by Jane Glatt
“I’m sorry, dear,” Mistress Mundy said. “But you seemed to have enough of your own troubles, and Eryl said you planned on keeping out of sight, and I wasn’t sure if you were even going to stay in town, I, er…” The woman twisted her apron in a knot before continuing. “Well, there was this lass as said she had healer training, so I’ve been sending all that trade to her. I am sorry, Brenna.”
“Not to worry,” Brenna said. “It’s good to know a healer is looking after the people of Thieves’ Quarter, even if it’s not me.” And probably for the best, what with the church looking for her. But she’d be out of coin soon if she couldn’t make any money.
“Is Eryl here?” Brenna asked.
“Aye, he’s in that small private room he likes to commandeer. Here.” Mistress Mundy took a ladle from beside the fire pit, scooped out a portion of stew and plopped it into a nearby bowl. “Have some stew. And no payment needed, on account I’ve been sending your business away and all. Just don’t tell anyone I’m letting you eat free. Especially not Eryl.”
“Thanks, Mistress.” Brenna took the bowl from her and grabbed a spoon and mug from the table near the door to the main tavern room. Time to talk to Eryl. She headed down the hall to the room where he usually held court and pushed open the door.
Five heads turned her way as she placed her stew and empty mug on a scarred oak table.
“So, what news since we last spoke, Eryl?” Brenna asked. She pulled up a chair and sat down.
“Brenna,” Eryl said. “I thought you were going to stay out of sight?”
Besides Eryl and his two thick-necked bodyguards, Larkly and Millen, the room contained a couple of younger lads Eryl let hang around. He nodded at the two younger boys, who then scrambled out of the room.
Brenna grabbed the pitcher of ale on the table and poured herself a mug.
“I got tired of staring at the same four walls.” Brenna scooped up a spoonful of stew and blew on it. “Even seeing you seemed better than more of that.” She and Eryl had been bedmates for almost two years and sometimes she could hardly believe it herself. When she’d been new to the city, Eryl had provided her with protection. Sharing his bed had seemed a very small price to pay. Looking back, she still thought so.
She hadn’t grown up with the view that a tumble without marriage was a sin against the One-God, or that she was somehow evil and wanton if she wasn’t chaste. Her mother had taught her a practicality that was almost ruthless - you traded what you had for what you needed. There was no shame in a trade freely made, no matter what that trade might be. Brenna had always felt guilty about stealing, but she tried to balance it out with her healing.
“Yeah, well, you need to be careful,” Eryl said. “Someone might be watching me.”
Eryl’s expression was serious and for a moment Brenna felt guilty. She might be putting him at risk just by being here. But it was his fault. His commission had started it all. And Eryl was good at looking after himself. That was one thing she could count on. But he was right that someone, most likely the church, could be watching him. She’d need to be extra vigilant when she left.
“I need to know about Master Arlott,” Brenna said. “I’ve got who knows how many people looking for me, including the church. I need as much information as I can get if I want to keep breathing.”
“I told you all I know,” Eryl said.
“But you’ve seen him since. You must know more.”
A quick nod from Eryl sent Larkly and Millen out of the room, one through each of the two doors. “They’ll signal if there’s trouble,” Eryl said when they were alone. He met her gaze and leaned back in his chair. “Arlott hasn’t been back since he gave me your bond.”
He was lying. She’d always been able to read him. “I know you’ve seen him,” she said. “I need to know if he asked about anything else. Was he looking for information on anyone or anything other than the weapons?”
“Like what?”
“The church,” Brenna stated flatly. “He warned me two days ago that the church, and in particular the High Bishop, didn’t look kindly on anyone trying to steal from them.”
“Arlott came to see you?” Eryl looked guilty. “Bren, did he threaten you? I promise I’ll get him if he did.”
“And why would you feel responsible if he did threaten me?” When she looked over at him, Eryl dropped his eyes to the table and slumped in his chair. “No wonder we went our separate ways.” She shook her head in disgust. “I just can’t trust you. You told him where to find me, didn’t you?”
