by Jane Glatt
“With the town locked up tight by Thorold’s militia I have to assume patrols have been sent out,” he said. “We’ll need to scout both ahead and behind to be certain.”
When Wils arrived, Dasid instructed him to send scouts out immediately.
Brenna stared into the fire. So far they had no proof that Duke Thorold had been building an army in Kingsreach but that didn’t mean he hadn’t started building one here, close to where Langemore troops would land. Is that why he wanted slaves for his mine? Was he using them to free up miners for his militia? She thought about the men she’d seen in Godswall, trudging through the streets towards the mines, heads down as they plodded towards another day of back-breaking labour in the mines. A post in the militia would seem easy and patrolling the trails would be welcome after the dank blackness of the mines.
As she readied herself for sleep, Brenna realized how important her meeting with King Mannel was. If he aligned with Thorold, together they could field an army that would sweep down into Fallad from the mountains and quickly capture and hold much of the duchy. Silverdale wouldn’t realize what had happened until it was too late. It was up to her to convince King Mannel not to join forces with Thorold.
Mistress Mundy was true to her word. Early in the morning she left Kane eating porridge in the kitchen and didn’t come back until shortly before noon. Kane had spent that time tidying his room, cleaning what few dishes there were in the kitchen and pacing the inn, out of range of the windows.
When she returned, Mistress Mundy told him that she’d visited friends and local businesses she trusted. She’d warned them all to be prepared for a fire.
“Some of them,” she said, looking at Kane oddly, “had heard this same story from another.”
“Guild Master Brunger?” Kane asked and she nodded. “Good. That means Eryl’s still a free man. His task was to warn Marcus.”
“Well.” Mistress Mundy sat down heavily. “I’m surprised. What does a thief and the most powerful merchant in Soule have in common.”
“A fondness for bargaining,” Kane said. “And they both fear what Duke Thorold will do to Kingsreach and Soule and are willing to risk much to help stop him.”
“Yes, I do see that. At any rate, both the chandler and the butcher have already sent their families out of the Quarter. Others are filling buckets with water to help contain a fire if it happens.”
“Do you think more people will leave?”
“If their shops are on fire and they can’t stop it, yes. But these folk have already lost much this year, they can’t afford to lose any more,” Mistress Mundy said. “Me, if it comes to it, I’ll walk away. My sister lives in Fallad and has been after me for years to come live with her. Her husband offered to help me start an inn there, if that’s what I want. Maybe it’s time I accepted their offer. Now that so many have left the Quarter it no longer feels like home.”
For the rest of the day, Kane paced the inn. Poor Mistress Mundy tried to go about her daily tasks but she had to dodge Kane. Eventually she gave up and left him alone. Now that he had food and water and the effort to save the Quarter from fire was out of his hands, he found it hard to be patient and let events take their course. He had an almost overwhelming need know what was happening in the city. He felt useless - almost paralyzed in his ability to make decisions because he knew that if he made incorrect assumptions he could make any given situation worse. A few times he stopped and fingered the pommel of his sword, tempted to reach out for Brenna. Then he’d remind himself that she would know even less than him, having been cut off from communication for days.
Kane stopped pacing and sat down at an empty table in the tavern. What was he doing? He’d become so reliant on Brenna’s unique gifts and abilities to gather information that he’d forgotten how to manage without it. He’d spent years as Captain of the Kingsguard, forced to rely on what he knew and what he could deduce. It was time to stop waiting for Brenna to give him information - he knew how to find out what he needed to know. As soon as dark fell Kane stepped out the back door and headed into Thieves Quarter.
The carriage traveled through the streets quickly. The few people who were about hurried out of the way when they saw his ducal insignia on the carriage doors. The further into Thieves Quarter they traveled the more deserted the streets were. Even the buildings showed few signs of life, the windows dark outlines on the weathered, wooden walls.
“How much further?” Thorold leaned his head out of the carriage to ask the nearest rider.
“Just another few blocks, my Lord,” the Kingsguardsman said.
