by Alex Bledsoe
“Of course I will. Plain Jack Kingson will be there, along with his friend Billy Cudgel.”
“Good grief, I don’t know if there’s enough food in the whole county to fill that mountain.” She lightly smacked him. “And ‘Kingson’? Really?”
“Best place to hide is in plain sight.” His tone grew more serious. “Has your father sent for the moon priestesses?”
“Yes. They’ll be here in about a month.”
“A month? My father could get them to—”
“No. Absolutely not. They’ll be here in a month, and I’ll be fine.”
“I’m worried about you.”
“Don’t be. I still have twice your upper body strength, you know.”
“Yeah? Prove it.”
I heard him go “Oof!” as she slammed him into the wall, and then they both giggled and fell again into that silence that meant a serious kiss.
They made their good-byes, and Isadora slipped back into town to join her family. Jack stayed where he was, apparently lost in thought. He leaned against the stone wall, yawned, and stared up at the stars. I could see his smile in the moonlight. His breath puffed out in happy little plumes as he chuckled in delight.
Here was the crown prince of Altura standing all alone in the middle of the night, with no security retinue in sight. If I’d been his father, I’d be livid, too. One quick knife from the shadows, and Altura was without an heir, a crisis for any country. For one like this, where it was public knowledge that the king had only one child, it would be devastating. Bastard offspring would appear, genuine or not, claiming they should be crowned upon the king’s death.
It hit me that I might never get this chance again. So I sidled out of my hiding place, waited until he noticed me, and said, “Good evening, Your Highness.”
I didn’t catch him off guard. “You’ve got the wrong guy, pal. My name’s Jack Kingson. Not even my sheep call me, ‘Your Highness.’ ”
“No, I don’t think I do. Prince John of Altura, only son of King Ellis. That’s you.”
He pushed himself off the wall and slipped casually into a defensive stance, the kind taught by royal battle masters. His tone was still light. “And that matters to you, why?”
I held up my hands to show I was unarmed. “I just want a couple of minutes of your time.”
“That still takes me back to, ‘Why?’ I should tell you up front, I don’t have any money on me, and my influence with my father is . . . negligible. Especially if he finds out I’m here.”
“I don’t want your money. Without going into a lot of detail, I’m concerned about Isadora. Your attention could destroy her life very easily. You might even get her killed.”
“I’d never let that happen,” he said seriously.
“Why?”
“Why?” he repeated.
“Yes, why? You can have any well-bred girl in any kingdom around. Why would you dally with a shepherd’s daughter? Only reason I can think of is to dip your staff in her flock.” I winced at my own metaphor, but to be fair, I was tired and a little hungover.
But it worked; I got the rise I wanted, the one that made him forget who and where he was. “Hey, just wait a goddamn minute, whoever you are. First off, I love that girl. Second, before this festival is over, I’ll make it public. And third, it’s none of your goddamned business.”
“So you really want a shepherdess to be Queen of Altura?”
“Better than some pampered, whiny bitch raised for nothing but sitting in court and spreading gossip!” His voice stayed a whisper, but his outrage was clear. “Ever since I grew old enough to notice girls, my father has been parading these gilded canker- blossoms past me, hoping I’d pick one and be done with it. None of them have any idea what to do with themselves except simper around, gossip, and shop. I don’t care how pretty they are, if you can’t have a conversation with them, they lose their charm real fast.”
He paused, and his whole tone changed. “But Izzy . . . she has a spine. And a brain. She doesn’t take anything at face value, including me. And it doesn’t hurt that she’s the prettiest girl in Altura, either, whether highborn or low. And if my father banishes us for this, I could do a whole lot worse than being a shepherd married to her.”
I smiled to myself. If I was any judge of people, this young man was sincere. A bit naive, perhaps, but definitely honest. I said, “All right, calm down, I was just picking at you. Like you said, this is really none of my business.”
“Yeah, no kidding. Who are you?”