“No, but I told him you were a healer. He seemed safe enough.” Eryl shrugged and looked back up at her. “And he’d paid up two hundred crowns for you. I really didn’t think he meant any harm.”
“No, I guess not. Besides, he would have found me eventually. He’s got the men behind him for it.”
“What do you mean?” Eryl asked.
“Arlott is the Captain of the Kingsguard,” Brenna said. Eryl’s eyes widened and she smiled. “Kane Rowse is his real name.”
“Bren, I never would have told him where to find you if I’d known. Are you sure?”
“I’m sure,” she said. “Think back to when you paid my bond and met me at the castle. Did you take note of the Kingsguard who brought me out?”
“By the gods, you’re right.” Eryl said. “What’s he want with you?”
“I know what he thinks he wants with me. It’s safer if you don’t know,” Brenna said. And it was safer for her if Eryl didn’t know about the Brotherhood. Or that she’d been caught because the knife had glowed when she’d picked it up.
“What about the knife?” Brenna asked. “How much information did he have about it? Has he asked you to find other knives like it?” She remembered how Kane’s sword had glowed under her hand. “Or swords. Anything you can tell me might help.”
Eryl picked up the pitcher of ale and refilled both their mugs.
“Arlott had the information about the knife. Said he wanted to commission its theft,” Eryl said. “He told me his patron was looking for a long-term arrangement. He also wanted to know about any other old weapons I came across. I was to tell him where they were and he’d let me know which ones he wanted.” Eryl looked at her. “I wondered why he didn’t just nab all the weapons and get rid of the ones he didn’t want. Much safer than getting a look at them beforehand.”
“A matter of ownership, maybe,” Brenna said. “It’s strange enough that the Captain of the Kingsguard has commissioned any theft. I suppose he can’t steal from just anyone. Maybe he feels this patron of his has more right to the weapon than the church?” Would Kane be able to identify which weapons belonged to the Brotherhood? He’d said they were different than normal weapons - stronger.
“Or maybe the church stole the knife in the first place,” Eryl added.
“That’s possible,” Brenna replied. “And that’s all you know?” At Eryl’s nod she sighed. It wasn’t much, but it was more than she’d known before.
Brenna drained her mug as Eryl got up to knock once on each door. Larkly and Millen re-entered the room.
“So, Brenna,” Millen said. “There’s a new healer at the Sheaf. How do ye like the competition?” He loomed over her, his rank breath making her nose twitch.
“If she wants to dose you, Millen, then I wish her all the luck in the world,” Brenna replied.
“She’s here now if you’d like to meet her,” Eryl said and leaned back in his chair. “She’s set certain days and times when she’s available for those who need healing. I think you should meet her, Brenna. You two have more in common than just healing.” At her arched brow, he continued. “The two of you are like as two peas in a pod, ‘cept for her manners.”
Millen grinned. “Yeah, she got manners and you don’t.”
Brenna scowled at him. “All right. I’ll meet her.”
“I’ll go get her,” Larkly said and left the room.
Brenna had never had much contact with healers other than her mother.
Although they all used the same herbs and potions, healers who worked in the reputable parts of the city would not appreciate her company. Those who had been Collegium trained had no trace of witch tainting them.
Brenna looked up when the door opened - and gasped. It was the girl she’d seen at the laundry. Once again she saw the other woman’s face pale and her brown eyes go blank and lifeless. Brenna blinked and the appearance of death vanished. A healthy young woman stood before her, brown eyes worried.
“You,” Brenna said as the girl came forward. “I saw you earlier.” She felt her stomach flip, her mutton stew now sitting like a hard lump in her gut.
“Yes, I remember Mistress,” the other woman said, the concern in her voice apparent. “I’m Sabine Werrett.”
“Brenna Lightfingers.” Brenna grasped the girl’s hand, thankful to find it warm and alive. Sabine’s face continued to radiate health and Brenna relaxed a little.
Sabine sat down and glanced nervously at Eryl, Larkly and Millen, who all watched intently. Then she leaned in close to Brenna. “Did you have a vision?” she whispered as she twisted her hands together. “If it was something about me, might I please hear it?”
