by C. J. Archer
Meg set the tray down and picked up the remaining cup. "Could it have been Lord Xavier, out for revenge? Were they his men?"
"Or Brant?" Theodore said. "Perhaps he didn't leave Noxford after all."
Balthazar shook his head. "Again, for all they know, killing Dane would mean never finding the gem."
"Constables," Erik bit off. "Someone recognized the captain and told the authorities. They hear there are Glancian women staying at this inn and so come to arrest him."
Someone had certainly discovered Dane was staying here, most likely because as Glancian women, we stood out. I could have kicked myself for not putting my hood up over my head as we returned home tonight. My blonde hair had most certainly acted as a signal to the assailants.
"They wore no uniforms," I muttered into my cup. "Nor did they declare themselves. Constables would ask Dane his name to make sure they had the right person, then tell him what they were arresting him for. Those men came with the intention to kill, not arrest."
The enormity of our problem dampened everyone's spirits further. We had enough enemies on our trail, and now we had one more, except we had no clue as to their identity. Without knowing our enemy, how could we avoid them?
Balthazar scrubbed a hand over his face then indicated the door. "Erik and Max, stand guard tonight. We leave before dawn."
Dane muttered an unintelligible response from the bed. He was fighting the drowsiness, determined to stay awake. Typical.
I sat beside him, determined to admonish him. But I could not. He was alive, thank Hailia. Alive but broken, vulnerable. I stroked his hair back. "You must rest tonight. Tomorrow, we'll move."
"No. No more." He tried to sit up, but I placed a hand firmly on his shoulder.
"Lie still or you'll open the wound. Please, Dane, do as I ask just this once."
He grunted. "Fine, but you have to listen to me. Just as soon as I am able to stand, I'm going to walk out that front door and make myself known. It's the only way."
"It is not!"
"It's madness," Meg said.
Balthazar, Theodore and Quentin agreed. "You will not be offering yourself as bait to the assailants," Balthazar said.
"It'll draw the attackers into the open," Dane said. "If we're ready for them—"
"No!" Theodore pushed to his feet. "I've never thought you a selfish man until now."
"Selfish?" Dane tried to look at him, but I pressed down on his shoulder again.
Theodore moved to where Dane could see him. "Yes, selfish. If you die, you leave a heartbroken woman behind." He flapped a hand at me.
Dane closed his eyes and sighed.
"Not to mention heartbroken friends." Theodore's voice cracked, but he kept his head high, his back straight. "If you try anything foolish, I will personally chain you to the saddle for the entire journey back to Mull. Is that clear?"
"Quite," Dane bit off. Some of the vehemence of his anger was lost considering his vulnerable position on the bed, however.
I gave Theodore a nod. "I couldn't have said it better myself. So it's agreed. We keep to our original plan and return home to Mull and the palace as soon as possible."
Quentin sprang up from where he was sitting on the floor. "The palace! Merdu! I almost forgot." He pulled out the crumpled piece of paper I'd seen him holding earlier from his jerkin pocket. He did his best to flatten out the creases then held it up. A grin split his face from ear to ear. "Recognize her?"
The piece of paper had the word MISSING written across the top then a sketch of a woman's face. She was a little familiar but I couldn't place where I'd seen her before.
Dane tried to rise from the bed and Balthazar drew in a sharp breath. Theodore reached for the paper and stared at it. "It's Tabitha. One of the maids." He thrust the piece of paper in front of Dane's face then Balthazar's. "It's Tabitha!"
Balthazar took the paper and studied it. "It is," he said. "Quentin, where did you find it?"
Quentin was still grinning. He looked thoroughly pleased with himself as he rocked back on his heels. "I was helping the innkeeper move some barrels to his storeroom. It was real musty with lots of old things scattered about. This was wedged between bits of firewood that he said were chopped last winter. He reckons that paper somehow fell off the wall where it was nailed months ago and blew into the storeroom."
"Did he know her?" I asked.
"Not real well. Her kin posted that. They live near Max's gang's lair, across from the inn with the sign of the goose girl."
