The Verdigris Pawn

by Alysa Wishingrad

  In other words, turn Beau into a mindless and submissive puppet for Barger to control. The chamberlain had found a way to both increase his personal power and serve his master.

  As Barger said, control the pawn, control the board. It all made sense now.

  “I understand perfectly.” Cressi readied herself as best she could. The game was about to begin.

  The sheer opulence of the heir’s apartments was overwhelming. Smooth marble floors as shiny and cold as a sheet of ice reflected the light of large chandeliers dripping with candles. Overstuffed upholstery looked ready to swallow one up, and everything was either dipped or edged in gold.

  Prisons apparently came in all shapes and sizes.

  “Set the tray over there.” Barger gestured to a small table in the center of the sitting room. “I’ll retrieve the heir, then you’ll pour the tea for him. You’re clear on what to do?”

  Cressi nodded, but no sooner had she agreed than the pawn began quaking in her pocket. Although this time it was a different kind of dance—nervous and tense with a hint of excitement.

  Cressi waited until Barger disappeared into the next room before pulling the pawn out of her pocket. Clutching it tightly, she marveled at how the blue-green hues shimmered and glistened, exposing a swirling depth of color such as she’d never seen before. But the light also exposed something else. The game piece wasn’t moving at all. There was no shaking, no jumping. The pawn sat in her hand still as a stone.

  And yet the quaking still reverberated through her bones, producing a perfect mixture of excitement and dread as if she was about to take a big leap.

  Clearly her imagination had taken over every part of her, for it was almost as if she was feeling someone else’s emotions.

  But this was no time to worry about feelings, hers or anyone else’s. She had to find a way to make it look as if she were somehow charming Beau without actually doing so. She opened the teapot to re-stir the brew, thoughts of trickery fixed in her mind, when a string of curses splintered the silence.

  “That mouse-hearted, bloodsucking viper!” The chamberlain stormed back in, upending two chairs and a side table.

  “Where is he?!” Barger backed Cressi up against the hearth.

  “I-I don’t know,” Cressi stuttered as the heat of the fire played at the hem of her uniform. “On my bond, sir. The last time I saw him was with you.”

  “LIAR!” Barger shouted. He reached to grab for her, but then his gaze landed on the pawn in her hand. Suddenly calmed, he stepped back, smoothing his hair and clearing his throat as if trying to erase the rage he’d just unleashed.

  “You already knew he was gone, didn’t you?” Barger’s upper lip was curled so tightly it might as well have been up his nose. “The pawn told you, didn’t it?”

  “I . . .” Cressi stumbled to understand.

  “Don’t pretend with me. I knew Annina’s pawn was charmed when I gave it to you. She’d admitted as much before she died. But how does it work? What does it tell you about the heir?”

  So the emotions Cressi had felt whenever the pawn began dancing weren’t her imaginings. They were messages from Beau of some sort.

  “Truly, sir,” Cressi said, her eyes wide and clear. “I don’t know.”

  “Curse me for thinking someone like you was smart enough to understand!” Barger roared, and before Cressi could resist, he dragged her out of the apartment.

  Cook, who was sitting at her worktable opposite a pair of guards, jumped up as soon as Barger and Cressi barreled into the pantry.

  “Leave,” Barger snarled at the guards.

  “My boys are as trustworthy as me, you know that,” Cook said. “Besides, they’ve got some news you’re gonna wanna hear. Go on, tell him.”

  The guards were a nasty pair of matching brutes. The only discernible difference between them was their hair color; one had a mop of straight, straw-colored strands while the other sported an oily, mousey-brown mane.

  The mousey-headed one stood up and cleared his throat nervously. “Well, Mr. Barger, it’s this way. We was on patrol, like we was ordered, you know, right where we should be, nowhere else, following orders. Right, Keb?”

  The other guard jumped to his feet, his head dutifully bobbing up and down.

  “As we was patrolling past Mastery House, the doorkeep calls us over. ‘Bring word to the Manor,’ he says. ‘We got a runner.’”