Brenna started to shake her head but stopped when she looked at Sabine’s face. The other woman was terrified. “What makes you ask that?”
“Your eyes, of course, Mistress,” Sabine said so softly that Brenna had to lean in closer to hear her. “You have Seer’s eyes, and the truest pairing, except for blue and green.” Sabine lowered her voice even more. “Although I can tell that you’ve spelled them, so I’ll not give you away.”
Her mother’s prayer, Brenna thought, the one that helped her hide her eyes. Sabine could see through it, just like Kane could. Was Sabine right about her eyes? Seer’s eyes, she’d called them. Did that mean that what she’d seen – Sabine dying – was truly going to happen?
“You must leave,” Brenna said quietly. “You’re in great danger here in Kingsreach. Go back home.”
The girl swallowed and clutched Brenna’s hand. Would she do as Brenna asked? She had to, or something terrible would happen to her. Brenna’s heart raced. Why was she so certain of that?
“I’ll leave immediately, Mistress,” Sabine said and stood up. “I’ll just go pack my things.”
Brenna leaned back in her chair, relieved. She caught Eryl’s puzzled look and shook her head.
Sabine stopped by the door and turned back to Brenna. “I’m from Cottle Village in the shadow of the Seven Sisters, Mistress, in the north of Aruntun,” she said. “If you find yourself back home, come to Cottle. My family would be pleased to host you.” Then she was out the door.
Brenna let out a shaky breath. She could still picture Sabine’s face, devoid of life. She hoped Sabine was wrong about this being a vision, wrong about her having Seer’s eyes. Brenna had never had anything like a vision before, why would it start now? But she’d never before had a knife glow when she touched it either. Was this ability tied up with Kane Rowse and the Brotherhood?
“Why’d ye have to go and scare the poor lass like that,” Millen said. “And what right do ye have to tell her to go home?”
Brenna looked up at him. She was still shaken by what she’d seen when she’d looked at Sabine. “No right at all Millen, no right at all.” But she fervently hoped the other woman did leave, at once.
“Why’d ye do it, then?” Millen said. “Was it ’cause she was takin’ your healin’ trade?”
Brenna shook her head and dropped her gaze to the table. She ignored Millen’s question and instead poured herself another mug of ale, trying to keep her hand from shaking. What was happening to her? And what might happen next?
“Pah,” Millen said. “I never could figure why ye put up with her, Eryl.” Millen leaned back in his chair and the room fell silent.
Brenna picked up her mug and sipped the now flat ale. She knew she should head home, but after her strange experience with Sabine, she just couldn’t face being alone right now. She didn’t want any of this - not the glowing old steel - not the attention of the church of the One-God - not the Brotherhood and the prophecy - and especially not visions of people dead and dying. She wanted her old life back. It had its own dangers, of course, but she knew those dangers, knew how to avoid them. If only she hadn’t agreed to steal that gods forsaken knife from the priest.
A few hours later, just after midnight, a loud whisper and a swift knock on the door brought everyone to their feet. Millen and Larkly flanked the door as it opened to reveal one of the younger lads who had been in the room earlier.
He stepped into the room and shut the door behind him. “Gotta get out,” the boy said. “The new healer’s been killed and the Guard’s on its way.”
Brenna jumped up and grabbed the boy by the shoulders. “What do you mean, the new healer’s been killed? Where is she?”
“The back room behind the bar.”
Brenna yanked the door open and headed down the hallway, shouldering her way past fleeing patrons.
The back room was chaos – some patrons huddled in a clump while others tried to edge their way towards the doors.
In the middle of the crowd, Mistress Mundy knelt beside the young healer, her face solemn. “Brenna, over here. See if you can’t do something for the poor lass.”
The two inn guardsman Brenna stepped past held an old man between them. He wore a rough cloak and ragged breeches and muttered to himself. Fresh blood on his cloak glistened in the candlelight. Something about him seemed odd but Brenna couldn’t spare the time to look more closely. She gave him a wide berth and knelt by Sabine.
