Aidan stroked the beast’s side, and then tied off the reins, as much good as that would do. That his horse had figured out how to free himself was worrisome. Not that he feared Triumph running off…very far. He was a loyal beast. He would return. But this could prove fatal for them both if he wasn’t properly managed.
With a sigh, Aidan pulled his copper dagger from his saddlebag and sliced open a vine from an overhanging branch. He drank several mouthfuls of its juice, draining the plant entirely. He had several water bladders stored in Nothingness – two full, five empty – and he’d been planning on filling them from Tris’s well once the deal had been closed. Aidan shook his head. It would do no good now to dwell on it.
Aidan went upstream and splashed his face to cool himself. The water felt so good, though, that he threw caution aside. Without a glance about, he stripped down, cast his garments onto the bank, and waded into the shallow water. With a sigh he sunk under, cleansing himself of a week’s worth of grime.
The wood was silent when he emerged, save for the night calls of wild birds and the rushing of water. It would be dark soon. He’d best get started on a shelter. No fire tonight; he couldn’t risk it.
After climbing back into his trousers, he went in search of a hollow or some nature-made way of covering himself from the elements. Thunder rumbled in the distance. He knew he should have first made his shelter and then enjoyed the water. Still, he couldn’t blame himself for his absent-mindedness. The seer’s words still troubled him.
How had she known of his parents? Of Samuel? “My fault.” The words came out unbidden, a dark habit of his mouth. It was true, though. Still, Aidan couldn’t afford to dwell on that just now.
He shook off his darker thoughts and manually gathered sticks and branches, which he would prop up against the wind and rain that he knew were coming. He could Call objects to himself, saving physical energy for tomorrow. But his mind was exhausted and needed the break, and he wanted to keep up muscle tone, just in case brawn was ever needed.
After the better part of an hour, he had managed to make a decent shelter for himself and was about to start one for his horse. That’s when he felt two dozen human Pulls. Twenty-plus people – men or women – approached. They were a mile off yet, but they might very well pass him by. Aidan ran for his horse and swore. Triumph had freed himself and was nowhere to be found. A whistle would surely give his position away, so Aidan had no choice but to hide and pray his horse went undiscovered.
But he had left his shirt on the banks! Aidan Called it, panting hard as it flew into his hand. Now for the saddlebag…. That took more concentration because he wasn’t certain where his blasted horse had gotten to. He sat there, feeling for the Pull of the saddle, and had just laid his mind on it, when horse hooves clashed and clattered on his path.
Again he closed his eyes, feeling for the saddlebag. Got you, he thought as he Dismissed and then accidentally Summoned it. It landed with a thud next to him. It might as well have been a war cry, how loudly it landed.
The horses’ approach stopped. The men’s voices quieted.
Aidan felt them spreading out, surrounding him. He could Dismiss himself again…if he weren’t so exhausted. No, he would have to hide and wait this one out.
“There’s bandits in these here woods,” rasped an old man’s voice. “Oughtn’t we comb through the brush?”
That statement was followed by laughter. “Uncle, you a’feared?”
Someone spat. “Nah. Just careful, ’tis all. Say, what is this?”
Aidan froze. There was a familiar whinny, which was taken up by several other horses. Triumph. Trust the beast to reappear at the least convenient moment.
“His rider can’t have gone far.”
“Aye. Perhaps he’s wounded.”
“Nah, he looks all right,” said the old man’s voice.
“I meant the rider. We’d best spread out an’ look.” Their footsteps came nearer to Aidan’s shelter.
Aidan caught a glimpse of red and orange fabric through the gaps in the branches. Could these men belong to Lord Dewhurst?
“Can’t be far,” said a new voice, an old woman’s. “There be footprints all over the bank.”
Aidan cursed himself and his carelessness.
“Well, where do they lead, woman?”
Something was whispered and more footsteps drew nearer. Aidan felt the Pull of eight people, and….
“You’d better show yourself, sir.”
He thought of the copper knife stowed in his saddlebag. He had fought off more than five men in the past, but never when this weak from exhaustion. There was only one option left him: let things play out.
