He could feel Pulls near the woman, but none of them were familiar. It would be prudent, he decided, to wait for her on the outside of the alley, pretending to look over fruits with Slaíne, who he planned to keep oblivious to his plan. “Fancy a look at peaches?”
“They ain’t in season,” Slaíne reminded him.
“Right. Strawberries?”
She nodded and they approached the man selling them from the back of a cart. He sold them by four-quart baskets. It would seem, no matter how Slaíne haggled for only three handfuls, then six, then nine, that the salesman would not budge.
Aidan kept the girl and the man talking, pretending to eye some overripe fruit, all the while keeping a sense of where the seer was. She was moving out from the alley, and she carried a lesser Pull with her. So, his ruse had been for naught; the lady merely had acquired some purchases.
When he felt her emerge from the alley fully, Aidan interrupted the haggling.
“We’ll take two baskets.”
Slaíne looked at him, surprised. She seemed ready to argue, to cite the fact that it would be imprudent to buy so much fruit when it was only the both of them. But she held her tongue.
Even the salesman seemed surprised that an out-of-towner would purchase that much, but he didn’t say anything either. Money exchanged hands. Aidan lifted the baskets from the wagon, examined them, put one back for finding a moldy berry toward the bottom, then picked out a more suitable one, and they were on their way.
Aidan smiled sideways at Slaíne, knowing she was curious as to what he could mean by this.
“Are you gonna…. You know, tuck them in that place where things go when you…you know?”
Aidan laughed. “Nothingness? No, these berries aren’t for us. They’re a peace offering.”
“Oh.” She said nothing more, but Aidan knew she had not been the least enlightened. It was at this moment, when he heard his first name being called, that he allowed himself to turn and acknowledge the seer. She’d been following several paces behind. Her hands, to his surprise, were empty. But there was a weight there, a minute difference from the weight on her person before: an unfamiliar Pull. The woman was concealing something similar to what she’d had on her person before. But what?
“We are returning to the inn for the time being, Larkin. I am glad to see you are on your feet again.”
“’Twas the strangest thing,” the woman said, joining them. “I had this rather sudden headache, and then it was gone.”
Aidan knew that she knew he was skeptical of her. Better to show some of it than to make her think that he suddenly trusted her, which would raise her own suspicions. Difficult game, this, he thought. He allowed himself to frown. “A headache?”
“Milord, you would do well to trust someone in this world.” Good. She had perhaps taken some of the bait.
“Trust,” he replied, “is not something to be doled out like a common good.”
Larkin snorted. “True. But if you keep it all to yourself whilst you live, why, that isn’t living so much as existing.”
That chaffed at Aidan, and he opened his mouth to form a sharp retort. Slaíne, however, seemed to scent trouble in the wind, and cut him off.
“You want help carrying them strawberries, sir?”
He hid a smirk to the side. “No, but I thank you, Slaíne, for the offer. I would be no gentleman if I allowed you to carry them.”
“I ain’t no lady, so there’s no worryin’ there.” She laughed, but he would not.
The seer cleared her throat. “You think too meanly of yourself, miss. You fail to take in account your family tree. I wonder….”
That dampened the mood. Aidan could feel spirits sink almost as surely as he could feel Slaíne’s Pull tug at him as he got a little too far ahead. Uncomfortable, he stopped and waited for her to catch up.
“What you know of my family? They’re dead.”
They were in sight of the inn now, and a few men shot Aidan dark looks before slithering away to drink in alleys, or worse. He paid them little mind, leading the ladies, to their obvious surprise, to the servants’ entrance at the back of the establishment. They were greeted there by a merry woman with a great ruddy complexion.
“Are you the fine cook whose wares I’ve had the honor of enjoying?” Aidan asked, setting the baskets at his feet.
The woman batted her lashes. “Oh, stop it. You’re makin’ me blush, good sir.”
Aidan grinned. “I hope this is not too forward, but I saw these delicious strawberries and thought you might have use for them.”
