by Bell, Hilari
Michael may have had a point about carrying rope with you.
But this was the best I could do, and only one man had come back to visit the jakes while I worked.
Soon dinner would end, a lot more people would take that trip, and then Mistress Margaret’s kidnappers would go to the rooms where they planned to spend the night.
If I was going to get her, it had to be now.
I took one more moment to unlatch the back gate and tuck my boots unobtrusively behind the fence, before I walked across the yard to the house. I didn’t sprint — it was almost dark now, but someone running through the yard might still draw a cook’s gaze. They’d assume someone walking was returning from the privy.
Like the rest of this inn, the drainpipe was sturdier than it looked, and the empty rain barrel beneath it gave me a useful boost.
I may have done crazier things than burgling a busy inn while everyone was still awake, but I couldn’t think of any offhand. And Michael wasn’t even here.
Climbing the wall was a straightforward job, if you knew what you were doing, and most of the people who might have caught me were in the middle of dinner. The blackened beams that crisscrossed the wall protruded almost three inches, which was enough for bare feet, and the crumbling plaster gave me enough purchase to balance myself, though I didn’t dare put any weight on my hands.
So I probably shouldn’t have been sweating as hard as I was when I reached those third floor shutters.
I took my time, listening for voices or movement within the room, but heard nothing. Wouldn’t it be ironic if they had Mistress Merkle in some other room, with four men guarding her, and had left this one man to watch over their gear? Or they might have decided to eat in shifts, in which case there’d be at least two men in there with her.
But I couldn’t stall forever and my feet were beginning to ache, so I drew my knife from its sheath. It slipped neatly through the gap and this was the right kind of latch — I pushed the shutters open, looked in, and met Margaret Merkle’s astonished gaze.
She sat on the bed, with one hand clapped over her mouth as if to keep any sound from escaping, and a chain fastened one of her ankles to the bed frame.
But I must confess, the first thought that crossed my mind was, This is what all the fuss is about? Her hair was a darker brown than Kathy’s mouse, and if I weren’t already in love with a girl who was willow slender, her well-padded figure would have been appealing. But the nose above her hand was snub, and her features were, at best, pleasantly ordinary.
However, the second thing I noticed was that she hadn’t made a peep, despite her obvious surprise. She didn’t even twitch the ankle attached to that noisy chain. And there were bruises on that ordinary face. I began to understand what Kathy and Rupert saw in this girl.
I touched my lips to signal continued silence, and took the time to wedge the room’s only remaining chair — very quietly — under the doorknob before I went to her.
“I’m from Rupert.” It wasn’t completely accurate, but it was the quickest way to gain her trust. “Can you go out that window on a rope?”
I thought of her pregnancy then, for the first time — but she wasn’t showing yet, and whatever strain this rescue might place on the child, surely the strain of being held prisoner was worse.
“Whatever I must.” She copied my unvoiced murmur so well her reply was almost lost in the whisper of cloth as I pulled out my picks.
I had hoped I might need them.
“There are five men in the gang who kidnapped me,” she went on, soft, but urgent. “I don’t know who hired them or why. I don’t think they know why, but there’s another man who gives them orders. He’s about five foot seven or eight, slim, with a noble’s accent. He’s always wearing a mask when I see him, but his clothes are expensive, well-made. He only came close to me once, and I bit his hand. Hard enough to break the skin, bring blood. So he’ll be marked, at least for a while. I knew Rupert would come for me.”
Her voice shook then, for the first time. I was concentrating on the lock, but I now had no difficulty understanding why Kathy had befriended this girl, and Rupert had fallen for her.
No need for reassuring chitchat with this sharp brain and cool nerve.
“When you get down go straight to the back wall,” I said. “Don’t run if you don’t have to. Draws the eye. The back gate’s unlatched. If there’s no alarm, wait for me there. If you need to run, find Rupert at Bottner’s Stables, east of the central square. Got it?”