Thorold nodded and leaned back into the seat.
“Now my King, you’ll see how a proper interrogation is done.” He looked over at Beldyn who sat slumped against the carriage wall, a sullen look on his face. “And no doubt it’s a lesson you will learn well.” Frankly the only lesson Thorold wished Beldyn to learn was that his father held all the power in Kingsreach. The Kingsguard answered to him, as did as the High Bishop. Beldyn would get no help from them. The sooner he learned his role the better it would be for him.
Thorold had never deluded himself into thinking that he wanted the throne for his heirs. Siring a dynasty would certainly ensure his place in history but what did he care about what people thought of him? What was important to him was the power he was able to wield. Right now it was absolute and he meant to keep it that way. Beldyn had been a convenient way to access the authority of the throne but he wasn’t needed to keep it. Not needed at all. Thorold had another son and he himself could always marry again and father more children. Ridding himself of his wife would be far simpler than ridding himself of Beldyn, although even that wasn’t impossible. As long as one of his offspring was the heir, he didn’t care which one.
The carriage slowed to a stop and the driver dismounted and opened the door. Thorold stepped out and wrinkled his nose at the smell of stale urine and peat smoke. Such an unsavory part of town, he thought as Beldyn exited the carriage. It would be no loss if some of them starved over the winter. A welcome cleansing, really.
“Captain Barton,” Thorold said. “There’s no need to be quiet. Announce our presence.”
Thorold waited with Beldyn, surrounded by guards, as Barton entered the inn. A few minutes later he returned dragging a large man in a food-encrusted apron. Thorold sneered as the man was brought before him.
“This is the innkeep, my Lord, your Majesty,” Barton said. “We questioned him a few days ago of course but he was not especially forthcoming. We were hoping his friends would come back to save him but no-one’s been seen.”
“Your so-called friends have abandoned you, have they?” Thorold stepped closer to the innkeep. “I guess they … Pah.” The innkeep spat at him and he felt the trickle of spittle on his face. Thorold’s hand connected with the innkeep’s face and the man dropped to his knees. “Captain, control your prisoner!” Thorold took a cloth from his vest and wiped his face. He threw the cloth at the innkeep as the man struggled to his feet.
“You will tell me who was staying at your inn,” Thorold said. He nodded and a second guard stepped forward and hit the innkeep even harder. Blood trickled from the man’s mouth. Thorold glanced over at Beldyn to gauge his reaction.
“Beldyn, I assume you don’t want this man to suffer. At least not if he’s innocent, like the girl.”
Beldyn’s lips tightened but he didn’t say anything.
“Then the only conclusion I can make is that you know that this man is guilty. Captain, deliver him to the High Bishop. Tell him that there’s no reason for him to spare any methods of interrogation.”
Beldyn looked away and Thorold smiled.
“Ye can do whatever ye want t’ me,” the innkeep shouted, glaring up at him. “It won’t change nothin’. You need t’ be watchin’ yer back, Duke Thorold, that’s my advice t’ ye.”
“Captain, get him out of here,” Thorold said. He was aware of a few curtains twitching in windows along the street. “He’s gone mad.”<
br />
“I ain’t mad, ye’ll see. She’ll come, the queen will, ye’ll see.”
“Queen, what queen are you talking about old man?” Thorold felt his anger rise. When the innkeep continued shouting, furious, Thorold kicked him in the mouth. “If you mean that brat who calls herself my granddaughter, she’s no threat to me. She can’t even get back into town, let alone threaten me.”
“A lot you know about it.” The innkeep spat blood onto the ground. “She been in town a few times, her and her man. The Quarter’s got one of its own lookin’ out fer us, a queen who’s got more power than you do.”
Thorold aimed another kick at the man’s head. The blow landed solidly with a sickening crunch and the man fell onto the cobbled street. How dare he talk about the witch like that? He toed the innkeep’s head and it rolled limply to the side. She would not beat him, she could not.
Barton crouched beside the innkeep. “He’s dead, my Lord,” he said.