“Eddie LaCrosse.”
“Izzy’s never mentioned you.”
“Yeah.” I deliberated for half a second before saying, “There’s a reason for that. If I tell you, you can’t tell her.”
“Are you her father? Her mother’s never told her who—”
“No, I’m not her father.” And I told him the story of the bear, the soldiers, and how Isadora ended up with the Glendowers. Even in the dark I could see his eyes widen with disbelief. I finished with, “Three people here know that story now: Owen Glendower, Beatrice Glendower, and you.”
“And you.”
“I’m leaving. I just wanted to see that she was all right.” Then I paused. “You can tell me one thing: Why are you hanging around with that fat old drunk?”
He laughed. “Billy? He’s harmless.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure.”
“You want to know why I’m here, dressed like this, in this sort of company? All right, I’ll tell you, then. A secret for a secret.” He stepped close, and his voice dropped, low and eager. “Someday I’m going to be the absolute ruler of these people, right? I mean, even if my father banishes me, when he dies, I’ll come back. And my decisions will affect them in ways I can’t imagine. So how can I be expected to rule over them if I don’t know them? And there’s another reason.” He smiled conspiratorially. “Everyone at court knows I’ve gone rogue like this. They know I’m out carousing, drinking, wenching, probably robbing honest citizens for the sheer fun of it. I’m like the sun, hidden behind the clouds of all these bad habits. But on the day I accept the crown, those clouds will part. After all, a treasure that’s been hidden away is a lot more interesting than one that’s always been sitting there in plain sight.”
I was impressed. “Oh, that’s good.”
“I know,” he said with a conspiratorial chuckle. “I didn’t set out to find a commoner queen, but if I had, I couldn’t do better than Isadora. And the best part is, I really do love her.” He patted my arm. “Have a safe journey, Mr. LaCrosse. It’s been a pleasure swapping secrets with you.”
I watched the young prince saunter back into town, justifiably pleased with himself. I hoped he got to follow through with his plan, because I’d met few princes so concerned with their future status as king. Even Phil, a good prince and a great king, had not been this self-aware.
I felt pretty good myself, not least about Isadora’s future. It was too bad I wouldn’t be around to see the look on Glendower’s face when he found out who his future son-in-law really was, and what his foster granddaughter was about to become. I fought the urge to whistle as I strolled back to the wagon, intending to crawl back in beside Liz and sleep the sleep of the just. Tomorrow I would get up without a care and belatedly dive into my well-deserved vacation.
Instead, I came around the end of a tall-sided cart and froze in my tracks. Liz sat on our wagon’s tail gate, wrapped in a blanket and casually kicking her bare feet. And standing beside her was Billy Cudgel.
It takes a lot to totally catch me off guard. I mean, obviously, if it were easy to do, I wouldn’t have lived as long as I have. But this little tableau did it.
Billy whispered something that made Liz laugh. When she did so, the blanket slid lower off her bare shoulders, and I saw him stare lasciviously at the newly exposed flesh.
Now, that just wasn’t going to fly.
“Well, look at this,” I said as I stepped into the open. “What have we got here?”
It w
as too dark to see if she had that mischievous gleam in her eye that said she knew exactly what we had here, but I wouldn’t put it past her. She said, “There you are. Eddie, this is Billy. Billy, this is my boyfriend, Eddie.”
“The gentleman and I have met,” Billy said. “Good to see you again, sir.”
“Words fail me,” I said as I shook his hand. “You’re up awfully late.”
“Dear me, this is when I do my best work,” he said with a wink at Liz. She giggled, and again the blanket slipped lower. In the moonlight, her bare skin glowed white.
I reached past Billy and tugged the blanket back up. “And just what are you two night owls working on?”
“He was telling me this story about the time he was attacked on the road,” she said.