“Gate. Bottner’s. East of the central square.”
She even waited till I gently removed the cuff before rising from the bed to help unwrap my sheet rope.
If I hadn’t been in love with a woman who was just that smart and brave, I swear I’d have tried to cut Rupert out.
The first adventure Michael dragged me into had begun, more or less, with him lowering a woman from a tower on a rope. At the time I’d been critical of his technique, but I now took it all back.
It was fairly easy to fasten a sling for Mistress Meg, and she sat on the windowsill willingly, while I sat on the floor with my feet braced on the wall. She lowered her weight onto the sheets as slowly as she could. But then came the moment when she had to let go of the frame, her weight hit the sheets and therefore my arms ... and I almost dropped her.
My butt flew off the floor, pivoting on my braced legs, and it was only because the first knot hung up on the sill that I managed to keep her from falling twenty feet to the hard-packed earth of the yard.
Straining every muscle in my thighs and back, I lowered my body back to the floor and then worked my feet slowly up the wall to brace under the jutting windowsill, which gave me enough leverage to begin to lower her down.
I don’t know if the sheets were harder to grip than a rope would have been, and while some knots were dragged over the sill by her weight, others stuck. I had to brace myself with just one foot while the other kicked them free. They also made a soft thump as each knot went over, though the slither of smooth fabric was almost silent.
My arms and shoulders were burning when her weight left the rope, so suddenly that I fell back, one elbow knocking loudly — and painfully — on the floor.
I didn’t even take a moment to curse, for as I rose to my knees, yanking the sheet up yards at a time, I heard the guard’s chair scrape and the doorknob turn. The chair under the knob skidded half an inch before it stuck.
“Girly? You better not be up to tricks in there.”
The threat in that heavy voice was unnerving enough for me — and I wasn’t a girl, or his prisoner.
But the sling that had carried Meg down was now in my hands. Thinking with the speed of terror I looped it around the protruding ledge of the windowsill. It wasn’t as secure as I’d have liked but it would have to do — the guard was slowly banging the door open, the chair slipping a bit farther with every push.
I grabbed the rope and rolled over the sill as the door flew open, sending the chair skidding across the room. His bellow of rage sent me sliding down as fast as I could get over the knots, the sheet twisting under my hands.
I was just a yard from the ground when he cut the rope, and I was running for the back gate almost before I landed.
It was full dark now, and with no moonlight, in a poor neighborhood, that’s very dark.
Meg hadn’t been able to find the gate — which looked just like the rest of the fence, except for hinges so rusty they were much the same color as the wood. She was sobbing under her breath when I ran up, but that was all. It took me several long moments to locate the gate, and I knew where it was! But finally my groping fingers found the latch, I shoved it wide and we ran out ... into a pitch-black alley full of crates, barrels, and softer — but slippery — debris.
I thought of my bare feet then, but a shout from the back of the inn vanquished any desire to stop and pull my boots on. I gripped Meg’s arm and we ran into darkness.
I regretted the boots after the first few st
rides, for there were a lot of hard sharp things in that alley. But Meg was the first to fall, a staggering stumble that I pulled her out of by dragging her forward till she found her feet again.
I was the one who ran full tilt into a wheelbarrow full of dirt. I know it was full of dirt because I fell on top of it and pushed it over, sending its contents cascading over my hands — though the pain from my kneecap was so intense I hardly noticed. I was limping when Meg hauled me to my feet and I wanted to stop, but orange light welled out behind us. Turning back I saw three men, two of them carrying torches, coming through the inn’s back gate.
This was enough to send me, not running, alas, but hobbling rapidly down the alley — which was even darker after I’d looked at the bright light.
“Faster!” Meg demanded. “They’re gaining.”
“They can see where they’re going.”
I stubbed my toes on what felt like a slab of solid granite and hopped four strides, proving my point, and it occurred to me that she wasn’t barefoot.