“He admitted to harboring those who are plotting treason. You all heard it,” Thorold said, looking at the guards who ringed the scene. “Leave the body as a warning.” He turned toward the carriage but stopped when he heard Beldyn’s laughter.
“You can’t even best one old innkeep,” Beldyn said.
Thorold raised his arm, ready to strike him.
“You might not want to be seen hitting your king in anger,” his son said to him, all the laughter gone from his voice. “I doubt even your loyal guards would be comfortable with that.”
Thorold lowered his arm, seething with rage. He grabbed one of the carriage torches, strode over to the inn, yanked the door open and tossed the burning torch inside. He slammed the door shut and walked slowly back to face his son.
“Now others will suffer for your actions,” he said quietly and climbed into the carriage. “I suggest we be off, Captain. This part of town may be rather uncomfortable in a few moments.”
Flames flickered through the windows of the inn and Thorold smiled. His enemies would find no safe haven here if they came back again. His eyes narrowed when Beldyn climbed into the carriage. His son seemed to think he had some power. A short visit with the High Bishop would no doubt be help to set him straight but Beldyn was correct. He could not be seen as the cause of any harm to his king - at least for now. He needed a plan to be in place before Beldyn could be disposed of. Thorold took one look back as they drove away. The roof of the inn had caught fire and the neighbors were finally emerging onto the street.
thirteen
Kane watched from the shadows as the carriage drove off. He hadn’t been able to hear the conversation but it had not been to Thorold’s liking. Beldyn had been angry, that had been apparent in the way he stood and Thorold had obviously threatened to hit him. It was probably time to get Beldyn to safety, although without a safe haven himself Kane wasn’t sure what help he could give to Beldyn. He could be sent to Fallad, he supposed, or perhaps even Aruntun. Thorold would never be able to get to his son if he was there.
Kane slipped into the small crowd that had gathered and pushed his way to the front. He leaned over the body of the Crooked Dog’s innkeep and sighed. Reaching down, he closed the man’s eyes and tried to straighten his arms and legs.
“He wouldn’t have wanted to live without the Dog,” Kane heard a familiar voice say beside him.
“Eryl, I’m glad to see you,” Kane replied, his voice low. “Unfortunately this was the better alternative for him. I think Thorold was sending him to the High Bishop.”
“Ah, so he provoked him,” Eryl said. “He said so little that I often wondered what he knew. I’m going to miss both him and the Dog.” Eryl nodded to the inn which was now completely engulfed in flames. “But they’ll be remembered as true to the Quarter.”
“The Quarter looks after its own,” Kane murmured. “What now?”
“My lads are getting bucket lines going. Barrels of water have been hidden all around the neighbourhood. We’ll let the Dog burn and hopefully save the rest. Come on, we need to let them take him.” Eryl nodded and a group of men gently grabbed the body of the innkeep and hoisted him off the ground. The crowd parted to let the men and their burden pass. Eryl grabbed Kane’s arm and tugged him in the opposite direction.
“Barrels are stored this way,” Eryl said.
It took them well into the night and they lost two other buildings, but eventually the people of Thieves Quarter were able to put out the fire. Kane and Eryl left Larkly and Millen in charge of the final clean up and headed off to the Sheaf.
“You think Mistress Mundy will allow me in?” Eryl asked. “She never did like me.”
“She’s coming around some,” Kane said, trying to clear some grit from one of his eyes. “She told me a few times already.”
Kane led the way through the back gate to the Sheaf. He stopped when he saw the yard alight with the glow from the windows of the tavern.
“Wait here,” he said to Eryl and crept up to the side of the inn.
“You might want to remember at times like this that I am a thief,” Eryl whispered from his side. “I’m more skilled at this type of work than you. Besides, I’m more expendable.” Kane was so surprised that when Eryl pushed him to the ground he stayed there.
In a few minutes Eryl was back at his side.
“It seems that the fire has brought the Quarter back out,” Eryl said. “The talk inside is of not letting Duke Thorold or the High Bishop ruin them any more. I’m not sure we want these men full of drink and out on the streets.”