“Really?” I pushed past Billy, not the easiest thing to do, hopped up on the tailgate, and wriggled in between him and Liz. I knew Liz wasn’t attracted to this guy, but he was definitely poaching in my forest. “I’d like to hear about this, too. I love a good story.”
If I threw him off, he didn’t let on. “Very well. Where was I?”
“There were two of them,” Liz said helpfully.
“That’s right, in leather armor, with scarves to hide their scurrilous faces. The four of them—”
“Wait a minute,” I said. “Liz said there were two.”
“No, the dear lady is mistaken, I said four. Four of them, all armed with great vicious daggers. The seven of them—”
“Four,” I corrected.
“Seven,” he said deliberately, glaring at me, then returned his attention to Liz. “They thought I was a simple peddler, with nothing but sheets in my pack. But I showed them the truth, driving the nine of them back with my fierce blade.” He unsheathed his sword and shook it for emphasis.
I tensed up, as I always did when someone drew a blade in front of me, but Liz merely giggled.
“Then I disemboweled seven of the eleven, draping their steaming guts around my neck!”
“Oh, gross!” Liz said, still laughing.
“Better to have them about your neck than around your legs, dear lady. You don’t need to get your feet tangled when you’re up against fifteen ruffians.”
“Okay, okay,” I said to Billy. “As much as I’m enjoying the story of this ever-expanding battle, it’s late and I’m tired. Did you want something in particular?”
“He was looking for you,” Liz said.
“Indeed, sir,” Billy said. “I’d like a word with you in private.”
He put a meaty hand on my shoulder and pulled me down off the tailgate with surprising strength. I glanced back at Liz; she flashed me with the blanket, then winked. I’d get her back for this one.
Billy and I walked away from the wagons until we were out in the open where no one could hear and, more important, no one could come to my aid. The moon made his bulk merge with his shadow, blurring his outline and doubling his considerable size. The wind was considerably colder out here with nothing to block it, and I was barefoot and coatless.
He did not release my shoulder, and the weight of his hand made me lean to one side. He said calmly, “I still have my sword in my hand. I’m not threatening, mind you, just alerting you.”
“I’m alert. And unarmed.”
“Those are exactly the two qualities I look for in a foe. Well, the latter one, certainly. Now, to the point: I saw you speaking to my friend Jack earlier. Why were you doing that?”
“Why don’t ask him? He’s your friend.”
He got close, his broad furry face right in mine. His breath smelled of ale and cabbage. The charm he’d used on Liz was totally gone, replaced with the seriousness of a man at work. “Because I’m asking you.” His stomach growled in the silence. “And I’m as impatient for answers as I am for my next meal.”
I was torn between playing along to see what he was about, and annoyance at being bullied. I said at last, “One time, I was in a tavern, and two men were betting over who had the biggest manhood.”
“I fail to see the connection.”
“Bear with me. The first man pulled his out, and it was impressive. But the second man won. He didn’t pull his all the way out, mind you. He just pulled out enough to win the contest.” I smiled smugly.
The hand on my shoulder dug stubby fingers painfully into my flesh. He was strong beneath the blubber, and while I was pretty sure I could get away if I really needed to, I also knew I wouldn’t learn anything if I did. And I needed to know what his relationship was with slumming Prince Jack, because that affected Isadora.
“When it comes to the truth,” Cudgel said, “I expect you to pull it all out. And make it stand at attention. If not . . . I might have to shave a few inches off it to give you some incentive.”
I looked back at the wagon as if ensuring that Liz wasn’t listening. I spoke softly and laid on just enough guilt. “Okay, okay. I was talking to him about the girl. You know, the one he was dancing with when you and I were watching? I wanted to see how serious he was about her.”
His eyes narrowed. I was telling him the literal truth, but hoped our prior conversation and my performance shaded it so that he believed I was trying to get Isadora for myself. It was easier than outright lying, because I didn’t have to keep track of any fabrications. “And what,” he rumbled, “did my friend tell you?”
“To mind my own business.”
