Storytelling With Confidence

A Captive Audience, Episode 3.5

Inspector Stagger led me up the stairs to process me out of their custody, and then escorted me outside. I squinted in the sunlight, having been exposed to only the dim lamps of the jail for about a week, now.

"The terms of your parole are that I must accompany you at all times," Stagger said to me. "If you elude or evade me, your profile will be given to local bounty hunters for collection. I understand that you are familiar with that community?"
I grimaced, recollecting a wild, uncomfortable ride slung over the back of a horse as a hostage. Badger, T-Bone, and Glepnir were the titular characters in my story, "The Three Buffoons," and they were three individuals who I didn't care to meet again. I don't think they would be congenial after the way I made fools of them - first by outwitting them, and second (and more literally) by immortalizing them in my story.

"Well, shall we start our day with a cold bacon sandwich and a warm brown ale? I'm sure the Nightingale has missed me, and I should probably check in with them. Besides, these past few weeks of sobriety have not agreed with me"
"No time for breakfast, I'm afraid," retorted Stagger. "We have an immediate appointment with the Price family. I should think that you would like to express your gratitude for their generous bail."

I glanced wistfully in the direction of my tavern (and yes, I consider it "mine") but the unspoken threat of being returned to my jail cell was enough motivation to heed Stagger's demand. "Lead the way," I muttered. "I hope the Prices can offer us some decent refreshment."

***** ***** *****

Despite my close friendship with Madigan, I had never before visited his family at the Price estate. Approaching the grandiose mansion, I felt even smaller than usual. My own cozy lodgings have barely room enough for a small cot and a wardrobe; I estimated that each of the windows across the mansion's facade were larger in area than my floor plan.

A butler greeted us at the front door (which, incidentally, was taller than the ceiling of my apartment), took Inspector Stagger's overcoat and my cloak, and welcomed us into the foyer. Stagger made the introductions as I gazed around this display of opulence and wealth. The foyer had a high ceiling, so that the beginning of the second floor was visible from where we stood. In front of us, two symmetrically curved staircases twisted on either side, meeting each other in the center of the second floor hallway. Nestled in the curvature of the left-side staircase was a family portrait, elegantly framed by tall floral arrangements that sat in two porcelain vases on either side. A glass dome skylight directly above us ensured that the entire spectacle was well-lit by natural sunlight. I recalled Madigan mentioning that his family had built their fortune on glassworks, and looking around the mansion, I saw many applications of their craftsmanship and art.

As the butler busied himself with the proper disposition of our outer garments, I took the opportunity to inspect the family portrait, having never been introduced to Mr. or Mrs. Price. In this painting, they were posed sitting in high-backed easy chairs, with Madigan trapped in the middle. Madigan's father sat on the left, holding a pipe, while his mother sat on the right side with a fan artfully held in her left hand, in front of her bosom. Madigan was standing at a slight angle behind and between them, with his left forearm resting on the back of his mother's chair, and his hand grasping the back of his father's chair. The artist had captured Madigan's black hair in his characteristic, lightly-tousled style, and his careless attention to his clothing - his shirt collar and cuffs were never buttoned properly. But as I inspected his eyes, I found something missing: the confidence that I had always noticed, ever since our first meeting. Rather, the Madigan in the portrait seemed restrained, somehow, or cautious.

I only had a moment with the painting before the butler led us through the doorway on the left, into a lavishly-furnished sitting room. One wall of the room was actually a giant window, stretching floor-to-ceiling and wall-to-wall, displaying a splendid view of the gardens outside. The opposite wall was similarly covered in mirrors. The combined effect flooded the room with natural light and created the illusion that the room was much larger than reality. It was yet another testament to the Price's mastery of the glasswork industry, and in the back of my mind I wondered what other amazing glass architecture I would see if I wandered the other rooms of the mansion.