With a yawn, Aidan crawled out of his shelter, rose to his full height, and stretched. “May I help you?”
The ragged men before him were no soldiers. Bandits, perhaps. Hired spies, maybe. But Aidan doubted it.
The woman with them laughed. “Well, see, Jeb? One man and an unarmed one at that.”
A fat old man grunted. “It could’ve been worse, woman.”
“What is your business in this wood, sir?” said a man with a neat brown beard, his thinning hair pulled back in a tail.
“What is anyone’s business here?” Aidan asked him, assuming he was the one in charge.
They studied each other in tense silence, the others frozen, waiting for their leader’s verdict. “There was a spot of bother over at Prewitt manor. Apparently there was sightings of a wanted man on the estate.”
With effort, Aidan kept his expression neutral. “I’m sorry to hear it. I pray the family is safe.”
The head man scratched at his beard. “You know the master there, then?”
Aidan shook his head. “No, but I have had dealings with some of the staff. Good people, Mr. and Mrs. Collins.”
“They say Lord Dewhurst had a screaming fit, had to be carted off to a doctor.”
He blinked with false surprise. “Lord Dewhurst?”
“You never heard of Lord Dewhurst?”
“Yes, of course I have. What was wrong with him?”
“Well, he was after the wanted man.”
Aidan nodded. “I see.”
The others laughed, and the old man said, “No, you don’t. That wanted man supposedly vanished. Right into thin air.” He waved his hands around vaguely, his eyes wide with wonder. “Scared the livin’ daylights out of his lordship, serves the old rascal right.”
“And you’ve just come from there, from Prewitt manor?” Aidan felt for the Pulls of the men’s swords. All were copper or lead. He took in their wagon and suppressed a grimace. Romas. He could only hope that the so-called seer wasn’t among their number.
“You haven’t figured it out, then?” said the man in charge. “We’re no friend of his lordship.” He spat, and the others followed suit, even the woman. “So, what brings you into these godforsaken woods?”
Aidan frowned and let out a soft chuckle. “Godforsaken, you say?”
“We do say, sir, we do,” said the older gent. “There be bandits hereabouts. S’not right to be romping about on one’s own. Ain’t safe.”
The men grunted in agreement. The woman spat again before saying, “What isn’t to say he ain’t a bandit?”
Aidan folded his arms. “What’s to say you aren’t?”
That caused the men to laugh and relax. “He’s got a point there, Trudy,” said the man in charge. “I’m Isaac. Isaac Pensworth, at your service.” Isaac extended his hand, and he and Aidan gripped forearms.
“Aidan Powell at yours.” Powell was his mother’s maiden name, and by the look on the other man’s face, he knew that it wasn’t Aidan’s own.
Isaac cleared his throat and let his hand drop. “Well then, you can stop hiding in that brush there. We’ve an extra tent that might accommodate you during the storm…for a price, of course.” Hi
s eyes wandered to Aidan’s saddlebag, which sat just behind him. “Might want to keep a good grip on that, sir. The family has sticky fingers, each and every last one of us.”
The Romas were spreading out, assembling camp as the wind picked up. Thunder rumbled a few miles off after lightning streaked across the darkening sky.
“I only have eight pence to my name, sir.” He brushed a spider’s web from his bare shoulder, ignoring the scurrying of eight legs down his back.
“Please, it’s just Isaac – and five will do, milord.”
Aidan met his stare, all the while his heart thudding hard in his chest. They can’t know who I am…can they? he wondered. Surely they knew he was the criminal just escaped from Prewitt manor. But what else did they suspect?
Isaac laughed and motioned for Aidan to follow him. “Come, fetch your things, milord. Keep ’em close. Eight pence is enough to buy labor as well.”
“I can pull my own weight, but I thank you, Isaac.”
“I’m sure he can,” the woman named Trudy said, her eyes traveling over Aidan’s bare torso. “Not a very gentlemanly gentleman, is he, now?”
