by Robert Evert
Reg gestured to the statues flanking the mausoleum doors. “Perhaps it’s hidden in one of these?”
Sir Edris considered them for a moment, though without much hope. He shrugged. “Give it a try.”
While Reg searched around the statue of the dancing girl, Sir Edris mused aloud.
“He’d put it someplace safe…someplace that would make sense.” He glanced up at Natalie pacing back and forth. “Where would you put it, Nat?”
Natalie laughed bitterly. “Don’t ask me. When I hid those papers—” She halted.
“Yes?”
Covering her nose and mouth again, Natalie rushed back into the mausoleum and thrust her arm into Balen’s empty sarcophagus. She swept it underneath the silk mattress.
Nothing.
“What are you doing?” Sir Edris called in after her.
With a bit of trepidation, Natalie beheld Eleanor’s sarcophagus. Then, still pinching her nose and holding her breath, she shoved her arm into the coffin and swept her hand beneath the mattress upon which the corpse lay. She straightened.
“What is it?” asked Sir Edris.
Natalie held up a small gold harp in triumph, its sapphires glittering in the moonlight.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Natalie sat along the banks of the Lesser Green River, her back against the stump of a fallen tree. It was still mid-evening, barely three hours past sunset, and Sir Edris and Reg were already preparing for sleep. Even after eating and drinking their fill, they still appeared drawn and haggard. Sir Edris slowly lowered himself onto his bedroll while Natalie examined the gold harp.
“You okay, Nat?” he asked.
She picked at one of the beautiful sapphires. “I killed Nathaniel,” she said, then added in response to their puzzled looks: “That boy you’d used for information—the one with the off-kilter eye. He was working for Brago, too.”
“I knew it!” Reg cried. “We never should’ve trusted him.”
Natalie plucked a harp string; it was hideously out of tune.
“Are you sure you killed him?” Sir Edris asked. “Absolutely sure?”
Natalie nodded, not returning his gaze.
“How do you feel?”
Natalie shrugged. “I don’t.”
Tethered to a nearby branch, one of the horses uprooted a clump of ferns.
The big knight laid his head on his pack. “That’ll pass. Trust me.”
Natalie absentmindedly polished the harp until its gold glinted in the soft starlight slipping through the trees.
“My family, Artis—” Her voice cracked. “Dead. They’re all dead, and I don’t feel a thing. No, that’s not true…” She tossed the harp to the ground with a dull thump. “I feel happy…or something—I don’t know. I should be upset. I’m a monster!”
“Don’t say that, Nat,” said Reg. “You saved our lives!”
Natalie sobbed all the more. “Look at me! I’m crying, and not even over the right things!”
Sir Edris propped himself up onto one elbow and put a big hand on her knee.
“Nat, you just accomplished something that nobody else has been able to do. And like Reg said, you saved our lives. Your mind’s just choosing to feel the good, before it grieves over the bad. That’s completely natural. The end of a quest is always euphoric. That’s what keeps us doing it. It’s not the money or the fame; it’s the feelings you’re experiencing now.”
Natalie watched the swirling current carry a stick down the river. “I suppose…It’s just that I feel so ugly inside.”
“That’ll pass, too.” Sir Edris laid back down. Reg followed suit. “And if I haven’t already said so enough,” the knight added, closing his eyes, “thank you for rescuing us, Nat.” He yawned. “I’m proud to call you my daughter.”
Natalie didn’t reply. Hearing the word “daughter” only made her think of her mother again, and then her brothers and sisters. She fought back more tears.
She reached over and picked up the harp.
It was worth a fortune, and with her share of the reward, she could live the rest of her days like a lesser noble. The harp was also beautiful beyond compare—the shining gold was carved with such precision, she had to look very closely to see all of the meticulous runes and designs engraved along its neck. Yet, despite its immense value and beauty, Natalie was more impressed by her ability to have found the damned thing. And she found it. Not Sir Edris, or Reg, or any other famous adventurer, but a sixteen-year-old peasant girl who barely stood five feet high in her best work boots.
She wondered whether she’d ever wear work boots again, and where she’d live. She thought about Hadley and Ida, then about Artis and the job waiting for him in Winros Minor…and the cobbler’s daughter.
No. She wasn’t going to think about him, either. Not here. Not now. Sir Edris was right: focusing on the positive wasn’t so bad. She’d wait until she got home, and then she’d—
Something tugged tight around her throat. She choked.
“Give me the harp,” Brago’s voice whispered in her ear. “Give it to me, or you’ll die.”
Natalie dropped the harp and clawed at the fine wire pinning her to the tree stump. Kicking frantically, she tried in vain to reach Reg lying in the dry leaves, just out of reach. Sir Edris gave a half-snore, but otherwise didn’t stir. Natalie’s eyes bulged, her hands flailing wildly.
“Don’t worry,” Brago whispered soothingly. “It’ll all be over in a minute and you can join your family and miserable boyfriend.”
Natalie stomped, trying to wake her companions, but they still didn’t move.
Her face grew cold, her tongue swelled. As she thrashed, her hand struck the handle of her knife.
