by Katie Roman
“Any news of the city, Gillam?”
“You know I can’t tell you.”
But you were so willing let me know about Grace, Jack thought. He didn’t say anything aloud, though. Guards were probably outside the door and he didn’t want Gillam to be punished for one act of kindness toward a prisoner.
“Am I to share this room soon? Or are you not allowed to say that either?” The lukewarm broth hit the back of Jack’s throat and he felt better for it. Each sip filled him with more vigor.
“Tonight, I believe. They are in Glenbard with His Grace.”
“They?”
“Two men will be joining you.”
Jack looked around his room. It was comfortable for him. It would still be comfortable with two, should another prisoner wish to share the bed, but three would become cramped. “We will need to draw lots for the bed.” They would be men of noble birth; men who once had good standing, or else they would have had money to pay for a nicer cage.
“Your father will be bringing them personally. I have been instructed to make you fit for guests.”
“Will you be drawing my bath, Gillam?”
Gillam didn’t draw Jack a bath. Instead, he brought Jack into the guards’ rooms where a copper washtub had been filled with water. Looking into it, Jack wondered how many men had bathed before him. It was a dingy, grayish brown and cold to the touch when he put his hand into it. Next to the tub was a stool with clean clothes folded on it.
Gillam handed Jack a small, broken bar of pig fat soap. “Get to it,” he instructed.
Jack peeled off his worn clothes. He remembered when they were made; fine clothes to reflect his status as a city magistrate. Now the shirt bore sweat stains under his arms and around the collar. His pants were soiled and beyond repair after his stint in the coffin cells. His fine leather boots were the only thing that held up, and even they bore the abuse of his prison life, caked in muck.
Jack sat in the tub and washed himself with the soap he was provided. Despite the dirty water, he still felt cleaner having used real soap.
Gillam gathered up Jack’s clothes and walked them to the room’s door. He opened it, handed them off with a few hushed words, and continued his watch over Jack. Jack was glad to be rid of the clothes. They no longer fit properly, they stank, and they were just one more reminder of the multitude of mistakes he’d made that landed him in Redbank.
“I’m not about to run off naked,” Jack said.
“His Grace says I’m to watch you every second you are out of your cell. Hurry it up.”
Jack rinsed himself as best he could and stood. Gillam threw him a towel to dry off with, and then Gillam gathered the clean clothes from the stool and handed them to him. The shirt and pants were loose and Jack found he had to hold the pants up to keep them from slipping down his hips. He slipped into his boots, glad of at least one thing that was familiar.
Seeing the pants problem, Gillam groaned. “I’ll get you a needle and thread to fix that. Come on then, back upstairs.”
Gillam procured a needle for Jack to take in his pants and he made quick work of the waistline so Gillam would leave him be. Gillam left Jack alone with promises of more soup and bread that night.
The room was warmer now and more wood had been piled next to the fireplace in their absence. While Jack was being made to look presentable, the sunny morning had given way to a cloudy afternoon. Jack returned to his spot on the floor and huddled himself under his blanket to wait.
~*~*~
Robert came in well after the sun set. He looked down on Jack, who still sat under his blanket in front of the fire. “Get up,” the duke instructed.
Jack did as he was told without mouthing off, although he kept the blanket around his shoulders. Robert’s face remained impassive, like it was etched from stone.
“Gillam is bringing up your dinner and your guests, and I wanted to see if you had any more names for me before they arrive.”
“Were you able to find Mac, then?”
“That is none of your concern, Jonathan. What more can you give me?”
“Marcus used to keep hidden caches of weapons all over the city, just in case his people needed them. I’m sure the ones at his home and the Angel have been raided, but he had one in each of the districts. He liked to keep them in gardens and stables, sometimes hidden in bags of merchant supplies or in the back rooms of shops.”
