Soon after, a squeal of delight from the kitchen told him the news had been delivered despite his denials, and shortly after Lucy Deacon ran up to him and gave him a bear hug that nearly choked the air from his lungs as her father followed with a tray of drinks. “Daddy just told me the news! Congratulations! Does this mean we’ll see more of you now?”
“One might think you spent all your free time here, with a greeting like that, sir,” said Ruskin. He wore an expression of amusement, along with something else William couldn’t quite identify.
“Jack’s doing,” said William. “According to him, it’s the best place to collect the news of the world. For my part, it’s the source of the best soup in the kingdom.”
“Speaking of news,” said Jack, “I’ve been cooped up at Whitehall Manor for so long that I’m completely out of touch. What’s the latest?”
Dan looked at his daughter and shrugged, but Lucy perked up. “Oh, here’s something you’ll be interested in. Remember that drunken oaf Roger Domnall that you saved me from? Well, they found him dead in the drunk tank after a particularly bad bender.”
“Good riddance,” said Ruskin. “Never knew the man, but one less drunk in the world is welcome news.”
Lucy put her hands on her hips and shot Ruskin a glare of disapproval. “I had as much reason as any to dislike him, and more than most, but I wouldn’t call it good news, Mr. Ruskin. Left behind a young son with no other family.”
“Whatever happened to Oz, anyway?” asked Jack. “I never heard much about him or his friends after they stopped beating up Will.”
“Poor lad never amounted to anything,” said Dan. “He never shows his face in here, so at least he didn’t follow in his father’s footsteps. But the only times I see him, he’s wandering aimlessly around town. It’s a sad sight.”
“What about the other two—what were their names, Will?”
“Brady and Kirby,” said William, not looking up from his wine. A chill went down his spine at the memory of Kirby Elric’s eyes—black, piercing, sparkling with joy whenever he inflicted pain, which was as often as he could.
“Nothing from them for years,” said Dan. “Kirby disappeared shortly after you folks got back from your dragon trip. Brady’s family moved away about a year later when his dad found work. I guess poor Oz really is alone.”
The rest of the evening passed pleasantly, William enjoying the quiet murmur of the patrons around him. Deacon’s Inn was busier than he remembered it; the Deacons must be profiting nicely by it. The rickety stools had been replaced with sturdier chairs, and Dan no longer complained about the state of affairs in Marshland. He and Lucy stopped by their table several more times, until William finally excused himself to find his room. Aided by the wine, he soon fell into a deep sleep, not waking until Ruskin knocked on his door in the morning.
They ate a hearty breakfast, served this time by Cora Deacon, who greeted William as warmly as her husband and daughter had. When it came time to depart, she handed William a package. “Bacon for the road, my lord,” she said. “You shouldn’t ride on an empty stomach.”
Jack grumbled as they prepared for the ride. “Apparently Cora doesn’t care whether my stomach is empty or not.”
William laughed at him. “You just ate breakfast. Besides, there’s plenty of bacon for all three of us.”
“Yeah, but it’s in your pack where I can’t get to it.”
“And it’s staying there.”
“Fine. At least give me details about how it went with Melissa since you wouldn’t tell me last night.”
William grumbled as he mounted his mare. “Are you going to pester me with questions the whole way back?”
Jack raised an eyebrow at William and grinned. “How long have you known me?”
William sighed. “Okay, you win. Yes, she accepted my proposal.”
Jack turned to him in surprise. “You already asked twice?” asked Jack.
William’s face turned beet red. Jack began laughing as Ruskin stared with a puzzled look.
“You didn’t know about the three-proposal rule, did you?” asked Jack. “You asked her already, and you thought she was really rejecting you!” By the end, Jack was laughing so hard he could barely breathe, while William’s face continued to burn.
“Well, I hope you’re happy now,” said William as he urged his horse forward to escape the embarrassment. “Once again—no privacy.”
Jack and Ruskin mounted quickly and caught up. “I can understand you not knowing about the three proposals, sir,” said Ruskin. “After all, you weren’t raised among nobility. But what I don’t get is how Miss Reid didn’t catch on. Your disappointment must have given you away.”