"We'll visit them tomorrow," Dane said.
"Tomorrow night when we won’t be seen," I countered. "And you're not coming."
He grunted which I took as agreement, although I suspected I'd have an argument on my hands later.
Balthazar leaned back against the wall and stretched his legs out on the bed. He rubbed his right knee. "After we've learned Tabitha's story, we'll leave Noxford."
"I think we need to leave this inn tonight," Theodore said. He nodded at Dane. "Those attackers know where he is. It's too dangerous to stay."
"Where will we go?" Meg asked. "Another inn?"
I shook my head. "I have a better idea."
It was quite an operation to move in the middle of the night. Erik and Max scouted the area while Quentin secured a cart for transport. Dane refused to lie down on it, however, until I reminded him he was jeopardizing all our lives by being visible. Only then did he dutifully cover himself with the blanket and hide while the rest of us placed our saddles, bags and other necessities around him. We led the cart and horses past the Goose Girl inn, through the surrounding narrow streets, and knocked on the door where Max's friends lived.
No one answered.
"That's not the sequence," Dane said from where he was now sitting up in the back of the cart. "Drew knocked four times quickly then paused before a final knock."
Max turned back to the door. "Only you would remember that." He knocked as directed and the door opened a crack.
"Max!" The thickset doorman opened the door wider. "What're you doing here?"
"We need somewhere to stay the night," Max said.
The guard gave a shrill whistle to announce our arrival to those inside. As with the last time, he made the men leave their weapons at the entrance.
The smells of cooking bacon greeted us along with the smiling face of Jenny. "Max! Couldn’t leave us, eh? Come in, sit down." She slapped the seat of the stool beside her. "Want some bacon?"
Max waved off her offer and did not take the seat. He looked around and cleared his throat. "Is Vance here?"
"Nope. This is our most lucrative time to pick pockets and purses. Drunkards are heading home and rich folk are visiting their mistresses. No one has their mind on their money."
"Do you know when Vance will be back?" Dane asked.
"He's back now," came a voice from behind us.
Vance entered, followed by Drew and Gillon. They looked surprised to see us, though not unhappy about it. All greeted Max with slaps on the back. Max returned them awkwardly.
Gillon placed a pouch on the table, the contents making a satisfying clink. Drew emptied his pockets of rings, a set of brass knuckles, a knife, and coins.
Jenny picked through the pieces, frowning. "That's it? That ain't enough to feed us, let alone keep us in the lifestyle we've become accustomed."
"The lifestyle you've become accustomed to," her brother Gillon teased. "You don't need more clothes, Jen."
She whacked his shoulder with the wooden spoon then returned to the pan over the fireplace and the sizzling rashers of bacon.
"Gillon and Drew will go out again," Vance told her. "Max, do you want to go with them?"
Max pulled a face at the objects on the table. "I'm no thief."
"If you say so. But be warned, you're going to get a shock when you get your memory back."
Drew and Jenny chuckled. Gillon pressed Max's arm. "Ignore them. We're glad to see you. Are you staying?"
"We need a favor," Max said. "W
e need somewhere to stay tonight and tomorrow night. We'll leave the city the following day, but there's something we need to do first."
Vance collected plates from the shelf and set them around the table. "You want to stay here?"
Jenny picked the pan up and joined us. "All of you?"
"All of us." Max nodded at Dane. "My friend's life is in danger and we need to hide. But we can't leave until we see someone tomorrow night."
"Why's his life in danger?" Drew asked.
"It's, er, complicated."
Drew crossed his arms and studied Dane. "The authorities after you too, eh?"
Dane nodded.
"Well, well. I didn't pick you as the type."
Jenny forked bacon onto the plates then handed one to Erik. She smiled at him. He took the plate and smiled back.
"What do you say, Vance?" she asked. "Do we let them stay?"
Vance hesitated before sitting. "Two nights only. You lead the authorities here, I'll kill you."
Drew slapped Dane on the back, a little above the wound. Dane tensed and released a breath when Drew turned away. He hadn't noticed Dane's reaction, but Vance did.
"You're injured," he said.
Dane sat on a chair beside Vance. "It's just a minor cut."
"Jenny can put something on it. She ain't gentle, but her ointments work."
Jenny stood close to Dane's shoulder as she placed bacon on a plate in front of him. "I can be gentle if I want." She winked at Dane. "Or rough. It depends on what my patient likes."
Gillon rolled his eyes. "Ignore my sister."
"Josie has already taken care of the cut," Dane told Jenny. "But thanks."
"Any time, handsome."
The cottage was larger than I expected. There were enough rooms for us all to sleep in if we shared, so we were able to rest well into the next day. I checked Dane's wound when he awoke and immediately re-bandaged it.
The others had left us alone and we took the opportunity to simply be together.
Later, we joined Max and the others in the kitchen for supper where Max asked rapid questions about his past. They talked into the evening at which time Dane declared we should visit Tabitha's family before it grew too late.
He insisted on coming, and I didn't stop him. We didn't want to overwhelm them so we didn't all go. In the end, we agreed the party should consist of Dane, me, Balthazar, Erik and Quentin. The latter two were to act as our armed guard.
Tabitha's family lived in the rooms behind the butcher's shop. The smell of blood and raw meat hung in the air, even though the stoop was clean and the shutters closed for the night.
Balthazar introduced himself to the man who answered his knock as the master of the palace in Glancia. The gray-haired, robust fellow inspected him from head to toe then glanced past Balthazar's shoulder to me.
"Glancia?" He screwed up his nose. "Why has your king come here?"
"He's not here," Balthazar said gently. “These are my friends, also from the Glancian palace. We've left the king's employment and are visiting Freedland."
"We're closed. Come back tomorrow." He shut the door.
"We know Tabitha," I called out.
The door reopened and I heard footsteps running from somewhere inside the house. "Tabitha?" the butcher muttered. "My girl? You know my girl?"
Balthazar held up the paper with Tabitha's picture on it. "We recognized her from this."
A small woman with pink cheeks and dark hair pulled tightly into a knot on the top of her head joined the man. "Are you saying…" She clutched her throat as tears welled in her eyes. "Is she alive?"
"She is," Balthazar said. "I last saw her some weeks ago, just before leaving to come here. She's alive and well and living at the palace."
"But…why did she not send word? We've been so worried."
"May we come in?" Balthazar asked. "What we have to tell you should not be said out here."
The man opened the door wide and stepped back. Dane, Balthazar and I entered, while Erik and Quentin remained outside, facing the street.
Balthazar re-introduced himself, then Dane and me. Then he told the butcher and his wife that Tabitha was a maid at the palace and once again assured them she was alive and well.
"She didn't contact you because she lost her memory," he said. "She had no idea about her past, only her first name."
The butcher's wife gasped. "My poor baby girl."
"How did she lose her memory?" the butcher asked.
"She doesn't know. She came to us dazed and we employed her at the palace as a maid." Balthazar showed them the poster again. "It's fortunate that we happened to see this. We're heading back to Glancia tomorrow. We can take a letter to her, if you like."
"Yes!" The butcher's wife sprang to her feet and bustled out of the kitchen.
Her husband leaned forward and lowered his voice. "This is not some kind of joke, is it? Because my wife can't cope if this is not real. She's endured so much already."
"We would never joke about something like this," Dane assured him.
The butcher blew out a breath and his eyes welled with tears. "All this time, and we've not heard a thing. And now this… It's a relief, you understand. We didn't know where she'd gone, she just vanished. We assumed the worst."
I glanced at Dane. Tabitha's story was different to Max's. Max's friends had known he'd been arrested and sent to prison, only to later find out he'd supposedly escaped, been recaptured and executed. Tabitha's family had no idea. Like Balthazar, and some of the other servants whose families we'd found in Tilting, she was simply thought of as missing.
"You didn't know her fate?" I asked.
"No," the butcher said. "She just disappeared the same day as her mistress was sentenced to prison."
