Lady's Pursuit (Knight and Rogue Book 6)

by Bell, Hilari

  “And what conclusions have you reached?” My curiosity was genuine.

  “That I’d like to go now,” he said. “Or at least, tomorrow morning. I may not be superstitious ... but it’s dark out there, even if you don’t fear wild magic.”

  ’Twas a statement so astonishing I didn’t know what to say. He knew I couldn’t let him go, until I’d convinced him not to kill me. And I didn’t think we’d reached that point.

  “I’m sorry I had to leave you so long,” I said. And then stopped, annoyed with myself for apologizing after all. But he shook his head.

  “It’s not about that. Though considering the circumstances, you’ve been remarkably kind.” That flashing smile of his was beginning to worry me, but he went on, “So I owe you an explanation at least. You see, I had a sister.”

  That explained nothing, but there was a note in his voice when he spoke those simple words that warned me, even more than the past tense, that this story would not end well.

  “Aleen. She was...” He stopped, evidently editing what he’d been about to say, but his expression spoke eloquently of love and loss. “She was a year younger than I, and we were the wild ones in our family when we were kids. I hadn’t grown out of that yet, gambling, and drinking too much when I played — which meant I lost too much, as well. But all of a sudden Aleen grew up, and my partner in mischief turned into a young lady with suitors. Some of my disreputable friends were among them,” he added. “I threatened them with all kinds of mayhem if they did anything more than kiss her hand. And it was mostly a joke, anyway.”

  A muscle jumped in his jaw, and I could all but see rage pouring though him.

  “I have a sister,” I said gently. “I love her dearly, though she sometimes drives me mad. I don’t know what I’d do if anyone hurt her.”

  He looked at me then, and some of the tension drained away.

  “That obvious? I suppose it is. But it wasn’t one of my wild friends. My mother would never have let them escort her home from a party. They weren’t to be trusted. Herbert Ballantine was a perfectly respectable young man, and an excellent match. Ally was flattered he was courting her.”

  He stopped again and I dared not speak, lest I tip some delicate balance into silence.

  “I was with my friends that night, in a tavern playing cards.” His voice still held an echo of the grief and fury that must once have consumed him. “Though I probably wouldn’t have been escorting her, even if I’d been home. But I’d fallen asleep, mostly drunk, with my head on the table.”

  He drew in a shaky breath, but a note of wonder crept into his voice as he went on.

  “I dreamed of her that night. We were on the beach near our house, where we’d played as children, and she ran to me and hugged me. Her clothes were wet, but I felt such a wave of love from her, so deep and warm... I’d never felt anything like it, but I still noticed the damp, and I asked if she’d been swimming.

  “She let go of me and stepped back. ‘No,’ she said. ‘I’m going fishing in Darnstable, if you’d like to join me.’ Then she turned and walked into the waves, deeper and deeper until the water covered her head. And in the dream I wasn’t worried. I thought she intended to go to Darnstable underwater, and was wondering how that would work when I woke up. And I thought what an odd dream it was, and that I’d have to tell her about it ... maybe ask, as a joke, if she wanted to go fishing. And I went and found a bed, and that’s where I was when my younger brother came to find me. To tell me she was dead.”

  “Did she drown?” ’Twas all I could think of to say.

  “No, she was thrown off a cliff — inland, not even near the water. They wouldn’t let any of us see her, which was probably kind. They said ... they said she’d have died instantly, but most of her face was gone.”

  “But if this Ballantine killed her...”

  “He was drunk.” Wheatman’s voice was calmer than mine would have been, had it been Kathy of whom we spoke. “Drunk when he raped her, and drunk when she threatened to report what he’d done — to me, to my father, to the law. I actually believe he was in a drunken panic when he killed her. If he’d been sober, he’d have noticed that even though the path they were on was deserted, there were people on the street below who could see them struggling. There was no question that he’d done it.” Wheatman sounded almost resigned. “And he confessed the whole story, anyway.”

