by Robert Evert
“The heart longs for change? What are you—a poet?”
“No. Not me. Not really. I have a friend, Allyn, who fancies himself to be a bard. He plays the lute. He’s extremely talented. But I hate telling him that. He has a big enough head already, if you get me.”
“I get you.”
They passed several extravagant shops. Some were selling expensive clothes made from colorful silks. Others had rows of shoes and hats in the windows. One had imported rugs.
“So,” he ventured again after they had taken another turn. “You’re a foreigner with a lot of money.”
“What makes you think I have a lot of money?”
“Like I said, your dress is fetching. And it isn’t cheap. I know craftsmanship when I see it.”
Natalie considered her flowing dress. It had cost a fortune, more than her father could’ve earned in a year—when he was alive. Now it was speckled with Magnus’s blood. Another dress ruined. It bothered her to keep spending money on such frivolous things, but she had to keep up appearances.
“You aren’t going to kill me, are you?” asked Magnus.
Natalie laughed again. “Do I look like I’d kill somebody?”
The way Magnus wavered made Natalie’s heart tighten. She had killed someone, a boy not much younger than Magnus, in fact. When would she forget the sight of Nathaniel running around, blood spurting from his wrists?
“Something I said?” asked Magnus.
Natalie shook away the dark thoughts, Nathaniel’s screams fading from her mind. “No. I’m fine.”
“Sure? ’Cause if I said something wrong, I’m really sorry. I do that from time to time. I tend to say whatever I’m thinking. Sometimes I don’t even realize I’m talking.”
“Well, you’re talking now, and you didn’t say anything wrong.”
They stopped in front of a quaint store. Its bay window displayed everything from a dented suit of armor to a procession of delicate porcelain dolls. Natalie found the more perplexing the arrangement, the more customers came in. Sometimes she would move things around to make it appear as though she had gotten new merchandise. Interestingly, it always seemed to work. Since she came to Eryn Mas four months ago, she’d made enough money to live comfortably for many years.
She unlocked the front door.
“You run this place?” Magnus whistled, impressed. “I’ve been in here. You charge an arm and a leg for the weirdest things. I’m surprised you sell anything!”
“The higher the price, the more nobles want it.” She opened the door and beckoned Magnus inside. “And I know you’ve been in before, that’s how I found you.”
Magnus squinted nervously into the cluttered shop and then at Natalie. “Seriously, you aren’t going to kill me, are you?”
Natalie put on an overly serious face. She was going to say something biting like, “Not yet,” but the thought of hurting somebody else stole any happiness she had left.
Holding the door open, she inclined her head. “Come on.”
Checking the shadows, Magnus inched his way into the store. He whirled around when Natalie locked the door behind them.
“Here.” She drew a knife from the folds of her dress and handed it to the frightened boy. “In case anybody tries to kill you.” She went into another room. “Stay there. And don’t break anything.”
Natalie found a clean cloth and wet it. A clatter arose from where Magnus was standing. She stuck her head around the corner.
Magnus was attempting to pick up a silver serving tray he’d dropped, knocking over an army of toy knights in the process.
“I told you,” Natalie said, “don’t break anything.”
Magnus lowered the knife. “You know, I was kidding about being afraid of you. Who would be afraid of a beautiful woman?”
“Anybody who knew anything about women. And you don’t have to flatter me. You’ve got the job.” Natalie returned with the damp cloth. She gave it to Magnus and motioned to his face. “This should help.”
“Thanks.” He put it to his swollen eye as he examined a jade chess set.
Natalie set a bust of King Lawrence the Second on the floor and sat on the stool upon which it had been exhibited. She waited for Magnus to stop inspecting everything.
“Man!” Magnus exclaimed, scanning a shelf cram-packed with odds and ends. “Where do you get all of this?” He picked up a mace with a slightly bent handle. It slipped through his fingers and fell crashing on the chessboard, sending chess pieces bouncing everywhere.
Natalie groaned.
“Sorry!” As Magnus retrieved the wayward chess pieces, he banged his head on the underside of a table, knocking over a row of mismatched candlesticks.