Robert nodded to all of this, soaking it up as fact. His father was a shrewd man, demanding excellence and obedience from everyone who came in contact with him, but he never questioned for one moment that his own son would dare lie to him. He assumed that if he dangled something Jack wanted before him, he would blindly comply with him. Extortion was how Robert got what he wanted.
Robert would infuriate all the shopkeepers and merchants as he tore apart their shops looking for weapons Marcus would never have hidden anywhere but the Lane.
“And what can you tell me of Grace? Is she alright in Arganis?” Jack knew as long as Robert thought Jack pined for Grace, he would be more willing to accept his answers.
“She is under house arrest, along with the rest of her family.”
“House arrest?” Jack repeated. Liar, he thought to himself.
“A treasonous plot was unearthed in Arganis and everyone within the barony is being questioned. She is quite safe, though.”
Robert reached for his coin purse, but Jack shook his head. “You wanted your inheritance for information, remember?” his father said sharply.
“Tonight I was hoping to get some information from you.”
“Something other than an update on that wench you seem to faun over?” Robert waited with his arms crossed over his chest.
“Are you really only feeding the prisoners every few days?” Jack asked, ignoring the comment about Grace.
“I need all the grain and oil I can get for the army stationed in Glenbard.”
“What about the citizens? What about all the families and city guards?”
“They are given an allotment every other day.”
Jack rolled his eyes. He didn’t have the energy to hit Robert, but he would someday. “You can’t do this, Father. You can’t ignore them. You know they’re starving! Tell the king he’s gone mad. He’ll listen to you.”
Robert moved forward with his hand raised to strike, but Jack stepped back and hunched over, blocking his face with his hands. No strike ever came.
“Keep your mouth shut, son.”
To Jack’s surprise, Robert flipped a coin at his feet. They waited in silence until Gillam arrived.
Gillam came in leading a haggard, short bald man. He looked around the room, taking in every inch of his new home.
“Lord George of Arganis,” Gillam announced. Behind him came a more rotund man. Jack knew the man, though he had obviously lost weight recently. It broke his heart to see him locked up here. “And Lord Henry of Egona.”
“My lords, I believe you know my son Jonathan, once Sir Jonathan. Son, see to your new guests.”
~*~*~
People gathered outside the crown’s storage house demanding their rations. The storage house was guarded solely by Erickson’s men from the Serenity Place guard house, and no men from other guard houses were allowed near.
“His Grace thinks no one else can be trusted.” Captain Julian Brach led Nathaniel from the healers to the Golden Road guard house, but Nathaniel insisted on passing the grain house on their way.
Nathaniel could barely stand on his own, but he refused to go rest until he had an idea of what was happening in the city. Seeing people outside the storage houses screaming at the guards painted an ugly picture.
He leaned against Julian for support. “What’s happening?”
“His Grace has taken away the daily grain and oil rations, insisting the people only need them every other day. Merchants are paying double and charging triple for their stores. Bread has tripled, too. Some merchants are finding rot in their stores of rye and barle
y. The honest ones are removing it from the shelves, but the dishonest ones are being arrested for trying to poison their customers. The crown has taken control of all the wheat stores in the kingdom for the army’s use.”
“I read His Grace’s report before my attack that this was being discussed, but I didn’t think His Majesty would actually do it,” Nathaniel said.
“There is still the food the city received from Sera,” Julian said, lowering his voice. “His Grace keeps it locked up in his castle.”
“Can’t you see we’re starving?” a woman near them screamed, right before hurling a rock at one of the Serenity Place guards.
Others followed her lead, throwing stones and other oddments at the guards. Julian reached for his whistle to call for aid, but before he had a chance, Erickson swooped down on the first woman with his baton raised.
“Don’t let him brain her!” Nathaniel shouted. “Erickson! Have you lost your mind?” he cried over the din.
Julian released Nathaniel and rushed to pull Erickson away from the woman. By the time he reached her, the other captain had gotten in a few good shots to her hands and back. Nathaniel sagged, but was caught by one of the protesting citizens.