The blush deepened. “For the inn? What are you chargin’?”
His smile deepened, and he ignored the incredulous stares the women behind him were surely directing at him. “It’s a gift. One for you, one for your good lady. A Mrs. Bostworth, I believe?”
Cook let out a hearty laugh. “You know the way straight to a fat woman’s heart: food. Mrs. Bostworth will be right pleased to see these.” She leaned in, her flesh stinking of onions and spice. “Don’t tell her me said so, but she’d be eyeing the lot of berries since they was wheeled into town.”
“I give you my pledge that I shall say not a word of it. Shall I just carry these in for you?” He hoisted the baskets and was prepared to be led into the kitchen, but the cook stopped him in his tracks.
“Nay, Mr. Powell. Ain’t proper and you know it.” She laughed and took the baskets from him. “I’ll send your compliments to the missus.”
“Very good of you, ma’am.” The deed done, he bowed, Slaíne and the cook curtsied, and they went on their way.
“What was that about?” Slaíne asked, her expression significantly smoothed over since the distressing words from the seer.
“Genius or stupidity,” Larkin said with a laugh.
“Sir, you coulda kept them berries in – well, in that place.” She’d lowered her voice and gestured around vaguely.
He raised his eyebrows. “Sometimes, Slaíne, allies are more valuable than produce.”
They walked on together in silence, re-entering the inn and inquiring after second breakfast, as the seer had a hankering for something more. The kitchen was busy preparing the evening meal and tea, and didn’t serve anything hot for the noontide meal, but they were more than welcome to cuts of cold pork and cheese and some fruit. The three agreed to this easily and retired again to the back drawing room, which turned out to be occupied by five men playing whist.
Upon seeing Aidan, two of them looked away, but one outright called Aidan a coward. Aidan shrugged, letting the words roll off him. And he would have been more than happy to ask for the food to be taken to their rooms, as his shoulder had begun prickling again, but Slaíne made a move for the offending man.
“Take that back, you tub o’ lard.”
“Oi, whatchoo callin’ me that for, you vampire?” His companions nickered with laughter at this.
“Slaíne,” Aidan warned, taking the girl by the arm. To his surprise, she shrugged him off. “This isn’t worth it.”
“Yes, Slawn, it ain’t worth it,” said the “tub o’ lard.”
“Look ’ere, you toothless ear snout, you bludgeting, blue-faced nit.”
The man rose and got back in Slaíne’s face, his own growing redder than a plum. “You control your missus, man. Worthless slut.”
Before Aidan knew what he was doing, he’d released Slaíne and had taken a fistful of the man’s shirt front. “Would you like to say that again?”
The seer tutted. “Men and their quarrels. Worse than old women. Makes one think they’ve nothing better to do.”
“Tell your mother to be quiet,” said the dealer in the game. None of the men had risen in defense of their friend, but continued to play their game.
The man Aidan had by the collar was squirming like a worm on a hook. “Gerroff! Gerroff. I meant no harm.”
Aidan felt a hand on his arm, and he knew from its Pull that it belonged to Slaíne. Without hesitation, he released the man, who crumpled to the floor, wheezing. “Go back to your game, which I see that you are losing quite successfully at.” What was wrong with him? How quickly he had been provoked, and at such a small word. Yet as he thought of what they’d called Slaíne, his blood rose to a boil again, and he was forced to brush past the women, ignoring their comments on the ordeal as he thundered up the stairs.
It had been foolish of him to engage in any type of violence. The last thing he needed was the law’s attention, especially considering he was wanted in these parts as much as in Breckstone. He’d best steer clear of trouble from here on out. He breathed deeply. Somewhat calmed by his quick jog up the stairs, he pulled out his key and entered his room. He was surprised to find the maid in there. “Miss?” he asked as Slaíne and Larkin came up behind him.
“Wha’s she doin’ in here?” Slaíne wondered, none too quietly.