Fumbling, Natalie jerked it out of its sheath, slicing her side in the process. She slashed it blindly behind her until she struck something. Brago swore. For a moment, the garrote slackened. Natalie choked violently, gasping for air. Then the garrote yanked even tighter, slamming Natalie back against the tree stump so hard, her vision went gray.
Her body tingling, she felt the knife drop away from her cold fingertips as somebody shouted. The garrote gave way.
Natalie fell forward, retching, but Brago grabbed her hair and wrenched Natalie’s head back. He put her knife to her throat.
“One more step,” Brago yelled, “and she dies!” Sir Edris and Reg, now up on their unsteady feet, froze. “Give me the harp!”
“She’s my daughter, Brago,” Sir Edris growled.
“How very wonderful for you. Give me the damned harp—now!”
Slowly, Sir Edris picked up Balen’s harp. “Let her go, Brago.”
Brago held out his free hand. “Don’t come any closer. Toss it to me.”
“You know there’s no way out of this,” said Sir Edris. “You kill her, and we’ll be on you. I don’t care how exhausted I am.” He gestured to Reg scowling by his side. “You’re no match for both of us. Not with a knife.”
He tossed the harp at Brago’s feet.
“That’s just like you, Ed. Only thinking of one option.” With a flick of his wrist, Brago slashed open Natalie’s chest and shoved her, screaming, into Sir Edris’s arms.
“Natalie!” Sir Edris and Reg cried out together.
Brago snatched the harp and retreated deeper into the woods.
Sir Edris tore off his cloak and pressed it against Natalie’s wound. Immediately, the fabric turned bright red. “Next time I see you,” he hollered at Brago, “I’m going to kill you!”
Brago bowed. “Then we understand each other perfectly. Next time I see you, there’ll be a knife in your back.” He raised Balen’s harp in farewell, “Cheers!” and disappeared into the darkness.
Reg made to run after him, but Sir Edris called for him to stop. “Don’t be a fool!” he said. “You don’t even have a sword.”
“You’re going to let him go?”
“There’ll be another time and another place,” Sir Edris replied, gazing down at Natalie. “Besides, it’s a golden
harp.”
Epilogue
Natalie lay in a soft bed in the Ketterings’ guesthouse, watching the bright morning sunlight illuminate a bejeweled tapestry on the far wall. Her wound had been sewn shut. That had actually been more painful than being cut open; Sir Edris, Reg, and several of Lord Kettering’s servants had to hold her down while the doctor stitched her closed. But she wouldn’t die—not yet, at least.
Eight days had passed since she was attacked. She spent most of them crying over her family and Artis, sobbing uncontrollably at the thought of what they must’ve felt in their last moments. Even though the pain still pressed in around her heart, her tears were finally beginning to subside.
Somebody rapped gently at the door.
“Come in,” Natalie said.
Sir Edris poked his head into the room, followed by Reg.
“How are you feeling?” Sir Edris asked, coming to her bedside. “Do you need anything, anything at all?”
“I’m fine.” She pushed herself up to sitting. “Thanks to both of you.”
Reg laid a bouquet of black-eyed Susans next to her. It was even larger than the one he had given her two days earlier. “I suppose I should’ve gotten another vase and some water first.”
“It can wait.” Natalie sniffed the flowers. They smelled like dirt. “Thank you. They’re beautiful.”
The two men pulled up chairs.
“You sure you’re okay?” Reg asked. “We can get you whatever you need. Just name it.”
Natalie shook her head. She was tired and could have used more sleep, but she kept that to herself. “Don’t worry about me.”
“We’ll worry nonetheless,” said the knight.
They both smiled at her—sad, thoughtful smiles.
“So you’re heading off, then?” Natalie asked, guessing at why they’d come.
“I’m afraid so. Master Reginald and I have a few pressing matters that require our attention.”
“What about Brago?” she said. “Did he win the quest?”
A grim smirk drew across Sir Edris’s face. “Arnold got to him right before he reached Upper Angle, and stole the harp at arrow-point.”
“Arnold?”
“One of King John’s champions from Hillway. Young, but very crafty. He’ll be a formidable opponent when he gets older.”
Reg patted Natalie’s forearm. “But don’t worry about Brago. We’re going to—”
“Let’s not talk about such things,” Sir Edris interrupted. “Not now.” He stroked Natalie’s hair. “Before we take our temporary leave from you, I thought we should discuss a couple of issues.”
“Just a couple?”
Sir Edris returned her grin, then produced a pouch full of coins. Natalie tried to wave it away—she still had what he’d given her at Winros Minor—but Sir Edris cut off her protests.
“I promised you five hundred gold, if you helped us acquire the harp.” He set the pouch next to her flowers. “But I don’t want you carrying that much, so I’m only giving you thirty right now. What I need to know…that is, I was wondering where you planned on ending up. Will you go back to Upper Angle? Because wherever you plan on going, I’ll make sure a bank note for the rest is waiting for you. It’ll help you get your life re-started.”
“You’ve already given me so much,” she said. “The dresses…the money…”
“I’m a man of my word, Nat. Five hundred gold is what I’d said, and you’re going to take it. What you do with it, however, is your affair.”
