Gateway to Fourline (The Fourline Trilogy Book 1)

by Pam Brondos

  “Can you get to the bookstore?” he asked, his tone pleading.

  “I need to figure out where we are,” Nat said, more to herself. People milled past, pushing against the horses. She dismounted and waded through the throng across the intersection, one hand on the reins and one hand tightly clutching the neck of her cloak.

  The painted “Wesdrono Street” sign was stenciled onto the bricks of a two-story building at the corner of a narrow lane. She peered down the shadowy street and pulled their horses over its broken cobblestones. A sense of calm came over her when they entered the quiet lane. The tall, narrow buildings that lined the street created a buffer from the bright light and noise behind them. At the end of the street to her right, a book-shaped sign hung below a weathered wooden post. Dark material lined the glass of one of the shop windows. She wiped away a small circle of grime from the other window and peered inside. Rows and rows of bookshelves, many of which sat empty, were angled toward the back of the shop.

  Nat tied her horse to a set of copper rings affixed to the sidewalk. She unbuckled her saddlebag and slid it over her shoulder before helping an incoherent Soris from his saddle.

  “I already pulled the ditch, Mom,” Soris mumbled as Nat propped him against the wall before tying up his horse and removing his bag.

  “It’s going to be okay.” She felt his forehead. It was burning hot. “And you did a good job.” He whispered a rambling response. She pulled his good arm over her shoulder and gently guided him up the stairs to the entrance. He babbled the entire way. Whoever was inside was going to help them up to the castle, or she’d threaten to release a torrent of fleas on them.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  Nat opened the red door. A rolling ladder leaned against a tall shelf. Weak light shone from the high arched window above a tiny counter at the back of the store. The shop appeared empty. After shutting the door tightly, she called out, “Hello! Is anyone here?”

  Two heads appeared from either side of the counter.

  She stumbled forward with Soris. A woman with chin-length hair and a sharp nose emerged from behind the counter. She took one look at Soris and reached for his other arm. “Mervin, it’s Gennes’ brother, get—”

  “Watch his arm!” Nat cried out protectively.

  The woman let go. “Bring him over here,” she ordered. “Mervin, get the door.”

  Mervin nodded, and a lock of black hair fell over his eyes. He took a few long strides to the front door, turned the sign to “Closed,” pulled down the blind, and slid the lock in place. “I’ll take him. Right hand’s the problem?” he asked as he extended his long arms toward Soris. Nat nodded. He scooped him up like a leaf. Soris let out a moan.

  “Come then.” The woman slipped her long hand into Nat’s and pulled her gently around the counter to a concealed stairwell. Mervin’s head disappeared down the stairs. They passed crates of books and boxes and walked into a cramped office. The woman cleared papers off a tiny wooden chair and motioned for Nat to sit. Mervin set Soris on a wide bench and began inspecting his arm.

  “What happened to him?” the woman asked.

  “Pory snake,” Nat said, uncertain about telling two strangers the truth.

  The woman pursed her lips.

  “What do you think, Matilda?” Mervin gently let go of Soris’ arm. Matilda rummaged through a small wooden box. She removed a vial containing an amber-colored liquid and waved it under Soris’ nose. His head shot back and banged against the wall.

  “Always works.” Matilda chuckled. “How are you, dear?” she asked loudly. “Seems you’re in a bit of a pickle. Bitten by a pory snake while out herding your, uh, bastles, is it?” She dropped Soris’ robe and gently pinched his bare chin.

  “Matilda?” Soris rubbed his head with his good arm.

  “What was that stuff?” Nat asked as she reached for the vial.

  Matilda stoppered it. “It’ll rip those wrappings off you if you breathe in too much.” She turned her attention to Soris. “Is she trustworthy?” she asked Soris as she eyed Nat. He nodded, then shook his head as if to clear his thoughts. She handed the vial to Nat. “Use it sparingly,” she warned.

  “Is it still hearing day?” Soris asked as he looked around the room.

  “It is, and should be one for the record. Mudug’s executing a Sister this afternoon.” Matilda leaned toward Soris. “You’re not here to do something illegal for your brother, are you?” she asked.

