by A C Rae
Quinn had no idea how she managed to find so many shops, especially as she had never visited that area of Aelin before. She had procured new bedclothes, food to stock the larder, and even managed to find a florist to buy a bunch of flowers, to 'brighten up' the house.
Quinn opened the door, bleary eyed, and shuffled through the door, juggling several bags. As soon as the door was closed, he let the bags slip out of his arms and slide onto the floor.
Without saying a word to Pryce, only sharing a meaningful glance with him, he traipsed up the stairs. A contented sigh drifted down the stairs as he stretched out on his bed.
Pryce laughed. “He can ride for hours, spar for hours, walk for hours, and still have energy left. One shopping trip with you and his energy is completely wiped out.”
Eira smiled sheepishly.
Quinn did not re-emerge from his room that evening. When Pryce walked past his door, he heard slow even breathing. Quinn had clearly gone to sleep. He padded past his room with Eira.
Eira was to sleep in Abershaw's old room. It was sparse but had a tidy, comfortable bed tucked against the wall.
Whispering her thanks, she closed the door and crept into bed. It did not take long until she too was asleep.
She was abruptly woken in the night by a scream. It took some moments for her to realise it was coming from Quinn's room. She immediately threw the bedcovers off and raced to the door. Throwing it open, she nearly bounced into Pryce, who was already in the hallway heading towards Quinn's room.
He was twisting wildly in his sheets, shouting nonsense as far as Pryce could tell. But Eira recognised the jumbled words for something else. Putting her hand to her mouth to hide her gasp, she whispered to Pryce. “Pryce, that's no ordinary dream. It's his gift trying to break free, to be used.”
Pryce panicked and glared at her. “Don't be silly, he can’t be that powerful. It's just a nightmare.” He stepped forward and grasped Quinn's shoulder, shaking him gently.
When Quinn finally responded, eyes half open, even Pryce could not dispute the increased brightness in Quinn's blue eyes before they settled back to his normal colour.
“Shhh.” He calmed Quinn, ignoring it. “It was just a bad dream.”
Quinn murmured something unintelligible, before turning over and settling back to sleep.
Pryce dragged Eira out into the hallway. “Swear to me you will not tell Quinn.” At Eira's hesitation, he increased his pressure on her arm. “Swear.” He hissed.
Eira narrowed her eyes. “Pryce, I will only swear that I will give you one month to tell him yourself. One month. If you have not told him by then, I will tell him.”
She wrenched her arm from his hand, and swept off.
There was tension between Eira and Pryce in the morning. Quinn had no recollection of the previous night's events so breezed in, oblivious to the seething glares they were shooting each other, especially as he was engrossed in reading a book while he was walking.
Pryce announced he was leaving to speak with the actors at the Phoenix theatre to arrange for Quinn's 'patronage'.
Quinn muttered something that sounded a bit like “See you later”, head still buried in his book.
When Pryce arrived a few hours later, he found Quinn and Eira sat at the table, strewn with open books, conducting a rather involved discussion about the latest music. He stood in the doorway for a few moments, impressed with how intelligent Quinn sounded. He cleared his throat.
“I've managed to speak with Dick and the others. You will be on the play bill for an Opera they are holding in nine days’ time. I've paid them a fair sum to cover the cost of printing the play bills.”
Quinn smiled nervously. “Nine days left to become a convincing nobleman.”
Eira leaned across the table and squeezed his hand gently. “You already are convincing.” Quinn smiled shyly at her.
Pryce tried hard to suppress his pang of jealousy. He was surprised at the sudden expanse of loneliness he could see in his future, devoid of Quinn. First Abershaw, and now Quinn. He shook his head to clear his gloomy thoughts.
“Agreed. Now I need to take you out to the field, build your fitness up again young man.”
Eira watched, impressed, as the two men circled and danced, parrying and blocking with their swords. Quinn seemed to twist into any opening Pryce left, but had already darted away when Pryce attempted to close in on him. Quinn's arm suddenly flicked out and performed an accomplished move with his practise sword that Eira had only ever seen the King's swordmaster use before.
