by Katie Roman
The king suggested hanging Jack since he and Grace were reputed to be in love, but for once Robert refused. It was a heartless, arrogant man who killed his own child. The Divine Twins would punish him for it tenfold.
Gilliam rubbed the back of his neck, avoiding Robert’s eyes, and mumbled something.
“If you have some comment to make, Gillam, make it.”
“I don’t think you should hang these folk. They’re just hungry and upset. It’s not a crime.”
Gillam was a large mountain of a man, too stupid to be afraid of anything; too stupid to have a single thought in his head. Robert was surprised that his servant dared say anything.
“Gillam, you will continue your duties here, acting as warden. I will send for a handful of prisoners soon, and I will make an example of them unless Grace Hilren turns herself in and releases Captain Erickson.” The servant bowed deeply.
~*~*~
A young woman named Kate rushed into Grace’s current throne room situated at the Emerald Tavern. “Majesty.” She bowed and her black locks fell into her eyes.
She was about fifteen, coming from a maid’s position at the castle. She was one of Grace’s many spies that served Robert. She had been easy to bribe into the position.
“I’ve got it,” the girl held up a brass seal. “The duke’s own seal.”
“Takin’ your time with it, girlie. You were supposed to be here at first light,” Kay said and grabbed the seal from Kate. “We’re to move at midnight and you wait until noon?” Kay handed the seal off to Grace.
“I di’n’t know where His Grace kept it.”
“Leave her alone, Kay,” Grace mumbled in Kate’s defense, but she was more interested in the seal than defending the maid thief.
It was heavier than Grace expected. It was made of polished brass, and the base was the size of a gold noble. Despite its small size, the details on the seal were extraordinary. The hound of Escion was set on it. The fur was detailed and the hound even had a collar with the diamond on it of Escion’s house. Flowering vines circled around the hound.
“Did you get any of his sealing wax?” The seal would be useless if they didn’t have the wax. The duke used a red seal with hints of blue flowing through it like veins.
“Oh! I near forgot.” Kate reached into her apron pocket and held out a lump of red and blue wax.
Kay rolled her eyes but didn’t vocally express her irritation. She took the wax, holding it for Grace.
“You did well, Kate.” Grace pulled a silver coin from her belt purse. “How did you manage to get it?”
“His Grace was down at Redbank for the morning, so I went in to ‘straighten up’. He spends lots of time in his study, though. He may notice it’s missing.”
“Don’t worry about that,” Kay said as she steered Kate toward the door. “But I wouldn’t go back to the castle if I was you.” She pushed the girl out of the door and closed it behind her. “I’m surprised she got it at all.”
“She was right. If she had gotten it too early, he would know it was missing. The cook at the castle is waiting for our signal. We will try to distract His Grace so he does not notice anything is missing.”
“If this fails, we are all headed for the noose.” Kay paused, considering her statement. “Not that we weren’t anyway.”
Grace looked at the seal again. “The noose, if we are lucky. Impersonating a noble is bad enough, but using an official seal is worse.” She closed her hand around the cold brass. “If things do not go according to our plans, take Ridley and Thom and flee.”
Kay crossed the room and slung an arm around Grace’s shoulder. “It will work. It is too insane not to.”
~*~*~
The nine o’clock hour was called as Grace stood alone on the roof of the Angel watching the city. Only a few torches lit the street around her, but against the moon and stars she could see the buildings silhouetted in the blackness. Clouds rolled in from over the water as she watched. Even with the clouds moving in, the temples still stood out clearly in the night. Grace’s interest lay beyond the temples, though, to the castle. Soon, Thom would signal their allies and it would be time for action.
The air still held a chill, but winter was nearing its end and Grace was grateful. It had been a harsh winter by Cesernan standards. A few inches of snow had already fallen on the people of Glenbard, who were unaccustomed to snow, leaving the already cold and hungry people even more miserable. But the spring brought other things aside from warmer weather. Drake would arrive soon, along with reinforcements. Grace smiled at the thought.
