by Brandon Mull
“What are you, a smuggler?” Cole asked.
“I’ve traveled,” Twitch said.
“Or you could sew some secret pockets,” Jace mentioned.
“You sew?” Cole asked.
Jace shrugged.
Cole untied his cord and started rearranging his ringers. He noticed an autocoach similar to theirs pass them heading the opposite direction.
“There’s the lodge, up on the left,” Mira said.
“Correct,” Bertram affirmed. “I’m afraid I’ll have to wait in the autocoach.”
“Wait,” Jace said. “I see something I need. I’ll catch up.” Before anyone could respond, he opened the door and jumped down from the moving coach.
“Want me to follow him?” Twitch asked.
“We have to trust one another,” Mira said. “He’s a big boy. He’ll stay out of trouble.”
“It’s his first real day of freedom with his pockets full of money,” Twitch reminded her.
Mira couldn’t quite hide a look of panic. “He has to get used to the idea at some point.”
The autocoach halted smoothly. “We have arrived,” Bertram said. “I’ll wait nearby.”
“Thanks,” Mira said, climbing out of the coach. Cole and Twitch followed.
Cole noticed people glancing at them. Down the street he saw another autocoach, so they couldn’t be too rare. Maybe the people weren’t used to strangers. Or maybe it was because of their ages.
Spinner’s Lodge contained a long, rectangular room full of plain wooden tables, all of them empty. A stone hearth on one end housed a large black kettle. Heavy beams spanned the space overhead. A hallway led farther back into the building, and a kitchen could be seen beyond the stone counter.
A bald man limped toward them as they entered. His crooked nose had probably been broken more than once. “What do you want?” he accused.
“Food,” Mira said. “Did we come to the wrong place?”
“Can you pay?” the man questioned.
“We have plenty,” Mira said.
“You don’t mind showing me?” the man asked.
Sighing, Mira pulled her necklace out of her shirt so he could see the copper rings. He gave a nod. “I don’t know your faces.”
“We’re traveling with our uncle,” Mira said.
“These boys don’t speak?” the man asked.
“Not before lunch,” Cole said.
“Pick a table,” the man said. “You’re early for lunch, late for breakfast. Must be nice to have no responsibilities. What do you want?”
“What’s cooking?” Mira asked.
“Egg soup, skewers of chicken, bread, potatoes, bacon, pork chops, and some porridge from this morning. Cook’s specialty is sugarbread. He has frosted and apricot today.”
“How’s the egg soup?” Mira asked.
“Exactly like it sounds,” the man huffed.
Cole noticed the bondmark on his wrist. The man certainly wasn’t trying to make friends. Maybe he felt like kids were the only people he could treat rudely.
“Some of the soup for me,” Mira said.
“Me too,” Twitch chimed in. “And chicken skewers.”
“I’ll have the skewers and bacon,” Cole said.
“How am I supposed to skewer bacon?” the man replied.
“The chicken skewers,” Cole said slowly. “And bacon.”
The man started walking away. “Will, you filthy weakling, get water to these customers.”
A thin boy a couple of years younger than Cole hurried over to the table with a platter of cups and a wooden pitcher. He had a bondmark as well. He filled three cups, distributed them, then scuttled back to the kitchen.
“Is everyone this rude here?” Cole asked.
“Depends on the town,” Twitch said. “Depends on the establishment. Depends who you are. Doesn’t help when you’re young.”
“Where I come from, people treat customers nicely,” Cole said. “They want your business.”
“It can be like that here, too,” Mira said. “We’re in a remote town. Not many options.”
Jace walked into the room wearing a felt top hat, gray with a black band. It wasn’t very tall, but it had a brim all the way around.
Mira buried her face in her hands.
Jace came over to the table, grinning wide. “Saw it in the window.”
“It’s . . . something,” Cole said.
“Isn’t it?” Jace said. “I mean, what’s such an amazing hat doing in a place like this?”
“How much?” Mira asked.
“Two silver,” Jace said.
Mira reddened, her lips pressed together.