"Her mistress?"
"Tabitha worked as a maid to the daughter of a wealthy merchant. The young lady got into trouble with the authorities. More than a year ago now, it was. Feels like a lifetime."
"But your daughter wasn't arrested with her?"
The butcher shrugged. "We were never told she was." The anger mixed with the anguish in his voice told of his doubts. "Tabitha's mistress was their prize; Tabitha wasn't important. Maybe they never bothered to record her."
"Which prison was the mistress sent to?" Dane asked.
"A mine outside Gull's Wing. Nasty place. Few survive it." He looked up as his wife returned with paper and ink. "There was an escape but all the inmates were quickly rounded up and executed. We wondered if Tabitha was among them but we never received a word from the authorities."
The butcher's wife set the paper and ink in front of her husband. "Write this down. Dearest Tabby." She dictated a heartfelt letter to her daughter and her husband wrote it in a barely legible scrawl. "Keep that letter safe," the butcher's wife said as she handed it to me, a wobbly smile touching her lips. "Tabby can read a little. Her mistress taught her."
"What was the name of her mistress?" Balthazar asked, his eagerness making his voice tremble.
"Miss Rotherhyde."
"Her first name?"
"Laylana. Laylana Rotherhyde."
Chapter 17
"Why was Laylana arrested?" Quentin asked us we headed off through the dark streets. We'd informed him and Erik of all we'd learned from the butcher and his wife as soon as we left. They'd listened intently until we'd finished then peppered us with questions.
"For causing a commotion in a public place," Dane said.
"Commotion?" Erik asked.
"A lot of noise," Balthazar explained. "A fuss."
Quentin scratched his head. "Is that an offense here?"
"It's an offense in Glancia too, if the commotion is severe enough," I said. "Inciting a riot, for example. But it's hardly the sort of offense someone is sent to a prison mine for. It warrants a few weeks in prison at worst, and a local one at that."
"Maybe Gull's Wing is the local prison for Noxford."
It was a sobering thought that any nation could send offenders to a notorious
prison for such a minor crime. Perhaps Freedland wasn't as civilized as it seemed on the surface.
"We must tell Laylana's family," Erik said.
Dane clapped him on the shoulder. "We're heading there now."
The butcher told us the Rotherhyde family lived in the third house on the avenue that ran alongside the river. He did not tell us that all the properties along the tree-lined avenue were enormous. Positioned behind a high wall, the Rotherhyde home was accessed through a guarded gatehouse. Torches lit the drive from the gatehouse to a building that I could just make out through the trees. Beyond it would be the river.
The two guards, however, would not let us through. "I have not been instructed to expect you," said one.
"That's because we are not expected," Balthazar said, his voice strained with impatience and exhaustion. "Can you deliver a message to your master?"
"He does not like to be disturbed without good reason."
Balthazar sighed.
Dane stepped forward, flanked by Quentin and Erik. Erik removed his hood to reveal his very distinctive hair and forehead tattoos. The first guard gulped, but stood his ground. The second joined his companion, his hand resting on his sword hilt.
"He'll want to be disturbed for this," Dane said. "We know his daughter, Laylana."
The guards glanced at each another. "Miss Laylana is dead," said one.
"She's alive and we know where she is."
One of the guards nudged the other with his elbow and jerked his head at the main building behind him. The second guard jogged off. I breathed a sigh of relief. At least they were taking us seriously.
The first guard didn't let us out of his sight until the second one returned. "You can go through," he announced. "Leave your weapons here. And him." He nodded at Erik.
Dane ordered both Erik and Quentin to remain behind then left his sword with them. The first guard escorted us to the house where a footman met us in the wood paneled entrance hall. He indicated we should walk ahead into an adjoining room.
Torches flickered in wall sconces but their light didn't chase away the oppressive feeling that settled over me when I entered the sitting room. More paneling and the mounted heads of dead deer decorated the masculine space. The lady sitting on a chair by the fireplace dressed in fine yellow silk, with feathers in her black hair, was the only feminine thing in the room.