by A. C. Cobble
***
Ben woke to find Amelie standing at the foot of his bed.
“Good morning,” she chirped.
“Good morning to you too,” he responded, balling a fist to rub sleep out of his eyes.
“I made us breakfast. Well, breakfast of a sort. There isn’t much in the kitchen to choose from.”
Ben rolled out of the bed, glanced at his blood-stained boots, and then followed her out of the room barefoot. In the kitchen, a cheerful fire burned in the hearth and a pot of oats sat beside it.
“I wasn’t sure about the fire,” apologized Amelie. “I hope no one is paying close attention to the chimneys. If they are, they’d probably find us anyway.”
Ben nodded. “They’ll be doing door-to-door searches soon. They’ll find us then. I looked around last night. There are blood stains over half of this house. There’s no way we can clean it enough to hide we were here.”
Amelie sat on a stool at a big wooden table in the center of the kitchen. She’d placed two bowls and two spoons there. Ben scooped a heap of oatmeal out into their bowls. She unstoppered a jar full of brown sugar.
“Back in Issen, on cold days, the cooks would make oatmeal with fresh milk, butter, and brown sugar. They’d sprinkle berries on top when they were in season or raisins when they weren’t.”
Ben stirred a small pile of sugar into his oats. “In Farview, we had oatmeal with milk and butter too, but we didn’t have sugar.” He took a bite. “If we don’t think about it too close, this can taste like home.”
Amelie grinned. “I saw where you must have been searching around in here yesterday,” she said. “Find anything interesting?”
Ben swallowed a mouthful of oats. “There is one thing I noticed.”
He told her about what he found in the house, which was nothing remarkable. He quickly moved on to the light on the back of the cart.
“What do you think it means?” asked Amelie.
Ben shrugged. “It could be some enterprising citizen of Morwith took the opportunity to secure themselves a peddler’s cart. It could be soldiers or hunters setting a trap for us.”
“Do you think we should go find out?” asked Amelie.
Ben shook his head. “It’s too big a risk. Whoever it is, they aren’t our friends, and there’s nothing in that wagon worth risking discovery for. We have our weapons and our packs. Everything else we were carrying is replaceable.”
“Not all of the mage-wrought items we took from Samuel’s are replaceable, but you’re right,” agreed Amelie. “It’s not worth the risk. Where does that leave us?”
“They aren’t going to find sign of us outside the city, which means that they are certain to start searching buildings sooner or later,” Ben stated. “I think we have one, maybe two days. Once they start a thorough search, we have to be gone.”
Amelie chewed her oatmeal and let him continue.
“That means we need to leave as soon as possible,” finished Ben.
“You think we should leave now?” she asked. “Climb the wall and run?”
“No,” responded Ben. “That’s suicide. We wait until dark and then leave. We’re gambling they don’t search this house today, but I think that is better odds than trying to escape in broad daylight.”
Amelie nodded. “What should we do the rest of the day then?”
“We can search the house again during daylight, see if there is anything I missed,” answered Ben. “We restock supplies and then rest. We’re going to have some long days ahead of us. We’ll need all of the rest we can get.”
They scoured the building from top to bottom for most of the morning. There was some usable food and a lot of fancy furniture. They found a change of clothes for Ben, an entire wardrobe of tunics to choose from but the britches were a little more snug than he was used to.
“The lord must have been your size,” muttered Amelie. She snatched a pair of britches from Ben’s hands and offered him another pair. “This will look better on you.”
“I’m not worried about looking good,” complained Ben.
Amelie raised an eyebrow at him.
“Fine,” he surrendered. “I’ll go try them on.”
“Bathe first,” instructed Amelie. “I’ll bathe as well. There’s no sense wearing clean clothes if the bodies underneath are filthy and covered in dried blood.