“I’ve never bought anything before,” Jace whispered proudly to Cole. “What’s for lunch?”
“They have chicken, pork, and egg soup,” Twitch listed. “And sugarbread.”
“Sugarbread?” Jace asked, perking up. “Any flavors?”
“Apricot and frosted.”
“I know what I’m getting,” Jace said.
The young slave called Will returned with two bowls on a platter. He placed one in front of Mira, the other in front of Twitch.
“You blundering good-for-nothing!” the bald slave yelled, exiting from the kitchen. He hobbled up to Will and cuffed him on the ear. “I gave you bread! Where’s the bread?”
Will looked scared. “I must have set it down in the kitchen.”
The bald slave cuffed him again. “Don’t write me a speech. Fetch it!”
Will scurried off.
Hands on his hips, the bald slave turned to face the table. “You’ve picked up a tagalong. Quite the gentleman, it appears.” The sarcasm was apparent.
Jace looked at him hard. “Ever buy a hat, bald man?”
The man squared up and stared at him flatly. “If I ever bought a hat, I’d have an outfit to match it.”
“Then you’d buy a rag,” Jace replied without humor. “But it wouldn’t hide that nose or your mark. Who taught you to talk back to your betters?”
The man glared, fuming. “You better watch yourself—”
“I better watch myself?” Jace laughed, standing up. “You’re a slave, you dimwit! You keep opening your mouth with no idea who you’re talking to!”
Cole tried to signal Jace to mellow out, but there was no reaching him. He had his game face on.
Jace took off his hat, turned it upside down, and dumped Twitch’s soup into it. “I bought this as a joke.” He walked up to the slave and, reaching up to the taller man, put it on his bald head. Oily soup cascaded down the man’s neck and shoulders. “It’s yours now.”
Veins stood out in the man’s neck. His fists were tensed, his gaze lethal.
“Are you giving me the eye?” Jace growled. “You’ve forgotten yourself, lowlife! Please hit me. I’d love to watch you swinging by the neck, that goofy hat on your ugly head.”
The slave backed away, his expression less certain. Jace stepped forward and snatched his hat back. “You should be on your knees, begging forgiveness. I’ve had enough. Fetch your owner! We’re going to have words.”
The bald man hesitated, as if about to reply.
“How stupid are you?” Jace yelled. “You’ve wrecked our meal! Move!”
The bald man hurried away. Cole avoided eye contact with Jace. The bald slave had been a jerk, but Jace had laid into him too much. Cole’s only relief was to have Jace’s temper directed at a target besides himself.
A moment later a short man came out from the back. “What’s the trouble?”
“Do you own Baldy?” Jace asked.
“I own him and this lodge,” the man said.
“Your slave kept mouthing off,” Jace said. “It was unacceptable.”
The short man wrung his hands. “Gordon doesn’t always . . . That’s just his way.”
“He shouldn’t deal with people,” Jace said.
“Maybe not.” The man sighed. “I’ll reprimand him.”
“Okay,” Jace said, straightening h
is shirt self-consciously.
“Let me make it up to you,” the man said. “How about some frosted sugarbread? Just made it this morning.”
“That’s actually what I was going to order,” Jace said, returning to his seat. “I’d like that.”
“Four slices, on the house,” the man said. “Sorry for any trouble. Would you like me to wait on you personally?”
“The other slave is fine,” Jace said. “Will. And my friend needs more soup. Baldy made off with his portion.”
“Of course,” the owner said. “I’ll see to it.” He retreated to the kitchen.
“You have a way with people,” Cole said.
Twitch coughed, perhaps covering a laugh.
“What?” Jace asked innocently. “I know how slaves are supposed to act. I went easy on him!” He lowered his voice. “If I had ever treated a free man that way, I would have gotten ten lashes!”
“Did you have to dump the soup?” Cole asked.
“I sure did,” Jace said, looking regretfully at his hat. “You saw how he treated that kid. I know his type. Rotten to the core. I’ve worked under guys like him. A bad slave can be worse than a bad owner. He had it coming.”
