“As you wish.”
I dawdled over my meal. A few local tradesmen came in. A thin, twitchy man in a many-colored coat ordered a mug of ale. The tradesmen called him Weaver and teased him for being away from his loom in the middle of the day. The thin man turned scarlet and said he was waiting for a cartload of wool due in at five. The hunting party grew louder in their cups. The two from the corner left. By this time I’d sat for two hours and began to feel conspicuous, so I left a coin for the proprietor and strolled into the yard. The sky above the trees was still ruddy with late afternoon, but in the premature darkness of the forest, the lamplighter was already flitting about like an oversized firefly. It’s not nightfall yet. Not yet.
I wandered back to the stables and explored a path that led around behind the ramshackle building and through the encroaching trees. As I approached the fence and the little gate where the path returned to the stableyard, I heard quiet voices.
“Don’t look like aught’s comin‘, Sheriff. P’raps you got a bum turn.”
Sheriff … The word froze my steps.
“When the clock strikes, we’ll have him. Lynch drives his route as regular as clockwork.” The dry chuckle held no mirth. “Remember you’re only to hobble the beast, so he can do no harm until we have him properly restrained. Kill him and your own life is forfeit. Understood?”
“Aye. I’ve never seen one, you know. A priest told me they can set a man afire with their eyes.”
“He can do no harm if you’re quick and do as I’ve told you. There’s reward enough in this to pay well for any risk.”
Heart racing, I crept back along the stable wall until I could peer around the far corner of the stable into the yard. Like two great spiders, the strangers from the common room lurked in the shadowed niche where the tall wooden fence met the stable building. One of the men wore a broad-brimmed hat with a feather. The flaming sword blazoned on his cloak glared boldly in the failing light. The giant body of his companion slouched against the fence. That one’s leather vest, worn over a long tunic and baggy trousers, along with his wide belt with a short sword dangling from one side and an iron bar from the other, named him a hireling thug of the sort one could find in the alleys of Monte vial. He would have four more knives hidden in boot top or sleeve, and perhaps a vial of lye tucked in his sleeve. A soft cap was pulled low over his brow.
When the clock strikes… Lynch drives his route… And the weaver was expecting a wool cart at five. I imagined I could hear the grinding of the gears in the clock tower. How long had it been since the last quarter struck? No time to plan.
Yanking the narrow brim of my hat lower to shade my face, I marched out of the trees toward the sleeping boy. “You lazy beggar, I’ll have you flogged.”
The poor lad sat up, rubbing his eyes.
Calling to mind every tantrum of spoiled nobility I had ever witnessed, I stamped my foot and yelled. “Idiot boy! If I miss my reunion with Uncle Charles and Aunt Charlotte because of you, I’ll personally remove your ears! My whole life is at stake-—my inheritance, everything—and to have it ruined by a filthy stable beggar is insupportable.”
As the bewildered child shot jumped up and ran into the stable, I hurried across the yard to the two lurkers. “I commanded this lazy, insolent boy to have my horses ready so I can leave this dunghill before nightfall, but he’s not even got them saddled. And my cousins have contracted for a reliable guide to lead me out of this pestilential forest. I suppose there’s no possibility that either of you is my guide?”
“No possibility, madam,” said the cloaked man. His eye sockets were almost flat, his eyes protruding like those of a fish. His bulbous lips, protruding from a thicket of dark, wiry black beard, curled in disdain.
Several passersby stopped to see what was the disturbance. Good. I wanted a crowd. “Good fellows, I’m not an unreasonable woman. I’ll pay you well. But I must insist— Ah, you, sir!”
The sallow-faced proprietor had stepped into the stableyard, looking annoyed.
“I must have an escort, hostler,” I said. “My party has not arrived, my cousin is laid up with the gout, and your fool of a stable boy is only now saddling my horses, though I’ve no one to ride with me.” I dragged the speechless proprietor into a position that would prevent the two lurking men from leaving their corner without walking over us. From the lane, a plodding horse’s hooves clopped on the cobbles, and the wheels of a wagon creaked and slowed. I forced myself not to look. “Tell these two to escort me. If I don’t get satisfaction at once, I shall remember the poor service I received in Threadinghall and at the Bronze Shield, in particular. You’ll get no more trade from my family…”
The jolly hunters from the common room had wandered out into the yard, as the proprietor scratched his head and questioned the stable lad who had just returned with my horses. The poor boy was likely more befuddled than ever, having remembered how I’d specifically instructed him not to unsaddle the pair when I’d arrived.
The creaking wheels turned into the stableyard. The two strangers stiffened and shuffled their feet. Grabbing the reins from the boy, I maneuvered the horses to where they would block any view of the yard.
“Sirs, are you honorable men?” I said to the two. “Does your road take you north? I know I’m bold to ask it, and Aunt Charlotte will be horrified at the impropriety, but if you deliver me to my relations at Elmont Castle this night, you can demand a prince’s ransom. I’ve an extra horse—”
“Get out of the way, woman, and your filthy beasts with you,” said the sheriff. “We’ve business with this wagon.”
“Curse you, black-hearted villain,” I shouted as loudly as I could, praying that Karon was listening. “What business with this wagon could possibly be more important than my inheritance?” I backed away from the men, keeping close enough to prevent any passage around my horses, and clapped my hand to my breast. “Why, I’ll wager you plan to rob it! Help! Thieves! Driver! You on the wagon! These two plan to rob you. Beware!” My brother had always accused me of having the most piercing scream in the Four Realms.
Several bystanders closed in on the two angry men, who were now trying to force their way past me and the horses. The situation quickly degenerated into chaos. “A pox on you, whore!” With a bone-cracking grip, the fish-eyed sheriff shoved me backward into the horses. “I am a king’s sheriff. Get out of my way.”
I pulled back just enough to make room for the hunting party who had crowded up behind me growling. The cornered pair tried to push their way out of the ring, but my rescuers had drunk enough ale to make their courage and honor invincible. The red-bearded storyteller quickly pinned the sheriff against the wall. As I slipped backward, the pushing and shoving gave way to serious fisticuffs. The crowd was large enough and confused enough and drunk enough that no one could tell who was who.
Oh, please, Karon, be ready.
The proprietor was shouting at the combatants over the heads of the crowding observers, and I thought matters were well in hand. But as I led the horses away from the melee, the sheriff’s thuggish companion dodged the flying fists and squeezed along the shadowed edge of the stable toward the yard, where the wagon had come to a halt under a spreading oak.
A dark figure dropped lightly from the back of the wagon. The thug crept up behind him, iron bar in one hand and a loop of heavy chain in the other.
Karon! Watch out! No one was watching. Everyone was occupied with the brawl. Holy Annadis, he didn’t see…
I drew my knife. Ducking between the two horses, I called up every skill my father and his soldiers had taught me and let fly my weapon. With a harsh expulsion of air, the brute straightened and pitched forward into the dirt. Satisfyingly still.