“She’s right,” Etta said. “No one’s gonna hire me. Who’d want to look at my face each day? I don’t like looking at it myself.”
“You know all this, Gwen. You tried and failed, remember? And have you forgotten about Hilda?”
“Hilda tried it alone. So did I,” Gwen said. “That’s what we did wrong. If we all go together—”
“Then we can keep each other company as we starve?”
“Maybe if we went somewhere else,” Mae said. “A place where no one knows us.”
Jollin shook her head. “They’re gonna want to know. Folks don’t hire people unless they know their past. We’d be strangers and no one is gonna hire a stranger over someone they’ve known for years.”
“I watched my mother starve,” Rose said. “I won’t do that.”
“No, leaving is just too risky,” Jollin concluded. “Even if we had enough means for food, we’d have no place to sleep but the street. How long before we were robbed and strangled too? Gwen, if we had any alternatives, do you think any of us would be here?”
Gwen turned from the window. “But I have gold.”
“That’s great, Gwen. Buy yourself a nice dress or something.” Jollin crawled back into the bed and reached for the covers.
“But you don’t understand—”
“I do understand. It’s you who keeps thinking there is somewhere better than this. Yeah, Grue can be a bastard, but there are plenty of things worse than him. Trust me. I know. As much as we hate it here, the truth is that if we leave, it’s almost certain we’ll die. You know this better than any of us.”
Gwen nodded. “You’re right.” She slapped her arms against her sides and nodded again. “You’re absolutely right.”
“What do you know? She can be reasoned with.”
Jollin pulled the covers over her head and used a pillow to deafen the sound of the hammering.
“Is that pounding keeping you awake?” Gwen asked. “Jollin, do you know what that is? That’s Stane fixing the door I busted.”
“So?” She lowered the covers to peer at her.
“So he’s got money, and Grue plans on letting him have you.”
All the color drained from Jollin’s face. She slowly sat up. “Me?”
“He’ll beat her to death,” Etta said with a lisp that made the word death sound like deaf, and coming from that busted mouth it was more than just words.
“Yeah, he will, and she won’t be the last—unless we leave … now.”
“But you almost died when you tried, and Hilda—”
“Both Hilda and I made the same mistake … We tried to make it on our own. Plus Hilda only had a few coppers, so she was stranded on the street, and when I ran, I didn’t have my coins … They were hidden up here. With them we can get our own place—a safe place. So what if no one will hire us. Who cares! Grue makes good money from us, and Hilda had the right idea about keeping it all. We can start our own place. Individually none of us can survive—that’s what I didn’t understand—but together we have a chance. Certainly a better chance than hoping that Stane will lose his job or become a human being.”
Gwen looked around and could see them weighing the possibilities.
“Look, I’m going to get the money. Those who want to come with me, have your stuff packed, because if we are going to do this, it’s got to be now.”
Gwen rushed out of the room, as much to avoid any questions as to leave before Stane finished. Truth was, the idea had only just come to her, and she was a long way from fitting all the pieces into place.
Thud, thud, thud. Stane was on his knees hammering the pale new plank against the frame. He smiled at her. “I’m almost done here. Gonna have a little fun after I—”
Gwen stepped into the little room across from him and slammed the door behind her. She waited with her back against it, making sure he didn’t follow. She heard the scrape of a planer and guessed she was safe … for now. The little bedchamber didn’t have a bolt like the other room, which had always been a problem. She’d never checked the money in the daylight, and she wasn’t just checking this time.
She crossed the room, dragged the table out of the way, and pried up the board, praying. That she had managed to keep them hidden for so long, right under Grue’s nose, had been a miracle. The men knew to pay Raynor directly, but some of the better ones tipped. It was never more than a copper or two, and Grue let them keep what was given. But he had no idea of the fortune she kept under the bedroom floor. Had he known, he would’ve killed her for them himself.