  “That depends on who you ask.” Soris smiled weakly. “My sister here”—he pointed to Nat—“is bringing me to Lord Mudug in hopes that his Chemist will provide me with the antidote to the pory bite.”

  “Oh, really?” Mervin said.

  “Why would he do that?” Matilda asked.

  “The details aren’t important,” Nat broke in. Soris gave her a reassuring look. “Okay,” she conceded. “The details are important, but it’s best that you don’t know.”

  Matilda crossed the small room and loomed over Nat. “Who is she, Soris?”

  “It doesn’t matter who I am,” Nat said. “With Soris the way he is, I can’t get him to the castle by myself. I need your help. If you won’t help, we’ll be on our way.” She stood and adjusted the straps of the saddlebags. As she turned toward Soris, her bags struck a stack of books. The room filled with dust as they hit the floor, which set off a spasm of coughing. When the air cleared, Nat muttered, “I’m sorry,” and bent to pick up the books.

  “Hold on,” Mervin said. “You’re an odd one, bent to get out of here, then bent to pick up books.” He chuckled. “Did I see you had two horses out front?”

  “Yes,” Nat replied.

  “Stay here and try not to knock over anything else.” He nodded to Matilda and the two quickly disappeared up the narrow stairs. Nat slid next to Soris.

  “They’ll get us there, Sister, don’t worry,” Soris said. “They’ve known my family for a long time. We can trust them.”

  “I’ll stop worrying when this is all over and I’m home.” She stood, unable to get over the feeling of dread that was quickly overtaking each thought. “Maybe Andris was right.”

  “Right about what?”

  “He said I’d fail.”

  “He said that about me plenty of times and look at me today.” He held up his swollen hand and gestured to the dark room with the other. “On the verge of passing out on the way to meet my enemy, relying on the most irregular Sister any House has ever known. Proved him wrong, haven’t I, Sister?”

  “He’d be impressed with you, Soris,” Nat said.

  “He’ll be impressed with both of us when this is over, and it will be over soon.” He reached for her hand and gave it a small squeeze. “We won’t fail. Have a little faith.” His words lifted her spirits.

  Footsteps echoed down the stairwell and Mervin appeared. “All set to go, you two?” he asked. Nat and Soris nodded. He helped Soris off the bench and up the stairs. Nat followed, thinking more than faith, what she needed now was a small miracle and more than a share of luck.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  “Now! Jump now!” Mervin called out from the front of the wagon. Nat jumped, and Soris fell off the back of Mervin’s hide-covered wagon. They hid behind a pale brick enclosure that served as the castle’s main garbage receptacle. Mervin flicked his horses to increase their speed. The wagon disappeared down a side street. He never looked back.

  Nat peeked around the side of the enclosure. A few people wandered down the lane toward the crowded castle entrance. No one walked near the garbage. Little wonder, she thought, brushing away two flies and breathing a sigh of relief. No one had seen them get off the wagon. “Soris?” She stuck her head over the low brick wall. The smell of rotten garbage assaulted her nose and she gagged.

  Soris was bent over, puking into a pile of moldy bread. “Get me out of here. I can’t handle this smell,” he gasped. Flies congregated
around his mouth and hand. He flopped his arm over her shoulder, and they slowly walked up the garbage-strewn alley leading to the castle’s kitchen.

  “I don’t know that this is going to be much better,” she said as she crinkled her nose against the smell. “Do me a favor—if you have to throw up again, aim for the wall.”

  “I’ll do my best to get your shoes,” he said, then slipped on a smear of green gunk.

  “Careful, we’re almost there.” She pulled him closer and wrapped her arm around his waist. Heat radiated from his body. She paused at the top of the alley. They were in a tiny courtyard that smelled like rotten fish. A crumbling brick wall surrounded the courtyard on three sides. Nat heard the sound of wheels crunching against gravel. The tops of the carriage compartments were barely visible over the wall. To their left, muck-covered steps led to a worn wooden door.