“Stop!” Natalie shook her fists. “Just stop!”
Magnus crawled out from underneath the table, nearly backing into a crystal vase filled with pink asters.
“Don’t. Move. Okay?” Natalie recovered the last of the chess pieces and set them aside. Exacerbated, she rubbed her forehead.
“I’m sorry,” Magnus said. “I get a bit clumsy sometimes.”
“I’m starting to see that. It’s a wonder you haven’t done yourself in.”
Magnus reached for the bent mace again, then hastily withdrew his hand. “I’m still not entirely sure why I’m here. Do you need something fixed or not? Like I said, I don’t have any tools.”
“I don’t need anything fixed.”
“Look, lady—”
“Call me Sarah.”
“Really? You don’t look like a Sarah. I would’ve guessed something else. Rachel, maybe. Or perhaps—”
“It doesn’t matter what my name is, now does it?”
“I suppose not.” Magnus picked up the mace. “Anyway, I’m trying to make a few coins any way I can. I don’t need much. I usually sleep in the park. Or in the boathouses by the river. I’ll fix any—”
“We don’t need anything fixed.” She took the mace from him and placed it on the table.
Magnus glanced around the darkened shop. “We?”
Crap! Why’d she let that slip?
“I mean we as in the owners of this shop. We don’t need anything fixed.”
“You own this shop? Wow! I thought you worked here. Are you married?”
“What? No! I’m not married. And I don’t own the shop. I can’t. I’m a woman.”
“Oh, right.”
“You’re getting me off track. Stand there and listen for a second, if you can.”
Magnus opened his mouth but restrained himself.
Natalie wondered if she should go through with the plan, then gave in against her nagging doubts. “I want you to do something for me. Something potentially dangerous. But I’m willing to pay you ten silver pieces if you do it.”
“Ten silver! Holy crap! Who do you want me to murder?”
She urged him to lower his voice.
“I don’t want you to murder anybody. I simply want you to slip this into somebody’s drink.” She produced a crystal vial from inside one of her sleeves. She handed it to Magnus.
Magnus inspected the amber liquid sloshing around inside. He arched an eyebrow. “What’s this?”
“It’s a very mild poison.” Seeing Magnus’s reaction, she added, “It makes people a little sick. That’s all.”
Magnus gave the vial back. “Look, Sarah. I’ve done a lot of idiotic things in my life, but poisoning somebody isn’t going to be one of them! No way! No sir!” He shook his head and then asked, “Who pissed you off?”
“Lord Hendrick.”
“Whoa!” Raising his hands, Magnus stepped away, knocking over a stack of leather-bound books. They tumbled to the ground. “I hate nobles as much as anybody. Believe me! But I’m not going to go poisoning one. Do you know what they’d do to me? I mean, even if it only made him sick like you said, they’d string me up! You’re nuts.” Curiosity bubbled in his hazel eyes. “What did he do?”
Natalie put on the countenance of a wounded woman she’d been perfecting ever
since entering her line of work. She bit her bottom lip. “He’s a cad.”
“Oh, hell! I could have told you that. But he ain’t the worst of the lot, I can assure you. Now, Lord Griffin, for example…” Magnus noted how Natalie was holding her stomach. “Oh! He—” He pointed to her midsection. “And then he—” He hitched his thumb toward the door. “The bastard!”
“Exactly. And that isn’t the half of it.” Natalie blew her nose. “He said he needed money to build our dream home. So I gave him—everything!”
“Why’d you give money to a lord?”
“He, he…he said he needed it. And that he loved me!” she wailed.
Magnus patted her forearm sympathetically. “At least you’re not fat, yet.”
She glowered at him.
“Wrong thing to say?” He retreated, bumping into a barrel of finely carved walking sticks. He grabbed them before they toppled over. “Look, lady—”
“Sarah.”
“Right. Sarah. Look. I’m really sorry about what happened. Nobles are asses. Especially Lord Hendrick…”
“How much do you want?”
“What?”