“Oh, I can answer that, Ruskin,” said Jack, who was still chuckling. “You see, Will doesn’t like to burden people. So, he made sure not to let his feelings show, and Melissa thought he was just going along with the rule.”
William looked back at his friend. “It’s not a rule, Jack, just a tradition. A stupid one.”
“Well, sir, it does have some value,” countered Ruskin. “Where property and inheritance are concerned, there’s nothing wrong with taking your time on such a big decision.”
“All I know, Ruskin, is that I’m getting married this summer, and Jack’s not getting any bacon.” He ignored Jack’s grumble of disappointment and kicked his horse into a canter. After an evening of constant banter—a rare occurrence for him—he needed a few moments of silence. The Inn had been warm, the giant fireplace adding to the heat of the bodies crowded around the tables, not to mention the kitchen fires. The bed, too, had been toasty, almost to the point of discomfort. Though sleep had come easily, he still felt drowsy from the heat, and muddle-brained from the wine.
The cold mist invigorated him. No doubt he would soon wish for his own hearth to drive the chill from his bones, but for now the cold air felt good. The silence felt even better.
He was about to slow down and let Jack and Ruskin catch up when he spotted four guards on foot patrol. Something about their demeanor suggested urgency rather than a friendly greeting. “Good morning, my lord,” one of them said, a corporal according to his stripes, but one he didn’t recognize. “You haven’t run into any trouble, have you?”
“What sort of trouble?” asked William. “We’re barely an hour out of town.”
The corporal stood at attention in front of him, his eyes all deference to William. “We’ve gotten reports of a strange man walking the road, disturbing reports, sir,” said the corporal. “We can’t take you all the way home, but we can walk a ways with you, if it will make you feel safer.”
“What’s going on, Will?” asked Jack as he pulled up.
William nodded toward the guard. “The corporal says there’s a strange man wandering around. They want to escort us for safety reasons.”
“What sort of strange man?” asked Ruskin. “Was he armed?”
The corporal looked away sheepishly. “Begging your pardon, sir, but we didn’t get no description. The people who reported it just called him strange, and sort of threatening. They said he was headed east along this road, and kept jumping off the road when anyone came near.”
Ruskin turned to William with a look of concern. “A bandit, maybe, waiting for an easy target? Perhaps we should accept their offer.”
“Three men on horseback won’t be an easy target for a lone man on foot,” scoffed William. “Armed or not. Besides, we have little enough to steal.”
“Speak for yourself, Will,” said Jack. “Besides, those sure are nice boots you have there. I bet a bandit would love to grab those.”
“Thank you, corporal,” said William. “But we don’t need an escort. Our horses can outrun anyone on foot if they have to.”
The corporal nodded with a little bow of respect. “Fair enough, my lord, but it was my duty to offer. We’re patrolling this stretch of road until sundown. If you change your mind, come back and find us.”
William nodded back. “That won�
�t be necessary, corporal, but thank you.”
As they parted ways, Ruskin trotted his horse up to William’s. “Are you sure that’s wise, sir? You left your sword at home, and even a single bandit on foot could block the road and force us to dismount.”
“If that’s his intent, why would he hide? No, it doesn’t sound like a bandit to me. Not a successful one anyway. Besides,” he said with a grin, “we can tell him Jack has all the money.”
Jack stared back with a scowl. “You’re a real pal, Will, you know that?”
The prospect of danger lightened William’s mood. No longer content to remain alone well in front of his companions, he traded barbs with Jack, and deflected his prying questions about Melissa with laughing ease. They passed busy farmland, the fields dotted with people preparing for the spring sowing and tending to their livestock. William cast a jealous eye over the scene, wishing his own people would display such industry.
They saw no one suspicious until, after about an hour later, William spied a single person in tattered clothing hobbling along in the distance. The man cast a glance backward and quickly darted off the road, disappearing into the weeds.
