Standing on the backside of a failed alliance, Beau did have to admit he’d used Nate too. Without him, he’d never have gotten off the Manor. Even so, that hadn’t stopped Beau from caring about Nate or feeling like their bond was real.
As Beau pushed on, he entered the part of the forest where the tree cover grew thinner, where the dark of the night yielded to the stars above. Free from the clutches of predatory brambles, Beau let his guard down for a moment. But just as his shoulders began to unwind, he heard the snap and crackle of someone, something making an approach from the north.
Beau quickly backed Puzzle into the shadows, his heart racing along with his mind, trying to reckon what was approaching. A bear? Doone? Thieves?
Why hadn’t he taken a real weapon?
But it was too late to wonder now as two people came pushing through the brush, each hauling a sack over one shoulder. The first to step out onto the road was a woman who carried herself as if her bundle contained all the weight of the world. Beau’s throat ached at the sight of her burden. But the girl with a long braid falling down her back who followed her made his pounding heart almost stop.
“Cressi?” slipped out of his mouth like a wish or a prayer.
The woman, who’d been moving so slowly, sprang to action as she pushed the girl into the brush hissing, “Run!”
The girl froze for a moment, just long enough for Beau to catch sight of her hollowed out cheekbones, and to realize she was a stranger to him. Then she took off into the tree line, lithe as a rabbit, leaving no sound or scent in her wake. The woman watched until she’d disappeared, then turned to scuttle off in the opposite direction. Although she tried, she couldn’t move very fast, her hurrying less a run and more a hobble. It was only then that Beau recognized the hunch to her shoulders, the downcast way she held her squared-off jaw.
It was the woman they’d passed on their way to Doone’s.
“Wait!” Beau called. “Hold on!”
At the sound of his voice the woman froze, every muscle and sinew taut. Slowly she dropped her sack to the ground and raised her hands in surrender.
“Please, sir,” she said, her voice trembling and thin. “I meant no offense.”
“Offense?” Beau tied Puzzle’s reins off and approached the woman. Although he moved slowly, with care, she cowered, shrinking back into herself.
“It’s only a squirrel and some ground nuts.” She sounded close to breaking. “Just trying to feed my family.”
“With a squirrel?” Beau couldn’t contain his disgust. That would hardly be enough to feed a child, let alone an entire family.
“We didn’t trap it or anything. Found it already dead. We’d never hunt without your say-so. And I’d never have taken it if your other man left us anything, even onions. But he took it all. Said we had to pay next season’s custom now. He said it would be enough. Here, take it!” The woman thrust the sack at Beau. “I’ve got nothing else to give you!”
“I don’t want anything, I promise.” Beau waved off the sack and took a few steps closer. “Don’t you recognize me?”
“Yes, sir,” she said. But rather than being calmed, her fear intensified. “You’re one of Doone’s. You have to tell him it’s all we have, nothing more. I’ve paid with all I have, down to my last piglet. Please!”
A chill gripped Beau’s neck. The screech that had filled the woods while Doone taught Beau and Nate about the runner’s code was this woman’s pig! Her only pig—the same one Trout had been roasting all day long out in the cookhouse. He’d stolen it.
“I’m not one of Doone’s,” Beau vowed. “I was with him yesterday, but I have nothing to do with that villain.”
The woman eyed Beau cautiously.
“I’ve run from his house,” he confided. “Believe me, I’m frightened of him too. And repulsed. He’s not who people think he is, who I thought he was. Please, let me help you somehow. Try to make it right.”
“No one can make it right.” The woman’s voice took on a bitter edge. “Life down here is what it is. And if you’ve run from Doone, you best keep running.”
“I will. But first let me help you somehow, to prove I’m not who you think I am.”
The woman shifted. “What do you care what I think?”
She was right. What did it matter what anyone thought about him? The only important thing was what he did.
“What’s he done to you is terrible, unimaginable. I want to help.”