The board popped up, and the bag was there. She’d sewn it from the sleeve that Gideon Hawk had torn off her dress the night he’d had eight drinks instead of the usual four. At last count she had had forty-five copper dins in addition to the four gold tenents. A weighty sum and more than just her life’s savings—it was a sacred treasure. She stuffed the pouch between her breasts and went back out.
Stane was swinging the door open and closed, checking the clearance as she walked past. “Tell Jollin to brush her hair but leave it down.”
When Gwen entered the bedroom, the girls were all up and waiting—every one of them.
“Gwen,” Etta said, “I don’t know what in the kingdom you were thinking when you told us to pack our stuff—you know we ain’t got no stuff.”
“Dear blessed Maribor, Gwen,” Jollin whispered. “I hope you know what you’re doing.”
“Just follow me.”
They were all barefoot. Grue never saw the point in shoes, but seven women descending the wooden steps were about as quiet as a runaway wagon.
“What’s going on?” he said, coming out of the little storeroom near the kitchen, just as Gwen pulled open the door.
She stopped short, pushing the rest of them out to the porch, where they stood confused. The cats had turned into ducklings and Gwen their reluctant mother, standing between them and a vicious dog. “I warned you. Now we’re leaving.”
“God, you’re a stupid whore! I just got done telling ya—there’s no place for you to go. This is the only place any of ya have. But go on. You all go ahead and leave. Go wander around town awhile. When you get tired—when it’s dark and cold and you’re hungry—you’ll realize just how good you had it and will come right back. But know this: When you do, you’ll stop this nonsense and do as I say. Oh, and I’ll be getting the belt out again for causing so much trouble.”
Gwen stepped outside and closed the door.
Her hands were shaking and the tremor traveled the length of her body until she thought she might collapse right there on the porch.
“Where are we going, Gwen?” Abby asked.
“You don’t know, do you?” Jollin said.
“You wouldn’t do that to us, would you?” Mae asked. “Get Raynor mad like that and not have someplace to go?”
Rose touched Gwen on the arm, those big doe eyes focused on her. “Please tell us. Where are we going?”
Gwen stood shivering, her back to the door. The sun was finally high enough to erase the shadows cast by The Hideous Head, and across from Wayward Street stood the dilapidated inn.
“There.” Gwen pointed.
“You’re crazy,” Jollin said.
“Maybe.” Gwen nodded. “But it’s better than being dead.”
CHAPTER 5
MURDER ON THE BERNUM
Thought something might have happened to you,”-Sebastian said the next morning as Hadrian stepped onto the deck. “Eugene tried your room, but your door was locked and you didn’t answer.”
Hadrian glanced up at the sky. The sun was nearly overhead.
They were all up and gathered in the middle of the boat again, except the fellow in the hood, who remained aloof and at that moment was nowhere to be seen. Vivian sat in the center of them, wearing Hadrian’s cloak and a pleasant smile.
“I stayed up late. Must have slept in.” He sounded guilty, like a kid accused of laziness.
“Well, I barely got a wink myself,” Sebastian said.
“I don’t think any of us slept much,” Samuel added.
Hadrian reached into a bucket hanging from the rail and caught enough water to wipe his face. He stretched and yawned. Waking up late always left him feeling tired and sluggish. He had spent most of the night with the door to his room open and an eye on the tiny corridor leading to the other cabins. He watched the lamp sway for hours but never saw anyone. Finally, as the sun came up, he had locked his door and crawled into bed, feeling foolish.
Hadrian sat down next to Eugene. The youngest merchant had his hands fanned out and stared at them admiringly. His nails were ragged and dirty, so Hadrian guessed he was looking at his rings. With three on each hand, he had almost as many as Sebastian. Hadrian didn’t wear rings. He never saw the point. A wealthy warlord gave him one once, but Hadrian hadn’t liked the way it interfered with his grip, and he left it as a tip for a barmaid. He imagined that, being jewelers, the men with him had different opinions.
