"The housekeeper would know where the king has gone and why," Sober said. He looked at Repentance. "What is her name?"
"Provocation."
"That's right." Sober nodded. "Provocation. Sharp-eyed, that one is."
"I did see her for a moment," Lord Carrull said. "She said the king was gone on urgent business and wasn't expected back for two weeks."
"Maybe he has to go down to the healing house." Repentance hugged her arms around herself as she remembered his wracking coughs. He would have to be really sick to miss the Moonlight Festival.
"I've sent a man down to check at the healing house. We'll know by tomorrow evening. I'm afraid, though. We can't rule out the idea that the prince has a hand in the king's absence. He tried to kill him once. Who's to say he hasn't tried again?"
Her heart sped up. "What do we do now? My family can't wait two weeks for us to find out if the king is coming back. Who will stop the prince from taking my family as payment for my disobedience?"
Lord Carrull threw her a worried look. "I'm afraid you're right. I'm less concerned about your family than others, though. I can go to Mistress Merricc's farm right now and make arrangements to move your family to Montphilo."
"Is there no way we can go with you?" Repentance asked.
"It's far too risky. Gate guards are doubled and they are searching every cart and wagon." He rose to leave.
Sober stopped him with a question. "You are concerned about others, besides the Atwaters? What do you mean by that?"
Lord Carrull paused, then took a deep breath and said, "I'm afraid when the prince finds the Atwaters gone, he may turn his wrath on the village. It has happened before. More than once."
Sober blanched.
Repentance felt like she'd been kicked by a yak. She lost her breath. The whole village? The Mossybanks? The Gumtrees? Sober's parents?
Lord Carrull shook his head. "Pray Providence for mercy." He turned back at the door. "It's late. I may not make it back before the city gates close at sunset. If not, I'll be here by lunch tomorrow. You two stay up on this floor, keep the window shades drawn, and obey Compassion."
After Lord Carrull left, Repentance couldn't concentrate on her book at all. She spent the afternoon worrying. By dinnertime her stomach was feeling a little sick. Looking for a diversion, she opened the window shade a crack and peered down on the lighted street below. The sun had only just set and little people, six stories down, were still milling around looking into shop windows.
"Here's another one," Sober said. He'd been reading her bits from Lord Banniss's biography all day.
"Sober, how can you read? Aren't you worried about the village?"
He looked over the top of his book. "I've given it to Providence. Yes, I'm concerned. But what can I do about it now? The best thing I can do in this very minute is read, I think. Worrying about my mother and my father serves no good purpose." He paused, thinking. "Besides, I'm convinced Providence will give us a way out. I don't think he'll let the prince destroy the village."
She wished she could so easily set things aside. But then Sober wouldn't bear the guilt if the villagers were slaughtered. If they suffered the blood would be on her hands, not his.
"Do you want to hear this? It's worth thinking about."
She nodded.
"Lord Banniss's brother—this is incredible—was the one who led the troopers to him. In an interview after his brother was hanged, he said, 'Harding (that's Lord Banniss) thought it was better to die fighting evil than to live. Who was I to argue? When the authorities came threatening me and demanding I tell them where my brother was hiding, I realized there was no sense in my dying to protect him. Harding and I could both get what we wanted. He wanted to die, and I wanted to live.'"
"That's evil."
"But listen to this. A week after Harding was hanged, the brother, his name was Hamchet Banniss, was killed. His throat slit, and gutter tongue written on his chest in blood."
"What does gutter tongue mean?"
"It's a man who hears back alley secrets and repeats them for the highest bidder."
Repentance shivered and crossed the room to sit next to Sober. "Do you believe all that business about the life spark still glowing on the other side of death? Do you think Hamchet had to face his brother?"
"Worse than that. He had to face Providence. Two brothers die in one week. One dies because of his work saving strangers, one is killed for betraying his brother. Which man would you want to be?"
"Neither! I'd like to live, thanks all the same."
He patted her leg. "You will live for a good long, time, Repentance. But we all do die sometime. That's out of our control. We can control some things though. I hope, after I'm gone, that my loved ones—" he paused and waggled his eyebrows at her, "I hope my loved ones will have the comfort of knowing I died like Harding and not Hamchet. Can you imagine? Hamchet only got to live for one extra week and look at what it cost him! He had to present himself to Providence wearing the coward's cloak."
Compassion came with dinner, and Repentance, worried and antsy and not feeling like reading, asked if she might have a new char-stick, as she'd used hers up. She decided to put Hot Springs out of her mind. Sober seemed to know Providence pretty well. Maybe he was right and she didn't need to worry. So, after dinner she fetched her parchment pad from her room and settled down at the desk in the corner. Two hours later she had written a poem about Harding and Hamchet Banniss, the beginning pages of a journal that would chronicle her trip up the mountain and her escape, and she was halfway through a love poem for Sober that she would probably never let him see.
He stood and walked toward her and she quickly covered the poem with a fresh sheet of parchment.
Laying one hand on the back of her neck, he said, "I'm going to bed."
She tipped her head to look at him. "It's early still. We could play a game of bobberchinks. I saw a cup of cubes on the bookshelf by the door."