  “But if he killed her, before witnesses, how did he end up unredeemed instead of hanging?”

  That was clearly where this tale led, and ’twas a debt that could never be repaid short of life.

  “His father all but beggared himself, bribing the judicars. And I told you Herbert was considered a good match? They said his judgment was ‘impaired by liquor,’ when he raped her in the first place, and also when he killed her. That because he wasn’t fully in his wits, he shouldn’t be required to pay the ultimate debt. And since even they couldn’t claim any lesser payment would suffice...”

  He shrugged.

  “I see why you killed this Ballantine.” Indeed, had it been Katherine, I couldn’t swear I’d not have done the same. “But I had nothing to do with your sister’s death. Or anyone’s. Nor did some of the other men in your warrant book.”

  “I know. But... Herbert ran, of course. I’d made threats, and the rest of the town... Well, he had no choice but to clear out. His family moved to another town too, some months later. But you know where I went to look for him first?”

  “Darnstable,” I said. “Did you find him there?”

  “No. He’d run in an entirely different direction, and it took almost a year to track him down. But after I killed him... It was almost like losing a job I’d worked at for most of my life. I had no more taste for wine or gambling, and no desire to run Father’s shop, either.

  “But I’d spoken to a lot of people in Darnstable, when I was looking for Herbert. Months later, some business rivals burned down a man’s dye yard there — they killed two workers who were sleeping in the loft above it — and the dyer remembered me. The men who’d hired the arsonist paid off the judicars — they didn’t dare let him be convicted, lest he name them. But there was too much public outcry for the law to simply release him, so he was marked as unredeemed. And that letter came from Darnstable... I found my crossbow there as well,” he finished. “Father had given me my share of the business when I set out, and it cost every fract I had left to buy it. But it was worth it, for a weapon that would hit only my target and no one else. The fact that I found a magica weapon for sale in Darnstable clinched the matter. I accepted my sister’s invitation to go fishing, and I’ve been doing it ever since.”

  There was so much here to speak to that I hardly knew where to start.

  “You’re wrong about that bow — which you should know, for it missed me twice! And it—”

  “I’ve thought about that,” he said. “Your sensing Gift warned you, didn’t it?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “So it was your own magic that allowed you to escape the bow’s,” he said. “I’ll know to take that into account when I’m hunting noblemen in the future.”

  I found the confidence in his voice unnerving.

  “I did some experiments with it,” I said shortly. “It can miss birds as well. And you’re not going to be hunting the unredeemed, or anyone else, in the future.”

  His smile was almost serene. “But as an unredeemed man, you would say that, wouldn’t you.”

  I considered protesting my honesty ... but when a man takes you for a liar in the first place, such protestations are of no use.

  “Would you like to know how I came to be unredeemed?” I asked instead.

  “No,” he said. “It doesn’t matter. Some of the other men I’ve hunted didn’t kill anyone, but I killed them just the same. Men who don’t pay their debts... By the time I’ve caught up with some of them, they’ve killed again. One man added four deaths to his tally, after the judicars let him go.”

  In the face of suc
h obsession, there was nothing I could say in my own defense ... so mayhap ’twas time to stop defending myself.

  “Then let me tell you something that might matter more,” I said. “Not long ago, I was pursing a villain as bad as any of the men you’ve stalked, and probably worse. He was a con man by profession, with several deaths I know of on his account, and probably more. But my partner...” Fisk’s relationship with Jack was too complex to explain to this man — particularly since I didn’t entirely understand it myself. “My partner chose to spare him. I didn’t agree with that choice of his. I almost broke up our friendship because of it.”

  Wheatman snorted. “And now you realize that he was right, and you should always show mercy, no matter what the crime?”

  “No,” I said. “I still think he was wrong. What I came to realize is that I’m not always right, either. And betting a man’s life on your own, fallible judgment is pretty arrogant, to say the least.”

