Previous Challenge Entry (Level 4 – Masters)
Topic: CONSPIRACY (01/21/21)
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TITLE: Shadows in The Night | Previous Challenge Entry
By Jack Taylor
01/23/21 -
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The oldest black-robed conspirator pulled at his chest-length greying beard, nodding as the newly arrived guest checked over his shoulder and hunched closer hissing out his diabolical strategy. The three bent in tight like crows examining a dead sparrow they intended to devour.
“But how will we get past his bodyguards?” the second black robe asked.
“I know his habits,” the guest assured. He paused, listening. “Did I hear laughter? Is someone else around?”
“It’s the wind,” Greybeard declared. “That sometimes happens when we’re doing business. You would think a place this luxurious would be able to stop that shhhhhhhhhwa-ing.”
The conspirator shook off the shiver running down his back. “For a moment, it sounded like the laughter in the throat of women who come to him for healing. It’s funny how your mind conjures up crazy things.”
“Ignore it!” the second black robe said. “Women haven’t been close to here. At least not the kind you want to bring home to your mother.”
“We’ll need a large enough force – some with combat training,” the conspirator said. “These guys move quickly and they move often. Today, however, I know where they’ll be camping out.”
Greybeard straightened and rubbed the back of his neck. “You know, we’ve tried to catch him here before. We have dozens of undercover informants infiltrating the mob that is following that deceiver. The cult this guy is growing is sucking in our own sons and daughters.”
“So what is your price?” the second queried.
“Ah!” Greybeard smiled. “Always the businessman. What about loyalty to your country or zeal for your faith? He pulled off his cap and examined it carefully. “Thought I had something touching my hair,” he said. “Maybe I’m getting too old for these late-night strategy meetings. This better work.”
“We’ll be like shadows in the night,” the guest assured. “I only ask the price that any of you would give for a healthy, strong, fugitive who no one else has seemed to catch.”
Greybeard shuffled into the shadows, fumbled for something, and returned holding a fist-sized bag. “You don’t need to count it,” he said. “We know how you deal with money. What’s the matter, did you think he would find out and kick you out? Were you keeping an expensive woman happy or did you just get tired of waiting for the chance to get at the real treasury?”
“He’s more than you imagine he is,” the guest said, tucking the bag out of sight.
The second black robe extended a fist to rest on the guest’s shoulder. “He may be more than a magician or a charlatan,” he said, “but he’s clearly not enough for you and perhaps too much for us.”
“Before you go,” Greybeard said. “Why don’t you say a prayer and share a small glass of wine with us? It’s not every day that men like us take the time to work with a man like you. I’m glad you came to your senses to spare our nation further grief. It’s going to be a long night so let’s get this done and be on our way.”
The glasses were small and the contents cheap. Still, the crows brought their glasses and their plans together with a sneer. The second black robe chuckled. “Can you imagine the faces on those ignorant peasants when that huckster is shuffled out and done away with?”
The guest handed over his glass and patted his pocket. This wasn’t a dream – he was going through with it. It was time to force the hand of the one who hesitated to raise up the country and do what only he could do. Again, he turned at the echo of laughter in the shadows. “We better get this over with. I think when you meet him, he’ll surprise you. It’ll be dark so stay close. You’ll know when I find him
Greybeard swished by in his robes and snatched up one of the clay lamps. “Should I fall behind the vigilantes you no doubt will collect, where are we to find him?”
“Gethsemane,” the guest said. “Gethsemane.”
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