  Cressi shifted nervously. Nate. It had to be.

  “Why are you wasting my time with this.” Barger shook his head in disgust. “You should know what to do.”

  Boz, the mousey-headed one, looked to Cook for reassurance before continuing. “Well, that’s the thing. We thought we seen him out by the calf enclosure.”

  “Then why are you here?” Barger snapped. “Go find him!”

  “Well, then the doorkeep described the runner, and we realize he ain’t the one we seen. See this boy, the keep said, was skinny, tall, had dark hair that’s always falling in his face. That ain’t the boy we seen, even though we seen him too.”

  Barger calmly—too calmly—turned to Cook. “Translate this gibberish before I have their tongues removed.”

  Cook smoothed the front of her apron and explained. “There were two boys out by the calves. They passed the one with hair in his face after Keb and Boz had told the other one to get back to work. They figured he was assigned out there too. But the one I said you’d be interested in was about this tall.” Cook held a hand below her own shoulders. “Clean hair. Cut like them Topend boys. Nice teeth all sitting straight in his mouth. And it sounds like he was wearing riding boots, like the ones Be—”

  Barger threw up a palm. “Don’t. Say. It.”

  As he began to pace, his anger seething like a pot about to boil over, Cressi went pale as milk. Nate and Beau—together? The thought of it made her stomach churn.

  Nate was like her very own blood. They were as close as any two people could be, even though they were exact opposites. Where Cressi was methodical and patient, Nate was hotheaded and impulsive. And he hated the heir with everything he had.

  “It’s not my boys’ fault,” Cook cooed. “They didn’t think anything of it until they heard about the runner, then they realized the description of one didn’t match the other. That’s when they came to me. Besides, it’s Miss Charmer’s fault. She’s the one that shoulda known.”

  As four pairs of eyes shifted in Cressi’s direction, she slipped her hand into her pocket and held the pawn tight. Even though it was lying still, as she thought of Beau she was filled with the most wonderful, expansive feeling. Freedom—the exact opposite of what she was experiencing.

  It was Beau who’d taken a great leap. There was no question about it, Cressi was certain he was gone. And while what he was doing was dangerous, he wasn’t in danger. Not now.

  Nor he was alone. Beau was out traveling somewhere beyond the Manor walls with someone she knew all too well.

  “I don’t fully understand it, but I know now the heir’s gone,” Cressi said. “And . . . he is with that Mastery House runner, the one they call Nate. I have no doubt. He’s been trying to run since he could walk.”

  “Blast them!” Barger slammed his fist on the table, sending plates and cups rattling. “Where’d they go?”

  The pawn wasn’t telling her where they were headed, but Cressi had long known if Nate ever left the Manor there was only one place he’d go—to find Doone.

  “They’re not there yet, though their destination is clear.” Cressi shivered as if frightened to the bone before adding, “The Bottom.”

  “That mewling heir! Gone to the Bottom?” Barger began turning several shades of red. “Don’t you dare lie to me!”

  “Never would I.” Cressi raised her hands in innocent surrender.

  “Why would the heir go to the Bottom?” Barger pressed.

  “I don’t know. Maybe the runner took him captive in hopes of getting paid for him. What I do know is I can find them. Send me. I’ll bring the heir ba
ck to you. And the runner too.”

  “What makes you think I’d let you out of my sight?” Barger snapped.

  “Because I’m the only one who can find them without attracting attention. Unlike guards or an official search party, I can travel without raising any suspicion, gossip, or fear.”

  Barger scoffed. “I’m meant to believe a girl who’s never stepped foot off the Manor could navigate her way through the Land?”

  “The pawn will lead me to him.”

  Barger’s nose twitched. She was clearly making him second-guess his own cunning. “Be careful. I can see you dead in less time than it takes to butter my bread.”

  “I know. Send me to find him. He trusts me.”

  Barger’s pointer finger traced a line back and forth across his lower lip before summoning the guards to stand. “You two will take her. Go fetch a wagon. We’ll dress you as couriers, give you papers so you can cross the borders of the Land without questions.”