Across from Hadrian, Vivian sat wrapped in his cloak. With her knees pulled up to her chest, she vanished within its folds. Hadrian had never liked the thin garment, what the Calians called a bisht. He had bought it from a zealous bazaar hawker in Dagastan just before boarding the ship to Avryn. Never good at bartering, Hadrian had spent more than was necessary. He’d done a lot of that while in the east, and the cloak was a physical reminder of his time in Calis. Still, it looked good on her.
The barge continued upriver, stopping only to change horses and drivers and bring on a relief steersman so Farlan could sleep. The world around the Bernum had changed dramatically overnight. The river was narrower, more turbulent, and the banks had risen. Canyon walls cast the river in shadow, and the towpath transformed from a country lane into a narrow track that skirted cliffs where pines struggled to find purchase in thin soil, leaving roots exposed.
This was the landscape of the north he remembered—mountains and ravines, snow and ice. So much had happened in the two years since he’d left. Beyond the cliffs were the lands of Warric, the kingdom just to the north of his childhood home. Old Clovis Ethelred had been the king. A cruel ruler, but then Hadrian had yet to meet another sort. Ethelred had built a fine army. Hadrian felt he possessed a particularly expert opinion on that subject, as he had both fought against and been a member of its ranks. That was how he knew the cliffs and canyons of the area; that was how he remembered them, as a young soldier driven through the crags and up the mountains, holding the high ground against the enemy who months before had been his friends.
He chanced another glance at Vivian. When she returned his gaze, he quickly looked away, staring at the banks of the river, realizing too late that his sudden shift would be taken as an admission of guilt.
“Do you know where you’ll be staying while in Colnora, Mr. Blackwater?” she asked.
“I have no plans at present,” Hadrian admitted.
“But you’re a soldier.” Eugene’s tone was dismissive and superior enough to irritate.
“And you’re a merchant,” Hadrian said, although he was thinking of another word instead of merchant.
Eugene smirked. “I meant you’ll be staying at some barracks, won’t you?”
“Actually … I’m retired.”
“Retired?” Sebastian chuckled. “You don’t look old enough to have done much more than enlist.”
“And yet…” Hadrian smiled at them, spreading his hands out.
“What are your plans, then?” Samuel said.
Hadrian was beginning to see why the hooded man kept his distance. “Just traveling.”
“To where?”
“North.”
“That’s a very big place. Anywhere in—”
The boat bucked, glancing off a boulder. The tow cable went slack, then snapped taut again. Hadrian looked back and noticed the lack of a steersman. “Where’s Farlan?”
Sebastian tilted his head to peer around the others. “I don’t know.”
They all got up, and Hadrian led the way to the rear of the boat, where they found no sign of the ship’s guide. Sebastian gestured to the rope looped around the tiller’s handle. “He does that when he needs a break, but he’s never gone long. Perhaps he’s preparing breakfast. It’s getting late.”
Looking back, Hadrian saw the river, which had been relatively flat and straight for miles, was now becoming rife with boulders and starting to zigzag with the emergence of the high cliffs.
He glanced toward the cabins. “After a bump like that, don’t you think he’d come up?”
They all looked expectantly toward the door, but when it opened, it was the hooded man peering out. Still with hood up, he looked around, then without a word went back below.
“Someone isn’t concerned,” Sebastian observed.
“Has anyone seen Farlan today?” Hadrian asked.
The three merchants and Vivian exchanged glances.
“Now that you mention it … no. No, I haven’t. Anyone else?” Sebastian asked.
They all shook their heads.
“The relief steersman got off after supper last night, didn’t he?” Hadrian asked.
“I believe so,” Sebastian replied. “When they traded out the horses.”
“Is it possible that Farlan got off, too, and we didn’t notice?” Hadrian asked.
“Maybe it was some kind of mistake,” Eugene said. “A scheduling error or something like that? Maybe the driver started hauling before Farlan got back on?”
“I think Farlan would have told him to stop.”
Sebastian said, “Flag the postilion.”
