Gemworld by Jeremy Bullard Page B

he had no idea what it might look like. He was just thankful that he still had it.
    Take all this and roll it up in a week ’ s worth of prison filth and fugitive travel , Sal thought sardonically. You must be quite a sight to see .
    At the edge of town, the villagers formed a human barrier. They were confronted by two mages from a nearby guard shack, both with glowing gemstone eyes—red, though, in contrast to Jaren’s green. He wasn’t sure what type of mage they were, but the sheer menace rolling off of them labeled them as a warrior class. All at once, Sal realized there was a much simpler explanation for the way the villagers—and the ruby-eyed guards—regarded him.
    He was an outsider, a threat.
    Reit moved to one side, and the pair stepped forward and grabbed Sal’s arms, locking them behind his back. Retzu and Jaren did nothing.
    Reit turned a stony, expressionless face to Sal. As the villagers pressed in to hear, he addressed Sal in a voice clearly meant for his audience’s benefit.
    “James Salvatori, you have expressed interest in finding refuge with us. Having traveled with us, do you still wish it so?” Reit intoned, his words resonating with ritualistic majesty.
    Last call , Sal thought to himself. Time to put up or shut up. Seeing no other options, he said, “I do.”
    Reit nodded, satisfied. “Then you will be tried by our wisest council, to determine whether you speak from the abundance of your heart. Your usefulness would be great...”
    “...but our Cause is greater,” the crowd replied in unison. Apparently, the whole village had a part to play in this ritual.
    “You will be held in safety and comfort tonight,” Reit recited. “You will be fed and bathed. You will be healed of any injury that you might have received while traveling with us, and be given rest. You will speak to no one. On the morrow, you shall be tried by the heads of the Gemstone Orders represented in this village.”
    “The Sapphire,” called a voice, drawing Sal’s eyes to an old man with blue gemstone eyes as he made his way to the front of the crowd.
    “The Amethyst,” came a soprano, a young woman with violet eyes standing a few feet back from Reit.
    “The Ruby,” said one of the men at Sal’s elbow, his voice rumbling with menace.
    “The Emerald.” With that, Sal saw Jaren slip around him to Reit’s side, his green eyes burning in all their bejeweled glory.
    Reit paused another moment, as if waiting for any other gemstone orders to represent themselves. When none did, Reit continued. “Should you be found true in all, you shall be allowed to join our ranks. You shall take up arms against our enemies...”
    “...and we shall take up arms against yours,” the crowd again responded.
    “Should you be found true but at odds with us, we will not treat you unkindly. Freedom of will is paramount to us—even the freewill of our enemies. You will be taken into the Vale and released, unharmed, to go your own way.” He paused for a moment, implying the gravity of what he would say next. “But should you be found false, both at odds with our Cause and without the integrity to own it, you shall die, as swiftly and painlessly as the Crafter would allow us, for a double-minded man is a danger to others as much as to himself. We shall mourn your death...”
    “...but the Cause must survive,” said the villagers.
    Reit nodded again, the ritual coming to a close. “Go in peace. Pass the night in contemplation. Face the morrow with honor.” That last having been said, Reit and Jaren stepped aside to admit Sal and his keepers. The crowd parted before them, and then closed behind them as they passed.
    It was all that Sal could do to resist the urge to break and run. Which was probably just as well, since the ruby mages seemed the type to have itchy trigger fingers. Sure, he understood that Reit had to keep his people safe. Sure, the villagers would have to be able to trust him if he was to live there with them. But