William’s heart raced. Despite his confident comments to the corporal, he found himself wishing for the comfort of his sword. Still, he pushed ahead to where the man had vanished, eager to determine for himself what this person was doing. He had nearly reached the spot when the man leapt out onto the road. His mare reared, and it was all William could do to hang on. Instant regret at his hubris filled his mind as he realized how easily a man could be unhorsed. If he fell, he would be easy prey for their attacker.
Somehow, he stayed on and gained control of his mare. He faced his attacker—and his jaw dropped. He gaped at the man, unable to believe his eyes. “Oz? What on Esper are you doing out here?”
Ruskin pulled up beside William. “You know this man, my lord?”
“Oz Domnall,” said Jack, who rode up behind him. “The bully who used to beat up William.”
“You mean the drunkard’s son?” asked Ruskin, his face angry. He raised a fist at Oz and glowered. “Get out of our way before we run you down, you no good hoodlum. You won’t find it so easy to beat up the three of us, I can promise you that.”
“Calm down, Ruskin,” said William. “Look at him. Threadbare clothes, no coat, and he’s not even wearing shoes. Whatever he might be doing, he’s not about to hurt anyone.”
“Desperate men do desperate things, sir,” said Ruskin. “Best keep your distance.”
“I don’t plan on doing nothing bad,” said Oz with a shaky voice, his eyes wide with anxiety. “Honest. I’m desperate, just like you said, but I don’t want to steal nothing from nobody.”
“Then hurry up and tell me what you’re doing, Oz,” said William. “I have a long ride ahead of me, and I’d like to get home before the rain comes.”
Oz gulped and looked up at William with a pitiful face. “I…I want a job.”
William sat in stunned silence at the wretched figure before him. It was the last thing he expected: the person who’d once tormented him was now pleading with him.
“You have some nerve,” said Ruskin in a low growl.
“I know,” said Oz in a rush, eager to speak before they could ride away. “I did some pretty bad things. They were Kirby’s ideas mostly, but I went along with them, so it’s my fault too. But I don’t want to be bad no more. My dad was pretty bad too, but at least when he was alive I had a home, and sometimes food to eat. Now I have nothing. I know I have to work to get those things, but the earl won’t have me, and I’m too old to apprentice anywhere, and I don’t have money to get to Faywater Port to look for a job. I don’t know who else to ask. You’re my only hope, Will.”
Ruskin pushed his horse forward and loomed over Oz. “This is Lord William Whitehall, Baron of Whitehall Manor. You will address him as Lord William, or my lord, or sir. Your previous acquaintance gives you no privilege to ignore protocol.”
Oz gulped hard. “I don’t know what all of that means, but I’ll do what you say…m-my lord. I promise.”
Jack pushed his horse forward, squeezing between William and Ruskin. “If the earl won’t give you a job, what makes you think Will is going to? Especially given the way you treated him.”
William raised his hand to stop Jack and Ruskin and turned back to Oz, who looked back with pleading eyes. “What sort of work can you do?”
“I—I don’t really know. I haven’t had a chance to find out. I can carry things, I guess. My dad used to sweep floors…I’m pretty sure I can do that.”
Ruskin snorted. “None of those would keep you employed long enough to feed you, let alone clothe you. My lord, this poor excuse for a human has no skills to offer. We can’t take on a charity case—”
William turned to Ruskin with an angry glare. “Ruskin, stop. He may not have done much good in the past, but he’s trying to improve himself. I’ll listen to him—preferably without interruptions.” Ruskin continued to glower at Oz, but held his tongue. Jack stayed silent as well, his demeanor one of both shock and amusement. Satisfied, William continued. “Oz, if I’m to help you, I need to know what you can do, or even what you can learn to do. A barony is a big, busy place, and we never run out of work. Have you raised animals? Brought in a harvest? Grown vegetables?”
Oz shook his head, his growing shame evident with each one. “I’m useless, my lord. I know it. I wish I wasn’t, and then I could tell you what I could do. But I want to be useful. I don’t want to be a nobody anymore.”