“How much do you want for putting this in his drink?”
Natalie could see the inner struggle raging in the boy’s mind. She softened her tone. “You’re not going to get caught. You’re too good! Besides, who’d suspect you? You have no reason to harm him.”
“True.”
“And I can prove it isn’t dangerous. I’ll take some myself, if you want! So…” She paused for effect. “Name your price.”
Magnus’s swollen eyes lit up, the pulse quickening in his neck. He shook with anticipation, then blurted out, “Three gold?”
“Three gold!”
“You’re asking me to put my life on the line!”
“Fine.” Natalie counted out six coins and dropped them in Magnus’s good hand. They were all silver. Magnus looked at her as if she were trying to pull a fast one. “That’s what you get now. You’ll get the rest when you’re finished.”
Magnus fingered the coins. It was clearly more than he’d held in a very long time, perhaps ever.
Natalie resumed her portrayal of a jilted lover. She patted her tears with a lace handkerchief. “This is what I want you to do. Get some new clothes and go to the bathhouse. Get cleaned up. Then go to the Brass Boar tomorrow. They’ll be needing help. Tell them you’re willing to work for half rate. Explain you want to show them what a good worker you are so they’ll hire you full-time.”
“Okay,” said Magnus skeptically. “But what does this have to do with Lord Hendrick?”
“When Hendrick comes in later that night, put this in his drink.” She handed him the crystal vial again.
“But how do you know he’ll—?”
“He always goes to the Brass Boar on Friday nights. He’ll order a brandy and something to eat.” She added a few fresh tears and a loud sob. “He’ll probably leave with some woman!”
Magnus examined the vial, then Natalie. “You’re going to kill him, aren’t you? I can’t be a part of no—”
“I’m not going to kill him! That wouldn’t help me. You see, I told him if he didn’t do what was right, I’d find somebody to put a hex on him. I told him he’d get sicker than a dog. He’s extremely superstitious. Trust me. A little stomach illness and he’ll be begging to marry me.”
Magnus appeared to be on the verge of agreeing to do it, when something occurred to him. “What about the hiring bosses and the guilds? Like I said, they won’t let me—”
“Don’t worry about the hiring bosses and guilds. I’ll take care of them. Now, will you do this for me, Magnus?”
Magnus’s fist closed over the silver coins. “You won’t stiff me, will you? I mean, I know you wouldn’t tell me if you would, but—”
“Why would I stiff you? If I got you mad, you’d come here late one night, smash my store window, and steal far more than three gold.”
The pulse in Magnus’s neck pounded faster. He muttered, “Three gold.”
“Think of what you could do with all of that money. A warm place to live. Good food to eat. Maybe buy your way into one of the guilds.”
Magnus gnawed on a ragged fingernail.
“All right! I’ll do it. You’re too nice of a lady to let him treat you like this. He deserves everything he gets!”
“Thank you, Magnus.” She put a tender hand on his shoulder. “I knew you’d help me.”
“Like I, I said,” he stammered, blushing, “he deserves what he gets, doing what he did and everything.”
She ushered him to the door before he could change his mind and then, for good measure, kissed his check. “You’re wonderful.”
His swollen face turned scarlet. Fumbling over a few words, he was about to tip an imaginary hat but stopped.
“Come here the day after tomorrow,” Natalie told him, “after you do what I asked, and I’ll have the rest of your three gold.”
Hearing “three gold” again, Magnus beamed. “All right. Thanks…Sarah, was it? See you the day after tomorrow!”
He bounded out of the store as though he had been proclaimed king.
Natalie watched him disappear into the deepening shadows of early evening. Behind her, two men emerged from the storage room.
“You shouldn’t have given him so much money,” said the hulking figure. “Boys like that get a few silver and think they have everything. He won’t do what needs to be done.”
“Yes he will,” she replied. “I know his type. Believe me, he’ll do everything we ask and more.”
The younger man put his arm around Natalie’s waist and pulled her close. “You better be right,” he said. “If he doesn’t, there’s a good chance we’ll all get beheaded for treason.”