The woman gathered her thin shawl closer around her. She was fighting to keep her gaze pinned to Beau, but she kept stealing quick little glances off into the woods. He realized then the girl was hiding behind a scraggly thorn bush.
Beau had no real idea what maternal love looked like, but the way she softened every time her eyes skipped past her daughter was as close to anything he’d ever imagined.
“I promise you, you’re safe with me. I can help if you let me.”
The thick rod of fear that had been keeping the woman upright and ready to flee softened. “You really want to help?”
Beau nodded. “I do.”
“Come on then. Can’t talk out here.” The woman threw the sack over her shoulder, wrapped a protective arm around her daughter, and led the way to their tiny hovel in the burned-out village.
The woman’s cabin, which from afar had looked solid enough, was the saddest place Beau could ever imagine. Tiny, drafty, and barely standing, it leaned to one side and looked as if even the smallest breeze could topple it. The woman was clearly doing the best she could to keep it clean, to keep a fire burning, to keep the rodents at bay, but it was a losing battle. She insisted Beau make himself comfortable, offering him the thin pile of rags they called a bed, but instead he chose to get to work.
While the woman set to skinning and cooking the squirrel, Beau hauled in wood, collected water from a nearby stream, and turned Puzzle’s saddle pad into a covering for the drafty window. And all the while he gently pressed the woman for details about how she managed to survive.
She told him about losing her husband to an illness that settled in his chest and never left. That her two oldest children had been sent to Mastery House, a price that covered her tax for ten seasons. They were strong and healthy babies, she said. She could only hope they’d survived. But when the time came, she refused to make her youngest daughter’s birth known. The child had been sickly from birth. She’d not have survived half a season in Mastery House.
“But defying the law means keeping her hidden,” the woman said.
“From the Manor’s tax collectors you mean?” Beau asked.
“And other folks around here. We all hate the Manor the same, but coin can feed you. There’s not many who’ll pass that up, even if it costs someone else.”
“People do that to each other? Turn their neighbors in?”
“Survival turns the unimaginable into the unavoidable. I can’t blame them. Most of them are in the same exact position I am, some even worse.”
Beau’s anger ignited, but he tamped it down. It would do the woman no good. “And that’s why you’re paying Doone.”
“He offered protection. Promised he’d never let anyone take her from me.”
“As long as you paid with everything you have!” No longer able to contain his ire, Beau started pacing, but stopped as soon as he realized he’d become a mirror of Himself’s own thinking posture. He shoved his hands into his pockets as a way to settle himself, and that’s when it hit him. The answer was right there. It was so simple, so obvious. All Beau could do was start laughing.
The woman and her daughter retreated to the back wall of the cabin, worry creasing the corners of their eyes.
“I’m sorry!” Beau said, trying to wave off his behavior. “It’s all right. I didn’t mean to scare you. It’s just that, I’m so stupid. I’ve had the answer all along! I can’t believe I didn’t think of it sooner.”
While the woman and her daughter watched, eyes wide with caution, Beau pulled his fist out of his pocket
. And then, with his face lit with a smile bright enough to illuminate the dim hovel, he poured a fistful of coins into the woman’s hand.
“I . . . I . . .” The woman fumbled for words as she watched the shower of copper filling her palm.
“I know it’s not much,” Beau said. “But it will help for now.”
“Not much?” The woman’s thin voice was on the verge of breaking. “It’s more than I’ve seen since I was a girl. My family once owned land, a good working farm. I don’t remember much of that life, but I know before the last war we had coin to pay for what we needed.”
Beau’s throat tightened; the depth of her loss was far greater than anything he’d ever known.
Since leaving the Manor, Beau thought he’d come to understand how very different people’s lives were from his. Seeing Mastery House had hit him like an anvil on the head. Hearing how the people in the Lower Middlelands scratched to survive pulled at his heart. Even those who had the means to live well in the Upper Middlelands lived in fear. But like the children of Mastery House, this woman and her daughter in the Bottom were beyond vulnerable. They’d been wholly abandoned. And it was all because of the cruelty perpetuated by the Manor, by Beau’s father. By Beau’s own blindness.
Beau took his riding jacket off and draped it around the young girl’s shoulders. “I’m sorry I haven’t done enough for you.”
“But you have!” The woman wrapped the coins in a ragged piece of cloth as if they were the very miracle of life itself before turning back to her stew pot. “Please, sit. Food will be ready soon.”
“Thank you,” Beau said. “But I’ve got to be going.”
“No, you should wait here for the dawn,” the woman insisted. “It’s not safe out there, especially at night.”
“I’ll be all right,” Beau said.
“I hope you will.” The woman took Beau’s hand in hers. As thin and cold as she was, her hand generated a warmth and kindness such as Beau had never felt. The touch of trust.
He turned to leave when she called after him, “Wait, what do they call you?”
The answer he wanted to give got stuck in his throat, pulled at his very core. A cough cleared it enough for him to reply, “Crafty.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Charming the Charmer
As soon as Cressi stepped through the veil, the pawn began shaking and quaking so hard she was certain Beau would be on the other side waiting for her.
But he wasn’t. The only person on the other side of the veil was Gerta, looking less than pleased.
“Where is he?” Cressi asked. “He is here, right?”
Gerta gave no reply, instead only signaled for Cressi to follow her.
Certain she was about to come face-to-face with Beau, Cressi pulled the pawn out of her pocket. It was hard to discern if the excitement she felt was hers alone. What would the pawn do when she and Beau finally met? Jump from her hand to his? Go silent? Disintegrate?
But the cabin Gerta led Cressi to was empty, save for a bed, a table, and a cold, unlit hearth. No Beau.
“Where is—”
Gerta cut her off with a flat palm.
“Sit.”
“Why won’t you let me see him?” Cressi pushed. And then it struck her. “Is he hurt? Did something happen? What about Na—”
“Stop. Sit. Listen.” Gerta pointed to the chair and waited.
That was the last thing Cressi wanted to do, but Gerta was a wall. The only way around was to wait for her to open up. Cressi sat.
“He’s not here,” Gerta said. “Never was.”
“But the paw—” Cressi stopped herself. She’d not told anyone about the pawn yet. Why would she begin with Gerta?
“What of the pawn?” Gerta asked. “It’s all right, I know you have it. I imagine it’s been leading you, like a dog wagging its tail whenever it picks up its master’s scent. But it’s not a perfect charm, especially in your hands.”
“What does that mean?” Cressi balked.
“Annina charmed it and left it for Beau to use one day. She knew her time was coming and wanted to leave something for her son, a trail to follow to find his own mage and his ace when the time came. She didn’t want him to make the same mistakes she’d made. Nonetheless you can trust the pawn to lead you to him. Eventually.”
“I don’t have until eventually.”
“Then you’ll go to Doone’s.” Gerta sounded as if this were the most obvious answer, one Cressi should already have known.
“Wait, he’s with Doone? What about Nate?”
“He’s there too.”
“And they’re safe? Doone hasn’t . . . Nate hasn’t . . .” She couldn’t say what she thought Doone or Nate would do if they knew Beau was the heir.
“Both boys looked more than pleased to be in Doone’s company. It’s not far from here. Hugo will take you.”
Cressi jumped to her feet. “I’m ready. Let’s go.”
“A warning for you first. Doone’s only interest in people is how he can use them. You’d be a particularly appealing tool to hang in his shed. I’d suggest you play like you’re on his side. You think you can do that?”
“I’ve already played that game. That’s how I got away from the Manor.” Cressi fixed her bag and headed for the door. “I can’t thank you enough.”
“Yes you can.” Gerta, for her part, showed no signs of getting up or moving. “You’ll thank us by healing Veda, my sentry. The one we pulled out of the sand.”
Veda.
