by C. J. Archer
"Where are Dane and Balthazar?" I asked.
"Securing a table in the corner of the taproom," Theodore said. "I should warn you, Dane's in a foul mood. He doesn't like being left out of information gathering adventures."
"It was fortunate he was left out of this one. Sander would have recognized him. The rest of you, too," I added as Theodore fell into step alongside me. "You must avoid him at all costs while we're here."
Dane's gaze lifted from his tankard upon our entry and connected with mine. I shook off my reservations and forged ahead. As difficult as this was going to be, it had to be done.
"Well?" Quentin asked before we'd even sat down. "What did he say?"
We left Max to do the talking. It felt right coming from him.
"He didn't know why most of us were imprisoned," he began. "The guards were never informed."
Quentin's shoulders slumped and he hunched over his tankard. "What a waste of time then."
"He made some guesses, though, and some of us confided in him."
"Confided in a guard?" Balthazar sounded skeptical.
"He was probably one of the better ones," I said. "He claims he even became friendly with Dane, in a way."
Dane blinked rapidly. "Why me?"
"You were one of the longest serving prisoners so he got to know you. He saw something in you that he connected with. You discussed politics together. You were kind to the other prisoners, protecting many of the weaker ones." I told them how he'd taken Quentin, Leon and Theodore under his wing and how the other prisoners respected him because of it. "There was a group of you who became known as the protectors. Because of you, Dane."
Dane's jaw hardened. "He couldn't possibly remember all of us. He was just telling you what you wanted to hear."
We all protested, but it was Max whose voice they listened to. "He remembered, all right. I reckon it was our willingness to protect the weak that made us stick in his mind. His descriptions of us, not just physical but of our characters too, were right. He remembered Leon as an arrogant little turd with a big mouth."
"Did he remember him finding the gem?" Balthazar asked.
Max shook his head. "According to Sander, Leon claimed he was jailed because he lampooned King Phillip, on the castle doorstep, no less."
Theodore flattened his palms on the table. "That's all? It's hardly an offense that warrants such a harsh punishment."
"Never embarrass a king," Balthazar warned. "If we learn nothing else, that is a good lesson to take away from all this."
Max cleared his throat. "Speaking of embarrassing those in power." He coughed again and kept his gaze on his tankard.
"Go on," Balthazar said. "We need to know."
"Right." Max lifted his gaze to Theodore's. "You were jailed because your lover was the son of a powerful Dreenian."
Theodore's eyes widened. Then the color rushed to his cheeks. He swallowed hard and focused on his tankard, cupped between both hands.
"And you, Bal," Max quickly went on. "Sander didn't know why you were imprisoned, but he reckons you gave a harsh opinion of someone important."
Quentin snickered. "That ain’t a surprise."
Erik thumped him. "It ain’t amusing. He was put in a prison mine."
"Sorry, Bal."
"What about you?" Dane asked Max.
"Sander didn't know," Max said. "Nor did he know why you were there, or Erik, but like I said, he remembered us all, which is why we've got to lay low in Gull's Wing. I reckon we should leave at first light."
"Agreed," Dane said.
Erik, Theodore and Quentin hunkered lower, keeping their faces averted from the other patrons in the taproom.
Balthazar wasn't quite so concerned. "Sander can point at us and shout his suspicions across the village, but it won't matter. According to the official stance, we were executed. We are dead. For the authorities to admit that we're the escaped prisoners would be to admit they lied about capturing all of us."
I didn't particularly agree. While his theory was logical, there was always the chance the authorities would say they mistakenly missed some. It was entirely believable that they miscounted when there were nearly a thousand prisoners.
Dane agreed with me. "We're going to remain in the inn for the rest of today and leave at first light. There's nothing more we can learn here and we'll be more able to disappear in a city the size of Noxford."
We were heading to Noxford anyway. With Balthazar's journey to Freedland our only certainty, it made sense that he traveled directly to the country's capital and its religious temples. We hadn't yet decided if we should make inquiries about him there, however. If Balthazar had kept his reason for coming to Freedland a secret, perhaps it was wise to continue to do so.
"Speaking of Noxford," I said. "Sander mentioned a Zemayan from the capital who visited the mine after the escape became public. This Zemayan wanted to know if the prisoners found something in the mine."
"The gem!" Quentin said.
Erik jabbed his elbow into Quentin's side. Quentin grunted and rubbed his ribs.
"Taaj the Zemayan believed magic set the prisoners free," I added. "He admitted as much to Sander."
"Do you think he knows something?" Theodore asked.
Quentin sat forward. "Maybe he knows the sorcerer."
It was a hopeful note on which to end the evening. We agreed to retire early and stay out of sight, just in case Sander decided to join us for a drink. Besides, we wanted to leave early in the morning.
I couldn't rest, however. Not until I'd spoken to Dane. I took his hand before he entered the room he shared with Balthazar and Theodore.
But he extracted his hand from mine. "Is there something else you need to tell me?" The hard planes of his face left me in no doubt he didn't want to talk to me.
I wasn't giving up, however. "Sander told us how you got the name Hammer."
His gaze darted to mine. "It's bad, isn't it?"
"He made sure to tell us you were a good man. You protected the others and were a leader to many. The prisoners looked up to you."
"Don't avoid it, Josie. What did I do?"
I sucked in a breath and let it out slowly. "You hit a guard with your hammer."
He leaned back against the closed door and dragged both hands over his face. "I killed a man in cold blood."
"He didn't die. That's the only reason you weren't hanged." I didn't tell him about his subsequent punishment in the disused well. It would be akin to rubbing salt in the wound. "Sander didn't know why you attacked the guard. You wouldn't tell anyone. But you must have had a reason."
"Did I?" he bit off. "Or was I just angry and lashed out at the nearest guard?"
He turned to go, but I grabbed his arm. "You could have attacked any of the guards or your fellow prisoners, but you did not. Only that one. Sander said he liked you and—"
"Don't, Josie." Her jerked free. "Don't pretend I was noble and just. I know I wasn't. Not after hearing that."
"I'm not pretending," I hissed. "Nor am I blindly, foolishly in love with you that I can't see your faults. You're stubborn, overbearing, have a quick temper, and can be arrogant."
"Arrogant?"
"Yes. You let the adulation of Quentin and the others go to your head at times."
"I do not."
I gave him an arched look. "See, stubborn and arrogant."
He crossed his arms. "Your point?"
"My point is that I see your faults and can list them to your face, so believe me when I say cruelty and unwarranted violence are not among them. If they were, I wouldn't care for you like I do."
"I appreciate what you're trying to do, Josie. I do. But I think we both know you're biased, and if that's me being arrogant, then so be it."
"I am not biased! I am quite capable of stepping back and seeing the real you."
"You only think you can. But the truth is, you've only known me a few months, and in a time when I am not myself. Until I find out who I am, you can't truly know me. No one can."
He jerked open the door and closed it in my face before I had a chance to think of a retort.
I stood there, hands on hips, and glared at the door. I should open it and continue the argument inside. I should tell him he was wrong, that I did know him.
But it would get us nowhere except angry with one another, and he didn't need that. He needed to be shown how good a man he could be. If he didn't believe me or the others, then there was only one solution. Find people who'd known him before he lost his memory and prove it.
Hopefully Noxford would provide answers to his past as well as the reason for Balthazar's visit to Freedland. If it didn't, I was at a loss for where to turn next.
Chapter 13
Noxford was a similar size to Tilting and both cities were located on rivers, but otherwise there was little outward similarity between the two capitals. The sheriff's office, courts, and other official buildings clustered around the main square were not old. They'd replaced the ones destroyed during the revolution forty years ago. A bronze statue of General Noxford on a rearing horse stood atop a plinth in the middle of the paved square. The structure was the height of at least four men.
We passed the ancient castle, perched on a hill. According to Balthazar, who'd read up on the history of the city, the former king's residence was now used as offices for the ministers and the private home of the high minister. Scars in the thick outer walls were the only visible reminder of the repairs carried out after the revolution.
The nation's high temple stood on the hill opposite the castle. Like Tilting's high temple, it was a magnificent tribute to the god with an impressive tower shooting into the sky. We passed smaller temples, dedicated to both Merdu and Hailia, as well as the bustling market. The streets radiating from the market were filled with shops selling all kinds of goods, many of which must have been imported from other countries. Freedland wasn't known for its luxurious textiles or precious metals.
Kitty squealed with delight upon seeing the silks on display in the cloth merchant's shop. "Civilization at long last."
"We cannot afford to buy frivolous things," Meg told her. "We must save what little money we have left."
"I have the necklace I was wearing when we falsified my death." Kitty patted her chest where the pendant nestled beneath her clothes. “I can sell it.”
"Save it for necessities."
Kitty gazed longingly at the silks until they disappeared from sight. "Lovely clothes are a necessity."
"So are lovely women," Erik piped up.
I thought he was referring to Kitty, but he smiled and bowed at two women of middle age with baskets over their arms. Their lips parted with their gasps before they hurried away. I eyed Kitty warily, but she laughed.
"You are naughty," she chided.
He grinned at her and winked, earning a laugh from Kitty in response.
Meg caught my eye and raised a brow. I merely shrugged. Their relationship was a mystery to me as well.
We found the inn that had been recommended to us by the Tilting warrior priests and settled in for the night. We ate heartily but I instantly regretted it when Dane carefully counted out the ells to pay the serving girl.
"Funds are tight," he told us. "We can't spend any more than necessary here or we'll all need to find work."
Kitty pulled a face. "Work?"
"Aye," Quentin said. "It's that thing people do to earn money to pay for food, shelter, clothing." He winked at Meg.
Meg took up the teasing. "But since you're not qualified or experienced, Kitty, you'll have to do something menial."
"You could be a washer woman," Theodore said with mock seriousness.
Kitty pouted. "I've never washed clothes before. I wouldn't know what to do. What about being a ladies' maid? I know what they do, and I'm sure I'd be a better one than Prudence, the trout-faced cow."
"Can you do hair?" Meg asked.
Kitty sighed.
"What about a shop assistant? You could sell things, surely."
Kitty's face lit up. "I could work in that draper’s shop we passed before. I'd make an excellent seller of silks and other luxuries." She suddenly clasped Dane's hand. "Do let me know if I must contribute, Dane. I would like to help in any way I can, as long as it doesn't involve washing clothes, doing hair, or anything where I have to touch dirt. Or prepare food. I don't think I'd be very good at that. I like to eat it, not touch it." She wrinkled her nose.
I bit my lip to stop my smirk from breaking free. Meg wasn't so restrained, and a small snicker escaped. Kitty didn't seem to notice. She was caught up in her enthusiasm for enterprise.
We bade one another goodnight after supper, but I bailed Dane up outside his room, as I had done on our last night in Gull's Wing. He'd been quiet for most of the journey to Noxford, but it was more contemplative than morose. It was a good sign that he wouldn't let the story of how he earned the name Hammer effect him too much.
I nodded at the bedchamber door behind him. "Are you going to close the door in my face again?"
He folded his arms over his chest. "Are you going to call me arrogant again?"
"Probably. If not tonight then another day."
He narrowed his gaze. "You test me, do you know that?"
I smiled. "That's because I don't think you should get everything handed to you. You are, after all, handsome, intelligent, athletic, good with a sword, on horseback, with your fists, with women, and sometimes you're even witty."
"Only sometimes?"
"You have an unfair proportion of good traits. Somebody has to remind you of your bad ones once in a while or you'll become unbearable."