Chapter Two
Wearing the freshly laundered linen vest the tavern owner had lent him, Magnus scanned the Brass Boar’s dining room for something to clean. Seeing two patrons rising from their chairs, he rushed over and wiped their table with the damp towel wrapped around his deformed hand. Not knowing what else to do, he knocked the crumbs to the otherwise pristine floor.
“I believe,” the gentleman said dryly, “you are supposed to clean. Not relocate the detritus from one surface to another.”
“Sir?” asked Magnus, confused.
The woman who had dined with the gentleman smiled sadly. “Try brushing the crumbs onto the plates, dear. And then bring everything to wherever you’re supposed to bring them. That way you don’t have to sweep up.”
“Oh.” Magnus considered the ceramic plates embossed with a snarling yellow boar. They were littered with half-eaten rolls and various leafy green vegetables. “Right!”
The gentleman assisted the woman with her cloak, then placed a half silver piece on the table. He said to Magnus, “For the server. Do you understand?”
Before Magnus could respond, a girl’s hand darted around him and nabbed the coin. “Thank you, sir,” one of the serving girls said, curtseying. “My lady. I hope you enjoyed your meal.”
The woman pulled her fur-lined cloak tighter about her. “It was fabulous, as always.”
“Indeed.” The gentleman eyed Magnus standing there, mouth open. “Though the cleaning boys have diminished in ability since our last visit.”
“Yes, sir.” The serving girl crinkled her nose and tossed her long blonde hair to one side sympathetically. “He’s new.”
“Ah,” the gentleman replied. “Perhaps, there’s still hope for him.” He bowed to the girl. “Good evening.”
“Good evening to you as well!” As soon as the customers were gone, the serving girl wheeled on Magnus. “Any money you find belongs to us. Got it?” She rammed a surprisingly strong finger into Magnus’s sternum. “You touch it and I’ll have the cooks cut off your tiny prick and feed it to the pigs!”
Magnus rubbed where she’d jabbed him. “It’s not—”
The serving girl disappeared into the raucous kitchen.
W
hat kind of place was this? And what did the serving girl do to deserve half a silver? All she did was bring the food. If anybody deserved money, it was the cooks. They did all the hard work. Plus, it was hot in the kitchen—damned hot. They lost a pound of sweat every night, if not more. Then again, they ate well.
Magnus’s stomach rumbled. Whatever the cooks were making smelled delicious, like freshly buttered bread with a hint of garlic. Maybe he’d swipe some before he left. But there was no use thinking about that now. He had to keep focused. He had a mission to complete.
He glanced about the mostly empty dining room. A handful of older patrons sat at tables by the front windows overlooking the market square. A few ate or drank at the black oak bar along the far wall. Lord Hendrick wasn’t among them. Magnus, however, wasn’t worried; it was still light outside. All the hoity-toity people, the nobility and wealthy snobs, wouldn’t be coming until after nightfall. That’s when they all roamed the city like rats.
They were like rats—feeding off the hard work of the common people. The bastards. They deserved to get sick—or worse. Especially after leaving the crazy shop lady with child and all, Lord Hendrick deserved everything he got, and Magnus would make him pay.
Pay…
He couldn’t believe he had an actual paying job. Not a job in the scorching sun or doing anything nauseating—like slaughtering cows or shoveling horse shit off the streets—but an easy job at a well-to-do eatery! All he had to do was walk in and ask the owner if he needed help, and the owner had given him a rag and something to wear. How did Sarah know?
Of course, the new clothes and haircut helped. Not to mention the bath.
It was funny how something as simple as properly fitting clothes could change people’s perceptions of him. Why, he bet if he had gotten really expensive clothes, he could convince people he was lesser nobility, or even a young prince!
The front door opened with a clang as a group of diners ambled in. The breeze from outside stirred the glass chandelier hanging directly over Magnus’s head. It tinkled as it caught the rays of the failing sun, sending rainbows dancing across the vaulted ceiling. Magnus wondered who climbed up there and polished it.