The Swordmage Trilogy Bundle, Volumes 1-3 by Martin Hengst

sword in her hand, or anywhere that isn't here. She thought longingly of their comfortable nights around the hearth, exchanging tales and adventures. Her sword, obviously, was nowhere to be found. There was no way out and she had no weapon. Once again, she was imprisoned against her will. When will I ever be free?
    Tiadaria began to cry.
    “Now, now, girl. No reason for all of that.” The droning voice came from the man she first recognized by his robe. The Magistrate was leaning on a long wooden staff and peering into her cell. She hadn't heard him approach, being rather involved with her own problems.
    “Easy for you to say,” she snapped, drawing the back of her hand across her eyes. “You're not the one in a cage.”
    “True,” the main replied, nodding sagely. “You'll be free soon enough. We just have the matter of some paperwork and you'll be free to go.”
    Tiadaria was suspicious. She had never heard about any paperwork from the Captain, and he was as much an expert on the laws of the land as anyone she had ever heard of.
    “What paperwork?”
    “Just the rightful registration of ownership. Captain Royce didn't enter into a proper contract when he purchased you. There was no sealed agreement.”
    “What does that mean?”
    A stocky little man stepped out of the shadows, large gems on each finger reflected the flickering light of the torch in its holder. Cerrin smiled, the slaver’s feral grin full of malice and hatred.
    “It means that you are being returned to your rightful owner, slave.”
    The little man hooked his thumb at his chest, still grinning. Tiadaria shrank away from the cell door until her back was to the wall. She slid down to the floor, too numb to speak.
     
    * * *
     
    Royce ground his teeth as he raced down the path between the training field and the cottage. There had never been much love lost between himself and the Magistrate, but now there was open animosity. There may not have been a letter-sealed bargain for his purchase of Tiadaria, but it had been a legal transaction.
    The Magistrate was just looking for a way to stick it to him. He would learn, soon, that he underestimated the lengths that the Captain would go to protect the girl. Legal bargain or not, Royce wasn't going to let Tiadaria go back to that slaver. Cerrin was exactly the type man would want his revenge and he would take it out on Tiadaria in unthinkable ways. There was no way Royce was going to allow that to happen.
    He fished the key from around his neck and tried to fit it in the lock, but it wouldn't budge. He tried again, to no avail. Dropping to one knee, he peered into the lock. Someone had shoved clay into the mechanism. Unleashing an endless stream of profanity that had been cultivated from the seediest bars and taverns in the land, he rooted around beside the house until he found a suitably thin twig to dig the clay out of the lock. He didn't have time for this. Every moment he wasted here was a moment that the slaver would be farther away.
    Royce ground his teeth together in impotent fury. Of course. That was part of the plan. It had to be. He wondered if the sneaky little rat had known he would come back to the cottage, or if it had just been a lucky guess. Regardless, it was costing Royce time that he really couldn't afford to lose and he'd see to it that the slaver paid this debt thrice over.
    He fitted the key into the lock and this time it did its trick, though protesting profusely. Normally a series of ticks and pops accompanied the unlocking of the door. This time, there were squeals of stressed metal and grinding. Royce didn't like the sound of that and he wasn't sure he'd ever get the door open again, but he didn't have time to worry about that now.
    With nimble fingers, he donned the thick leather armor that was his daily wear. He exchanged his training blade for the fine scimitar that he preferred in combat. He crossed to the cabinet and flung it open, slinging a black leather quiver over his