  “You mean we get to leave the Manor?” Boz asked.

  “You get to find the heir,” Barger corrected. “And make certain no one knows he’s gone missing.”

  A mixture of elation and fear ran up Cressi’s spine as Keb and Boz made for the door. Her gamble had worked. She’d won this round.

  She got up to follow the guards out when she was yanked back.

  “You have four days,” Barger said, waving four impeccably manicured fingers in her face. “You’re not back with him by then, I’ll come after you to finish the job myself.”

  “Four days? That’s barely enough time to—” Cressi began.

  “Make it to the Bottom and back,” Barger snarled. “Not so certain of your powers anymore?”

  It was all Cressi could do to keep her lips from curling into a snarl of her own, but she managed to tame them into a soft smile. “Four days it is.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  On the Town

  Beau awoke with a start, Nate’s face inches from his own.

  “Don’t move.” Nate’s words were barely audible, although with one hand slapped over Beau’s mouth and the other gripping his knife, his gaze fixed outside the wagon, his meaning was clear.

  “All the coin!” a voice like rolling gravel demanded from outside the wagon, while a trio of others echoed the call. A thin, reedy voice rose up, begging for mercy as Beau felt the wagon rocking from the push and pull of a struggle up in the driver’s seat.

  Thieves.

  Grunts and moans filtered in beneath the sheepskins along with the stray bits of intelligible chatter. “We gonna take the skins?” someone asked.

  The reply that came was inaudible.

  Beau’s skin prickled with cold, waiting for the moment the skins were thrown back, exposing him and Nate. While Nate might be fast enough to get away, Beau would be easily caught, a rabbit in a snare.

  But then the most astounding thing happened: Beau heard the sound of horses riding off, carrying away riders cackling in triumph.

  They’d survived undetected.

  But what of the driver?

  Nate slowly eased off Beau. He was wondering the same thing.

  But before they could peek out there came the creak and whine of the wheels as someone slowly—possibly painfully—climbed into the driver’s seat and started the wagon down the road.

  Both boys collapsed with relief. They were safe, at least for now.

  Sometime later the wagon passed through a thinly guarded gate without a search. Sounds of life and the smell of fresh baked bread infiltrated their hiding place, leaving both boys drooling. They waited silently as the wagon came to a full stop, the sound of the brake engaging and the driver groaning as he climbed out of his seat. Shuffling footsteps were enough to tell them he’d walked away. The time had come.

  On Nate’s signal, the boys threw the skins off and went scrambling out of the wagon across the cobblestoned street to the safety of an alleyway. From there they peeked out at the marketplace, surveying the scene.

  There were people everywhere in the town square; ambling amidst the stalls, talking, and hawking their wares. Dogs barked, people argued, and everywhere were the sounds of commerce. Everyone had somewhere to go, something to do, and not one of them was taking note of the two boys with their heads peeking out of an alley. If Beau’s tutors were right in their descriptions of the Land, this had to be the Upper Middlelands Marketplace.

  But wherever it was, Nate looked as if he were staring into the face of heaven.

  “You see the cordwainer anywhere? Anyone else you know? What’s that over there? And what’s that amazing smell?”

  “I don’t see him,” Beau replied, choosing the easiest lie to tell.

  “Good!” Nate started for the square then doubled back to the alley. “First thing, I need to pee or else I might drown.”

  “Me too.” Beau scanned the area, looking for an outhouse, when he realized that Nate had simply turned his back and began relieving himself. Right there, out in the open!

  “Come on, what are you waiting for?” Nate said. “I want to get out there.”

  Beau laughed nervously as he took up a position by the wall. While Nate rambled on about what he wanted to do and see out in the market, Beau fought to relax. He’d never done his business anywhere but in a chamber pot. Then again, he’d never climbed into the back of a wagon and run away from the Manor before either. Rebellion took some practice to get used to.

  “So—what do we do now?” Beau asked once they’d both finished.