I glanced back again. They weren’t just gaining on us, they were doing it rapidly.
It was Meg they wanted, not me. After all my fussing about the reward, a bit of heroism on my part might please Kathy. Once Meg was gone, they had no reason to do me much harm, they certainly wouldn’t bother to hold me prisoner, and the risks of killing me should far outweigh any little grudges they might be carrying.
And my toes were killing me. It felt like several might be broken.
“Run!” I told her. “Go get Rupert. I’ll hold them as long as I can.”
She was too sensible to argue — I was really beginning to like this girl. She dropped my arm and ran into the night with the speed of terror. And of someone wearing shoes.
I drew my knife as I turned back, heroically, to face my oncoming foes ... and promptly discovered that heroism is as stupid as I always thought it was. The man in the middle stopped to engage me, but the other two ran around me on either side and right on after Meg. There wasn’t a thing I could do to stop them.
The man who’d stayed to fight with me carried one of the torches. I just had time to be glad that he hadn’t picked up his sword when he swung the torch instead, and sent me jumping back.
That rapid swipe made the flame flicker. It almost went out, and he tipped it upright and held it still till the flame grew brighter. He passed the torch to his left hand and drew his own knife, moving with a deliberation that told me he believed he could take me down at will.
Unfortunately, I agreed with him.
“We don’t have to—” I began, but a woman’s scream for help interrupted me.
Meg went on screaming, smart woman that she was, but my opponent only grinned. We both knew that in this neighborhood no one would answer.
He wiggled his blade, more in comment than in challenge, and started to circle to the right.
I limped in the opposite direction, not sure if my toes or my knee hurt more, and Meg’s screams were abruptly muffled by what sounded like a hand clamped over her mouth.
They had her. I had lost this round, and the best thing I could do now was to go back and tell Rupert and Kathy what had happened. There was no point in a knife fight.
“Look,” I said. “There’s no reason for this. If you just step aside, I’ll get out of your way.”
His lips twitched. Then he chuckled so merrily that for a moment I hoped he might agree ... until I realized he was looking over my shoulder, behind me.
I think I started to turn...
The first thing I was aware of, on awakening, was the pain in my head. It seemed to radiate through all my nerves, even my fingernails throbbing in time with my pulse, and my stomach rolled. I’d have thrown up, but I was afraid it would hurt too much.
After a few moments either the headache backed off, or I grew more accustomed to it, because I started to feel pain from my knee and toes. I remembered the chase, the fight, and Meg’s capture. I started to grind my teeth, but the motion of my jaw sent a shaft of pain down my back and I stopped.
I was lying on the inn’s midden heap, with my face in a mass of wet tea grounds. They were comfortingly cool, and smelled a lot better than the scents that leaked past them. Trouble sat beside me, his muscular rump warm against my ribs, rumbling a low warning growl...
Trouble couldn’t growl.
I took far too long to pursue this thought to its logical conclusion, and realize I’d better open my eyes. Darkling Night was almost two weeks off, and the nearly-full Creature Moon had finally risen, shedding enough light to reveal the creature beside me. I suppose it was a dog, though it looked more like someone had crossed a jackal with a rabbit. Its muzzle was long and pointed, its ears pricked, but its haunches were absurdly small for its torso. Its ears were bigger than a dog’s should be ... but no rabbit had ever possessed those big, jagged teeth.
I might have moved then, but the dog’s round eyes were fixed on something beyond me, and that deep growl was such a clear warning that I managed to raise my head and look.
Almost a dozen pair of tiny eyes caught the moonlight, glowing back at me in eerie green. I heard movement in the shadows, behind those watching eyes.
Rats had come to feed on the midden, and I was the freshest morsel in it. That was enough to bring me to ... well, not my feet, but my hands and knees. Rats have a wicked bite, and they’ve been known to kill people who are helpless.