“You ruined your hat,” Mira said.
“Maybe I can clean it,” Jace said. He lowered his voice again. “It’s the first thing I ever bought. Slaves take what we’re given. We can’t purchase anything. The hat was perfect. Something nobody would have given me. Made me sad to ruin it.”
Will emerged from the kitchen. He gave everyone a small loaf of dark bread and a slice of sugarbread, then placed a new bowl of soup in front of Twitch. Cole thought the sugar-bread looked kind of like a cinnamon roll.
“Thanks, Will,” Jace said. “Have you ever tried sugarbread?”
Will smiled and gave a nervous chuckle. “No, sir. It’s expensive. It’s not for the help.”
“There was a time when I’d never tried sugarbread,” Jace said. “I thought it looked really good. But my . . . mother wouldn’t let me try any.” He took a bite, briefly closing his eyes as he chewed it. “It’s delicious. I want you to have half of mine.”
Will glanced toward the kitchen. “I couldn’t.”
“You have to,” Jace said, tearing his piece of sugarbread in half and holding out the larger piece. “Otherwise I’ll complain. It’s an order. Cram it in.”
After another glance back at the kitchen, Will took a bite. His eyes lit up. “I’d always wondered how it tasted,” he said.
“Good, right?” Jace asked, munching his own piece.
“Amazing,” Will said, gleefully taking more bites. “I almost pinched some once. It just smelled so good. Tastes even better. Thanks.” He stuffed the rest into his mouth, rubbed his lips, then wiped his hands on his apron.
“Well done,” Jace approved. “You’d better get back to the kitchen.”
“Thanks so much,” Will said before hurrying away.
“Is that your first sugarbread?” Mira whispered.
“You guessed it,” Jace said, finishing his piece. “Freedom is delicious.”
Will returned with a bunch of skewered chicken and a plate of bacon. He placed chicken in front of Cole, Twitch, and Jace. “I told Mr. Dunford we should give you some chicken,” Will confided to Jace.
“You’re the best,” Jace said.
“Will,” Mira said. “My cousin has a rash. We’ve heard of a woman in town who is good with herbs.”
“The herb woman?” Will asked. “Sure, she lives in a cottage on the far side of the bridge. Folks say she’s the best.”
“Thanks, Will,” Mira said. “We’ll probably pay her a visit.”
CHAPTER
30
HERBS
Cole felt relieved as he climbed back into the autocoach. He had worried that more drama might arise from the humiliated slave, but at the end of the meal, Mira settled up with Mr. Dunford, and the owner offered a final apology as they walked out.
“After going over the bridge, turn left down the first lane we reach,” Mira said to Bertram, repeating directions Will had shared. “We’re looking for a cottage with a walled garden.”
The autocoach rolled forward.
Mira turned to Jace. “If you want to keep traveling with me, you have to fix your attitude.”
“Me?” Jace exclaimed. “That guy was a jerk!”
“You started unnecessary trouble,” Mira said. “We’re lucky the owner sided with us. Mistreating another man’s slave can be taken as a personal insult. Mr. Dunford didn’t know who was outside in the autocoach. He didn’t want to risk crossing somebody important. Otherwise things might have gone the other way.”
“The slave was way out of line,” Jace maintained.
“He made some rude comments,” Mira said. “Have some empathy. The man probably hates his job. He wasn’t excited to wait on four spoiled kids on holiday.”
“Don’t forget, I was a slave,” Jace said. “I know how it works. They don’t get to treat us like that. Ever. And it wasn’t just us. You saw him abusing Will.”
“I get that you had reasons,” Mira said. “But just because you can punish somebody doesn’t always mean you should. Have some restraint. Show some class.”
Jace scowled. “What’s classy about letting people trample all over you? Letting them act like bullies? You guys are lucky to have somebody along with a backbone!”
“You have courage,” Mira said. “I question your judgment. We don’t want to lose the war because of needless battles. Show some patience. Don’t stir things up out of vanity. Use your experience as a slave to make you more lenient, not harsher.”