The knife, still in the girl, was buried all the way up to the hilt, just under her left rib. Brenna’s breath caught when she saw the bubbles of blood on the girls’ lips. Her lung was punctured, and deeply from the look of it.
“It’s bad, isn’t it?” Sabine’s voice was a gurgling whisper.
“I’m so sorry, Sabine. There’s nothing I can do. Do you want something for the pain?” Brenna felt tears prick her eyes as she watched the girl struggle for breath.
“It doesn’t hurt much. I thought it would, but it doesn’t.” Brenna had to lean closer in order to hear her. “Please let my family know what’s become of me. They’ll worry so if they don’t get word.” Her sad smile turned into a grimace of pain. “They’re in Cottle, remember.”
“I remember,” Brenna said. Tears trailed down her cheek and she wiped her eyes with her sleeve as Sabine’s breathing became more labored. Then the wheezing stopped and just like in her vision, Sabine’s face paled and the life faded from her eyes. Brenna brushed a hand across the dead girl’s face, closing her eyes.
“She’s gone?” Mistress Mundy leaned over her.
Brenna nodded and she felt the older woman’s hand on her shoulder.
“Poor thing,” Mistress Mundy said. “She was a sweet lass, that one. I’m sorry, Brenna. I know you did what you could.”
“But it wasn’t enough,” Brenna said. She should have made sure Sabine left the inn right away. Then she wouldn’t have had to watch the girl die.
“Come on, love.” Mistress Mundy helped her up. “I think we both could use a good solid drink to warm us up.”
Brenna let Mistress Mundy guide her away from Sabine’s body. As they moved past the prisoner he looked straight at Brenna.
“A witch, another witch!” he yelled. “Death to all witches,” the priest said. “They work evil against the One-God!” The Guards jerked him back and his voice lowered to a mutter as Brenna and Mistress Mundy left the room.
Again, something nagged at her, something about the way he looked or the smell of his breath, but she let Mistress Mundy steer her into the kitchen to a seat by the fire. She needed the warmth to ward off the sudden chill she felt.
Brenna sipped her second brandy, welcoming the fuzziness it brought. She knew she shouldn’t drink any more - between the ale she’d shared with Eryl and the two brandies Mistress Mundy had poured her she was
feeling the effects. The last thing she needed right now was to let her guard down, but she kept seeing Sabine’s face, her life fading from her, just like in her vision. Her hands trembled when she picked up her glass for another sip.
seven
Kane gently let the woman’s head settle back on the floor and stood up. It wasn’t her. He dragged a shaky hand across his eyes and exhaled. As the tension drained from his shoulders he looked back down at the young woman’s body. She had brown hair, brown eyes, and was apparently a healer. And Dasid’s report said Brenna had been seen inside this very tavern tonight. This poor woman’s death was more than a coincidence.
“Do we know who she is?” he asked the Kingsguard. The man had been first on the scene and was the only other person in the room.
“Not yet, Captain,” the guard said. “From what we know so far, she’d been in the city for only a few days.”
“Do we know much of the one who knifed her?”
“We haven’t been able to get any sense out of him. It’s peculiar. He had time to get away but didn’t. According to witnesses, once he knifed the girl he just stood over her and yelled – something about witches and the church - until the inn guards grabbed him. Apparently he quieted down until he saw the other healer, then he started up again. He’s been sent to a cell back in the keep.”
“And the other healer, she’s safe?”
The guard nodded. Kane closed his eyes, just for a moment, in relief. Thank the gods! He should have made Brenna come with him when he’d had the chance, should have forced her ... He shook his head - that would never work - he didn’t see how the prophecy could be fulfilled by force. But she could have been lost and it would have been his failure.
“Is she still here?” Kane asked.
“She’s in the kitchen with the owner of the inn.” The guard kept his voice low. “She tried to help the young lass but t’were too late by then.”
“Thank you. We’ll need to do something about what the killer said.” Kane grimaced as he rubbed his tired eyes with his hand. “The last thing the city needs is a religious fanatic stirring things up. Officially we’ll say that the healer couldn’t cure his pox and he, half mad with disease, took it out on her,” Kane said. “Which way to the kitchen?”