake of his bad-ass image, he couldn't let Impervia belittle him without reducing her to a bleeding pile of bones.

The good news was that he'd fight on his own; with his authority challenged by a single woman, he couldn't possibly accept help from anyone else. The bad news was he didn't need help: he measured a shaved head taller than Impervia and bulged twice as wide, but his bulk looked more muscle than fat. A man that big was apt to be slower than Impervia, but his extra reach, mass, and muscle-power made up for his lack of speed. Featherweight boxers are faster than heavyweights, but you don't see them taking on the big boys in title bouts.

So: Hump versus Sister Impervia for the championship of Dover. The Buxom Bull's tapman didn't say a word about taking the fight outside; the tapman, in fact, had abandoned his post, disappearing through a back door. A lot of patrons were bolting too, not even pausing to snatch up their tankards. The only exception was Dee-James, still lying on the table. Now he sat up and said with foolhardy but admirable courage, "Aww, c'mon, Hump, this is nothing. Let's just get out-"

Hump grabbed a tankard off a table he was passing and hurled it at Dee-James's head. The smaller man ducked and shut his mouth… but he stayed where he was.

That made Dee-James one of the only people who hadn't evacuated Impervia's vicinity. The others were the Caryatid and yours truly. The Caryatid held a candleflame in her cupped right hand, but looked reluctant to use it. If Impervia beat the enforcer in a fair fight, the crowd would show respect; if we stooped to sorcery, the bar patrons might attack en masse. Your average Dover sot bears the same enlightened attitude toward sorcery as the torch-waving peasants outside Castle Frankenstein.