“My apologies, ma’am.” He retrieved his shirt and quickly dressed, ignoring the woman’s laughter.
* * *
When no one was looking, Aidan Dismissed his belongings, planning on Summoning what he needed later whilst the company of Romas slept. He’d known Romas before, and they were as Isaac said: sticky fingers, quite a few of them.
With everyone working, the tents were pitched in no time, and the horses were taken undercover as well. “Will these withstand the wind?” Aidan said above the roar.
Isaac looked heavenward and tested one of the ropes. “Aye, they’ll weather all right.” Lightning crackled against the gray clouds, and what had been a light sprinkling of droplets now became a heavy downpour. “Join us in the main tent when you’re able. Supper should be ready shortly.”
For a moment, he hesitated. The offer was as tempting as it was repulsive, though he would not admit either to the man. Aidan needed to be alone, to puzzle through the day’s events and then catch a few winks of sleep before he snuck out of camp. On the other hand, the last conversation he’d had before the one with Tristram had been two and a half weeks prior. After pausing too long, Aidan finally came out with, “I would not dream of troubling you.”
“For eight pence and a turn at keeping watch? That’ll put some food in your stomach.” He gave Aidan a sympathetic smile and ducked out of the tent.
His shoulders dropped and he shook his head. There would be a price, Aidan knew. There was always a price. Still, he hadn’t eaten since the previous day. Whatever the Romas demanded, he could probably afford. He hoped he could afford.
He Summoned his saddlebag, pulled out eight pence, stuck them in his money purse, then Dismissed the saddlebag again. He tucked in his shirt, smoothed back his hair, and joined the Romas in the main tent.
There was no making a fire that night, what with the rain falling and the winds gusting. The group of vagabonds dined on tinned meats and dried fruit, which they shared freely with their guest. “Some wine, milord?”
“Lord?” the old man laughed. “I doubt it.”
“Now, Uncle,” said Trudy, filling a tankard and passing it to Aidan, “Isaac’s just usin’ his manners, ain’t he?” She shot Isaac a look.
“Oh, aye,” said Isaac after dragging a long draft from his stein.
“So, where’re ye from, Mr. Aidan Powell?” said a young woman he had mistaken for a boy earlier.
Aidan swallowed a small mouthful of the cherry wine and shook his head. “Just Aidan, if you please.” He set the glass aside, though kept his hand over the opening, should he care to take another sip.
The young woman leered at him for a moment, then her eyes fell down to her plate. “Is you from these parts?”
“Now, Pol, keep yourn mouth shut. Our guest don’ have to answer no questions.” Trudy winked at Aidan, then nodded at Isaac.
“Don’t he?” asked another man. “We could be takin’ a murderer into our company.”
Pol hissed, Trudy tutted, and Isaac wouldn’t meet anyone’s eye.
Silence fell over them like a blanket. Am I a murderer? Aidan wondered for the millionth time. I surely hope not. Aloud he said, “No, he is right to be wary. Any man should be wary of a stranger.”
“But you ever kill a person?” asked the gruff old man.
Aidan took another sip of the wine, feeling all the eyes on him. He wiped his mouth clean with the back of his hand and set down his glass, this time for good. “Not that I’m aware of.”
That eased the tension a little. A few even laughed.
“As it is,” said Aidan, “you’ll be rid of me tomorrow.”
“Don’t be too sure of that,” said Isaac. “You’re low on supplies, and this storm could go on for days. No, you’d better plan on spending more than tonight in our company.”
And plan on spending more than eight pence. Rather than making a fuss, Aidan simply nodded.
The old man belched and stretched. “Who be on for the first watch?”
All looked to Isaac, who gave a dramatic sigh. “Very well. We’ll draw for it.” He reached into his inner vest and pulled out a handful of twigs. “The short straw gets the pick of the watches.” Isaac rose and went to each man, having them pick one of the twigs from his fist. “The longest gets the second pick.”
“Any paying a man to take my watch?” asked one of the men.
