In his jail cell, Poxig met an impish old man.
His hair was green and spiky, and he wore a purple coat. His boots were long, and his pockets were inside out. He stood watching Poxig as he was led into the chamber.
“Well, elves don’t deserve this imprisonment. You plarts deserve much worse,” he said.
“What… might … be the purpose of impugning my race?” Poxig retorted.
“You must have offended the king, ” said he laughing, ” or else you wouldn’t wind up here.”
“Who might I have the pleasure of meeting in these less than auspicious circumstances?” asked Poxig.
“I am John Carr, the red mage, ” said he, “I was brought unbeknownst to my friends for criticizing a king. I am sure no one knows of my whereabouts.”
“You must be guilty of some nefarious act to be here,” said Poxig. “I have done nothing.”
“Ah… they all say that. I have been here two months & everyone says that they are innocent.”
“Well, I am! And I will be vindicated when my friend emissary Seljuk hears of this.”
“Well good luck sir. I practice both black and white magic, but in order to keep the balance, I cannot use it to extricate myself from this jail cell. I’m afraid we are trapped.”
The discussion continued that way all through the night. John Carr would propose his innocence, although admitting to criticizing the king. It would seem that something united the destinies of this elf and human magician. Yet, there was no real way to know if John was a charlatan, since he could by no means demonstrate his qualifications as a red mage.
“I’m not sure that I’d like to be associated with a red mage that can’t do magic,” said Poxig.
“Suit yourself. But I have been here two months. Who knows how long they’ll keep you?” replied John.
“I have a friend on the outside,” said Poxig.
“If he hasn’t come for you yet, there’s a reason,” said John.
Poxig stared at the gentleman with a skeptical air. It was possible that Er. Seljuk had not heard of his capture. But something told him that John Carr was right. Perhaps if he were to side with Poxig, he would lose the king’s trust. Of course, Er. Seljuk would never allow that to happen. Poxig grimaced when he thought of how long he could molder in this dungeon.