Captain Oliver sighed but gave a nearly imperceptible sign. Five more guards began to move casually in their direction.
Nicholas tried to look casual, too, as he pressed deeper into the market. His borrowed clothes were supposed to pass him off as a wealthy visitor, and the stubble he’d allowed to grow over his jaw made him look several years older, or at least that’s what Sophia had said. But as he moved through the crowd, he still felt eyes trailing him everywhere he went.
He approached a stall without any customer, giving the man behind the table a deep nod. “My friend and I just arrived. I don’t suppose you could tell me what the event is here.”
“Event?” The man paused, knife poised above the fish he held against a wooden block. He looked Nicholas up and down warily.
“Aye. The marketplace is so busy.” Nicholas smiled. “Haven’t been here since I was a boy, but I remember this place. It wasn’t so crowded then.”
The man shrugged. “A rise in fish prices.”
“Is there a shortage of trout elsewhere in Ashland?” Nicholas asked.
“You going to buy some fish or not? Got a line behind you.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to take up your time.” Nicholas turned away and began scanning the crowd for other individuals who looked as though they might talk.
He finally pushed his way over to a woman two stalls down. Her tent was piled high with tarts, scones, and other baked goods. “These look delicious.”
She looked up at him with the most enormous eyes he had ever seen. Her jaw trembled.
Well, that reaction was a little strong. Nicholas was tall, but he hadn’t ever seen himself as horribly intimidating. “Do you make these?” He gestured to the food.
The woman nodded.
“Which do you think my sister would enjoy?” he turned around and asked Oliver loudly.
Oliver hesitated only for a second before answering. “The blueberry ones.”
Nicholas nodded. “I’ll take four of those and six of the lemon pastries. And throw in five of the red ones.”
The woman began to wrap the morsels in thin sheets of brown paper. As she did, Nicholas leaned in just a little.
“Is there an event going on here to bring so many people? A carnival, perhaps?”
She shook her head and went back to wrapping the food.
Nicholas continued. “The last time I was here, there weren’t nearly so many people in the market.”
She finished wrapping the baked goods and tied their little package with string before handing it to Nicholas.
Frustrated, Nicholas dug into his pocket and pulled out a coin. As he handed it to her, however, her eyes darted to the right. Nicholas followed her gaze to a man standing a few tents down who was watching them with an unabashed glare.
On his sleeve was a crudely stitched knife.
Nicholas looked back and forth between the angry man, who was oddly well dressed, and the trembling woman before him. Then something bright caught his eye.
“That’s a lovely bracelet,” he said, leaning closer to study the thick gold band encircling her wrist.
The woman yanked her hand back and pushed her sleeve over the bracelet where it had peeked out. “Good day,” she whispered to the men before turning and moving to the back of the stall.
“This market is infested with the rebellion,” Oliver whispered as they moved away. “You can hardly turn without seeing another knife patch. What is it you’re trying to learn?”
“I want to know whether lithorium is truly the driving force behind this mad trading or whether it’s a combination of all the illegal activities.”
“Ashland’s economy has grown steadily in the last ten years. Why should this be any different?”
“Have you been to Solwhind since the rebellion began?” Nicholas asked.
“Not since you have.”
“And even as a boy, I remember none of this . . .” Nicholas gestured at the crowd as he searched for the right word. “Frenzy.”
“Well, you’ve got treats.” Oliver nodded at the package in Nicholas’s hand. “Why not ask the best source?”
“Which would be?”
Oliver pointed to the closest edge of the market where a gaggle of children played in an alley, throwing snowballs and kicking slush at one another. “Children know everything. And their allegiance is often cheap.”
“This is why I keep you nearby,” Nicholas said, laughing and shaking his captain’s shoulder.
“I thought it was because of my incredible good looks,” Oliver muttered as they moved toward the outer edges of the crowd.
Just as Oliver had predicted, they had the attention of at least a dozen children by the time Nicholas reached the outer rim of the market. And all eyes were trained on the neatly tied package in his hands.
“Is that sweeties, mister?” A girl, barely taller than Nicholas’s thigh, tugged on his trouser leg.
Nicholas crouched down. “It is.”
Immediately, he had seven or eight children so close they were touching him.
“And they are for whoever can best answer my questions,” Nicholas said, untying the package enough for the scent of baked sugar to drift out. He pulled out a lemon pastry and popped it in his mouth. “Can anyone tell me why the market is so busy?”
“The market is always busy,” the first little girl said, her eyes never leaving the package.
“No it’s not,” a boy said. He was nearly a head taller than the girl. “It wasn’t always so busy.”
“And why is that?” Nicholas asked.
“My mum says it’s because of the bad things they’re selling now.”
“Your mum’s wrong!” another child called out. “My father says it’s because of the bracelet people.”
“Bracelet people?” An image of the woman and her gold bracelet flashed through Nicholas’s mind.
“My mum says it’s because a man has come in and is selling magics.”
“Magics?” Nicholas asked.
The little girl rolled her eyes as though he were a simpleton. “She says he sells people’s magics. If you want the magics, you buy it.”
Was he hearing correctly? “How . . . How does someone know if you want to buy a magic?”