Samuel whistled and Eugene waved until the driver halted the horses. Hadrian loosed the tiller and brought the barge over to the bank, where it was inclined to go anyway, being swept to shore by the current. The merchants conducted a search but failed to find the missing steersman. They all disembarked, even the hooded man, who observed from a distance.
“Relief steersmen come and go, but Farlan don’t never leave the boat. He cast off after I got my gals here hitched and ready,” the postilion told them. His name was Andrew, an older fellow with short-cropped hair who seemed out of his depth when speaking to customers and kept patting the rumps of the horses self-consciously. “Never seen old Farlan step on land except to help load supplies or cargo.”
“Then where is he?” Sebastian asked.
“Coulda fallen in the river,” the postilion said. “Some have. Not Farlan, but I heard of others that did.”
“Shouldn’t we wait?” Hadrian asked. “Could he have swum to shore and is running to catch up to us?”
Andrew shook his head. “If he went in, he’s likely drowned. This river is evil through and through, but especially round here. The current is strong and sweeps you along. If you fall in near the center, it won’t let you get near the banks, plus there’s an undertow that will drag down even the strongest swimmer. You get rolled and churned like a deer in a gator’s locked jaws. Bodies don’t never pop up. The river swallows them whole.”
“But what if he did make it?” Hadrian asked.
Andrew shrugged. “He’d be fine, as long as he wasn’t bashed up too bad. He’d likely walk back to the last post station or just sit and wait for the next boat coming up.”
“Why downriver? Why not up?”
“There ain’t no more stations ahead. We’re entering the canyons. Next stop is Colnora. I suppose he might head to the city, but walking downhill is easier than up.”
“So there aren’t any more steersmen to replace him?”
Andrew shook his head again. “Or team changes. From here on it’s just me, Bessie, and Gertrude.”
“Then what are we going to do?” Samuel asked.
“You’ll have to stay here while I go down to the last post. Even if Farlan isn’t there, I’ll need to grab another steersman to finish the trip.”
“How long will that take?” Sebastian asked.
“Most of the day I ’spect, and that’s if someone’s available. Might not be, th
en it could be three days if we have to wait for another barge.”
“That’s unacceptable,” Samuel declared.
“Absolutely unacceptable,” Sebastian agreed. “We can handle the steering.”
Andrew rubbed the horses in a circular pattern, looking like he wished he were somewhere else. “Well, I suppose that might be okay, but Colnora is still a day away and this last part is—”
“Then I say we do that,” Sebastian declared loud enough for his voice to bounce off the cliff and echo back.
“Who’s going to handle the rudder?” Eugene asked.
“We’ll take turns. You can start us off, Eugene. I’m sure it’s not hard.” He looked to Andrew.
“Just keep her near the middle and avoid the rocks. That’s all there is to it. These ladies here do all the hard work.” He patted the rump of one of the horses.
They set out once more, this time with Eugene at the tiller. He looked unsure of himself, and while Hadrian was no hand with a boat, he sat with the apprentice merchant for a while until he appeared more comfortable skirting the rocks. Hadrian couldn’t tell if Eugene was grateful or irritated with his presence, and eventually took his leave.
“He was murdered,” Samuel told Hadrian when he returned to the center of the barge where the two jewelers and Vivian were gathered. The hooded man had returned to the bow, probably wary of Eugene’s steering and not wanting to be caught below. Samuel nodded in his direction. “That one slit his throat and dropped him in the river.”
“We don’t know that,” Hadrian said. By the looks on their faces, he was the only one who believed it.
“Do you really think an experienced steersman fell overboard on a route he’s probably traveled a hundred times?” Sebastian asked.
“No, but I’m also not willing to jump to the worst possible conclusion.”
“Open your eyes, you foolish boy,” Samuel said in a loud voice. “A man is dead! And there is no denying who is responsible.”
Hadrian cringed. “You want to say that just a little louder? I don’t think Andrew and Bessie heard. Look, you insist that Farlan has been killed, but you are forgetting one very important thing.”
The Crown Tower: Book 1 of The Riyria Chronicles Page 7