The big knight was unfazed. “My life has been devoted to war. Politics is a spectator sport for me.”
“Personally, I prefer Irene,” said Elaine candidly. “Matthew is arrogant and overconfident, but Irene is too young, and she defers to him anyway. That said, Matthew is still a good choice. As much as he irritates me some of the time, he’s smart and he has that special insight.”
“Let’s take this to Matthew,” said Myra. “The sooner the better.”
Chapter 9
Rose Thornbear, formerly Lady Hightower and commander of the garrison in Albamarl as well as the head of logistics for the Royal Army of Lothion, rode quietly in the back of a farmer’s cart, keeping company with a load of turnips.
Reflecting on the past week was less than pleasant, and only served to remind her of the drastic change in her station in life. After Kion had sent her back to her own half of the world, she had found herself in the countryside, not far from the city of Issip in Gododdin.
Penniless, friendless, and only half-clothed, the first day had been a trial, for country wives weren’t partial to half-naked women showing up on their doorsteps, and the men—well, they presented an entirely different challenge, of equal parts danger and disdain. It was only after two humiliating attempts at gaining assistance that she had found someone sympathetic enough to offer her a used dress and information regarding her whereabouts.
She had gotten to Issip shank’s mare, which is to say, she walked. Lady Rose had never considered herself to be in poor shape, but walking for eight hours in the remains of her court shoes had been agony. The blisters on her feet were enough to convince her to risk the World Road, which had an entrance in Issip, but King Nicholas had decided to capitalize on Mordecai’s wonder by taxing its use. While the fee to enter had been small, any fee was too much when one was utterly broke.
Rose counted herself fortunate to have convinced a riverboat to allow her to ride down the Sterling River to Relliton. The two-day journey had allowed her feet a chance to heal, although the boatman was none too pleased with her cooking, for that had been her exchange for passage. It was a testimony to the man’s charity that he hadn’t refused to let her continue with them the second day after the first meal she had prepared.
Relliton had been exactly as she remembered it—unpleasant. The port city was built on marshland, and aside from trade, its main point of interest was a surfeit of mosquitos and vermin. Visiting as a noblewoman in her youth had been bad enough, but returning as a vagrant was ten times worse.
She had eaten twice while on the riverboat, but once in the city she did without, for the city residents weren’t as charitable. Several men had offered her money, but only in exchange for services she wasn’t prepared to render. Consequently, she had begun the trip to Iverly the next morning on an empty belly.
Rose’s feet had begun developing calluses, so the first day’s walk didn’t do her as much harm as before, but hunger was a serious problem. Water she could get, since most farmsteads and small holders would allow her to drink from their wells, but food was another matter. Two days without food had left her light-headed and ravenous. For the first time in my life, I find myself wishing I had gone to fat in my middle years, she thought to herself.
The walk from Relliton to Iverly was generally considered to be four days on foot, but for a small woman with sore feet, it would likely take five. Four more days without food might have been the end of her. If it hadn’t been for Farmer Tiggle’s kindness, she wasn’t sure she would have made it. The elderly man had offered her a ride on her second day out of Relliton and had been kind enough to share his meager food with her.
Rose wasn’t a picky eater, and hunger was definitely a powerful spice, but after several days of boiled turnips she was ready for almost anything else, not that she would have dared say as much. She was very grateful for the farmer’s aid.
“We’re almost there,” said the old man, looking over his shoulder at her. “Once we get over this rise, you’ll see it.”
“I can hardly wait,” Rose replied honestly.
The old man squinted at her, his concern showing through the extensive wrinkles on his face. “You sure you’ll be alright on your own there?”
Rose nodded. “Yes, I have family waiting to meet me.”
Farmer Tiggle turned his face back to the road. “That’s good. This world’s no good for a girl on her own.”
Girl? Rose almost laughed at that. It had been a long time since anyone had called her a girl, but she supposed from the old man’s point of view she was just that. He may have underestimated her age as well. Women in the countryside showed their years sooner thanks to hard labor and overexposure to the sun.