  Indeed, this man who regarded me so coolly — who’d told me that story, and still meant to encompass my death — was the best possible argument that when you worked outside of the law, you had to be even more careful about wielding both mercy and justice.

  I have never appreciated the law that abandoned me more than I did then.

  “Are you so sure that you’re always right? Certain enough to kill?”

  Wheatman’s mouth tightened. “Someone has to make those choices. Life or death. I trust myself more than some judicar who’s been bribed to let a killer live. If I’m wrong, I’ll live with the consequences.”

  But he clearly didn’t think he was wrong. Ever. Which made him all the more dangerous.

  “You know, all of this makes me less likely to let you go.”

  “Well, the alternative is to kill me,” he said. “And I don’t think you will.”

  I was about to reply that I could continue to hold him, but the certainty in his voice caught my attention.

  “Why would I let you go? ’Tis the last thing I want to do, now.”

  “I know,” he said. “But protecting the world from men like you is what I do, and I’m not going to stop. My actions are perfectly legal. You’re the one who’s breaking the law. Though I don’t think either of us cares much about that. What you will care about is that it was the Liege Lady who set me on your trail.”

  “What?” I could hardly have been more astonished if he’d told me ’twas ghosts or goblins.

  “She knows about me, and Ally too, because she came from our town. In fact, one of the maids she took to court is a cousin of mine. When she wanted to stop you, she had my cousin write. I was in the area,” he added. “So it almost seemed like fate.”

  “You use that as an excuse too often.”

  I remembered the beautiful woman who’d come to check us out, so concerned about Rupert. And later, in the Liege’s study, she’d been so playful, so warm, so loving to both her small son and her husband. Surely this was impossible.

  On the other hand, she had come to check us out without her husband’s knowledge.

  “Why would the Liege Lady want to keep Rupert from bringing his mistress home? Or did she want to prevent us from bringing Rupert back?”

  I could think of no reason for her to kidnap Margaret Merkle, but as for Rupert...

  If anything happened to Rupert, that warm, loving woman’s own son would one day inherit the throne.

  “I didn’t ask her intentions,” said Wheatman. “And she didn’t say. But she did mention, several times, how ‘terrible’ it would be if anything happened to the Heir while he was in your company. It bothered me,” he added. “Because the Liege Heir is innocent. She didn’t say anything direct enough that I could claim she threatened him. But before I left, the last thing her henchman did was try to borrow my crossbow.”

  He’d clearly refused to lend it ... but an ordinary crossbow would do the job as well.

  “This henchman. Was he a smallish, slender man, with brown hair and a bite mark on his hand?”

  “He wore gloves,” said Wheatman. “But the rest of it fits.”

  “I’ve got to warn them!” I stood so abruptly that the bench I’d sat on toppled to the floor. “If the Liege Lady’s trying to assassinate Rupert, I’ve got to get back there. Why didn’t you tell me this sooner?”

  ’Twas an absurd question, but he answered anyway.

  “I wasn’t ready to leave then, and I am now. Besides, it took a while to be sure you wouldn’t kill me.”

  So while I’d been gentling him, he’d been evaluating me.

  And he’d gotten the better of the match.

  “I won’t kill you. I’m going to leave you bound, but you’ll find a way out of the ropes eventually. I’ll go right...”

  I couldn’t go now. ’Twas Darkling Night — riding fast by starlight was almost sure to sprain Chant’s weak leg, and mayhap break my neck as well. And it would take me days, at least, to track them down.

  “You’re right. I’m the only one who knows who our enemy is. I have to be sensible about this, not go dashing off in all directions. I’m going to return you to your cell so I can pack, but I’ll come back at first light to bind you, and I’ll leave the door unbolted.”

  Wheatman lifted his hobbled feet over the bench and rose.

  True snarled silently.

  “You do realize that I still mean to kill you?”

