Lord Commander Thadro slapped the rump of the horse in front of him. “Move.”
Silver eyes again looked down at us, then the man smiled and gave a flourishing salute with his sword before shifting his horse. Holding his own sword, Thadro stepped to the front, where he was joined by Peacekeeper Chadde. I went to stand with them, but Jeff caught my arm once more.
“Don’t. You’ll set everyone off again.”
He was right. Despite the presence of the horsemen, the Lord Commander and the Keeper of the King’s Peace, a rock flew out from the back of the mob, landing at Chadde’s feet. The peacekeeper looked at it, then raised her head. “I saw you, Danel.”
I blinked. I knew Danny, a postilion at the Hart’s Leap. Peering between Thadro and Chadde, I almost didn’t recognize him, the way his face was twisted.
“He threw it at the witch, Chadde,” Albe called out before Danny could respond. The mob growled as their attention shifted back to me.
“Who? Rabbit?” Chadde asked. “Rabbit’s no witch. He was at Eveningsong last night. As he often is. Just as he also attends the morning and midday services as his duties allow.” She smiled at the blacksmith. “You’d know that, Albe, if you went to church as often as you go to the Copper Pig.”
Even in the fading light I could see the flush that swept over Albe’s face. He glared around as someone behind him snickered.
“Though I don’t know if you’ll be able to do either once his honor the mayor sees what’s happened to his square,” Chadde continued, her gray eyes hardening. “There are laws about inciting to riot and the willful destruction of own property. Just as the king has laws regarding the murder of his kin, officers and agents.”
It was kind of hard to tell which weighed more—the threat of the king’s justice or the wrath of the mayor. Or maybe it was that people started factoring in the armed and mounted men in their midst. Suddenly, there was the patter of stones hitting the ground, while Albe stared at his hammer with mild astonishment, as if wondering how in the world it got into his hand. He tucked it into his belt and lopped off with the air of a man who’d just remembered that he had important things to do. Others also apparently thought of chores not done and started slipping away, torches quickly doused in the square’s fountain, pitchforks and scythes lowered.
“That was a bit of excitement,” the plume-hatted man on horseback said. He looked down again at us, giving a bow. “Lord Beollan of Fellmark, milords and gracious sirs. We were returning from a tour of the countryside and happened upon you.” He lifted his head to scan the by now mostly empty square, noting the chunks of paving stone, stout sticks, chains and what looked like a length of wrought iron littering the ground. “Good thing we did.”
Thadro sighed as he shoved his sword into his scabbard “Yes, a very good thing.” At his gesture, the royal guards sheathed their own swords and shifted so that they were once more behind Jeff, Arlie and me. Thadro looked us over, checking for injuries. “You were hit, Trooper Jeffen?”
Jeff glanced at Chadde’s expressionless face. “Only a love tap, sir.”
“I see. Good.” Thadro sighed and looked at me. “Let’s get you away from here, Lieutenant Rabbit, before you cause another riot.”
Chapter Three
After the town square, our walk to Jusson’s residence was uneventful, with everyone sunk in their own thoughts. I huddled down into my cloak, a chill seeping into my bones, while Arlis and Jeff walked quietly beside me, all of our movements somewhat stiff from our playtime with the jailhouse guards. Up ahead were Lord Beollan and two of his armsmen a-horse, followed by Peacekeeper Chadde and the Lord Commander. I didn’t know the peacekeeper well, having made a habit of not coming to the attention of the town constabulary. Besides, she was someone who tended to blend into the background—brown hair, gray eyes, medium height, slender build. She wore a plain tabard over an equally plain shirt, leather breeks, and boots. The only thing that stood out was the ceremonial truncheon hanging at her side, the silver and wood gleaming in the light from the street lamps. Chadde’s face was calm and closed; however, as we rounded a corner, she turned her head and met my gaze, and I felt as though all the secrets I ever had were laid bare. Then she faced forward again, leaving me to wonder what the hell had just happened.
Upon our reaching the king’s residence, Lord Beollan smiled, his eyes speculative as they rested on me. “I’ll leave you here, though I’m sure I’ll be seeing you shortly. Grace.”
He bowed and then rode off with his armsmen to stable their horses. I looked after them, yearning.
“Rabbit,” Thadro said and, legs leaden, I slowly climbed the front steps with the others. The King’s Own standing guard on either side of the door saluted, one opening it. We stepped through and it shut behind us with a thud that echoed through me.
Thadro quickly led us down a hallway to where more King’s Own were once again guarding a door. And once again, one flung it open, revealing an elegant study. It was furnished with long, austere lines and muted colors, though the lack of fuss and furbelows was somewhat made up for by the Harvest wreath that hung on the clean plaster wall. A fire blazed in the brickwork fireplace, while an ornamental pot simmered on a brazier, scenting the air with a king’s ransom of vanilla, nutmeg and orange peel that mingled with the smell of beeswax from lit candles. The curtains were flung back to show a twilight-shrouded pleasure garden that was surely a riot of fall colors in the daytime.
It was a far cry from the jail.
And the person seated behind the desk was a far, far cry from the head jailer.
“Come in,” King Jusson said.
I was a small child when word reached my parents’ farm that Jusson had succeeded his queen mother, and he had been grown then. But instead of looking like someone in his middle years, a decade and a half into his rule, he appeared my age. Tall and slender, with a mass of black hair, winged brows and tilted eyes with a gold ring etched around black irises, he also looked like a dark elf from one of the Border city-states. He wore a simple gold circlet on his head and his raiment matched the austere elegance of his study. As did his expression.
When in doubt, try obeisance. “Your Majesty,” I said, bowing.
Jusson’s expression didn’t change. “Everyone come in,” he said. “Thadro, shut the door.”
Closing the door with a quiet snick, Thadro walked to stand behind the king.
“Sit, Rabbit,” Jusson said, nodding at a single chair set before his desk. I hesitated. In the warmth of the room a pungent reminder of jail was rising off Arlie, Jeff and me, and the candlelight showed every smear and smudge we had.
“The chair will clean,” Jusson said. “Sit.”
I sat.
Jusson’s gaze went behind me. “Peacekeeper Chadde, is it?”
“There was a riot, sire,” Thadro said as Chadde, bowed. “We were attacked by a mob and Peacekeeper Chadde not only helped us withstand it, but joined our escort here.”
Jusson’s gaze came back to me, noting my bruises before going to Jeff and Artie’s own scrapes and discolorations, and Jeff’s black eye. The king frowned. “They were injured?”
“That was done before the riot,” Thadro said. “While they were in jail.”
“We see,” Jusson said, the frown remaining. He leaned back in his chair and, steepling his hands, considered me over them. “You’ve been very busy, Rabbit.”