“I appreciate your concern,” said Rose. “I can’t thank you enough for the past few days. If you’ll tell me where your home is, I’ll do my best to repay you later.”
The farmer waved his hand in the air without looking back. “No need for that. I wouldn’t have gotten as old as I have without a helping hand now an’ then.”
“Still, I’d feel better knowing how to reach you,” said Rose. “One good turn deserves another.”
“My daughter and her husband live in Iverly,” said the old man. “I’ll give you her address before you get off. And while we’re at it, if anything goes wrong and your family isn’t there, don’t be too proud to look her up. Just tell her my name and she’ll give you a place to sleep.”
Rose was surprised by his generosity. Times had been good lately, thanks largely to the increased trade brought by the World Road, but it was still unusual for someone offer a bed to a stranger. In the past, such a gesture would have touched her heart, but after a week alone, without friends or support, it brought a tear to her eye.
When they finally stopped inside the city gate, Rose embraced the old man and kissed his cheek, causing his face to flush slightly. The old farmer chuckled and gave her a smile. “Damn. Been a while since a pretty girl did that. I’ll be in trouble if the missus hears of it.”
“It’s been a while since I was called a girl by a young lad like yourself,” returned Rose.
The wizened farmer laughed so hard he fell to coughing, and Rose worried about him for a moment, but eventually he collected himself and his breathing returned to normal.
After listening to his directions, she set off into the city of Iverly. It had been many years since her last visit, but she still remembered the streets. Iverly was probably her favorite place, and if she hadn’t been born into the Lothion nobility she would have wished to live there. Unlike Albamarl, it was a coastal city and unlike Relliton it wasn’t built on a marsh. The weather was mild year-round, and the ocean breeze swept the city clean of foul odors.
Walking through the city was a fascinating experience in her current circumstances. Always before she had visited as a wealthy young woman with station and power. For most of her life, and especially when away from home, she had been constantly escorted, by guards, ladies-in-waiting, and a multitude of servants. Today she was alone, with no one to curtail her curiosity. Not only was she unescorted, she was anonymous. Dressed as she was, she felt practically invisible, and the feeling was exhilarating.
Unfortunately, her anonymity also came with significant disadvantages. Finding Carissa would be difficult. That was by her own design, of course, but when she had imagined coming to search for her daughter, she hadn’t anticipated being bereft of money or connections.
As far as she knew, she did still have connections; the Viscount was a friend, but she couldn’t present herself at his home in her current state. It would be embarrassing at best and humiliating or even dangerous at worst. Lady Rose had no illusions regarding how a vagrant would be greeted if one appeared and requested to see a landed nobleman.
That was aside from the fact that revealing her identity would put Carissa at risk. Agents from Lothion were very likely present in the city, and if she was discovered they would put significant pressure on King Nicholas to arrest her and
return her to face the Queen’s justice.
She had other resources, but meeting with figures from the underworld would be even more dangerous in her current condition. They wouldn’t hesitate to turn on her if she were found to be alone and without protectors.
As she walked, Rose’s feet took her down River Street. It was one of the most scenic walks in Iverly, following the west side of the river. She took that route rather than Dock Street, because the east side was dominated by docks and numerous warehouses, as well as the people that worked in them, making it entirely unsafe for a woman alone.
Just one companion would make all the difference, thought Rose. It almost didn’t matter who it was, though as much as she hated to admit it, Chad Grayson might have been the best choice. With him along, she could visit the taverns and get information directly. Gram would have been almost as useful, not in the search, but simply for protection and intimidation.
Walking into a tavern by myself would be the next closest thing to suicide, she noted silently, although Elise could probably pull it off. Of course, her mother-in-law was old enough to not have to worry about certain dangers, but Rose had little doubt the formidable woman would have been able to manage even in her younger days.