“Cleaning, ma’am,” the starch-stiff woman said. Her back was ramrod straight, but her expression had gone from bewildered to belligerent. “’Tis my rightful duty, ’tis.”
Aidan felt a headache coming on. “Yes, of course.”
“You sure travel light.”
Aidan raised his eyebrows. “Miss?”
“There ain’t nothing in ’ere.” Her tone implied that she did not trust people who carried little with them.
Slaíne stepped around Aidan. “A fire burned our house to the ground. What we wear is all we have left.”
Larkin sighed. “Does it really matter? It isn’t no job of a serving girl to be asking such pointed questions. Now, off with you. Shoo!”
Aidan and Slaíne stepped to opposite sides, and the maid hurried out of the room with a great huff.
“Nosy beast.” The seer shook her head.
“You didn’t know she was in there?”
Larkin scowled at him. “I can’t foresee everything. You didn’t sense her in there?”
Aidan folded his arms. “Her Pull wasn’t particularly strong, so no.” He wasn’t about to say that he couldn’t feel it because Slaíne’s was tugging at him so hard, he half wondered if she had some control over it and was annoying him on purpose.
The woman stepped inside and looked around the room. “Nothing seems to be missing.”
“’Course something’s missing. Maids are like that.”
That amused Aidan. “You ever steal anything, Slaíne?”
She glared at him. “Never was a servant, sir. Just a slave.”
“Are we going to discuss what happened downstairs, or are we going to gloss over the fact that His Lordship nearly took down a man a head shorter than he?”
“Oh, enough,” Slaíne said.
The seer tutted and perched on the window seat as Slaíne took the chair near the door. “Milord, we can’t have you going after every man who questions the girl’s honor.”
Aidan rolled his eyes. “Noted. Now, can we discuss what actually matters?” The woman stared at him blankly. Slaíne did not look at him at all, but picked at her sleeve. “Tomorrow I have decided that we are to leave this town. I never like to stay in a place for too long.”
“The law might find you.”
He nodded once. “Or worse. Now, you say that Dewhurst keeps the map in his mansion?”
The seer regarded him for a moment before speaking. “Yes. The old lard tub keeps it in a locked drawer in his study. Should be easy enough to get to…once we’ve managed to house-break, that is.”
Slaíne groaned. “They’ll hang us for that.”
“Not if we don’t get caught.”
“And you have a way of ensuring that?” Aidan looked the woman squarely in the eye, as if he might be able to draw the truth from their depths, or at least discern it.
Larkin stared right back at him. “After tonight, I will tell you the plan.”
Aidan forgot himself and swore.
“Now, milord, you take certain things for granted, such as the fact that I don’t quite trust you. What’s to stop you from taking my plan and fleeing tonight under cover of darkness?”
He looked heavenward. “And tomorrow you’ll share this plan of yours?”
“I will tell you then, and not a moment sooner.”
He did not desire her plan, inasmuch as he desired to test the mettle of her words. For all he knew, she would lead him straight into another trap, and he hoped to be the one to turn the tables on her once he’d figured out how she meant to do it.
Shortly after, a different maid brought up a sampling of meats and cheeses for their requested midday meal. She set it on the side table, gave Aidan a funny look, and left as quickly as she had come.
Though far from hungry, Aidan figured he would need his strength, should he find himself forced to fight wraiths. Not that he planned on facing them. He had enough on his mind, and fighting spirits was the last thing he wished to do.
Slaíne was the first to reach for the food on the tray. “Right. So, what if the wraiths return tonight?”
“We’ll do as we did the night previous,” Aidan said, trying to keep his voice even. When Slaíne began to protest, he held up a hand and interrupted her. “We can’t join every adventure that comes our way. We’ve more important things to think about and prepare for than some local conflict.”
With a disgusted grunt, Larkin joined Slaíne and scooped up a handful of dates. Aidan knew full well what she thought of the idea, but he would not yield. Unless forced, he could not afford to. Fortunately, the seer did not voice her thoughts, and they were able to enjoy their meal in peace.