“People wear a knife on their shoulder, like this.” She pointed at her own shoulder and traced a long shape into her arm. “That way, my mum says, when the Shadow is in town, he knows who wants to buy his magics.” She shrugged as though the concept were quite simple. “Then they can get rich using whatever it is their magics make.”
Nicholas glanced back at Oliver, whose grizzled face had hardened. “Do you know where I could find someone who has purchased one of these . . . magics?”
“I do!” A boy who looked about nine called out. “His name’s Jackson. He lives in the big houses six streets up from here. He works for a magistrate, and he just bought something two days ago.” He gave a sly smile. “I know because I was peeking through his window when I heard him say that the Shadow was going to come to his house.”
After thanking the children for their answers, Nicholas not only handed them the sweets but gave out a few coins as well. The children squealed with delight as he and Oliver stepped away.
“And?”
“Theodore Jackson,” Nicholas said grimly.
“Isn’t he a wealthy merchant of sorts?”
“Yes, and an assistant to a magistrate.”
Oliver sighed. “I don’t suppose there’s any chance you’ll be able to pass up visiting this man?”
Nicholas shook his head. “We’re going to visit an old friend.”
* * *
Nicholas hesitated for only a moment before knocking on the door. His guards were less than thrilled with the plan. Though dressed in common clothing to better blend in, they all grumbled about having the same feeling as Nicholas—that they were being watched everywhere they went.
A butler opened the door. He looked annoyed until Nicholas gave him his name. Then
he looked absolutely terrified.
Ushering them in with a thousand apologies, he seated them in the drawing room and then snapped at one of the maids to fetch them some tea.
As they waited, Nicholas wandered the room. The house was large and well furnished. Embroidered tapestries hung on the walls, almost as masterfully woven as those in the palace. Vases with brightly colored ornamentation were scattered about the room, most without flowers in them, and several sculptures were on display as well. Nicholas leaned closer to look at one.
“Oliver,” he called softly.
“Yes, sire?”
“What do you notice about the decorations in this room?”
Oliver squinted at a bust on the mantel. “It’s not very good.”
“No, look at the material itself. And then look at these vases.” Nicholas picked one up, slowly turning it over in his hands. “No dust. None whatsoever.”
“The man is rich enough to keep a decent household staff,” another guard suggested, but Nicholas shook his head.
“This is different. Smell the paint. They’re all new. They must have been purchased within the last week.”
“I’m confused,” the younger guard said. “He’s obviously wealthy. What’s so odd about that?”
“To own vases like these, one is not merely wealthy,” Nicholas said, putting the vase back. “These vases are made by a particular potter and his wife, and they’re sold only in one of the bigger markets. The artists are originally from the east.” He looked back at Oliver. “My mother loves their work, but because of the cost of the gold and silver paint, even my parents have purchased only a few for the palace. But this man has at least a dozen. And all brand new.”
“My prince!”
Nicholas turned to find a heavyset gentleman standing in the doorway. His words were slightly slurred, and his arms outstretched. When he bowed, his arms stayed aloft.
“What an honor to have you in my home! I must admit, I did not expect it! I’m delighted, though! I hope you will stoop so low as to allow your servant to feed you luncheon.”
“It would be my pleasure,” Nicholas replied.
Jackson snapped two thick fingers, and a young girl dressed in a maid’s uniform came running. “Tell Fanny that she will be cooking for a prince today! Make sure luncheon is superb.”
The girl turned and stared at Nicholas, her mouth falling open. Nicholas gave her a small smile, hoping to remind her of her duties before her master lost his patience. Though he’d only met him once, Nicholas didn’t recall his host being a very patient man.
“I will admit that I am a bit surprised to see you in Solwhind, sire.” Jackson turned to sit on the couch, stumbling slightly as he did.
Nicholas waved his hand. “It was meant to be quiet. I wanted to speak with some of the magistrates, and royal proclamations would have impeded an honest, quiet conversation.” He took a sip of his exceptionally sweet tea. “Your employer was there.”
“I hope I do not offend you, sire, but might I express how impressed I am with your person. I have not seen you since you were small, and here you are now, a man in every respect.” He picked up his teacup and peered into it, as though expecting to find something at the bottom.
When Nicholas dared a glance at Oliver, his captain’s frown confirmed what he suspected. Their host was acting somewhat strangely.
“I greatly admire your decor,” Nicholas said, walking over to the nearest vase. “The Zhus are accomplished craftsmen.”
“You know them?” Jackson smiled pleasantly and leaned back into his seat, although there was the barest hint of hesitation in the big man’s eyes.
“We have some of their work at the palace. I’ve never seen their like in skill.” Nicholas paused. “Or in price.”
“Ah . . . Yes. Well, I believe art is an investment.” Jackson chuckled uneasily and scratched his nose. “I put all my extra coin in trying to turn investments when I can.” He stood, stumbling again as he did. “Would you like to see the garden? It is particularly lovely.”
Nicholas looked over at Oliver, who seemed less than thrilled with the suggestion. Still, he followed Nicholas dutifully out the door.
