The Hell of It by Peter Orullian Page B

innocent,” Malen said rather weakly. Then stronger: “I’m innocent .”
    The Leagueman leaned close, keeping his own voice low when he spoke. “That may be. But a prudent man sees when he’s beaten, doesn’t he. And finds the least painful way to lose.”
    Malen looked into the other’s eyes. This fellow wasn’t part of the larger game. He was, perhaps, as caught in it as Malen was.
    Quieter still, the Leagueman suggested, “A free man can work to pay a debt. A man in prison has fewer options.”
    In the silence that followed—a silence of broken promises—Malen finally accepted the least painful way to lose. At last, he nodded. As the Leagueman rose and went to talk to the city guards, Roth fell against Malen and put his arms tight around his neck.
    â€œDa, don’t let them take me. I just want to stay with you.” His boy shivered with fear.
    With his arms tied, he couldn’t hug his son, but he laid his cheek against the top of Roth’s head. “This is the only way. I think the Leagueman is a good man. And if I’m free, I can find work to pay back the debt. I won’t rest until I have.”
    â€œPlease, Da.”
    â€œWe’re rough men, remember,” Malen said, and nudged his boy back so he could see his face. “We can handle anything. You’ll learn all kinds of things, I imagine. More than I can afford. And when I come for you, you can teach me .” Then he nearly lost control, his voice thickening. “I’m sorry it turned out this way. It’s my fault. But I’ll make it right, son. I swear.”
    The Leagueman returned and gave Malen a simple nod. The deal was made. The League was constantly recruiting. The city-men likely saw this as a straightforward ploy by the League to boost its membership, assuming Roth stayed on with them. And the League had become more than influential in So’Dell, especially with the people who gave city-men orders. It hadn’t taken much to strike this deal.
    Malen let out a long breath, and gave Roth a reassuring smile. “Think of it as an adventure. A good one. For a rough man. And I’ll come for you soon.”
    Roth nodded, but stepped close again and clung to him. Malen gave the lean Leagueman a look. You’ll have to take him.
    Gently, but firmly, the man pulled Roth away from Malen. The boy sobbed, and it broke Malen’s heart. Then the other Leagueman rose, a bit perturbed, it seemed. And together the three left his small dockside home.
    He sighed heavily, sad to his bones. But eager, despite his weariness, this very hour to find work and begin to earn back what would be needed. He struggled to his feet and turned to the city guards. It took only half a moment to recognize the look in their eyes. They had no intention of keeping their end of the agreement with the League.
    â€œLet’s go,” the more senior city guard said. His smugness was gone. He just wanted to be shut of this affair. He grabbed Malen’s bound arms and began pushing him out the door.
    Fury and frustration and deep, sickening loss flared inside him. Beyond the door, he looked up the wharf where the Leaguemen walked on either side of his son. The boy’s shoulders were slumped, his head down. Malen’s only thoughts were that he might never see his boy again, and that perhaps, if nothing else, Roth would find a better life with the League.
    In that moment, something occurred to him. Something he desperately needed to tell his son. He called out, his voice echoing up the wharf front, “Roth!”
    The boy jerked around, pulling his escorts to a dead halt. His eyes had widened with surprise. Hope, maybe.
    â€œNot rough men,” Malen said, shaking his head. “Good men. We’re good men.” Malen straightened his back, the motion an invitation for his son to do the same.
    Roth stared a moment, as if fighting the feelings inside him. Then, his boy