Page 23 of A Fable of Riddles and Redemption

Caliban scowled at Jupp. Though only his mouth was visible under his mask, his disgust was clearly evident. “If you don’t wish for help, then why request it?”

Herrick jumped into the conversation then, worried that the idiot Jupp would run off the only viable solution they’d had so far before it could even be considered. “You will want to see Duke Armand and Captain Firmin. I will take you to them.”

Cadby nodded and moved aside to let them through, cuffing Jupp on the back of the head in the process.

“Hey,” Jupp protested, but no one paid him any heed.

Herrick escorted Caliban to the castle entrance and informed Madame Giry of the situation. Before he could so much as blink, tea with a platter of pastries was ordered, and the stranger was brought to a parlor while he stood guard. He surreptitiously watched the masked man while they waited for the duke and the captain to arrive.

Once Caliban took a seat on a settee, he turned to Herrick and asked, “You followed me from town, didn’t you?”

“I did.” There was no point in denying it now.

An amused chuckle trickled out of the stranger. “Thought I looked suspicious with my black hooded cloak and my mask?”

Herrick kept his expression stoic. “It is my duty to keep the city of Adael safe.”

“So yes,” Caliban said with a slight smirk, answering his own question.

Herrick said nothing in response. It seemed unnecessary to reply. As he studied Caliban carefully, he couldn’t decide if the man was charming, unhinged, or something in the middle.

Perhaps it’s just the way of mages, he thought, recalling the last person he’d known to use magic. She was certainly insane and diabolical. Though, he didn’t think she came by her magic naturally to begin with, but rather had forced it by stealing magic from others—likely even her own stepdaughter, if his suspicions were correct.

Or, in other words, black magic. Dark magic.

Was Caliban a dark mage, or a decent one?

There was no way to know yet, but Herrick knew one thing: he would watch the man like a hawk.

A servant brought in a tea tray, and another carried a platter of desserts. The delicious scents of flakey pastry, sugar, cream, and fruit wafted by when the servant passed him. Just the thought of eating one made Herrick ravenous. He’d been on duty for hours, with only a roll and a slice of cheese for lunch.

As soon as this meeting is over, I’m headed to the dining hall, he promised himself.

Once the servants left, Caliban lazily picked up a pastry, examining it as if to ensure it was safe to eat. “By the way, who was that woman with you in the city?”

Herrick’s hackles raised. Answering that question was the last thing he wanted to do.

Thankfully, before he could think of an excuse to avoid the subject, Duke Armand and Captain Firmin entered the parlor.

“So,” Duke Armand said as he assessed Caliban with a critical eye, “this is the man who says he can help us with our red panda problem?”

Caliban put his pastry on a plate before he stood and nodded, then gave a flourishing bow. “Indeed I can, my good sirs. Indeed I can.”

Captain Firmin furrowed his brows. “And just how do you propose to do this?”

A wide grin spread across what little could be seen of Caliban’s masked face, and he held up the wooden flute from his belt. “With this.”

“I beg your pardon, but how exactly will your pipe help us?” Duke Armand asked, motioning for everyone to take a seat as he took his own.

“I can channel magic through my flute to entice the red pandas to leave town. Then, once they are no longer within the city boundaries, I can enchant a barrier to keep them out.”

Duke Armand clapped his hands gleefully. “That sounds perfect! It’s exactly what we are looking for, isn’t it, Captain Firmin?”

Captain Firmin looked more hesitant. “So it would seem. I would like some proof that you are able to fulfil this claim before any contract can be made.”

Herrick silently agreed with his captain. Trusting this stranger without proof or references sounded like a terrible idea. Even if he could do it, Herrick was not convinced that they should bargain with the mage.

A crooked smile lifted one corner of Caliban’s mouth. “A demonstration, perhaps? Very well, then.” He brought his flute to his lips and began to play. A lilting, lighthearted melody burst into the air, the song bringing to mind the warmth of a summer day and the laughter of young children.