He shook his head. "It's early, but here we are, stuck alone in this room, and I'm having a hard time keeping myself from sweeping you up and kissing you every two minutes."
Heat rushed into her cheeks. "Would that be such a horrible way to spend the evening?"
"Hmm. Let me check." He kissed her. Finally he pulled away and whispered, "Just as I thought. Trust me, Repentance, I'm not to be trusted."
At the door he turned and winked. And then he was gone.
Repentance looked around the room, which a minute earlier had felt warm and cozy, and shivered at the emptiness she felt. She gathered her parchment and her char-stick and went to her own room to soak in a hot bathing pool and then try to sleep. Between thinking about her family and Hot Springs and Sober not being trustworthy, she doubted she'd be able to sleep a wink.
A wink.
She loved it when he winked.
When Repentance entered the library the next morning, Sober was already there. He stood when he saw her, crossed to her, wrapped his arms around her and kissed her deeply.
Her knees went rubbery, and she had to cling to his shirt to keep her feet.
He broke the kiss but kept on hugging her. "I missed you all night," he whispered into her hair. And then he was kissing her again.
Compassion came in. "Oh. My. Oh, my," she said, and she stopped so suddenly the dishes on the breakfast tray rattled against one another.
Sober let Repentance go and she quickly smoothed her dress and patted her hair.
"I'm so sorry," Compassion said. "Excuse me. Please." She began to back out of the room.
Sober chuckled. "Don't leave, woman. Can't you see we're starving? We're so hungry we decided to try to eat one another."
Repentance kicked him. "Sober!"
"Oh, my!" Compassion said.
"She doesn't taste very good, though," Sober said. "So, if you don't mind, I'll take some breakfast."
Compassion set the tray on the low table in front of the settee.
"Is Lord Carrull back yet?" Sober asked her.
Two hours later she'd still not come back for the breakfast dishes.
"You scared her off," Repentance said.
Sober shrugged. "I didn't think she'd be so shocked. Has she never seen two people kissing before?"
Her cheeks felt hot. "That kind of kissing is usually reserved for people who are buttoned."
He twisted on the settee and looked directly into her eyes. "I did some thinking about that last night."
Holding his gaze, she put an encouraging expression on her face, willing him on.
"Will you wait for me, Repentance? I won't be able to join you in Montphilo for seven years."
She ducked under his arm and leaned against his chest. "Seven or seventy, Sober. I'll never button anyone else."
He laughed. "And if I've learned one thing about you, it's that when you make up your mind about not buttoning someone, you follow through."
"This time I've made up my mind to button someone, though." She twisted around and kissed him.
There was a knock on the door and it opened halfway. Starved stuck his head in. "Is it safe to come in?" he asked.
"All safe," Sober said. "Where is Compassion?"
"She's, uh ... busy giving the cook directions for lunch. Sent me for the dishes." After he stacked the dishes, he turned and tripped over the table leg. The tray and all its contents flew from his hands and landed in Sober's lap.
"I'm so sorry."
Sober stood, His pants and shirt were covered in coffee and sticky jelly stains. "I'll go change," he said.
"These feet weren't made for fancy libraries and parlors," Starved said. "I'm more comfortable in the barn than in the house."
"I'll live. Anyway we needed a little excitement. It's been awfully boring sitting around all this time."
Starved laughed. "Compassion had a different tale to tell this morning."
Sober went to his room and Repentance helped Starved clean up. After he left, she browsed the bookshelves, but nothing grabbed her. She stuck her hand in her pocket and, playing with her gray buttons.
A horn sounded in the street.
Another blast followed the first, and Repentance became aware of the fact that she'd been hearing the blasts for some little time. They'd been getting louder and louder over the last fifteen minutes or so.
She went to the window and peeked out.
A crowd clogged the street below, following an open-bed skim wagon, like a slow moving mudslide. An overlord trooper sat in the wagon behind the driver, blowing the horn. It was probably some kind of Moonlight Festival celebration.
Pulling the shade back a little, she saw a woman standing in the wagon bed with the trooper. She was dressed in a thin shift like Repentance used to wear in the swamp. The wagon drew closer. The woman's hands were tied behind her back and she was turning circles as the trooper hit her with his horn between blasts.
As the wagon drew even with Lord Carrull's house, Repentance could see it wasn't really a woman—not a full-grown one, anyway. It was a girl.
And then the girl turned so Repentance could see her face.
Comfort!
To rush into danger—with no plan and no hope of success—in order to save a friend ... many would call that foolish.
I call it love.
~Professor Pottamous Scroll, Harthill University
Chapter 34
Repentance flew from the room, calling for Sober.
Bare-chested and with a towel in his hand, he stuck his head out the door.
"Comfort." She waved back toward the library and beyond. "In the street." She headed down the stairs, crying and praying and not thinking of anything but getting to her sister.
At the front door she paused. Comfort must be cold in her meager swamp clothes. Repentance dove into the cloakroom and snatched a couple of cloaks. Throwing on one, and flipping the hood over her head, she yanked the front door open and fled the house.