“It’s almost peaceful.” A voice behind Grace made her jump. Turning around, she saw a cloaked figure with a candle, the wind making the fabric billow around their body. When the newcomer held the candle closer to her face, Grace saw that she had bronze skin and deep purple eyes.
Grace bowed. She hadn’t seen the goddess Diggery in her human form since she was taken from Arganis. “Kit,” she said, using the preferred name. “I did not expect to see you as you are now.”
“I came to see how you fared; really see. The hour is nigh.” She strode across the roof to stand beside Grace. “I knew you would be able to unite the city.”
“It is hardly united, I am afraid. Glenda and Haymitch were able to convince a few merchants and shopkeepers to join, but Nathaniel and Julian only have a small contingent of guards ready and willing. Some of the people from the Lane keep trying to sneak into Glenda’s shop and carve up Erickson; meanwhile, anyone who raises his or her voice against the king or the duke is carted off to Redbank, or they suffer an ‘accident’ from his soldiers or disgruntled guards.”
“It is not easy work, I know. But you have done much to give the Guild hope, and tonight they will see their faith in you was not misplaced.”
In the temple district, the bell on Kamaria’s temple began to ring. It was a clean, deep sound, and even from where she stood it shook Grace to her core. It had taken a hefty donation to convince the priestesses they needed to ring the large bells tonight.
“That will be Thom,” Grace said.
She felt soft, cool lips on her temple as Kit leaned down to kiss her and she caught the scent of ginger and citrus as the goddess moved closer. She closed her eyes, and when she reopened them Kit was gone.
Looking back over the city, Grace counted the seconds as they turned into minutes. Eventually she saw what she waited for: fire at the Serenity Place guard house, fire at the castle, and fire in the harbor where Robert’s ships blockaded the city. Grace drew in a breath, feeling the cold air course through her. Overhead it began to rain.
Twenty-Five
The candles in Jack’s cell were doused. The fire in the fireplace was nothing more than embers, but the cell was warm with the three men sharing it and there was no reason to stir up the fire. Though it was dark, neither he nor his cellmates slept. Rain fell outside, filling the room with a clean scent. The smell and the soothing sound of rain hitting against stone distracted Jack from his rumbling stomach. They hadn’t been fed in two days. When he asked Gillam why not, he merely shrugged and shook his head. Jack couldn’t believe his father’s manservant kept them hungry out of spite, but he worried that his father may have cut off the food supply to Redbank as some sort of punishment.
“Suppose I fake an ailment,” Henry said into the dark. “I am sure the prison healer has some food. I could smuggle it back.” Jack heard Henry shift on the chair he sat in. “I have lost enough weight I could easily hide it in my shirt.” The sound of flapping fabric filled the little room.
“We could do as the Sera rangers used to do,” George commented from the cot.
“And eat our boots?” Henry asked.
Jack covered his ears, not wanting to hear another scholarly debate on what dead people did a long time ago. It was fine talk when they could talk over meager broth or hard rolls, but with his stomach growling and cramping from lack of food he didn’t care to hear how rangers in Sera used to eat their boots or the finge
rs of foes when they starved.
He must have drifted off, because the next thing he heard was Gillam’s voice through the door. He didn’t even hear the man walk up until the giant man unlocked the door and came into the room, bearing a torch, with two cloaked men behind him. Gillam set about lighting the candles and stirring up the fire to provide them with some light. Now Jack could place one of the men – Captain Nathaniel Moore of the Rogue’s Lane guard house; the long pink scar under his eye evidence of his identity. The man with him was a stocky sort, with a captain’s uniform on under his cloak. Jack had seen him before, but he couldn’t remember where.
“What sort of trouble are we in now?” George asked, sitting upright on the cot.
Gillam flashed a piece of parchment and Jack caught the hint of red that was his father’s seal. “There is trouble in the city and His Grace wants to move some prisoners to a more secure location in case it spreads to Redbank. Captain Brach and Captain Moore will be leading an escort.”
“What place is more secure than Redbank?” Henry asked. “It was built as a bastion in case of invasion.”