Pryce panted. “By the Ancestors, you weren't even this good before your injury.”
Quinn grinned. “It's weird. It's like I'm pulling from some energy I never knew I had before. I've never felt so alive.”
Pryce parried a blow successfully and swung his wooden sword at where Quinn's head had been moments before.
He finally managed to flick a leg between Quinn's and bring him down. He pointed the wooden sword at Quinn's chest. “Still need some more practise, my boy.” He held out his hand, and helped Quinn up. “But not bad.”
He ignored the warning look in Eira's eyes. For Quinn had been tapping unconsciously into his magic and he had only been able to beat him by distracting him with questioning.
For Eira the nine days were up too soon. She had managed to come to an uneasy truce with Pryce. She could understand he had a promise he still wanted to keep that he had made to Quinn's mother all those years ago. She just couldn't understand why he had made that bargain.
Maybe Quinn would not need to have to go to the Witches' Guild. Maybe Jacob could teach him. She did know that if he kept tapping into his powers, even unconsciously, it would not be long before they came for him.
Quinn walked down the stairs. She tried hard to hide the surprise in her expression. She had thought Quinn handsome in his highwayman garb, but realised that was nothing compared to how well these clothes complimented him. The tailor had chosen a trim that somehow managed to bring out his eyes. Quinn had tamed his hair. Oh how she wished she could run her hands through that hair and un-tame it...
She licked her lips and swallowed. “You... you look very nice.” She stuttered.
Pryce came down the stairs two at a time, dressed as a coachman. As befitting Quinn's new 'station', both Pryce and Eira were also dressed in fine clothes to show his wealth.
Pryce swooped off his wide brimmed hat and made a low bow to Quinn, causing Eira to giggle.
“Your coach awaits my lord.” He straightened, then doubled over again with laughter.
They had procured three large cloaks to hide their fine clothes in their district. Pryce had a carriage waiting for them on the outskirts of the noble area. They stepped out of the house, clothes fully hidden from prying eyes.
Pryce held a play bill in his hand. “The Painted Lady. Opera Spectacular. The Best Opera you have ever seen! Only two copper pieces for groundlings. Patron- The Glorious Lord Framwich.”
The Opera was not to be the only performance of the night. Quinn was going to have to pull off the best performance of his life. If he was caught out by Lord Cassian they could all be sentenced to death.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
“Once again, this author finds himself writing about Lord Cassian. His appearance at a theatre show is guaranteed to bring the rest of noble society flocking. As a result, he finds himself feted at every theatre he goes to.”
Book II, A Guide to Avarria
Lord Cassian pulled his cloak hood tightly over his head, shrouding his identity as he slipped into the Guild library.
It was a mild precaution. At this time of the night, all occupants of the Guild were fast asleep, relying on the enchantments against intruders to alert them to any break-ins. It was almost pathetic how easy it was for him to trick the enchantment into staying silent. They always underestimated the threats from within.
“Forsuwung.” He muttered. His ears rang slightly with the sudden onset of deep silence. His footsteps muffled to mere wh
ispers along the stone floor, he opened the door to the forbidden section, where all the spells his heart lusted for resided.
He ran his fingers along the dusty spines of books with dreadful titles that made delightful shivers run down his spine in spite of himself. He passed deeper into the stacks of books until he reached the scrolls that harboured ancient primal magic.
“Onhlidan.” He risked a gently uttered spell to reveal the scroll he was looking for. He smirked as his spell gathered into a floating orb that danced amongst the scrolls, before shuddering and floating to a stop above a particularly scrappy looking one. The orb’s light brightened uncomfortably for a brief second, and then burst into nothingness as the intention behind the spell was fulfilled.
Lord Cassian clutched the scroll with intense purpose. Inside would be the key to his own survival when the fulfilment of the prophecy brought the rest of the Witches Guild to their knees.
He tucked the scroll inside his sleeve and slipped out of the library, attracting no more attention than he had on his way in.