“Stop it!” Julian grabbed Erickson by the wrist and pushed him away from the woman.
“She is inciting a riot and throwing stones at city guards. Don’t you care about that?” Erickson said. Nathaniel noted that the face of his one-time friend had turned a deep red, starting in his neck and creeping upwards.
“Then you arrest her and throw her in the lock up, not beat her senseless!” Julian helped the woman up and the assembled citizens cheered. “But apparently you have forgotten your duty to the people,” he continued. “Ma’am, I am placing you under arrest.”
When Julian produced his leather ties, the woman hung her head but didn’t resist as he tied her hands behind her back. A few people booed him and hissed, but Erickson stood by, shaking with rage.
“This isn’t Golden Road, Brach. You have no power here,” Erickson seethed.
Julian ignored him and began walking the woman away from the crowd. Erickson raised his baton to attack Julian, but the assembled people would have none of it. Another woman rushed forward with an empty wicker basket and hit Erickson in the face with it.
The guards stationed in front of the storage house left their posts to join their captain. A man ran forward holding a blacksmith’s hammer and Nathaniel felt his support drift away, leaving him to fend for himself.
Once in the crowd, Julian quickly cut away the woman’s bonds. He whispered in her ear and she fled the scene as other citizens ran forward to rain justice down on Erickson. Julian blew his tin whistle to call for aid. Nathaniel’s own whistle had been crushed when Kara’s men attacked him. He didn’t want any more broken bones, but he couldn’t leave his fellow guards at the mercy of the mob, no matter how badly Erickson deserved it.
Nathaniel hobbled away from the crowd as best he could, trying to keep Julian in his sights as he backed himself into a shop. The shopkeeper stood, huddling in the back.
“We should be safe in here,” Nathaniel said.
“Aren’t you a captain of the Guard?” the man asked. “Shouldn’t you be out there breaking heads?”
“Not today.”
Outside, people cried out for help and citizens poured out into the streets from the other shops nearby. A crush of people pressed in on the few guards in the area. Over the mob’s cries was the trill of the guard whistles begging for aid. Eventually patrolling constables from nearby streets came running, knocking people aside in their haste.
Nathaniel watched the scene unfold with horrified fascination. The citizens were now backing off as they saw armed guards flooding the streets. Some even threw their hands up in surrender, but no one called for the guards to halt. Julian was nowhere to be seen, and Erickson continued to bludgeon people who were no longer fighting.
Having witnessed enough of the brutality, Nathaniel risked leaving the safety of the shop. He stood as straight as he could manage, though his body screamed in protest. “Captain Erickson!” he cried. “These people have surrendered! It’s time to halt the assault. You.” Nathaniel motioned to a Serenity Place guard near him. “Give me your ties.”
The guard looked to Erickson first, who nodded. The guard handed over his leather ties. Nathaniel hobbled over to a woman whose face was bloody from being hit by a guard’s baton. The fingers on her left hand were bent at odd angles and she looked up at Nathaniel with unmitigated hate.
“For disrupting the peace, you are under arrest, Mistress.”
“Who’ll arrest that brute?” With her good hand she pointed at Erickson. “He denies us food and then threatens and bullies us for coming here to get our dues.”
Nathaniel’s fingers shook as he secured the woman’s hands behind her back. She whimpered when he touched her fingers, though she bit her lower lip to keep from crying out. “Just because you’re mad doesn’t mean you can hurl stones at guardsmen.” He handed her off to one of the other guards, saying, “Be gentle with these people.”
~*~*~
Unfortunately, not all of the citizens arrested near the storage house made it to the lock up safely. Nathaniel and Julian were eating a meager dinner of broth when word reached them that a young Nareroc woman had been bludgeoned to death as she was led to the Serenity Place lock up. Not only was Erickson partly responsible for the debacle, Duke Robert had appointed him the interim captain of the Rogue's Lane guard house while Nathaniel recovered. So he would be in control of two guard houses, one of which was in the district of the murdered woman. The duke must have lost his mind.
“What was Erickson thinking?” Julian pushed his bowl away. “You were his confidant once. Why would he let his men do that?” He dismissed the message runner that came with the news and the two captains were left alone in Julian’s private room.
“I don’t know…and I don’t know that he necessarily let them. He is a man who likes peace and control, but he’d have to know the people would riot over this.”
Julian rubbed his forehead. “We’re not going to be safe in the guard house. People are going to seek vengeance.”
“I don’t have my own rooms anymore; not since I became captain.”
“My sister has a boarding house in Merchant’s Way,” Julian said. “We can stay there for a while. I’ll have someone bring you over. Right now I’m going to see Erickson about this.”
~*~*~
Protests erupted all over the city after word spread about the scuffle and the subsequent murder, although most groups stood peacefully outside guard houses and shouted for justice. Thom hovered around the Serenity Place guard house where the most people gathered.
Captain Erickson came out only one time since his men killed the woman to say the guards responsible were on their way to Redbank, but it didn’t placate the crowd. They wanted to waylay the guards and dispense their own justice.
Thom had to hand it to Erickson for at least trying to calm everyone. He helped to start the whole mess, but he tried to take responsibility for it. The fool sent runner after runner out of the guard house with messages to Duke Robert, but the duke never bothered to send a reply that Thom could see. Erickson even offered his own coin to the woman’s family as compensation. He didn’t understand that his gestures meant nothing anymore, not since he allowed things in Glenbard to get this bad.
“He never should have arrested Marcus,” Ridley said that night when Thom met her in the Temple of Diggery. It was their first meeting in a long time.
The temple was more packed than Thom remembered ever seeing it. People were upset and on edge, and they needed to believe someone was watching over them. Father Thorne walked around to offer spiritual guidance. Thom even offered a few prayers up to Diggery that night, although he kept the hood on his cloak up so no one would recognize him.
“Marcus would have had food for his people, sure, but even he couldn’t have stopped all this.”
>
Ridley leaned her head on Thom’s shoulder and he wrapped an arm around her small frame. He felt her warmth through his shirt and was happy she survived well enough in the temples.
“Has there been any word of him?” Ridley said.
“Nothing.”
“Then he could be dead.” She shifted positions, but Thom kept his arm around her.
“I wish I could say.”
“What are we going to do about this Kara bitch?” Even saying her name made Ridley's whole body tense. Thom felt her stiffen under his arm.
Thom didn't say anything at first; he just rested his hooded head on top of Ridley's. She didn't relax and remained rigid in his arms.
“You could challenge her,” said Ridley when Thom still declined to answer. She pulled away from him so she could look at him and he turned to meet her eyes. There was a crease in her brow and she was frowning. “I know you never wanted power, but the Guild will follow you. You'll even have the backing of the Guard. You know Captain Moore will side with you. Heck, he may even help you.”
Thom chuckled softly and shook his head. “There was a time when you were prepared to gut him for looking at you wrong. Now you want an alliance with him.”
Ridley turned red and lowered her head, but Thom reached out his hand and took her by the chin, forcing her to look back at him. “Do not be embarrassed. We need allies, and while he could be a strong one, he is on leave from the Guard while he recovers from his injuries. I don't know how much sway he will still have; plus, Erickson is the duke's pet and so is Kara. With Erickson now running Rogue's Lane, we may be entirely friendless.”
“Please.” Ridley suddenly grasped his hands in hers and pressed them to her face. He felt hot tears fall onto his fingers. “You have to do something.”
For years, Ridley had proudly proclaimed she would take over the Thieves' Guild when Marcus died, and it had always looked like Marcus was grooming her to become Queen of Thieves. He taught her how to manage their household coin, how to give commands, and how to be effective without becoming a tyrant. Now could have been her hour, but instead she tried to push Thom forward. He wanted to comfort her and say he would set things to right, but he knew he could never be the King of Thieves the Lane needed now.