Cressi had been so consumed with finding Beau and Nate, she’d forgotten all about the person she’d sent sinking into the pit. How could she have forgotten?
“How is she? Is she very hurt?”
“From what I’m told, burns cover her legs, her side, and one entire arm. Then there’s the blow to the head you gave her. It’s a miracle she’s not dead.”
Cressi melted into the chair, the weight of guilt cutting her legs out from underneath her. “I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry,” Gerta corrected. “Heal her.”
“I’ll try.” Cressi brightened a bit at the thought. “Where is she?”
“Next door. Then once she’s healed, you’ll fix our veil.”
“Your veil?” Cressi laughed, the idea too ridiculous to believe. “That I can’t do. I wouldn’t even know how to.”
“Then you’ll learn.”
Cressi stood stunned. “How can I learn something I barely understand?”
“What’s there to understand? It’s simple magic,” Gerta replied. “We diffuse the charm in the firepit outside, the vapor shrouds us from view. For smaller areas, like a rock face, a log, or a hedgerow, we paint the area with the brew. If we are to remain safe and hidden, we need more, and you’re going to make it for us.”
“I’ve never done anything like that. And I . . . I have to find Beau.”
“And you will. As soon as you’re done.”
“I thought you were a friend,” Cressi countered. “An ally.”
“I’d say what we share is more a strategic alliance,” Gerta corrected. “We’re united in our fight against the Manor, but we don’t want the same outcome from the war.”
“How can we not? A benevolent Manor can only make us all stronger, safer.”
“Again, we differ in our definition. We’ve had to forge certain agreements, make deals that protect our right to never submit to be ruled by anyone else ever again. We’ve a treaty with Doone just to that end. He leaves us alone. We leave him alone. But make no mistake—our allegiance is only to ourselves.”
Gerta was unlike any woman Cressi had ever met before. It wasn’t that she was the chosen leader of her people. Although that was unheard of under Manor rule, stories told of many female leaders in times past. Rather, it was her bearing, her sense of confident, calm command. Certainly, Cressi had suffered at the hand of countless cruel women, Matron first among them, but Gerta was different. She wasn’t looking for compliance to feed her pride. She embodied her powe
r and authority without conceit. Had Gerta not made herself an obstacle, she would have been an inspiration. But right now, she was a barrier Cressi had no good way around.
“We agree on our terms then?” Gerta asked.
It was irresponsible and plain stupid to make an agreement Cressi didn’t know how to fulfill. But there was no other choice.
Gerta led Cressi into one of the larger cabins where Veda was laid out on a bed. Her legs were covered in moist linens, the smell of burned flesh hanging heavy in the air. A girl not much older than Cressi was attending her, mopping her forehead with a cool compress.
“You need anything, Lula will help. She’s got a healing touch. Perhaps she can learn from you.” And with that Gerta left, the sound of a lock engaging in her wake.
“Don’t expect too much from me, please.” Cressi smiled weakly at Lula as she took off her bag.
After laying her brews out on the table, Cressi inhaled of each deeply. Truth. Loyalty. A cure for the fever. Each brew was perfectly balanced for its intended purpose, not for healing burns. The closest thing she had was the pot of salve she’d used to heal the guard’s hand and Beau’s nose, but it was nearly spent. She’d need at least thrice the amount to tend to Veda’s legs, and it still might not work. Yet coming up with a new brew would take all night. She didn’t have all night.
Then again, she also didn’t have a choice.
Cressi asked Lula to bring her a couple of bowls, a mortar and pestle, and a kettle of hot water, and then she began mixing and muddling. She added a bit of one brew to a bowl, then stirred in a dash of another, hoping together they’d make something new and useful. But every attempt resulted only in the brews battling each other for domination, a fight that wound up canceling them both out.
Cressi then tried adding new ingredients to the brews. She added in bits of roots and leaves, pushing the mixtures to expand their use, yet nothing she did produced the results she needed.
The Verdigris Pawn Page 18