Jace exhaled angrily. “I can’t believe a princess is lecturing me on what I should learn from being a slave.”
“I was marked as a slave long before you were born,” Mira said. “It’s been my cover for more than sixty years.”
“Exactly,” Jace said. “Your cover. You knew it was an act. You had people looking out for you. I get it was hard. It wasn’t palaces and parties. But don’t tell me what I should learn from my life. You don’t survive by acting weak. That makes you a victim.”
The confrontation was making Cole uneasy. It felt like he was eavesdropping. He certainly wanted to stay out of it. Twitch seemed equally uncomfortable. Trying to appear disinterested, Cole watched out the window as the auto-coach crossed a wide channel on a sturdy stone bridge.
“What if it went the other way in there?” Mira asked.
“I had my rope,” Jace said.
“So we solve the problem with violence,” Mira said. “If you used the rope to beat them up, how fast would the story spread? Not a very big town. My guess is minutes. How soon before the legion hears about a kid using a golden rope to trash an inn? How soon before hundreds of horsemen get a second chance to corner us? And why? Because you couldn’t handle some miserable slave making fun of your hat.”
Jace folded his arms across his chest and glared at her crossly. He almost said something once, twice, then kept his mouth shut.
“Yes?” Mira asked.
“You might have a point,” he allowed grumpily.
“I’ve been hiding for decades,” Mira said. “That doesn’t work if you attract attention. You had your reasons for how you acted. You’re right that the guy kind of had it coming. I’m asking you to be smarter than that.”
“You want me to let people treat us like dirt?” Jace spat.
“Don’t let others control you,” Mira said. “Don’t let them prod you into making stupid moves. Let them have the meaningless victories. Let that stuff go. Think bigger. Play to win.”
“Never stick my neck out,” Jace said as if making a mental note. “Fine, we’ll see how that goes.”
Mira shook her head. “Don’t deliberately misunderstand. When it matters, go all in, fight to the finish. Just not when it doesn’t matter and could mess up what you want most.”
“What if I most want my self-respect?” Jace shot back. “What if that’s
the most precious thing I have? What if, without that, I wouldn’t be a guy who could stick his neck out when it mattered?”
“How others treat you doesn’t have to hurt your self-respect,” Mira said. “Forgiving some poor guy who didn’t know who he was messing with doesn’t have to hurt your self-respect. Neither does being smart. Neither does playing to win.”
Jace chuckled cynically. “You were definitely born to rule. You know everything I should do. You even know how I should feel. You don’t want friends, Mira, you want semblances. Guess what? I’m not a puppet. And I’m not stupid. Maybe I thought sticking it to Baldy would make us look like we really were rich kids on holiday. Maybe that’s why the owner treated us so well. Maybe the rest of you looked like imposters because you let some mouthy slave act like your superior.”
Mira hesitated, finally shrugging. “Maybe. It felt unnecessary to me.”
“Fine,” Jace said. “I get it. I’ll try to pick the right battles. But I also need to follow my instincts. I’m good at surviving too, Mira. Without any help.”
“That’s fair,” Mira said. “But I’ll part ways with you if I feel you’re endangering me. Not out of meanness. Out of self-preservation. I don’t want to control you, Jace. But I have every right to control my own fate.”
Having crossed the waterway, the autocoach took the next left. They seemed to be heading out of town. The lane wasn’t paved, and homes were becoming infrequent.
“I see a wall up ahead,” Cole said, hoping to change the subject.
“Good work, Cole,” Jace muttered. “If I’m gone, at least you’ll have an expert wall spotter.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Cole asked.
“It means, what’s your opinion?” Jace said. “It’s easy to let Mira do all the talking. Should I have left Baldy alone? Did I make a mistake? You didn’t back me up at the lodge. You just sat there looking awkward. I know what Twitch was thinking. He was figuring out which window would offer the quickest escape. That’s what he does. Maybe it’s a bug thing. But what about you?”
“I thought you crossed the line,” Cole said. “Pouring the soup on him was too much. It could have started a real fight.”