Quinn, Pryce and Eira crossed Aelin to the East, heading up towards the Theatre district by taking the narrow passageways and avoiding the main road through Aelin.
Eira held Quinn's hand. Twice they had to stop for Quinn and Pryce to scare off some thieves. Eira was horrified when she was suddenly required to fend off the advances of a prostitute.
Quinn hushed her, and dragged her away as she began lecturing the prostitute on the dangers of venereal diseases.
They had to watch their step carefully. No nobleman would be caught dead with traces of Aelin filth on their clothes. They kept their fancy shoes in a pack on Pryce's back. Avoiding Aelin grime on your shoes when you were walking through it was impossible.
They reached the coach, which was parked as discreetly as possible in a wider alleyway at the edge of the main road.
Quinn jumped into the coach, and immediately marvelled at the lush interior. Where had Pryce secured such an opulent coach? As he sat on the velvet cushion seat, he whipped off his cloak and bundled it into a box under the chair. He grinned. The irony of being a highwayman riding in a carriage, masquerading as a nobleman was not lost on him.
Pryce threw his and Eira's cloaks through the door. As his manservant Eira was to ride at the back on a stand.
The carriage rolled forward after Pryce uncovered the Framwich coat of arms.
The carriage was drawn by four white horses, a sign of Lord Framwich's power and wealth. Very few nobles' carriages were pulled by four horses. It was a custom only allowed to the privileged few.
Not for the first time Quinn wondered at the sanity of their plan.
They crossed the bridge over the river Ael towards the theatre district, full of dozens of theatres to choose from. Quinn could see through the window of the carriage, the ferrymen working their boats across the river. Any show meant an influx of business beyond the normal flow of people wanting to get across the river. He pulled back from the window, suddenly aware of the fact that a nobleman would not be staring out of the open window of the coach. He drew the curtain across to assuage any further temptation.
As they drew closer to the theatre Quinn could hear the familiar toll of the theatre bell ringing, a steady set of dongs that were an attempt to entice people to see the show.
He felt the carriage turn a corner. Now he knew they were close, as he heard a cacophony of voices all vying for attention as they called for people to come into their theatre. There were at least two plays involving pirates, clearly the popular theme of the moment. Dick's voice rang out, clear and booming as he invited people into the opera at the Phoenix theatre. It was here that the carriage finally stopped.
Eira stepped down from her stand, and opened the carriage door. She pulled down the small golden set of steps.
Quinn made a mental note to ask Pryce just where he had managed to obtain the carriage, as he was convinced it would have cost more that all their highwayman gold put together just to rent.
He stepped out of the carriage. Eira made a very low bow and joined him on his right hand side, as was the custom.
As pre-agreed, Quinn nonchalantly waved at Pryce to drive the carriage away.
Dick smiled a wide acknowledging smile. “Lord Framwich!” he boomed, causing several people in the vicinity to whip their heads round in curiosity. He made a bow so low Quinn wondered how he would be able to bow to the King without toppling over, as custom dictated the King must have the lowest bow of all.
Quinn smiled in turn. “I trust your opera tonight will be worthy of my patronage.”
Dick swept up from his bow. “Of course, my Lord.” He snapped his fingers, causing a young woman to appear from behind him. “Millie, I would like you to guide Lord Framwich to his box and show his manservant where to find suitable refreshments for his master. He stepped forward and muttered in Eira's ear. “Quinn looks remarkable! Good luck.” Eira smiled briefly and followed Quinn and Millie inside. Dick resumed his calling out to people. “Best opera you will ever see! One night only!”
Quinn had never been to the theatre through the front entrance before. The groundlings entered through a lesser entrance. The idea of common people mixing with noblemen in such a place was unthinkable. But yet here he was, a common man masquerading as a nobleman. He swallowed nervously.
Lord Framwich had never been to the opera in Aelin before but still Quinn had to force onto his face an expression of noble disinterest, while walking through the sheer magnificence of his surroundings. He mentally blocked the vision of gold leafed pillars from his thoughts. He was sure he was gawping at every expensive painting he walked past, so made an effort to ignore those as well.