* * *
Later, when he was assured that Larkin and Slaíne were occupied in the seer’s room, Aidan sat down and composed a short letter. It was a risk that it should even find the right party, but he addressed the brief and cryptic missive, sealed it, and handed it over to a maid to be posted.
The serving girl eyed him askance but did as he asked, a ten-pound note tucked in her fist. “Anything else, sir?”
Aidan produced an even larger note and passed it to her. When the recipient’s eyebrows shot heavenward, he gave her a serious look and said, “For your secrecy.”
* * *
That evening, Aidan shut and bolted his door and prepared to settle down by the fire. He had just thrown the blanket over his legs, when he heard the eerie shrieks in the distance.
“It’s starting,” Slaíne said from her position at the window.
Aidan didn’t respond, determined not to engage. But he could feel her gaze burning into the back of his head. With a shiver, he pulled the blanket farther up his neck.
“Sir, please. I know you’re not afraid….” She stomped across the creaking floorboards as calls were taken up and down the hall outside. “What makes you stay inside?”
Aidan glowered at the small blaze before him. “What makes you say that I’m not afraid?”
“Because you’re not a coward,” she said simply.
That made Aidan laugh. He rolled over and looked at her waifish figure standing over him, hands on her bony hips. “Being afraid has nothing to do with cowardice, and sometimes it is our inaction that shows just how brave we are.”
“Nonsense. You heard what everyone’s calling you.”
Aidan gave her a stern look. “Put no credence in others’ words.” He sat up a little and propped his head up with his hand. “Besides, what does it matter to you if I am a coward?” Aidan had meant the words playfully, but they were not taken that way.
There was a glint in Slaíne’s eyes, and if he didn’t know any better, he’d say she was on the verge of tears. When she spoke, however, the girl’s voice was steady, if not pleased. “I know you think the Goblets are more important.”
“I do. We’d be wasting ourselves on a caus
e that has nothing to do with us.” Before she could interrupt, he continued in a rush. “Think about it, Slaíne. If any of the Goblets fall into Lord Dewhurst’s hands, or any wrong hands, for that matter, so much harm could be done. I, at least, don’t even know the full extent of what could happen.”
Slaíne was silent for a moment, the look on her face pensive. But soon she shook her head and replied, “Let’s stop pretending this is about the Goblets, eh?”
Aidan shifted his position, sitting up entirely. “If that’s not it, then what is it?”
“It’s you and your conscience.”
That brought Aidan up short. “What do you mean?” he said with an impatient sigh.
Footsteps thundered down the hall. Several someones banged on their door as they passed, and the wraiths continued to shriek in the near distance.
Slaíne did not speak at first. It was as if she were weighing her words with some care before committing them to the charged air. When she answered him, she spoke forcefully. “You blame yourself for everything. Maybe you’s not afraid of conflict, but you’s afraid of failing us.” Her face colored crimson up to her fiery hairline, but she jutted her jaw out at him, as if daring him to say she was wrong.
She was not. At least, not entirely wrong with her bold presumptions.
Aidan sighed heavily. “Slaíne, what would you have me say to that, hmm?”
The girl shrugged and seemed to deflate. Perhaps she wouldn’t pursue this any further than it should go. She opened her mouth and dispelled him of that hope. “What happened to your family?”
Aidan stiffened. “Don’t.”
Drawing her arms around herself, Slaíne continued. “You keep mutterin’ in your sleep. Something ’bout your fault…and Sam.”
“You really don’t want to go there.”
She laughed without humor. “I’m already there. Larkin says you think you killed ’em.” Her eyes were large and her voice was unsteady. “Let it go, sir. You can nay change the past.”
He made a movement toward her, uncertain what he really wished to do. This was neither the time nor the place. They had many things to think about, and his family – well, they were taboo, not to be talked of by someone, anyone in such a callous way.
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