“No, it could cause trouble,” Kane said. “Can you find a safe place for me to stay for a few days? I think I can calm this crowd down but I don’t want so many people knowing I’m staying here. Some of them will talk, no matter what.” Eryl frowned at him and he continued. “They won’t do it maliciously, Eryl, but they’ll talk. Someone will boast that he knows what’s going on because he heard it from my own lips. And they’ll say it in front of the wrong people. That will be dangerous for me. For you too.”
“You think you can get these men under control?”
“I spent years managing men and as my uncle always said, there isn’t a group of men more dangerous or unruly than a squad of half-trained soldiers,” Kane said. “I can talk sense into them. Besides, I think it’s time we showed our hand and let the people know they aren’t on their own.” Kane remembered how grateful Mistress Mundy had been when he’d confirmed that Brenna was the chosen queen. Thorold could take a lot of things from the people of Kingsreach but one of the most powerful things he’d taken was hope. Kane could give it back to them.
Kane stood calmly at the front of the tavern room. He’d asked Mistress Mundy to start watering down the ale an hour ago and though she disliked sullying her reputation as an honest innkeep, she’d done it. She’d also set out what food she had - cold meat, cheese and bread. The forty or so men who were crammed onto every chair and stool were a little more subdued by the time she took the empty platters back to the kitchen.
Kane stepped forward and waited. As men noticed him the room slowly quieted. On last customer was shushed by a neighbour.
“Citizens of Kingsreach,” Kane said. “Thieves Quarter has been threatened tonight. The rest of Kingsreach will be next and after that all of Soule will be in danger.” It was dead quiet now and Kane walked to the middle of the room.
“My name is Kane Rowse. I was the Captain of the Kingsguard, as was my uncle before me and his father before him. Six generations of Rowse’s guarded the king and his subjects. Six generations upheld the laws. Six generations were proud to serve, and die, for our king and our country. But no longer. Duke Thorold has twisted the crown, twisted the laws, and twisted the church to suit his own ends. I refuse to serve him.” Men muttered their agreement and Kane paused until the room was silent again.
“Now a prophecy is in motion,” he said. “A prophecy foretold over two thousand years ago and forgotten by all but those who have sworn to uphold it. I am one of those who have so sworn. M
y family and the Brotherhood of the Throne have waited for over two thousand years for this prophecy.
“A queen has been crowned in Fallad. A queen who has the support of the Duke of Fallad and the Duchess of Aruntun. A queen who wants all those who live in Soule to live free and safe from harm, whether the threat be from outside or inside the country.”
“What’s this queen going to care about those like us,” came a shout from the back. “None of them cared afore.”
“I can’t say she likes every single one of you,” Kane said. He shook his head and smiled. “But it’s quite possible she knows you. Queen Brenna Trewen is better known to you as the thief and healer Brenna Lightfingers.”
“I don’t believe it,” a man shouted from a corner. “Asides, she’s been dead for over a year. Killed right in this inn.”
“A healer was killed here,” Kane said. “But it wasn’t Brenna. We needed the church to believe that they had killed her, but both Eryl Fentin and Mistress Mundy know the truth. Mistress Mundy?”
“What he says is true,” the woman said. A rumble of questions drowned her out.
“Let her speak,” said a man near the front. “I trust her, she’s one of our own.”
“I was with Brenna in the kitchen right after the other lass was killed,” Mistress Mundy said. “And it was Captain Rowse who helped Brenna get away and hide. I only found out she was named queen myself a few days ago when Kane Rowse come to the Sheaf on the run from Duke Thorold. He’d been staying at the Crooked Dog.” When she said that all heads swiveled to stare at Kane and he felt the mood change from suspicion to hope.
“The rumors been true then,” said the man at the front. “The Dog was the headquarters for a group fighting the Duke.” Kane simply nodded.
“I’ll swear to that,” Eryl said. “Now the innkeep’s been killed by Duke Thorold and the Dog’s been burned to the ground.”