Natalie leaned back and stared up at the ceiling. Her wound throbbed, though the pain was manageable.
“I don’t have a clue where I should go,” she finally said. “I mean, I have friends in Upper Angle—good friends—but…”
“Memories?” Reg muttered.
Natalie grimaced. “And Brago. I might put them in danger if I’m around. I’d miss them terribly, but perhaps it’d be best if I…moved on. Maybe it’d be best if everybody thought I was dead.”
“Well”—Sir Edris cleared his throat—“in that case, Reg and I had been discussing the situation, and we both thought that perhaps you might consider extending our partnership?”
“How so?”
“We can always use loyal informants,” Reg explained.
“No, not an informant,” Sir Edris corrected him. “We have enough of those. We need somebody who has a different way of seeing things.”
Natalie laughed. “You don’t need me. You figured out how to open the mausoleum without even knowing how to read music!”
“Nat.” Sir Edris’s tone turned serious. “I never would've thought to check underneath the mattress. Never in a million years.”
“That’s why we need you,” Reg added.
Natalie stared thoughtfully at the tapestry again, its gems sparkling in the sunlight.
“Do you have other plans?” Sir Edris asked, curious.
“Well, no,” Natalie admitted. “I’d thought of starting some sort of business, though what it would be, I haven’t the foggiest notion.”
Sir Edris and Reg glanced at each other.
“You know,” said Sir Edris, as if broaching a delicate topic, “as adventurers, Reg and I often come across items of value. In fact, we could make a small fortune—if we had time to find people willing to buy them. We’ve often thought about hiring somebody to set up a shop somewhere where these items could be sold properly.”
“It was going to be our retirement business,” said Reg.
“I thought you wanted to own a tavern,” said Natalie.
Sir Edris scoffed. “A tavern?”
“Hey,” Reg replied. “Tavern owners are as good as kings to people who drink. Ever hear of a mob trying to kill the tavern owner?”
Sir Edris laughed, loud and long. “Quite right! Quite right! Well said.”
“So…you want me to start a business to sell the odds and ends you acquire in your travels?” Natalie asked, refocusing the conversation.
“Not just selling odds and ends,” Sir Edris said, “but also gathering information. We need somebody we can trust, where messages could be sent, supplies could be gathered, and weapons could be stored. We need somebody with a good set of eyes and ears to learn the gossip of the streets.”
“We need somebody who can spread false rumors and keep an eye on our competition,” Reg added. “And who’d corroborate the information gathered by our less-trustworthy informants.”
“Yes, exactly!” Sir Edris agreed. He looked at Natalie. “You interested?”
Natalie tried to sit up straight, but a tearing sensation shot through her chest. She sat back, hiding her discomfort.
“What about Brago?” she said. “If I stay in one place—”
Sir Edris waved a dismissive hand. “Like I said before, change your hair, move to some other town, and he won’t be able to recognize you. We’ll also spread a rumor that you bled to death or died of an infection; that is, if that’s what you want.”
“Besides,” Reg said firmly, “we’ll deal with Brago.”
Natalie grimaced as she rested her head on the down-filled pillow.
“But what if”—she gave them a wry smile—“what if I want to adventure on my own?”
Sir Edris clapped his hands and laughed even more. “In that case, I’ll teach you all I know and cheer you on!”
Natalie couldn’t lie to herself; the thought of adventuring did thrill her—traveling here and there, solving riddles that big burly men couldn’t figure out. She could do what no other woman in history had ever done.
A twinge of pain stabbed through her chest again, bringing her back to the present.
Perhaps, in a few years.
“Tell you what,” said Sir Edris, “you’ll get half of everything the store makes, plus ten percent of any quests won. How does that sound?”
In all honesty, Natalie didn’t know how that sounded. The money Sir Edris had already given her was far more than she’d ever seen in her whole life. With five hundred gold,
she could be comfortable for a very, very long time.
Then again, with nothing to do, it’d be a boring life.
She held out her hand. “Deal.”
They shook with her and then hugged her gently.
“So what do I do now?” she asked.
“Now, you rest.” Sir Edris kissed her forehead. “Kettering’s people will take good care of you. I've seen to that.”
Reg kissed her forehead as well, though his lips lingered a bit longer than Sir Edris’s. “You need to stay for at least a month.”
“Yes. At least a month,” Sir Edris agreed. “But we should see you before then.”
“What? Is the new quest too easy?” Natalie asked mockingly.
Sir Edris winked. “Dreadfully easy. They want us to find the Star of Iliandor!”
Reg rolled his eyes. “We’ll be back in a few weeks, if that.”
“The kings are actually offering lordships and land to the person who finds it.” Sir Edris rose to his feet. “Who knows? Maybe I’ll retire after this one.”
Natalie reached out and took each of their hands. “Just be careful,” she said. “I won’t be able to rescue you two big, strong men from any towers for a while.” Her smile became strained. “And watch out for Brago.”
THE END
Connect with Diversion Books
Connect with us for information on new titles and authors from Diversion Books, free excerpts, special promotions, contests, and more: