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Arrowsmith awoke to the gentle sound of rain falling outside the barred window of his cell. His back ached viciously from having slept on the floor, and he sat up slowly, carefully. He was the only one in the room, and the quiet around him was a little frightening. He wondered if they were going to leave him there to starve to death, and if they had done anything to Harley. However, his wondering was interrupted when a guard came to let him out.
"Well, good morning, Lord Seer," she said. "I trust you slept well?"
Arrowsmith stared at her sourly. "So I say one dumb thing. Is this going to haunt me forever?"
"Quite likely," she said. "But drunk and foolish is only good for one night in the dungeon. You can go now."
"No, I can't. Where's Harley?"
"Harley?" she asked as she drew a large iron key from her pocket. She unlocked the heavy wooden door. "Is that your Dwarf friend?"
"Harley's my motorcycle; what have you done with him?"
"Oh. Well, the machine was sent over to the Court of the City, where a judge will decide whether or not to have it destroyed."
Arrowsmith froze. "Destroyed?" he said, his heartbeat becoming fast and irregular. "Harley? Destroyed?" He tried hard to control his breathing, but he felt as though he was going to choke. "You can't hurt that bike. Please don't hurt my bike."
"That is not something I have any control over. The judge will decide whether it is a magical device or technical. If it is technical, it will be taken apart and melted down."
"You can't do that!" he screamed. "You have no damn right to decide what people can and cannot own! You sure as hell got no damn right to melt down my fucking motorcycle. Letme the fuck out of here; where is this judge? I gotta save my baby."
"Two floors down and right across the street. I don't recommend you do anything foolish; we have cells far darker and much less clean than this one."
"Yeah, well, if that bastard kills my Harley, then I don't give a shit where you put me."
She let him out, but as Arrowsmith ran out of the cell and down the narrow stone stairs, he noticed that she was right behind him. That was fine; he might need her to prevent him from killing a judge.
Neither the building nor Harley were very hard to find. Harley sat regally in the street, red and gold paint gleaming wetly in the light spring rain. The sun was peeking nervously through the clouds, causing his paint to reflect the brilliant light. A small crowd of people had gathered around him and seemed to be discussing the bike. Arrowsmith charged into the midst of the crowd, stopping near Harley in a protective stance.
"Nobody is taking my bike," he said to no one in particular.
A small figure clad in a grey robe with silver trim moved forward, a woman with long dark hair. "Is this your creature?" she asked, smiling.
"Yeah. And nobody, but nobody, is taking Harley apart and melting him, at least not while I can stand up."