  “This must be it,” she said, remembering Mervin’s instructions on how to get into the castle’s kitchen. They walked up the steps and listened. Hearing nothing, Nat pushed open the door and tripped over a huge woven basket of rotting food. “Yuck.” She brushed what looked like a clump of mashed potatoes and rotten spinach off her leg. Soris wiped his hand on the side of one of the baskets, leaving a smear of beet juice. After going up two more steps and passing a set of rat traps, they entered a large scullery filled with brooms, mops, and wooden buckets. Soris stopped a moment to dip his hand into a bucket containing gray water, then wiped his hand on the thick ropes of a mop. Nat cringed.

  “I don’t want them to think I’m bleeding,” Soris whispered when he saw her face. “It’s a pory bite, not a Nala bite.”

  Nat held a finger to her lips. Mervin had said the kitchen should be deserted by now, since castle staff was light on a hearing day—and especially light on a hanging day. They peered around the archway into the enormous kitchen. A thickset woman pulled a flat wooden paddle laden with loaves from a hearth and expertly slid the bread onto a long table. Nat’s mouth watered as the smell of the bread filled the air. Soris pointed to a set of stairs to the left of the kitchen that led to a landing and a trio of doors. Nat shook her head, wondering how she was going to get him up the stairs without the baker noticing.

  The woman set the paddle between two of the hearths. She returned to the opposite end of the table and lifted a white towel.

  “Bang! Bang! Bang!”

  The woman jumped and clutched her chest at the loud knocks on the door. A scowl formed on her face. She stomped away toward the sound.

  “Come on,” Nat said, and they crept cautiously out of the scullery and into the kitchen. They passed a line of washbasins, then froze at the sound of the woman’s voice.

  “Now why would I have ordered a tub of binding glue?” she asked.

  “No idea, but the message we received said the kitchen needed delivery today.” Mervin’s voice rose above her complaints. “Put me out a bit, it did. Having to drop everything on such a day and manage to get through the crowds.” Nat and Soris slowly climbed the stairs. Nat looked toward the door where Mervin and the woman stood. Mervin gave her a quick wink. “You’re not telling me this was a joke, now, are you?” he said to the woman.

  “I would never,” she replied. “Who did you say delivered the message? Maybe they meant another part of the castle? Aren’t you always bringing bits in for the Chemist?”

  Nat stiffened. The Chemist? Soris, seeming to have regained some strength, tugged at her sleeve. They reached the top of the stairs just as a kitchen maid entered from a door below, carrying an enormous empty tray.

  “Beatty, do you know anything about a glue delivery?” A clump of dough flew off the baker’s thick fingers as she pointed at the kitchen maid.

  “Glue delivery? Maybe it’s for the rats.” Beatty gestured to the scullery with her free hand. “One jumped out at me yesterday like a nasty little Nala. All claws and sharp teeth. Frightened me to death, it did.” Her voice faded as Nat slowly eased the first door closed. She silently thanked Mervin for creating the diversion.

  “Which way, Soris?” They were in a long, dim hallway with stairs leading up one end and down the other.

  “Mudug will be in the great hall today, it’s not far.” Soris nodded to the stairs going up. His face was the color of the mop water.

  “Do you need to rest?” she asked.

  “No time, Sister.” He swallowed. “I’ll be fine.” He started for the stairs and collapsed against the wall.

  “Soris!”

  “Stop! Both of you, stop!” Two guards emerged from the lower staircase. They carried a large beaten-copper bowl set into an ornate wooden stool with carved armrests. They dropped the stool, which toppled over.

  “Please, can you help me? He’s so sick. He was bitten by a pory snake.” Nat spoke quickly as a guard with thick hands and a reddish beard began to examine Soris. He dropped Soris’ cloak like it was on fire as soon as he saw his bare chin.

  “Bastle herder,” he muttered. Both guards took a step back.

  “I need to get him to Lord Mudug’s Chemist,” Nat pleaded. Tears sprang from her eyes.

  “Now, miss, I don’t know how you got back here, but you need to leave.” The other guard motioned to the door leading to the kitchen stairs with his thick, hairy arm, then addressed the red-bearded guard. “Lift him up, Darrin.”

  “I’m not touching him. You lift him up, Cecil,” Darrin said.

  Nat watched in amazement as the guards argued back and forth.

  “First you make me haul that blasted toilet around, and now you want me to take a flea bath. I’m not doing it.” Darrin crossed his arms and stuck out his chin.