“What’s a lovely woman such as yourself doing wandering River Street by herself?” said a masculine voice behind her.
Rose’s heart jumped. She had been so lost in her musings that she hadn’t paid close attention to her surroundings. Covering her surprise, she turned and answered without hesitation, “Enjoying the breeze from the ocean.” Her eyes took in the appearance of the stranger, and within seconds she had his measure.
Well dressed, but the clothes are worn. He wears that coat every day. She could see scuff marks and wrinkles that no proper gentleman would permit. The stranger’s hands were rough and calloused, and not with the callouses that might indicate a scribe or scholar, nor were they the sort of callouses to be found on a swordsman’s hands. He might be trying to portray a down-on-his-luck nobleman, but the hands ruin that story.
“Care for some company as you stroll?” he asked. “The sun is beginning to set, and the streets aren’t safe for a woman alone after dark.”
Not with you around, observed Rose silently. She still didn’t know his game, but she knew she wouldn’t like the end result. Turning him down would make things immediately unpleasant, however. Accepting his invitation was equally dangerous, and she knew the conversation that followed would be designed to uncover whether she was truly alone, or whether she had family or a husband.
“I was just thinking the same,” said Rose agreeably, her mind racing through dozens of possibilities.
“My name is Roger,” said the stranger, giving a slight bow. “Perhaps I could walk you home?” He paused, then added, “Or elsewhere, if you prefer. I find myself lonely this evening. I know a good place to get a meal.” His eyes twinkled with mischief.
Rose had faced similar proposals many times over the years, but they had all been in entirely different circumstances. This man had no reason to make such an offer. No honest reason, anyway. In fact, given her current state of disrepair she had trouble envisioning a honest reason for him to have taken an interest.
A realization hit her then, He’s a pimp. Her mind went blank for a moment. Certainly, she understood that such men sought out young, vulnerable women, but she couldn’t imagine herself fitting the profile he was seeking, as she was neither young, nor (in her current state) attractive, at least in her own opinion. Ignore the absurdity and deal with the present, she chided herself.
Pretending at hesitation, she chewed her lip while her mind worked through the possibilities. “There is a place I’ve been wanting to visit. I don’t know if they have decent fare, but I hear there’s plenty of excitement to be found.”
Roger frowned; he obviously hadn’t expected her to take the initiative. “Where would that be?” he asked.
“Red Tom’s Parlor, have you heard of it?” Rose responded innocently.
His eyes widened with surprise. “That’s a gambling den. They don’t serve food there, nor is it a good place for an unescorted lady. Why don’t we try the Painted Lady? I know the name is off-putting, but I assure you the food is excellent.”
Unescorted waif, you mean, corrected Rose mentally. That must be the establishment he works for. “I’m afraid I’m not hungry at the moment,” she lied, “but I’m just dying for some excitement. Why don’t we play a few hands? After I’ve worked up an appetite, I’d love to accompany you wherever you’d like to eat.”
Roger clucked at her in admonishment. “You seem to have some misconceptions, Miss…? I still haven’t had the pleasure of your name.”
“Angela,” she answered, using her chief maid’s name.
“Miss Angela,” continued Roger, “places like Red Tom’s don’t allow people to come in and play for free. You have to have coin to lose.”
“Oh, that won’t be a problem!” Rose enthused breathlessly. “I won some yesterday. They have a marker for me.”
Roger’s jaw went slack. “A marker?”
“It wouldn’t be safe to carry money around on the street, would it?” said Rose.
“Well, of course not—,” began Roger.
She seized on his arm and began pulling him along. “I just adore playing cards. I think it’s the best thing about the city, to be honest. That’s why I came to Iverly. You won’t find anything like Red Tom’s Parlor in the country.”
Roger stared at her in shock. “You came to the city to—gamble?”
Rose nodded happily. “I’m very good at it. Once I’ve won enough, I’ll rent a place to stay. I’ve already had some luck. A little more and my dream will come true. After that I’ll play just for fun, and for money to spend.” She smiled vapidly.