  “First we get some food. Then we look for signs of the runner’s code, then find another ride headed south.” Nate made to step out of the alley when he stopped. “Wait, what if someone recognizes you in the market?”

  “No one ever pays attention to the apprentice, only the master.” Beau spoke with authority, for he’d experienced this countless times. No one ever noticed him or anyone else while in Himself’s presence unless ordered to do so.

  “Makes sense,” Nate said. “All they see is the one who holds the coins. So, which way?”

  Beau looked out on the maze of stalls and parked wagons trying to decide how to proceed. Everything was so new to him. Unlike the High Street in Topend with its tidy row of shops, here there were vendors selling their wares out in the open air, offering everything from bulk cloth to copper pots to salted meat. A kind of controlled chaos pulsing with life and vitality filled the square.

  “We head straight into the heart of the market,” Beau decided. “Better chance to melt into the crowd.”

  “Good thinking. Let’s—” Nate stopped and raised his nose high in the air. “Hold up. You smell that? What is it? I’ve never smelled anything like it.”

  Beau had. That thick, syrupy nectar wafting on the breeze was the unmistakable aroma of sweet, melty sugar. “It’s candy.”

  “Wrong. It’s heaven,” Nate declared as he took off into the marketplace, a hound on the scent.

  In and out of stalls, around wagons, Nate led the way to a far corner of the square where a confectioner was cooking sugar-coated almonds over hot coals.

  Busy at her work, she didn’t notice the boys at first, but when she did her expression turned to stone.

  “No money, no looking!” The woman waved her wooden paddle in Nate’s face, narrowly missing his nose.

  “That’s not right,” Beau snapped, his voice sounding hard and sure. “We can look even if we’re not going to buy.”

  The confectioner nailed Beau with a sneer. “Until a dirty little rat like you runs the Land, I decide who gets to look at my sugared almonds. Now get before I raise the alarm on you.”

  “You’re the one who should be taken in—” Beau began when Nate elbowed him in the ribs.

  “We’re going.” Nate threw his hands up in mock surrender, grabbed Beau by the arm, and dragged him away down the lane. “Wow, Crafty, I didn’t know you had it in you to stand up to someone like that.”

  Beau tried to shrug it off, but in truth, he hadn’t known until n
ow that he had it in him either. Yet the impulse had come easily.

  “One day, we’ll have all the sweets we want. But for now, we’ll have to settle for some apples from that cart.” Nate wiggled his fingers and mimed plucking an apple from the neatly stacked rows.

  “No.” Beau planted his feet. “We’re not stealing.”

  “Unless you’ve got some coin hidden or something of worth to trade, we’ll not have any food then.”

  “These people work hard. They deserve to be paid.”

  “And we deserve to eat.”

  “We’ll find a way,” Beau said, determined to make certain they did.

  But as the boys continued winding their way past carts piled high with hand-pies, breads, and fruits, Beau’s resolve began chipping away. Was it really so wrong to snag a pear or two off the back of a cart? How much could one loaf of bread really mean to a baker?

  Beau was about to give in when he spotted a bustle of activity up ahead. People were leaving the market stalls and gathering around an enormous statue planted in the center of the square. Carved from gleaming white marble, the statue depicted Himself as a powerful ancient warrior standing guard over the marketplace, the very picture of the protective commander.

  Beau’s stomach twisted. His father’s image was everywhere. “I think we should avoid that crowd.”

  “We should hear what’s got them rattled,” Nate countered. “Just keep your head down and your ears open.”

  Beau tried to push away the churning sensation in his belly as he tucked his chin and followed Nate into the crowd. Once there, he could see two men standing at the base of the statue. One, a robust, bearded man dressed in the signature fur-trimmed red cloak of a wool merchant overshadowed his companion, an old man who, like his clothing, was worn thin and ragged. Beau had never seen the man in the red robes, but the old man’s shock of scraggly white hair was all too familiar.

  The cart driver.

  “Isn’t that—” Beau began when the wool merchant’s voice boomed out over the crowd.

  “Quiet down!”