His big head tilted skeptically. “You seemed to part on much friendlier terms than that.”
“That’s kind of creepy, a grown man like you, sneaking around after a boy.”
He didn’t take the bait. “I was watching over a naive friend. He’s had a very sheltered life. And you also seem to have a perfectly acceptable woman of your own, one with a most delightful laugh. How would she take it, to find that you were sniffing around in search of a younger bitch to bear your next litter? Would she laugh that off?”
I had my way out now. “Well, I wasn’t planning to tell her until I worked out the details.”
He snorted. The cabbage smell enveloped me. He said, “You’re quite the cad, my friend.”
“At least I don’t get by on the table leavings from a wayward prince.”
He was silent for a long moment. I watched the sword in his hand, ready to spring aside if it moved toward me. Surely a man as fat as this couldn’t also be quick. At last he said, “And who else knows about that?”
Whew. I had him. “No one. Yet.”
“Hm. Then if I stain my sword on your gummed-up excuse for blood—”
“You’ll have to do a lot of explaining, because my lady friend will definitely raise a ruckus. And then your prince will have to use his pull to get you out of it . . . or leave you twisting in the wind, however he decides. So why don’t we leave it at this: You know something about me, I know something about you. If we both keep our mouths shut, the world keeps spinning just fine.”
He considered this, then slowly smiled. He looked as harmless as a kitten. “Well, my friend, it seems you’ve resolved our issues. I believe you’re exactly right, except for one small thing.”
“What’s that?”
He released my shoulder and patted my cheek. “There’s strong evidence the world might be flat.” Then he put away the sword and strolled back toward town.
I waited until he was out of sight, then returned to the wagon. Liz was fully dressed, standing with my boots in her hand. “Our stuff’s mostly packed, and what isn’t won’t get hurt bouncing around,” she said softly. “Are we leaving?”
“No,” I said, and kissed her. “What did he say before I showed up?”
“He was trying to charm my pants off. Or my blanket, as the case may be. As fat as he is, I’m not really sure what could actually happen if he did get me in the mood.”
“He’s bad news. I don’t know what he’s really after, but whatever it is, it affects Isadora.”
She looked at me.
“What?” I added defensively.
“You’re g
oing to figure out who she is, aren’t you?”
“I don’t know,” I said rather petulantly. “Maybe.”
“Your only clues were eaten by a bear sixteen years ago.”
“I found Black Edward Tew after twenty years.”
“Yes, but he knew who he was. Isadora doesn’t have a clue.”
“Then it’s an even bigger challenge.”
She shook her head, put her arms around my neck, and kissed me. “You are something, Eddie LaCrosse. You do your best work for friends, and never get paid for it. Why in the world do I stay with you?”
I put my hand on the small of her back and pulled her against me. My cold fingers slid up her skin.
“Oh, yes,” she said. “Now I remember why. You give me chills.”
We climbed back into the wagon.
Chapter
THIRTEEN
We intended to sleep late the next morning, but the noises of sheep being herded, children being scolded, and what sounded like a cat being strangled prevented it. This last was due to a piper tuning up on the hillside, and it took him what seemed an interminable amount of time to do it. Even the sheep got annoyed, bleating their disapproval, and I could tell no qualitative difference from when he first started. Still, it got me up and going, so I dressed and went to the well at the center of town for a bucket of water. Some people stirred along the street, cleaning up the debris from the previous night. Some still slept where they’d apparently fallen. The flowered arches were tattered and shredded like a storm had come through.
A portly, bald man with a narrow beard sat on the stoop of a small, closed shop, cradling his head in his hands. At first I thought he was crying, so I said, “You all right there, pal?”
He looked up. His eyes were bloodshot and squinted against the sunrise. “My brain,” he said, “is very poor and unhappy this morning.”
“I know the feeling,” I assured him.
“That fat man in the tavern,” he continued. “I don’t know where he puts it all. He’s been in there all night, and he’s still going.”