“Where did you get the money to start with?” asked Roger suspiciously.
Without missing a beat, Rose answered, “I stole it.” When Roger stared at her she added, “But it was mine to begin with. It was my dowry. My parents wanted me to marry a farmer.” She rolled her eyes to illustrate what she thought of that idea. “Once I’ve made enough, I’ll send back what I took and repay them.”
“I’m sure you will,” agreed Roger, humoring her.
He thinks I’m mad, or naïve, thought Rose, smiling inwardly. Now I just need to make the most of this opportunity. She had her escort, and that would open many doors and greatly increase her options.
She led him several blocks before he began to pull against her. “Why don’t we just go to the Painted Lady?” he suggested. “They play cards there, you know.”
“I don’t have a marker there,” said Rose flatly. “Though I suppose after I cash it in, we could go there to play.”
“How much is it for?” asked Roger.
“Seven gold crowns,” said Rose matter-of-factly.
The pimp’s face froze for a moment, then he resumed his act. “Well, that’s a respectable amount. I suppose we should claim it first.”
Rose merely nodded. I’m sure you think so, now, she thought.
After walking another seven blocks, Rose saw the sign for Red Tom’s, which was simply a painting of a pair of cards with red backs. She felt her heart speed up, for she wouldn’t be able to keep up her lie much longer. Her eyes scanned the street, hoping… there!
Clutching Roger’s arm tightly, Rose pulled herself close against him. The pimp glanced down at her in surprise, but then his eyes widened as he felt the cold point of her dagger against his side, concealed beneath their arms. “What?”
Rose smiled innocently up at him, but her eyes were as hard as steel. “There are a few things I’ve neglected to tell you,” she began.
He tried to push her away, but Rose held on and pressed the point harder. The enchanted steel was razor sharp, and blood began to drip from his side where it had begun to cut into skin. “There’s a watchman right there,” hissed Roger, his eyes rolling to one side. “If you murder me in the street, you�
��ll never get away.”
“I have no intention of murdering you, dear Roger,” said Rose calmly, “providing you behave yourself. Besides which, do you recognize the guardsman you just mentioned?”
“As a matter of fact, I do,” said Roger, his expression malicious. “His name is Carl. I’ve dealt with him a few times in the past. Things won’t go well for you.”
Rose cursed silently, but her mind continued to work. So, the patroller is on the take. She would have to wager that the pimp didn’t know much more about the man. “You know his name; do you also know his family?” she asked lightly.
“Why?” asked Roger suspiciously.
She only knew a few names in Iverly, aside from that of Viscount Ledair, but she did know the name of the guard-captain. “Did you know he’s a nephew of Guard-Captain Neiman?” she lied. “After I tell him you assaulted me, and I was forced to defend myself, I only have to mention the good captain to see that justice is done.”
Roger studied her. “Assuming I believe you, why are you doing this?”
“That’s better. You’re starting to think,” said Rose condescendingly. “In fact, I haven’t been in Iverly in some time, nor do I have a marker to cash in, which is why I’ll need your cooperation.”
“I don’t have much coin on me, if you’re planning to rob me,” he informed her.
Rose couldn’t help but laugh. “I’ve never robbed anyone in my life, but I suppose there’s always a first time. No, I need your help to see someone.”
“Who?” asked Roger apprehensively.
“The Roach,” she answered, giving the name of her long-time informant.
The pimp’s eyes widened. “I don’t have any dealings with him. You chose the wrong man. I’m a pimp, working for Madame Lenore. She doesn’t work with him. I don’t even know if Old Tom has dealings with him.”
“He does,” Rose pronounced confidently, “but I can’t walk in alone and expect to talk to Tom. That’s why I need you. We’ll go in and play a while, and after I’ve got their attention Tom will come and find us.”
Transcendence and Rebellion Page 7