Millie turned to Eira. “So...uh...”
Eira smiled at her, and spoke, lowering the tone of her voice slightly. “Malcolm. My name is Malcolm.”
“Malcolm. Nice to meet you. The refreshments are available through this door here.”
“Thank you.”
Eira made a low bow towards Quinn. “I will return presently with your refreshments my Lord.”
Millie moved forward along the opulent corridor. Quinn could hear low voices and laughing through the heavy oak door. Millie bowed low.
“The Lord's box, my Lord.”
Quinn waved her away. “Yes, thank you Millie.”
Pleased that he remembered her name, Millie fluttered her eyelashes before swishing down the corridor.
Quinn hesitated a moment before placing a soft-gloved hand to the door knob. Even the door knob was ornately carved with delicate leaves, and gilded with gold leaf.
Eira caught up with him, gasping. “Thank the Ancestors I caught you in time!” She paused to suck in a deep breath and composed herself. “You can't go in first! I need to speak with the doorman so you can be properly announced.”
Quinn breathed a sigh of relief, relieved he wouldn't be going in alone. He turned to Eira. “Uh, where are my refreshments?” He raised an eyebrow.
Eira hid her giggle behind her hand. “I don't know how to make tea!”
Quinn smirked. “Remind me to teach you, straight after tonight! I can't have a manservant who is unable to make tea!”
Eira smoothed down her livery outfit and pulled Quinn's arm gently to his side. “By the way, Dick said you look good. I think so too.” She winked, and turned the doorknob.
The door opened to reveal the Lord's box. Quinn relished the much better view of the stage than he'd ever seen down in the groundling's pit. Several noblemen were already seated and deep in conversation.
His muscles tensed. Right in the centre of a large group of nobles sat Lord Cassian, loudly entertaining them with a scathing attack on the latest biological treatise from Sir Ewan.
Eira handed a folded card to the doorman, and moved back to Quinn's side. The doorman tapped his stick loudly a couple of times. “Lord Framwich.” He announced.
The talking abruptly stopped as every nobleman turned to stare openly at Quinn. A few of their
manservants stared too, until Quinn narrowed his eyes at them to remind them of their proper station.
He pulled his gloves off, peeling them from his fingers deliberately slowly before passing them to Eira. He then stepped forward and allowed Eira to take off his coat before moving deeper into the Lord's box. He sat down in the second most opulent chair, the first obviously belonging to Lord Cassian.
Slowly, the noblemen surrounding him began to talk in a low murmur before normal talk resumed.
Eira returned to his side, having placed his coat and jacket in the nobleman's cloakroom.
Quinn beckoned with his hand for Eira to come closer. He murmured in her ear. “I think you ought to get me some refreshment. Everyone else has something in their hand. If I don't have one I'm going to look out of place!”
Eira warned him with her eyes to calm down. She bent into a low bow. “Of course, my Lord.” She moved efficiently out of the box.
Quinn could feel rather than see the gazes settled upon him, and fought hard to not feel unnerved. He recited the ten rules of etiquette as per Lady Billington in his head whilst outwardly staring keenly at the stage.
The plan was for Lord Cassian to come to him. Given Lord Cassian' high status it would be difficult. He would have to impress the lesser nobles in the box first.
Eira walked briskly down the corridor, muttering under her breath. What on earth would Quinn like to drink?
She cursed as she heard voices drifting up the corridor. She swept a swift glance around. Nowhere to hide. She recognised the voice of one of the men, and it was not someone she wanted to meet. She decided the best course of action would be to walk forward with her head down.
The men turned the corner. “And so, Lord Winsworth, I think the best you can make of the situation is to leave Aelin.”
Her father turned sharply towards the man. “Not while there is a chance of finding her!” He hissed. “Damn the consequences! He can do what he will to me.” He held out his hand to silence the other man. “Do not say it! Not here. I have already said too much in so open a space.”