“That isn’t fair, an’ you know it,” Trudy spat. “You’re the keeper of everyone’s wages, you indecent—”
“Now, Trudy.” Isaac held up a callused hand. “No need to get after the old man for trying.”
Aidan took his twig from Isaac and fisted it. His whole body seemed to relax into the cushion he sat on. No, he would not be awake for long. He would allow himself to sleep lightly, and Dismiss all of his belongings. Then, he hoped, he would be left alone.
As it turned out, Aidan had drawn the middle straw and was at the mercy of the rest of the men. His watch was set for the very middle of the night, the slot nobody wanted.
“Sorry about that,” said the man named Algie, an owlish youth with a beaklike nose and large tawny eyes that were set too close together. “Rules are rules.”
“Speaking of rules,” said Isaac, “I think it’s fair to set a few of them, regarding our guest.” He cleared his throat and looked each man and woman in the eye. “There will be no disturbing, robbing, or murdering of our guest while he sleeps. Ain’t polite.”
The men grunted in agreement. “Aye, sir.”
Aidan nodded his appreciation, his jaw tensing. “That is quite good of you.”
Isaac shrugged. “We’re a decent lot.” He looked at Algie, a warning. “For the most part. As for our guest – there will be no disturbing, robbing, murdering of us in our sleep, for we’re a close-knit group, and there will be retaliation.”
Aidan quirked a half-smile. “Understood.”
“A deal, then?” Isaac spat in his hand, which he extended to Aidan.
Aidan spat into his own, and they shook on it.
* * *
Back in his tent, Aidan began to feel the effects of the alcohol. He hadn’t consumed much, only half a glass. But perhaps that had been unwise.
He dropped where he stood, the candle in his hand hissing, fizzing, and then extinguishing on the damp earth next to him. The world was topsy-turvy, and he scarce could think straight as he crawled away from the entrance of his tent, the wind whipping at the flaps.
The Romas had given him a blanket, but Aidan couldn’t muster the strength to find it. “How am I to keep watch in this condition?” he wondered, his whole body shaking with cold. “I haven’t been this drunk since I was five and twenty.” Seven years. He hadn’t even touched a drink since then.
Alcohol did strange things to men, he’d observed, made them put their guard down.
“You think he’s out?” said a voice in the entryway, one that sounded like Trudy’s.
“Do it matter?” answered another, the girl’s. “He ain’t armed.”
“But he’s strong, no doubt.”
“Aye, and handsome,” the girl giggled, fingers feathering Aidan’s hair.
“Shh. Keep your voice low. Isaac already suspects us.”
Aidan tried moving, but it was as if his whole body had been weighted down with iron. I’ve been drugged, he thought, cursing his own stupidity.
“Where do you think he hid his money?” the girl asked with a sigh. She stopped stroking his hair, and her Pull told him she had begun prowling around the tent. “Can’t we light a candle?”
“Nay, fool girl. We’ll draw the others to us.” Trudy cursed. “Is he lying on it?”
“Only one way to find out.” They rolled Aidan over onto his back, and he flailed like a dropped ragdoll. “Nothing. You don’t think he buried it?”
“If he did, it’ll be buried nearby. Do you think he can hear us?”
“Nah. He should be dead, the dose I gave him. Can’t imagine how he managed to survive, less he be Blest.”
“How could you, Trudy?”
Someone snorted. “What? Poison him? I don’t see why not. He ain’t done nothing for us.”
“True, but I might have liked him.” The girl sniffed. “But do you really think he might be Blest?”
“Must be.”
Aidan could do nothing but listen to the two chat and prowl around the tent, searching for his money. At his watch, if he lived to see it, he would take his horse and ride as far from these cursed Romas as he could.
“Did you hear that?” asked the girl. “Is he getting up?”
“Nah. You’re too easily spooked.”
Someone’s skirt brushed Aidan’s side. “Well, this was fruitless.”
“Aye.”
“What should we tell Algie?”
“That he can do his own dirty work next time, that’s what. C’mon, girl. We’ll be missed.” And with that, the two left.
The Goblets Immortal Page 2