Chapter Three

                                    

                                              
The jailhouse of Port Nigel was a perfect match to the town. It was damp, musty and small, consisting of only two cells side by side that were separated only by one set of iron bars. It was by good fortune only that Diego and Gabriel were put into one cell while the tall stranger was placed into the other. If he had indeed meant them harm, there was little he could do toward that while inside. 
                          
The blind man had seated himself upon the dirty floor, sitting still and straight, hardly moving. It was impossible to discern what he was thinking. Diego regarded Gabriel from beneath his hat as he stood against the far wall. Admittedly, he felt remorse for the fact that the blind man had wound up here. If he had not recruited the young one, the poor soul would not have been caught up in this mess. But even so, Diego's mind was working toward escape, and he felt that Gabriel was just as capable as any to help him with the task. 
                          
In the meantime, while no sure plan for freedom had come to him, the demi-human had been able to get a much better look at the man who'd been following him on the dark road.

                          
The large man had said nothing since they'd been ushered into the cells, not even bothering to proclaim his innocence. Then again, none of them had put up much of a fight, though Diego and Gabriel had both taken their turns to insist that they had done nothing wrong. But though the other man was quiet, he did not seem at ease here. His eyes constantly roved over the room—or, at a loss, cut straight to stare at Diego.
                          
The stranger was not a hideous man, as one might expect from a mysterious stalker of the night, but there was a hardness to his features that made him appear menacing. His hair was brown and messy down his back, easily viewable since he'd removed his hat, and the hair on his face had not been tended to in a long while. His mouth was a long line across his face. His nose was sharp and somewhat sloped. This closer look also promised that he was well over six feet tall, perhaps even holding closer to the seventh mark. More impressive than that were his eyes: a strange hazel color in which the green seemed to shine like Diego's own. 
                          
Interesting... Diego thought. Yes, that is something.
                          
His appearance, however, did little to tell anyone his identity. The watchmen knew as little about him as they knew about the other two prisoners. As well to Diego and Gabriel, the man was still a nameless stranger. And he was, more than likely, an enemy.
                          
In the stillness of the soggy night, Diego swished his tail irritably at his own musings while Gabriel sat motionless on the floor, and the stranger hung his arms through the iron bars. At that moment, the door of the jailhouse opened, and two men came inside.
                          
The guard who had been set to keep an eye on the prisoners—a middle-aged man that had seen a lot of weathering—stood from his seat to address the new company. Entering was, undoubtedly, the official that was in charge of this town, in whatever form or title that took. He had a withered and unclean face; the look of a seafarer, but he appeared to have washed ashore long before some of the others in this place. 
                          
The second man, who entered behind the official, was a minister. He was worn, and he had apparently traveled here, only to forget the way out. The two hardly looked to the appointed warden as they came inside, their eyes set on the prisoners locked securely within the cells.
                          
"No sense in getting comf'table," the shabbily dressed official said, stepping deliberately up to the bars. "If'n it wasn't fer the disrepair of our gallows, ye'd all be swingin' now. But it wouldn't do to hang ye without a public stating of yer crimes to give ease to the townsfolk." 
                          
"We are innocent," Gabriel said from his place on the floor, though he gave little emotion toward the words.
                          
Each man turned his eyes on Gabriel, and the blind man was well aware of it. The official's simple gaze changed to an intolerant glare.