  “Neither of you has to lift him. I’ll do it.” Nat once again draped Soris’ arm over her shoulder. “Just take me to the Chemist.”

  The guards began laughing. “You can’t seriously think we’d take you to the Chemist or that he’d even see you,” Cecil said.

  “I have something valuable to trade for his services,” Nat replied.

  “Turn it over to us and we’ll see what Lord Mudug has to say,” Cecil said.

  “I don’t think so.” Nat adjusted Soris and he let out a groan.

  “Search them,” Cecil told Darrin.

  “You search them! Have you ever been bitten by a bastle flea? Worst experience of my life.” Darrin rubbed his enormous thigh. “It felt like a stinging needle in my leg that would never go away.” He eyed them nervously and took another step back. “I told you I’m not getting near them. Let them go to the hearing chambers. If she wants to take her chances with Lord Mudug, so be it. If she’s lying, someone else can deal with them. If she’s telling the truth, maybe we won’t have to haul His Lordship’s privy around the castle anymore.”

  Cecil rolled his eyes. “Fine, get a move on, then,” he said to Nat as he pointed to the stairs. “We’ll follow you to make sure you’re not up to trouble.”

  “Trust me, the last thing I mean to do is cause trouble,” Nat lied.

  “Just don’t,” Cecil said firmly, taking a cautious step, eyes darting over the stone floor and walls.

  Darrin remained behind. “I’ll just see to His Lordship’s toilet.”

  “No, you won’t. Get up here, you coward.” Cecil pushed Darrin in front of him, and the quartet began a sluggish ascent up the stairs.

  The hearing chamber was shaped like an hourglass. Nat scanned the room and the straggly-looking crowd as they waited off to the side. A thick blue tapestry obscured them from the crowd. Columns covered in etchings of vines stretched to the soaring, curved ceiling. A granite platform with an empty, ornate throne and a chair were at the front of the hall. Nat watched intently as Cecil and Darrin approached the figure occupying the chair.

  Lord Mudug leaned forward, spreading his legs to accommodate his girth. Cecil clasped his hands as he whispered into Mudug’s ear. Mudug’s long gray mustache swept past
his chin and dangled at the base of his throat. His black eyes darted around the room, then settled on Nat and Soris. His eyebrows curled over his eyelids like pepper-colored caterpillars. A dismissive smugness colored his expression.

  Nat felt nothing but distrust when she looked at the man. “Don’t suppose anyone here is going to recognize you?” she whispered to Soris while keeping her eyes on Mudug.

  “I never met him,” Soris responded, clinging to Nat. “But I’ll keep my head down until this is over.” He leaned into her, tucking his head into her neck. “Good acting back there,” he whispered.

  She let out a nervous laugh, thinking back to Cairn’s improvisation exercises. “I had a good teacher.” She looked at Mudug again. He tilted his chin, and the tips of his mustache brushed his chest. “Looks like we’ve been granted an audience,” Nat said when Mudug nodded in her direction, and Cecil gestured for her to come forward. She lugged Soris toward the platform and heard a few people murmur “bastle herders.” Nat struggled to look behind her and saw the path they cleared through the crowd. Had everyone moved because of them? She stopped right in front of the platform. Soris’ breath hit her face in short, shallow bursts.

  Mudug glared at her for a moment, then spoke to Cecil. Cecil’s face drained of color, and he tugged at Darrin. The pair quickly disappeared into the crowd. Mudug rose from the chair and towered over a rail-thin scribe next to him. The scribe’s lips moved furiously as he read to him from a parchment. The two walked toward the rear of the platform. Mudug bent his ear toward the wispy scribe, apparently already forgetting that he’d beckoned Nat. Nat’s stomach twisted as she watched him depart. She grabbed Soris and pushed her way to the front.

  “Lord Mudug, my brother needs the help of your Chemist. He was bitten by a pory snake.” Her voice caught slightly, and she spoke louder. “Please, there is no one else who can heal him.”

  Someone in the crowd muttered, “A Healing Sister could mend him.” Nat turned to find a squad of guards moving in on a woman wearing a bright-red scarf tied around her head and clutching a sickly child to her breast. The guards circled the woman and pushed everyone through the high, narrow doors. A guard approached Nat and Soris.