Ben grinned and bowed. One of the advantages of a lord’s manor was that it had bathing chambers, one with dark-wood paneling that was for the men and one with flowery pink embroidery covering half the surfaces for the women. Amelie nearly choked when she saw the décor, but she didn’t hesitate to start warming a bath. There were some things that a lady was evidently not willing to give up, even in the midst of atrocious stylistic choices.
Ben, freshly scrubbed and wearing his new clothes, met her in the hall.
“Those look good on you,” complimented Amelie.
Ben pulled at the britches. “I’m a little worried they’re too tight to fight in.”
“Try moving around, see how it feels.”
He squatted down, stood back up, lunged forward, stood again, bent, and touched his toes.
“Well?” she asked.
“It’s okay,” he allowed.
“It looked good,” she said with an impish grin.
Ben pretended to scowl at her. He couldn’t hold it long. Her humor was infectious. It was welcome after so many dark days.
“Come on,” he said. “Let’s eat.”
They had their midday meal in the kitchen, sitting on simple wooden stools around a large table the cooks must have used for prepping meals when the house was full.
After eating, they climbed into the cupola and peered around the town. The southern gate was still shut tight and a dozen armed men were within half a block of it. They couldn’t see any other gates but Ben knew they’d be shut as well. Outside of the gate, a score of wagons and carts sat waiting. They’d pulled off the side of the road and made camp.
“They’re expecting to be out there long enough that they made camp but not so long that they turned around,” speculated Amelie.
“Those gates won’t open until they’ve searched the town,” agreed Ben. “Tomorrow they search?”
Amelie nodded. “We have to leave tonight.”
Ben showed her the cart, which was still sitting where he parked it. During daylight, there was no sign of life.
“Probably some townsman taking advantage of abandoned property,” guessed Amelie.
“Probably,” agreed Ben.
They climbed back inside, not wanting to spend too much time up top and risk being seen.
“What should we do now?” asked Amelie.
“Rest,” replied Ben.
“I have something else in mind,” she responded coyly. “Come with me.”
Ben followed Amelie down the stairs and to the rooms they’d slept in. She led him into her room and spun to face him.
“We have an afternoon and evening in this big, beautiful house. Try again. What should we do?”
Ben frowned in confusion. “It is a nice house but it’s been cleared out. We can’t give away our presence. There’s nothing to do but rest.”
“Nothing to do but rest,” pressed Amelie. “There’s nothing else you want to do?”
She strode forward and wrapped a hand around Ben’s head, twisting her fingers into his hair and pulling him to her. Her lips met his and parted, her tongue darting into his mouth. Ben involuntarily responded. He felt her melt against him.
Ben broke away. “Amelie…”
“You turned me down once,” she breathed. “I was drunk then. I’m not now.”
Ben grinned. He was polite, not stupid.
***
A quarter bell later, they lay in bed, naked and panting. Amelie was lying in the crook of his arm, head resting on his shoulder.
“That was amazing,” breathed Ben.
“It was nice,” said Amelie. “It’s not what I expected, though, not like
in some, ah, books I’ve read.”
“What do you mean?” asked Ben, wide-eyed. “Was that your first time?”
Amelie blushed. “I’m not experienced like you are.”
Ben grinned at her. “I’m not what I would call experienced. I’ve never felt anything like that. Anything so intimate, so sweet.”
Amelie giggled. “Sweet?”
Ben smiled. “That’s what it felt like to me. What about you?”
Amelie kissed him on his ear. “It was sweet, really nice. I just expected it to, take longer, I guess.”
Ben felt a rush of blood to his face and he involuntarily elicited a groan.
“What’s wrong?” asked Amelie, the soul of innocence.
“It’s not over, yet,” Ben growled playfully.
They spent the remainder of the afternoon resting, gathering energy, and then expending it. It was sweet and nice at first. Later, it was passionate and hungry. They went from finding comfort in each other’s arms in a brief moment of safety to finding pleasure. It was a release of months of build-up and tension.