“It is not your place to question His Grace,” Brach said, his voice coming out as a growl. Jack noted that he clasped his hands tightly in front of him, like he was afraid to use them. His knuckles were turning white and his eyes darted from Gillam to the prisoners, though he kept his head stationary. Why would a guard captain have any reason to be nervous?
“Come on, then,” Gillam instructed. “We have a lot of prisoners to move, and swiftly. I thought I would just give you honored guests an explanation.” Gillam helped the captains bind their hands with leather ties, making them loose enough so they didn’t cut into the skin, but tight enough they couldn’t be slipped off.
Jack, Henry, and George were escorted out of the prison and into the rain where five black arrest wagons waited for them. The cart drivers looked miserable to be sitting in the cold rain. Ten people could fit uncomfortably in one wagon…did that mean that Robert planned to move fifty prisoners?
“In you go,” Nathaniel said, opening the back of one of the wagons. Two guards sat in the back, batons in their laps.
Jack let Henry and George climb in first, so he was soaked through by the time he climbed up. It probably did his filthy clothes some good to have the dirt washed out of them, but it certainly did nothing for his mood.
Being the first prisoners in the wagon, the men were allowed to sit on the hard wooden benches that lined the sides. Rain droplets dripped through the canvas covering, but the bulk of the rain stayed outside. Jack shivered, but didn’t ask the guards if he could have a blanket. They probably had none and would want them for themselves if they did.
Though cold and wet, Jack dozed in the wagon, waking when more prisoners were forced inside. By the time it was full, he was smashed up against the side, his knees drawn up to his chest to make room for the bedraggled woman who sat on the floor in front of him. He’d have given her his seat, but there was no way to move and switch spots.
One of the guards crushed inside the wagon knocked on the wood loud enough for the cart driver to hear. As the wagon lurched into motion, Jack felt every bump and rut as they rumbled along. He could no longer hear the rain over the groan of the wood and the sounds the prisoners made, but he knew it still rained because the occasional droplet fell from the ceiling. Blessedly, his misery didn’t last long.
The wagon stopped, the back flap was flung open, and someone began pulling the prisoners out one by one. Being among the first loaded on, Jack, Henry, and George had to wait until the end before they were allowed to climb out. However, nothing prepared Jack for the sight that awaited him outside the wagon.
They had stopped at the Angel, where a few torches were lit so people could see what they were doing. Kay Lansa and Nathaniel Moore went from person to person, cutting their binds, while Captain Brach handed them clubs and knives and pointed them toward a large cauldron that the cook at the Angel manned. The prisoners milled about, confused at their change in fortunes.
Kay got to Jack and sliced through his leather ties. “Sir Knight,” she said, her white teeth flashing in the dim light. “Can you handle a sword?”
“Better than most, but I am no sell-sword, Kay.”
Kay rolled her eyes and patted his cheeks. “That’s good, ‘cause we weren’t going to pay you for your time. We need anyone who can handle a sword to wield one.”
Henry stepped forward. “I am a knight, mistress.”
Kay looked him over with a critical eye. Henry was no longer the rotund, jovial man he’d once been. Even when fat, he looked more capable as a knight then he did now. Kay shrugged. “Sir Henry, I presume? I have heard of you.”
“Ah, well then you have me at a disadvantage. I am afraid I cannot claim the same.”
“You three,” Kay said, pointing to George as well, “had better come inside.”
Jack followed Kay into the Angel and saw that the common room looked like a war room. Table tops were covered with maps, small figurines, and extra weapons, as were bits of armor, including gorgets, wrist guards, and extra shirts; anything that helped to keep throats from being slit and exposed flesh covered.
“We have been in close contact with your steward in Egona, Sir Henry,” Kay explained as she bade them sit. “Katherine of Actis’s maid, Charlotte, is gathering allies among the nobility while we rouse the common folk. All across Cesernan, the people are taking up arms.”
“Whatever for?” George sat first and looked curiously at the map on the table. It was a detailed map of Rogue’s Lane.