He laughed. It was all the more special because of its rarity, and I smiled too. "You know I wasn't mad at you, don't you?" he asked.
I looked away and gave a small shrug.
He settled his hands on my shoulders. "Josie," he murmured, "I'm sorry I took my frustration and worries out on you. You don't deserve it."
"You didn't take them out on me, you were sharing them with me. That's why I'm here. To share the burden with you. You don't have to bear it alone, Dane. I'm here for you to lean on, confide in, and just generally support you on this mad journey."
He stroked the underside of my jaw with his thumb. "You're already doing all that for me. In fact, the others should thank you. If you weren't here, I'd be impossible." He leaned forward and touched his forehead to mine. "Thank you.
I wanted to kiss him. It would have been so easy to do. I wouldn't even have to move much. But it was best if I didn't make life any more complicated for him. By the time I'd thought it through, he'd put some distance between us anyway.
"Goodnight," he said.
I nodded and smiled but left without responding. My throat was too tight to squeeze words through.
I returned to the room I shared with Meg and Kitty to find them lying side by side on the small bed, staring up at the ceiling, chatting about men. Or, rather, one man.
"Erik is a dalliance," Kitty said. "Nothing more. There can never be anything permanent between us. I'm a noblewoman of Glancia, after all. When Gladstow dies, I'll resume my position as duchess and find myself a worthy husband."
"Erik is worthy," Meg said.
"He is a Marginer."
"That doesn't make him less worthy."
"Perhaps worthy was the wrong word. Being a Marginer makes him less acceptable as the husband of a duchess. There. Now do you understand?"
"No!" Meg turned to face Kitty and propped herself up on her elbow. "He adores you, Kitty."
Kitty laughed. "He adores all women. I'm not special to him."
Meg appealed to me. "Help me, Josie. Explain to her that she shouldn't treat Erik as if he were a mere dalliance."
I settled on the foot of the bed and unlaced my gown. "Sorry, Meg, I agree with Kitty. While I don't think Erik would make an unacceptable husband for a duchess, if Kitty merely sees him as a dalliance that is the end of it. Besides, he clearly thinks of her the same way, going by his interest in all wom
en."
"See," Kitty said, without a hint of disappointment. "Erik is a flirt with a roaming eye. He has no interest in settling for one woman. He'd grow bored in a marriage. And while I adore him, and will always think fondly of him, he is not what I want in a husband. In fact, I don't know if I ever want to marry again."
Meg sat up and I stopped unlacing my gown. "Why not?" we both asked.
"What is the point in marrying if I cannot bear children?" She swallowed heavily, but there were no tears in her eyes or tremble in her voice. She was beginning to come to terms with it.
"Companionship," Meg pointed out.
"I have that in both of you." She clasped Meg's hand. "And in Miranda."
I waggled my eyebrows. "What about sexual companionship?"
Kitty giggled. "I can get that from dalliances. Perhaps Erik will be the first of many. I do hope so."
Meg fell back onto the bed, chuckling. "Who would have thought you'd be the most daring of the three of us."
"There's no point dreaming about it yet," Kitty warned her. "Gladstow could live to be a hundred. By then, I shall be…" She tried calculating with her fingers but gave up. "Also old."
I nudged her with my knee. "Old women can have dalliances too. I'm quite sure Erik would volunteer his services."
That had us all rolling around on the bed with laughter.
Since we knew Max had taken a ship from Noxford and traveled to Priest's End before his imprisonment, we decided to head to the riverside docks to see if someone recognized him. Balthazar was convinced we didn't need to worry about the authorities re-arresting them, but I vehemently disagreed. As did Dane. He wore a cloaked hood, as did Quentin, Theodore and Erik, but Max wanted his face seen. Balthazar didn't come with us. The long journey had taken its toll on his frail body and he elected to stay at the inn.
Being visible in the city was one thing, but actually getting people to look at Max's face was another. We had to engage them in conversation, and I had the perfect idea how to do it.