A thin layer of icy snow crunched beneath their feet, another reminder that a walk in the garden was an odd idea. “This red pine tree is one of my favorites.” Jackson was shouting now, though Nicholas couldn’t understand why. “I collect things from the far east, you know!” They walked over a little wooden bridge. “The koi in the pond were brought in all the way from—”
Nicholas didn’t see the blow coming, but Oliver did. In a second, Nicholas was on the ground and Oliver was standing over him, sword in hand.
Nicholas jumped to his feet and drew his own weapon, but the fight was already over. Oliver’s blade was at Jackson’s thick neck, and Jackson was pinned against his beloved red pine.
But rather than giving up, Jackson let out a guttural scream and slid down the tree, flailing his large arms in all directions as he tried to roll away. Another guard tried to pin his arms down, but before his wrists could be properly bound, Jackson grabbed one of the guards’ knives and pulled it from his belt.
A crackling sound filled the air. Nicholas gasped with the others as the knife shimmered for one long moment before turning to a single solid diamond.
The shocked guard was too slow. Jackson sliced through his shirt and across his chest. The guard fell to the ground with a sharp cry. Oliver shouted orders to the other guards as they tried to gain control of Jackson’s swinging dagger. But Jackson proved an unusually strong man, and their metal weapons had no effect on his new knife.
In another thirty seconds, the three other guards had been injured as well. Only Oliver remained standing as he and Jackson faced each other down. Every time Nicholas tried to get close, Jackson would start swinging wildly again and Nicholas would be forced back. Nicholas was tall, but Jackson had him outweighed at least twice over.
“Get out of here!” Oliver called over his shoulder. “Find a bailiff!”
But Nicholas had no such intentions. He darted around to the back of the red pine. Looking around frantically, he finally found a rock just the right size, buried in a thin layer of snow.
He said a little prayer, pulled his arm back, then brought it forward with all his strength. The stone cracked on the back of the big man’s skull.
The younger guards looked up at the prince in awe as Jackson collapsed between them, but Oliver only scowled.
“I told you to run.”
“You also taught me to throw.”
“Something I’m sure I’ll regret forever.”
“I want him to come with us,” Nicholas said. “According to that child, he’s dealt with the Shadow directly.”
It wasn’t long before Jackson had been double-bound tightly by his wrists and ankles. To Nicholas’s great relief, his other guards were going to be quite well. They had only surface wounds, as Oliver called them. Nothing a good bottle of ale back at the palace and a few days rest wouldn’t fix.
* * *
As soon as they had Jackson in his holding cell back on the ship, Nicholas ran to his cabin where he had hidden his leather satchel. He yanked it out and dumped its contents onto the floor where he could sort through them easily. It felt like a lifetime later, but eventually he found what he was looking for.
“Oliver,” he called as he raced up to the deck, taking the steps two at a time. “Look at what I found.”
Oliver took the parchment from him. “A list of the recent dead? I saw this the other day.”
Nicholas tapped on the bottom of the page. “Right here. Look at the second to last entry.”
“Paulina Taylor. Forty-two. Found dead on the second day of the new year. Gifted.”
“What was her gift?” Nicholas asked, nearly breathless.
Oliver looked up at him, his face filling with disbelief.
“I think,” Nicholas said, “we need to have another chat with our guest.”
Nicholas was glad to find Jackson awake. He hoped the man’s headache would last a lot longer than the period of unconsciousness.
“It’s simply miraculous,” Nicholas said, leaning against the bars of the holding cell. “You’ve never shown any signs of a gift. But now, just a week after her death, you discover that you’re gifted. Even more peculiar is that you have the same ability as a woman who was found brutally murdered last week.”
“I don’t know who you’re talking about,” Jackson slurred, rubbing the back of his head.
“Her name was Pauline Taylor. She was a mother of six and had her first grandchild on the way.” Nicholas squeezed the bars until his fingers hurt.
“I had nothing to do with her death. I didn’t even know her.”
“But you were willing to buy her gift?” Nicholas slammed his fist against the bars.
Jackson fell backward.
“Now, are you going to make this simple and confess? Or shall my guard beat it out of you?”
Jackson pulled in a deep breath through his nose and got to his feet. He stared at Nicholas for a moment before he began to laugh. It began as a chuckle but grew into guffaws. “I have no fear of you,” he finally hollered, still doubled over in laughter.
“If you haven’t noticed,” Oliver stepped closer, “you’re now on our ship.”
Nicholas crossed his arms in front of his chest. “And if the threat of bodily harm doesn’t change your mind, consider this. You’re already going to be under the death sentence for your attempt on my life.” He shrugged. “But if you can help us, I’m sure my captain of the guard here might be able to get you life in prison instead.”
But Jackson kept laughing.
Nicholas and Oliver watched as the man doubled over so hard this time that he fell on the ground again, his laughter still unceasing.
“He’s growing madder by the minute,” Nicholas whispered.
“You think you’re in charge here.” Jackson chuckled as he pulled himself into a sitting position, still panting from his outburst. “But you know nothing!”
“Would you care to enlighten us?” Oliver hefted his weapon to his shoulder, but Jackson only made a face at it.
Cinders, Stars, and Glass Slippers: A Retelling of Cinderella Page 18