I felt curst helpless, because the moment I moved the dog skittered away. The rats retreated too, though not as far as the dog had. Continuing to move seemed like a very good idea.
I had crawled several yards, dragging my probably-broken toes on the hard ground, before I remembered that I’d left my boots beside the gate. It took a bit of groping to find them, and cramming my swollen toes inside was almost as painful as I’d feared. But once I had my boots on I felt so human I managed to drag myself up the fence to my feet, and walk a dozen yards before I sat down with a jar that made my ears ring.
I don’t remember lying down, and when I woke again the moon had hardly moved, my head was clearer, and the dog was by my side. Teeth, growl and all.
“Surely you have something better to do,” I said, and it shot away again at the sound of my voice.
But speaking didn’t hurt as much as I’d feared, and my brief nap had done me good. I managed to get to my feet without the fence to lean on, and once I was upright I was able to keep walking.
The dog must not have had better things to do, for it followed me down the alley and out into the street. After some painful thinking, I figured out the direction of the stable where we’d agreed to meet. At nightfall, which was now many hours past, so I wasn’t amazed when I heard Rupert and Kathy’s voices calling my name. I wanted to call back, but shouting would hurt too much. I did walk toward the sound and eventually found them. Even by the light of the smaller moon, I saw Kathy’s eyes widen.
“What in the world...?”
“I tried to rescue Meg.” I was swaying on my feet. I rather hoped one of them would notice this and support me, but it didn’t seem manly to say so. “Failed. Completely, and now they’re on alert. We’ll have to—”
“I didn’t mean you,” said my beloved. “Though you’re a mess. What’s that?”
I looked around and found that my new friend was still with me. Or rather, it was twenty feet behind me with its tail between its legs.
“It’s a dog,” I said. “At least I think it is, and I owe it a meal. It saved me from the rats. You know, if this is going to be a long conversation, I’d like to sit down.”
Her attention finally turned to me, and a strong slim arm went around my waist. Despite the fact that I smelled like a midden heap.
I wasn’t paying much attention to anything but walking — which needed focus just then — but after a while I became aware of a curt note in Kathy’s voice, and a subtle stiffness in the body I leaned on.
“Are you mad about something?”
“Not yet. I’m wa
iting to hear why you didn’t come back to the stable after you found Meg. Like we all promised to do. Then I’ll see whether I get mad or not.”
Something told me that she wouldn’t like my real reason ... and I wasn’t up to coming up with a decent lie.
“Thank you,” I said.
It was decided — by Kathy and Rupert, since I wasn’t inclined to talk — that we’d take rooms at the next inn we found, and Rupert would return to the stables and fetch our horses. And more important to me, the saddlebags that held the magica willow bark Michael can find so easily, and harvest without getting whoever used it killed since his herb-talker mother had taught him how.
Its ability to relieve pain was, well, magical, and I really looked forward to drinking some.
The only snag arose when Rupert got a look at “the next inn.”
“Champion? In those stables? Will he be there in the morning?”
It actually looked more respectable than the Addled Cock, and besides...
“Don’t you know the difference between a bandit and an innkeeper?”
Talking hurt enough that I stopped there, but Kathy finished for me.
“As long as you’re staying with him, an innkeeper won’t let anyone else rob you. ’Twould be bad for business to have horses vanishing out of his stables, Rupert. Go get them.”
It was Kathy who paid for several rooms, and told the innkeeper that the dog was with us and not to chase it off — my head hurt too much to protest this assertion.
She also ordered up plenty of water, hot for washing, and cold for compresses, and cleaned me up before she let me lie down. She even worked up the nerve to push a bowl of scraps and a huge raw bone under my bed, where the ferocious looking mutt had taken refuge.
At some point, Rupert returned, I was finally able to drink the magica tea, and the pain in my head retreated enough that I thought I might survive after all. I even managed a faint protest.
“That beast has to be full of fleas.”
“Who cares,” said Kathy. “He saved you.”