  I knew he did — though he might find it harder than he thought to kill a man he’d eaten with, and spoken with so intimately.

  On the other hand, he’d built his life on this mission to mete out justice to the unredeemed. And having built my own life upon knight errantry, an obsession most would consider more mad than his, I could understand that too. Except for the killing part, we weren’t so very different. But the killing was a big difference, and either way...

  “I don’t care. I have to get back to Fisk and the others. As soon as I can.”

  And I was going to take that crossbow with me.

  Next morning we made an early start, trying to find where the coach had turned aside. No one in the three towns we reached in our first day’s ride had seen it, and Rupert was starting to panic. I pointed out that we were several days’ ride from the last town we knew it had passed through, so there were plenty more roads it could have taken. Kathy, more optimistically, added that instead of turning north or south they might have gone to ground again — and in that case, all we had to do was to figure out where they were, and then we could try our luck with the local sheriff.

  Katherine was being... I didn’t know what she was being. When my sisters used to say they weren’t speaking to someone, I thought it was just one of those things girls did. And since they always went right on fighting with whoever they were mad at, it had even seemed funny.

  I still didn’t see why wanting to keep her safe was such a heinous crime — and even during our quarrel, Kathy never said she wouldn’t speak to me. We discussed where the coach might have gone, and whether to stop at an inn or spend the upcoming Darkling Night camping out. There was some light conversation about a particularly ugly manor we passed by... Still, something was missing when we talked, some quality of engagement, or interest, or ... I don’t know. We exchanged a lot of words, but she wasn’t speaking to me.

  And it wasn’t funny at all.

  None of us were superstitious about Darkling Nights, but none of us wanted to camp out either. So that night — when magic was supposed to break the few laws it followed and run wild — found us in an inn so old that the rooms opened off a gallery that ran around the taproom’s upper story. The ceiling beams were black with smoke that had escaped the fireplace for ... it might have been centuries.

  They’d built a big fire tonight, and despite the summer warmth, most of the other customers had pulled benches and chairs over to the hearth, preparing to chatter the night away.

  Rupert, deeply worried about his love, went up to bed, leaving Kathy and me at our corner table, as alone as if we had camped in th
e wilderness. I was pleased that Kathy made no move to join the crowd around the fire ... but that may have been because of the dog, who was now hiding under the table.

  “So,” I said, breaking a silence that threatened to last too long. “What did your family do on Darkling Nights? Tell stories of wild magic and party till dawn?”

  “Father thought ‘wild magic’ was superstitious nonsense,” she said. “He didn’t think much of reflection, either, so we treated it like any other night.” She fell silent again for a moment, before asking too politely, “How about your family?”

  “Oh, my father was a great believer in reflection,” I said. “At any time. He used the Darkling Nights to pose great questions of scholarship ... to four children, most of us not even in our teens.”

  Memory conjured up his voice. Name five things humans can do but the animals can’t. That’s good, Anna, but birds build nests, so men aren’t the only ones to build homes. Sometimes the good memories of my father hurt more than the bad ones that came after his death ... but I didn’t want the silence to return.

  “Judith and I got into a huge debate once, about whether using words was conditional on intelligence, or if intelligence was conditional on using words. I think she was twelve then, and I was nine.”

  “Who won?”

  Curiosity brought Kathy’s voice alive again, so I pushed aside the memory of the years when my mother and sisters insisted on continuing the tradition — though all I wanted to think about was where we’d get money for the next month’s rent, for the next bundle of peats ... sometimes the next meal.

  “No one won. Though Judith may think she did. They arose in tandem, words and intelligence; you can’t come up with new words to describe the world without intelligence, and you can’t form a complex thought without words.”

  Kathy, who didn’t like beer, tipped her cup of tea one way and then the other.

  “Your father mattered a lot to you, didn’t he?”

  This wasn’t something I wanted to discuss, even to keep her talking. I shrugged.