William let out a long, slow, sigh. What could he do? Ruskin was right—they didn’t need a charity case, especially not with money so tight. It wouldn’t be fair to foist Oz on some poor farmer, since most could barely make ends meet. And Ruskin wasn’t about to hire him as an assistant, and while William might enjoy forcing Ruskin’s hand, it wouldn’t be fair to either of them. Which left the house. He already had a woman to cook and clean, and someone to tend his garden.
A preposterous idea occurred to him, and it took all his concentration not to laugh, or even to smile, lest Oz think he was mocking him. “Oz, how would you like to be a butler?”
Three voices began speaking at once, and William listened to none of them. He smiled to himself at Ruskin’s reaction, one of angry defiance at the notion of a drunkard’s son taking such a lofty position. He had struck a nerve—the exact one he had aimed for. Jack’s comments were lost in Ruskin’s bluster, and he barely heard Oz’s feeble protests over the others. Finally, he raised his hand. “Enough!” he shouted.
All eyes turned to him in shock. William had never acted with lordly arrogance before, but he enjoyed the effect. After enjoying the silence for a moment, he turned to Oz. “I didn’t hear your answer. Would you like to be a butler?”
Oz looked at the ground. “I don’t really know, but I don’t have much choice, my lord. I might be bad at it. But I promise I’ll try to learn.”
William nodded. “That’s all I can ask. Ruskin? Any concerns?”
Ruskin could barely contain his anger, his deference almost non-existent. “My entire list of concerns would take too long to discuss here, my lord, but chief among them is the fact that this…drunkard’s son…has zero experience in domestic service. Nor in anything else, if we’re to believe what he says. The reasons you need a butler are not solved by hiring a neophyte to run your household. If you must have him in service, hire an experienced butler and let this…vagabond…train under him as a footman.”
“I’m not hiring two people, Ruskin. Not now, anyway. You can tell him what he needs to do since you’re so concerned about it being done.”
Ruskin fumed but managed to bury his anger. “I can write a detailed list of instructions for him, sir.”
Oz shuffled his feet and looked at the ground again. “Well, uh…I can’t exactly…read.”
Ruskin shook his head in exasperation and laughed to himself. “Well, of course you can’t. That would be too easy now, wou
ldn’t it?”
“We’ll deal with that later,” said William, ignoring Ruskin’s outburst. “Jack…anything to say about it?”
Jack stared back with a look of resigned disbelief. “Aside from the fact that you’ve obviously lost your mind? No. I don’t suppose I do.”
“Good. It’s settled,” said William. “Oz, follow this road until you reach a small wooden bridge. That’s the border of my barony. Follow the gravel path until you see the house and meet me there. You should make it by nightfall.”
Oz hesitated and looked back at William. “What if the guards stop me?”
“Ruskin has a spare token with my symbol on it. Show it to anyone who stops you.”
Ruskin reached into his coat with obvious reluctance and tossed a small coin at Oz.
Oz caught it and turned it over in his hand. “A lantern?” he asked as he squinted at the token.
“A fist holding a lantern,” said Ruskin. “Lord William’s seal. The fist is strength; the lantern is knowledge. Two things he holds dear.”
“Thank you, Ruskin,” said William as he slid to the ground. “That almost wasn’t pointed.” He unbuckled one of his saddle packs and pulled out his old boots, the ones Tom Reid’s gift replaced. “Oz, you’ll never reach the barony in bare feet. Try these on.”
Oz sucked in his breath. “I’ve never had boots this nice before,” he said as he slipped them on. “Thank you, Wi—I mean Lord William. They fit.”
William peered down at Oz’s feet. “They look a little loose, but we can get you some socks later. One last thing: you should eat.” He reached into the saddlebag again and the smell of Cora Deacon’s bacon wafted out, making his tummy rumble. He ignored his stomach pangs, knowing Oz’s must be worse.
Oz tore into the package without a word. William had to look away as the former bully jammed the bacon into his mouth, barely chewing before he swallowed. Ruskin stared with a look of disgust while Jack simply gaped in shock. William turned back to Oz. “Mrs. Gracey will have something ready for you when you get to the manor.”
Skyrider of Renegade Point Page 5