“To help the prince in his coup against the king, of course.” Kay said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
“So Drake means to go through with this folly?” Henry sat as well.
Jack remained standing, folding his arms over his chest. “And what does Marcus have to say about all this? He can’t be happy that you are running things from the Angel.” Kay’s face darkened and her condescending smirk fell away.
“He is dead,” Jack whispered, understanding her silence. “And you are the Queen of Thieves.”
Kay held up a hand. “No. I didn’t kill Marcus, nor did I kill his murderer. It was Grace who did the bitch in, and it’s Grace who put me in charge here.”
It felt like a hand squeezed Jack’s chest and he put a hand over it, feeling his heart pound hard against his ribcage. “Grace?” he managed to force out.
“My niece?” George looked aghast.
“Aye. And you three should be thanking her for getting you out of Redbank. She had His Grace’s seal stolen and had a notary forge his signature.”
“And where is she now?” George asked before Jack could recover from his shock.
“Raiding the grain stores. Look, we need people to help secure this city. His Grace has soldiers stationed all over Glenbard, so we need people with experience to lead our folk. You two are knights; don’t they teach you things like battle tactics? How to lead?”
“I led a company of men when I put down rebels on Nareroc,” Henry said. Jack watched Kay eye him suspiciously. “It was my duty, mistress,” he said quickly.
“It is in the past,” Kay answered. “I’m as much Glenbard as I am Nareroc, now. Will you take some of your fellow prisoners up Merchant’s Way? Sir Vincent is one of His Grace’s knights here, and we want him captured. I have explicit orders from Grace that she wants the knights alive, and you’re to try to convince as many guards and soldiers to join us as you can. I, for one, think you should slit their throats for leaving the city in such disarray, but I was overruled.”
“A captive knight will fetch a high ransom,” George said. “It is a wise choice to keep them alive. Should I lead some men as well?”
“Lord George of Arganis, you are no knight,” Kay laughed. “We need help feeding these people, and once dawn breaks we’ll need someone good with numbers to keep stock of supplies and people. You are a scholar, Grace says, and we will need you for that.
” George bowed in his seat. “Jack – or should I say Sir Jonathan – can you lead some men into Serenity Place and look for a knight named Sir Lawrence?”
Jack wanted to go find Grace. He could easily get to the grain stores from the Angel. He knew the alleys through the city. He could avoid any fighting.
“She wants you to do this,” Kay said quietly. “We need someone with some experience leading this rabble. Moore, Brach, and I cannot do it all.”
“Get me a sword and a mail shirt. I know Lawrence. He is a solid man, but put him up against the unexpected and he falls to pieces. Unless he’s learned how to control his nervous habits, he will throw down his weapons easily enough.”
Kay patted his shoulder. “Jim Little has more supplies upstairs. He will see you all outfitted.”
~*~*~
Grace had three carts provided by Haymitch. Grace sat with the hood of her cloak up and a blanket covering herself against the cold. Thom drove the first cart, Ridley the second, and Haymitch the third, and all wore stolen guard uniforms. The notary, Master Acker, had forged Robert’s signature on several documents. Ideally, the letter that requested the grain and oil stores be moved would be believed long enough for Grace to get out the precious supplies. If not, twenty-five thieves were hidden throughout the area, ready to heed Grace’s call.
Thom stopped the cart when they drew into the circle of light around the grain stores. Sir Benjamin of Salatia stepped forward. Grace counted fifteen soldiers with him.
He looked older than Grace remembered from their brief encounter a few years before. He was a good knight, at least when it came to tournaments, but there was no telling how he would be in an actual battle. He frowned when he saw their cart.
“Why are the bells ringing?” he demanded of Thom. “And why are you here? There is no ration pick-up until sunrise.”
Thom handed down the forged letter. “Trouble brewing on the Lane. We’re to move this to a safer location.”
Benjamin looked over the letter, raising an eyebrow, and Grace gripped the hilt of her sword under the blanket. “Safer than here? We are near the temples. Who would dare raid this place?”