Top Hat paused. Maybe he expected them to say something. When they didn’t, he went on.
“But I suppose it had to be the king. No one else would be crazy enough to kill Exeter, and no one would be mad enough to hang him up like that for everyone to see. I mean, if it wasn’t the king, who could have done such a thing-done it and got away? Unless you’re wearing a crown, you don’t kill a noble and walk away whistling, now, do you?”
Hadrian watched. He began sizing them up, determining the biggest threats and their distance from him. Only the thieves didn’t close in as before. They didn’t circle. Top Hat stood the closest, and even he kept to the far side of the grave.
“Thing is, I heard something like this happened before. I heard it happened down south-down in Colnora. ’Bout two years ago, there was a bunch of murders there. Magistrate, lawyers, powerful folk, and nobody saw nothing. But it didn’t stop there. Seems after killing the cream, this shadow began targeting members of the Black Diamond itself. Thieves were killed, butchered and strung up in the city squares-works of bleeding art like Lord Exeter. And if killing a noble is crazy, I’m not sure there’s a word for declaring war on the BD, but someone did. They call it the Year of Fear. The year an assassin turned on his own. They say one guy did it all, and they say he was never caught. Some still have nightmares.”
“Sounds awful.” Royce still had an arm around Gwen; the other was in his cloak.
“Yeah.” Top Hat glanced at both of them. “Hate to have something like that happen here.”
“I heard that same story when I was down in Colnora,” Royce said. “The way I heard it, the killer was provoked.”
“Really?”
“A pleasant fellow otherwise.”
“A regular gentleman, I suspect.”
“No, not in the least, but also not the sort to bother his neighbors so long as they don’t bother him.”
This left Top Hat thinking for several minutes. He glanced at the grave and then back at his thieves. Finally he looked back at Royce. “You planning on staying in Medford awhile, then?”
At this Gwen tilted her head up to look at Royce.
“Hadn’t really thought about it, but … what do you think, Hadrian?”
“It’s a nice enough place.”
Royce asked Top Hat, “You got a problem with that?”
“It’s … ah … it’s not customary to allow non-guild thieves to practice-”
“The Black Diamond had similar restrictions,” Royce said, his voice dropping in degrees.
Top Hat licked his lips and adjusted his hat. “That so?” The guild leader looked like a bartering shopkeeper being swindled. “Well, I’ve never cared for the Black Diamond. And I suspect they’d think twice about pushing into this territory if they knew who was calling it home. I don’t think there would be any real harm letting just the two of you pick a few pockets.”
“You won’t even know we’re here,” Royce said.
“I like that. Don’t suppose you’d be willing to pay me a percentage of your take?”
“No.”
“Become a member?”
“No.”
“Couldn’t hurt to ask.” Top Hat looked to his brood and raised his voice. “From now on, these two are our guests. No one touches them. No one as much as stares at them. Got it?” Top Hat looked back at the grave and this time took his hat off, revealing a balding head. “I was serious. I liked her. Grue was an ass.” He spoke these three sentences like a eulogy, then replaced his hat and took a step back. “Stay on your side and we’ll stay on ours. Deal?”
“Deal.”
Top Hat turned to move away, then paused. “How’d you do it?”
“Do what?” Royce asked.
“Kill Exeter.”
“Never heard of him.”
Top Hat smiled, nodded, and walked away.
His horse shifted a step as Royce pulled the straps tight on the saddlebags and then buckled down the blanket over the top. Baron McMannis’s estate was only three days’ ride, but winter doubled their gear. Inns could not be counted on, and while the season was early, storms were plentiful. They had to pack for the worst, and that meant bringing everything. No matter how much forethought he put into it, he always felt he forgot something. The feeling usually proved true, with the discovery always made ten miles down the road.
Hadrian had already packed and his mare looked like a miner’s mule. He was across Wayward Street at the tavern helping the girls move the heavy stuff. Gwen had bought the certificate to Grue’s tavern and together they were rolling old casks out of the way while the girls swept and scrubbed. Dixon was well enough to leave the doctor’s place and had returned to the House. He sat out front wrapped in blankets, looking frustrated. The big man was thinner than Royce remembered from the previous year, but at least he was up and eating again.
Gwen stepped out of the dusty shadows of the tavern. Her dress was filthy and there were smudges on her face. With one hand leaning on her crutch and the other shielding her eyes, she peered back at the building. She, too, looked better. The bruises and cuts were fading, but the presence of the crutch made him wish he could kill Exeter twice.
“Shouldn’t you leave the work to the girls?” he asked.
“There’s so much to do.”
“You’re still healing.”
“Thanks to you, I’ll be fine.” She wiped her hands on her apron. “We all will.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He tried to keep a straight face but couldn’t resist a smile, not while she was staring. How she did that baffled him. He made a living out of lying. He was good at it, but not with her. He wanted to tell her everything-the way even a sane man who stood on the brink of a cliff might think about jumping. Knowing disaster would follow didn’t change the desire; something about the view begged it. For now, the view was enough.
Hadrian came out, unrolling sleeves. “By Mar, that place was a mess, but I think you can handle the rest without me. And Royce gets grumpy when I make him wait.”
“Thank you,” Gwen said. “I don’t suppose you’d let me pay you.”
Hadrian gave her a smirk; then his eyebrows rose. “You could tell me what you saw in my palm … well, maybe not all of what you saw. Maybe just something good.”
She glanced at Royce briefly and offered a weak smile, but there was a sadness that bothered him.
“What is it?” Hadrian asked. “Did you see my death?”
“No,” she replied.
Gwen paused briefly, then smiled to herself and said, “One day you’ll remember this moment. It will have faded to a mere wisp, a ghost of a long-forgotten past, but it will return to you. You’ll have white hair and feeling your years. You’ll be thinking about your life, about what you achieved and what you failed at and be troubled. You’ll be sharpening a blade and cut yourself. You’ll see the blood and it will remind you that I said this would happen. You’ll remember and you’ll smile, then you’ll frown, and finally in the silence of that little room, you’ll cry. You’ll cry because it will all make sense then. Your wife will find you crying and she’ll hold you and ask what happened. You’ll look at her and see she’s frightened. In all the years she’s known you, through all the troubles you faced together, she’s almost never seen you cry. You’ll shake your head and simply say, ‘Gwen.’ She’ll understand and the two of you will hold each other. You’ll both cry and the moment will pass. It will be a good moment. Whatever was troubling you will be washed away by those tears and remind you of many things, some that you’ll have forgotten about but shouldn’t have, and that day will be the better for it.”
Looking embarrassed, Hadrian turned to Royce and said, “Hear that, I’m going to have a wife.”
“You deserve one,” he replied, and was pleased to see Hadrian and Gwen each took his meaning differently. Words were rarely so accommodating.