Later that evening, as the sun was setting on Morwith and casting a warm orange glow through the shuttered windows, they sat in the solar, drinking the lord’s wine. Amelie relaxed on a silk chaise, naked, a crystal wine glass dangling half-full in her grip. She was talking, but despite his best efforts, Ben couldn’t pay attention to what she was saying.
His gaze lingered, caressing her body. Her legs, toned from months of walking, led up to the curve of her hips. She was lying on her side so he couldn’t see between them. Her stomach was smooth and flat, her breasts small and pert. Her dark hair fell over them so he was only graced with tantalizing glimpses. Her lips were full and red, curved upward in a smile. Her eyes were looking right at him.
He coughed and blushed. “Sorry. What were you saying?” he asked.
“It doesn’t matter,” she responded with a grin. She drank the rest of the wine in her glass. “Are you just going to look, or are you going to do something?”
Ben crawled off his couch and pretended to stalk her on hands and knees. She giggled as he got to her and started to kiss her body. He started at her toes, her feet, then her ankles. He kissed her calves and her thighs. Amelie was twisting and writhing underneath him, no longer giggling. Her eyes were closed tight. Her lips were parted and she was breathing heavily.
He meant to kiss his way up to her lips, but he stopped, halfway. Her moans turned into cries, hungry, yearning cries. She tangled her hands in his hair and held him there. He kissed her, between her legs, lips and tongue lashing her skin. He didn’t know what he was doing so he took her reactions as his guide. Following his instincts and the clues her body gave him, he teased and pleased her. Her body tensed. Her back arched up off the chaise, and she gave a strangled cry, body twitching, thighs clamping down around his head. Her fingers gripped his hair tight, refusing to let him move. Several dozen heartbeats passed before she lay back, gasping for breath.
“Was that more in line with what you expected?” asked Ben.
“I didn’t… I don’t…” Her eyes were squeezed tight. Little shivers ran through her body. “What did you do to me?”
Ben wiped his mouth and grinned at her.
***
That night, groggy and sore, Ben and Amelie packed their belongings, the two travel packs that Amelie pulled from the cart before they fled, belt pouches, their weapons, and the broken glass scepter. It was the only item from Vander’s cache they’d managed to hold onto.
“Will you be able to do that again?” asked Ben, glancing at the scepter as Amelie tucked it away.
“Now?” asked Amelie incredulously. “We did it all afternoon. I’m going to be walking like I spent the last month on the back of a horse. We don’t have time for any more of that tonight, Ben. It was good, really good, but we have to leave.”
Ben coughed. “I meant with the scepter, the fireballs.”
“Oh,” replied Amelie, blushing furiously. “No, it’s spent. That power wasn’t mine. It was stored in the scepter for that specific purpose. I just activated it. I couldn’t even control it. Maybe there is some value left in it, though. Maybe it can be recharged. I don’t want to leave it somewhere a person like Eldred could find it.”
Ben nodded. “Of course.”
They peeked out the front door then exited into the crisp night air. It was winter in the north, but Ben could feel the season was beginning to turn. In a month, maybe two, green shoots would break up from the cold, brown ground. The farmers would be busy planting in the fields, and the housewives would open the windows to shake out the bedding. Fresh air, a fresh start. But for now, it was cold.
Ben pulled his cloak tight around him. The street in front of the manor was lit with lamps spaced two a block. Not enough light to identify them from afar, but plenty to tell they were there.
“The city must be under curfew,” he guessed. It was late, but not so late that no one would be out.
Amelie nodded.
Ben’s intention was to slip around the corner of the house and travel the back streets and alleys to the stone wall that circled Morwith. They could climb over it and disappear into the dark fields. It was a quarter moon. If they could keep from being silhouetted, he didn’t think anyone would spot them.
Before they could get to the side of the house though, he heard the creak of wagon wheels and the plodding feet of a donkey. Ben and Amelie darted back inside the manor house, leaving the door cracked open to see what was happening.
A cart rolled by. Ben frowned. It was their cart.
“Who?” started Amelie at the same time Ben asked, “What?”
