Sparrow on a Plank Chapter 1: Starting in Chains

No. That’s what he should have said this morning.

Instead, Hajime was chained to a cold wall in the dank dungeon of some second-rate castle with someone firing up the branding irons. And his pants are nowhere to be seen. He smirked to himself; some people would pay decent money for the privilege of being where he was now. The scrawny kid from the docks of an oriental port wouldn’t mind trading places with one of those well-fed lordlings right about now.

He wasn’t planning on staying there long, of course. Even naked, chained, and about to receive some intimate attention from a large man with white-hot irons, he still had an option. He could feel the heat from the coals as the torturer stirred the coals, and the rancid sweat from past interrogations almost overwhelmed him. Hajime started to sweat as he realized that the torturer could probably get whatever answer wanted from him, so he had better start working on a plan to escape from the torturer’s no doubt tender affections.

He sent out his senses into the immediate area; he needed to make sure that the manacles holding him were in fact steel, and not something more. As they didn’t exactly glow to his enhanced senses, he had some reason for hope. He retracted his senses and quickly assessed the room he was in: The door was closed tight against his potential screams and there were bars everywhere. No normal person would be able to escape from the manacles, and, even if they did, they wouldn’t be able to get out of the room. The only way he would be able to escape is if he somehow managed to fly up to the open window venting the heat from the coals. He allowed himself a smile at the site. The torturer smiled wolfishly at the sight of the kid smiling; the more in control they felt they were, the easier they were to break.

That wolfish grin was quickly replaced by a falling jaw as the torturer saw what was happening to his prisoner. His muscles spasmed, as his body shrunk. Feather replaced hair, and those feathers quickly covered his body. His fingers splayed and the bones grew even as his arm bones became the same length; in mere heartbeats, his arms were replaced by wings. His legs shrunk, and his face lengthened as his nose and mouth fused, becoming stiff, and then hard, becoming a bird’s beak. In mere moments the chains clanged against the stone wall as a sparrow flew up and disappeared out a window. The cold air hit him like a lover’s kiss as he flapped into the night.

* * * * *

Hajime landed on a rooftop where he had left his clothes, wings flapping to slow his descent, and quickly shifted back to human form. He liked his avian form, but you’d probably never see him don it at a party. Of course, the warm feathers were a definite plus, but the clothes were a working solution for the cold air hitting his unclothed body. He grabbed a silver ring on a leather thong and put it around his neck. After a quick debate, he threw on some clothes. He grabbed his shoulder bag, withdrew some climbing gear, and started going down to ground level. Once there, he prayed thankfully that he had chosen the right dark alley (no traffic and, better yet, no hidden loiterers) and walked up the alley towards a small bookstore.

The bookstore was closed, so he made a mental note to be there in the morning. However, his appointment forced him to wait; Salmandra was always a few minutes late. She didn’t disappoint; in a few minutes, a leather-clad form with more weapons bristling from every gorgeous curve appeared from the shadows behind him. He turned slowly, knowing that if he spun around he might trigger some stupid trained reaction; he didn’t want to experience her blades firsthand.

“The information is solid, Sal. The lord is setting up for an invasion in the next three months.”

“Good. That means we get paid. Excellent work.” She added a perky smile, but let it die.

His eyebrow went up. “‘We’? I did all of the work. I even got caught because some of the intel was off; I found a stunner on the second floor. The supposedly clean second floor, according to your information.”

“Nonetheless, it’s a ‘we’ situation, Haj. You still need to prove yourself, and until then all profits are split. As per contract.”

“Great. The contract.” Her lip went up a little on the right side; she liked to torture him a little.

“Yep. But that’s just business. You otherwise okay?”

“Yeah, I guess. I’ll have my notes written down and ready for you by morning. Anything you want highlighted?”

“Normally I’d suggest avenues of egress, but I doubt they would apply to most people. Note the location of the stunner; the trap itself may change, but it’s unlikely that the location will. Also, anything you remember about the path to the dungeon; we didn’t have a clue about its existence. I mean, we figured one existed, but…”

“Yeah yeah. I’m pretty sure I’d remember that.” He shook a little.

She caught the shiver. “Figured you would. Now, run off and write. We have an appointment tomorrow morning.”

“And there she is with the ‘we’ stuff again.” He started walking off as she disappeared into the shadows. He made one stop on the way to his rented room; it was going to be a long night, so he had better grab some beer and snacks.

* * * * *

As the memory of his Grecian ally faded and that of his mission was brought forward, Hajime dipped his quill into an inkpot and started writing. He had to remember to write in the formal Naganese script, filled with more curves than his native Nihonese, and with more tonal marks. Nevertheless, he had a sure hand and the papyrus was of a better quality than he was used to, so Prince Ta should have no problems understanding his report.

The mission itself had gone off easily enough. He was to just check the map, so he flew in and compared notes. The map they had been given was accurate, until the second floor. He had been hit by an electrical jolt and had been transformed into his human shape. Paralyzed, a guard found him and took him to a cell. The paralysis wore off soon enough, but he decided to stick around to see what else was there. The tour was short and abrupt, straight to the torturer’s dungeon.

He paused, grabbing a pretzel and some beer. He scratched his still-new unit tattoo; another part of the contract he didn’t like. At least it was regular ink; the tattoo from the last organization would last a long, long time.

He put a few finishing touches on the report and knocked off. The pages were almost dry already, Tomorrow should go off swimmingly.

[For the next chapter, look here.]