She stepped into the slow-moving crowd outside the door, and stumbled, her eyes not yet adjusted to the glare of the sun. Someone jostled her from behind.
"Well, move along, then, child," an old woman said. "You'll not want to stand here like a boulder in the river. The flow will run right over top of you."
Repentance allowed the crowd to carry her along. "I only came out to go shopping," she said to the woman. "What is all this celebration about?"
An eager look sprang into the old woman's eyes. "A swinging," she said. "A perfect way to start off the Moonlight Festival."
Repentance shuddered and stepped to the side, allowing several people from behind to push their way into the space she'd left between herself and the wicked old woman.
"Who'd she run from?" a man beside Repentance asked.
Another man answered, "The prince, I heard. Too bad. She's a pretty little thing."
Repentance pulled her hood farther forward and elbowed through the crowd in an effort to get close to the wagon.
The prince was using Comfort to lure her like a swamp slinker to a beetle, there was not a doubt in her mind. He had chosen well. Repentance would set her sister free or die trying.
She broke through the crowd at the back of the brightly painted wagon. Fabric streamers, blue and purple for the Moonlight Festival, trailed from the sides of the wagon, flipping and flapping in the breeze. The crowd, as if they were going to a party, jostled and laughed.
In the back of the wagon, Comfort stood on display, turning circles. She looked like a rabbit in a snare—all pitiful and terrified. She kept turning as the trooper poked at her. She wasn't like a rabbit in a snare—she was more like a rabbit roasting on a spit, with a slavering mob crushing against the wagon, waiting for a tasty morsel.
Repentance reached out and placed one hand on the smoothly painted wagon. She had no plan. But they were just three blocks from the swing frame. She had no time to think. She would simply jump up and offer the trooper a trade. Her life for Comfort's.
She looked around for the prince. In the front of the wagon was a driver. Lining both sides of the street were troopers walking along the edges of the crowd. They stepped up on porches and stoops every so often, scanning the faces below them. She counted ten on each side of the street. They were looking for her, she knew. And so they would have her. She put her other hand on the wagon bed and made to pull herself aboard.
Someone grabbed her from behind and yanked her back.
She spun around.
Sober.
He wore a workman's shabby cloak with the hood up and the lower part of his face wrapped in his button scarf. She could see just his eyes.
They were enough to break her heart—he looked at her with such love.
"Drop back," he whispered. "When I get her down, you'll have to cut her bonds and get her lost in the crowd and back to Lord Carrull's." He slipped a knife into her hands and shouldered his way in front of her.
Before she had time to protest, he grabbed one of the streamers, ripping it loose, and vaulted onto the wagon right in front of the trooper with the dragon stick. He threw the cloth in the trooper's face and followed it with a solid punch. The trooper fell backwards over the driver's bench.
A surprised roar rose from the mob.
Sober picked up Comfort, dropped her over the edge of the wagon, and jumped down after her.
He shoved Comfort in front of him, pushing his way through the people. Obviously shocked, the people in the crowd parted before them. Several of the men and women around Repentance laughed at the turn of events.
The two closest troopers worked their way through the crowd.
Repentance, struggling to cover the short distance between herself and her sister, took an elbow hard to the ribs but didn't slow down. She had to get to Comfort before the troopers did.
Sober shoved Comfort behind him and pushed his way straight for the troopers. He punched one, and quickly turned on the other.
Comfort pressed back.
The crowd circled around Sober and the troopers like a mob at a hog fight.
The second trooper jabbed Sober in the stomach with the muzzle of his dragon stick. Sober doubled over, and the trooper clubbed him over the head.
Repentance ducked when the dragon stick came down on his head as if she might help him avoid the blow.
Sober staggered. She lost of sight of him when he went down.
He popped back up in a moment, blood streaming from his head.
Repentance watched, horrified.
Sober screamed and charged the trooper that had clubbed him.
The crowd closed in as more and more people pressed forward from behind. Men cried out, shouted direction, laid bets.
"That's it. Don't go without a fight."
"Stay down, boy. It's a lost cause."
Sober's head was no longer visible above the crowd.
"Kick the dirty swine!"
"Let him up. Give him a fighting chance. Let's have a bout to bet on."
"Leave off, boys. You'll want to leave something for the swingman to work with."
Repentance pushed forward, tears clouding her vision.
And then she saw a black braid gleaming blue in the bright mountain sun. It lay over a shoulder clad in thin swamp cloth.
She reached one hand through the people in front of her and grasped that shoulder.
Comfort turned, her eyes full of fear.
When she saw Repentance her eyes snapped wide in shock, and then she began to cry.
Repentance shook her head, and pulled Comfort to her, dragging her through men and women who had eyes only for the fight.
With everyone packed so tightly, she couldn't work the knife to cut Comfort's bonds. She was afraid someone would jostle her and she'd stab her sister. She draped her extra cloak over Comfort's shoulder and lifted the hood over her dark hair. "Stay with me," she whispered. "If anyone stops us, act like my slave."
She wanted to keep her arm around Comfort's shoulder, but overlord women didn't hug their slaves. She gave Comfort one last squeeze and dropped her arm.
The Button Girl Page 28