Their eyes met and Ben suggested, “Let’s get closer.”
They crept back out the door. Staying close to the side of the building, they scurried from shadow to shadow, following the wagon as it rolled toward the southern gate. The guards had noticed the oddity as well. Two of them stirred from their comfortable fire to confront the wagon driver.
“Where do ya think you’re going?” barked a soldier.
Ben heard a muffled response. The voice sounded familiar. He touched Amelie on the shoulder to follow and he crept closer, edging along until he could see around the side of the cart. A dark figure was perched on the driver’s bench.
“There’s a curfew. The gate’s been locked for days!” growled the soldier. He was irate but not so much as to get the attention of his fellows. They were clustered close around a burning brazier by the gate, drinking and laughing, paying no attention to the cart.
Another muffled response came from the wagon. The figure was hunched over, leaning to speak with the guard.
“Look. This gate ain’t opening until the search is done. The garrison arrives from Willow on the morrow. It won’t be long after that. Wait until then like everyone else.”
“I get paid when I get to Amum,” answered the wagon driver, “if I’m on time.”
The voice tickled the back of Ben’s conscious.
“Not my problem,” declared the guard.
“You’re costing me two gold. Have a heart, man!”
“Sounds like you’re overpaid to me,” snarled the guard. “I don’t make two gold in a month of sitting out here in the cold. Turn this wagon around. I’m going back to the fire.”
“What if you were paid?” asked the driver. His hood was pulled up and his voice came out muffled.
Ben wracked his brain, trying to identify the voice. He glanced at Amelie. In the dim light, he could see her brows furrowed. It was familiar to her too. Whoever was driving that cart, they knew him.
“You said you got two gold?” answered the guard, suddenly interested.
“I could part with two silver of that,” offered the driver, “but only if I knew I could make it on time.”
“Seems like that should be worth four silver,” countered the guard.
“Three.”
“Nack,” barked the guard to his fellow. “Open the gate.” Turnin
g to the driver, he added, “After I see the shine of those coins.”
Nack, obviously the junior guardsman, scrambled to the gate and lifted the heavy pin that locked it shut. Some of the guards by the fire voiced complaint.
The first one shouted them down. “Next time you drunks can leave the fire. This one is mine. It ain’t one of them spies so no harm making a little coin on the side.”
The wagon driver flipped three coins in the air. Ben saw them flash silver in the light from the fire. The driver clucked at the donkey and the cart started to roll. Right before the driver disappeared through the gate, he tilted back something in his hand and took a drink.
At the same time, Ben and Amelie both excitedly whispered, “Rhys!”
Nearly bursting with excitement, they snuck back to the corner of the manor and hurried through the alley. Ben’s half-healed wound needled him with pricks of pain at every stride, but they had to move fast. They needed to get to the wall, climb it, and race across open ground. They couldn’t let the guards see them, but they couldn’t let Rhys and the cart get away.
They didn’t speak. They were thinking the same thing. How and why didn’t matter. They knew their friend and possible salvation was rolling away from them.
At the wall, Ben reached up and dragged himself over. Amelie was more graceful, scampering up it then dropping smoothly to the other side. Ben landed with a thump. Rolling to his feet, he scanned the dark terrain, looking for the wagon.
“The road heads due south,” said Amelie. “We can go cross country for a quarter league and then cut over to meet it. We’ll probably be behind him.”
Ben nodded. They didn’t want to get on the road too close to the gate where someone might see them.
The ground was covered in the thick plains grass they’d been traveling through for weeks. Not ideal but not high enough to trip them up either. They jogged across the open ground, Ben proceeding at a half-trot, half-gallop. He knew his hip would be sore, but there was no question he’d push himself to catch the cart. He’d drop to the ground in exhaustion before he let Rhys get away.
They kept going until suddenly they stumbled onto a hard-packed dirt road. Amelie, clearly surprised at the change in footing, went sprawling forward. Ben helped her to her feet, not commenting.