06 - Rule of Thieves Page 9

  “I spoke in haste,” Luken protested. “Them thing’s I said before was only in jest. You must know what a man’s eldest son means to him. You wouldn’t have the heart to ask me to part with money I don’t have while I’m suffering such grief?”

  “I wish I could help you.” My tone suggested the opposite. Still, I leaned back as if in thought and let my gaze drift around the room. It settled on young Jarrod.

  “What about this youngling?” I asked casually. “He might be worth something.”

  The miller scratched his chin. “I don’t take your meaning. What would you want with the boy?”

  “I could use a personal servant, now I’m living up at the castle. The child could make himself useful to me and earn back the debt accrued by his dead brother. In that way, I would be repaid for my losses without the need for you to open your purse.”

  I held my breath, hoping he wouldn’t sense the importance of this.

  Greed entered Master Luken’s eyes. “You’re saying we’d be even and I wouldn’t owe you a single copper? All you’d want is to take the lad away with you?”

  I shrugged. “It’s a possible solution. Of course, I’d have to be assured the boy doesn’t have the thieving habits of his brother and that he’s a good worker. You said something before about laziness…”

  “No, that was nothing,” the miller answered quickly. “This here’s the most reliable hand in the place. Does the work of a full-grown man, does young Jarrod. He’ll give you your money’s worth for sure, wouldn’t you, boy? Speak up, lad!”

  Jarrod merely stared at us, as if in a trance. I doubted he’d heard a word past the shocking announcement of his brother’s death.

  Smiling weakly, Luken withdrew a handkerchief from his pocket and mopped at his sweaty forehead. “Don’t mind the child. He’s stunned with gratitude for your considerable generosity. I’ll have him packed up and ready to head off for Selbius as soon as you’re ready to collect him.”

  “I’m collecting him now,” I said firmly. “He’ll bring whatever belongings can be gathered immediately, and he can share my horse for the ride back.”

  The miller looked confused at this hasty turn of events but didn’t argue. It would have done him no good, because my mind was set. I wouldn’t leave Brig’s only remaining offspring in this fellow’s hands for another hour.

  ____________________

  It was a silent ride back toward Selbius after we left the mill and the settlement of Low Hills. Having brought the boy, Jarrod, up on the horse behind me, I tried to make conversation during the ride. But he seemed to have little to say.

  I sensed the turmoil of his emotions, and it wasn’t hard to make out which feelings were dominant. Grief. Anger. Resentment. Those last two surprised me. I had been so set on rescuing him, it hadn’t occurred to me until now that he might not appreciate my intrusion into his life. Strange as it was to imagine, maybe he hadn’t wanted to leave his home and his domineering stepfather. Or maybe he was unhappy at being dragged away to settle the miller’s “debt,” without any say in the matter. Whatever he was sulking over, I decided he would sort it out in time.

  I had wanted to make it back to the city before nightfall. But shortly after we set out, the sky darkened prematurely. Thunder rumbled and thick clouds rolled in, heavy with the threat of rain. A strong wind kicked up, whipping the horse’s mane and casting dust from the road into my eyes. Then I felt the first cold sprinkles on my skin.

  Up ahead, the road snaked around a series of low rises. At the foot of the nearest one, I spotted a tumbledown old shack I had passed earlier in the day, on my way to the mill. It was a way hut, one of the crude shelters for travelers that dotted the countryside along the main roads. These rough shelters were often unstocked and in disrepair. But any roof over our heads would be better than being caught in the open during a storm.

  I nudged my horse off the road and pulled him up in front of the shed.

  My young passenger broke his silence to ask, “Why are we stopping?”

  Dismounting, I explained, “There’s a downpour coming and I don’t care to be caught in it, do you? This travelers’ hut will keep out the worst of the weather, and we can continue on to Selbius in the morning after the storm has passed.”

  Jarrod looked at the dingy shed doubtfully. I didn’t blame him. With only three walls and a sagging roof, it hardly looked like a fit shelter for our horse, let alone us. Still, as soon as Jarrod had scrambled down from the animal’s back, I led the way inside.

  The interior was shadowed, and cobwebs clung to walls so thin they blocked only the worst of the wind. There was a scattering of hay across the dirt floor and more of it in a rack on the wall. Our horse nosed up to it eagerly, and I didn’t push him away. He didn’t want to be caught out in the cold and the rain any more than we did.

  I struggled with the unfamiliar task of unsaddling the animal. Jarrod, I suspected, might have more experience at the job, since I’d seen workhorses back at the mill. But he didn’t offer to help, instead dropping his small bundle of belongings in a lonely corner of the shed and sinking down beside them.

  I tried not to hold his unfriendliness against him. He had just learned of the death of his brother. And my manner of delivering the news could hardly have endeared me to him. He would need some time to come around.

  Pretending not to notice his mood, I finished with the horse and then withdrew a few strips of dried meat from my traveling pack. We had no fire to prepare a hot meal, and I lacked the ingredients to cook one anyway. I offered half the plain fare I did have to Jarrod. When the boy refused it, I consumed the meal alone.

  The skies opened up now, and heavy rain drove down on our little shed, much of it finding its way through the holes in the roof to drip onto us. The wind howled fiercely, and what daylight had been left was replaced with a false night. It was even darker inside our shelter.

  Clearly we were going to be stranded here for some time. Since my young companion didn’t seem inclined to conversation, even had the noisy wind and rain allowed any, I might as well catch what rest I could. Using my traveling sack for a headrest, I sprawled out along the wall to sleep.

  Chapter Nine

  My sleep, light and dreamless, was interrupted in the small hours by the vague sensation that someone stood over me, watching. Pretending to be at rest, I lay still and kept my breath even while I reached out with my magic to identify the source of danger. It was a new presence, almost unfamiliar. It took me a moment to recognize it as Jarrod.

  Opening my eyes to a narrow slit, I made out his shadowy outline in the blackness. It was too dark to see his expression or make out the details of the fist-sized object clutched in his hand. But I took a guess.

  I said, “If you’re thinking of bashing my brains out as I lie here, I suggest you reconsider.”

  Startled to find me awake, the boy let go the thing in his hand. It dropped to the dirt beside me. A rock.

  I picked up the jagged stone before it could occur to him to retrieve it and said, “The capital city is not a kind place for younglings your age arriving alone. I know. I wasn’t much older than you when I visited it for the first time. Only I was lucky enough to have some friends there and a few life skills that helped me protect myself. You, on the other hand, wouldn’t get far.”

  “Who says I want to go to Selbius?” he challenged. “That’s your idea, not mine.”

  “And what exactly is your clever plan, Jarrod? To dispose of me, steal my horse, and hurry back home to the miller? He struck me as a devoted guardian. I’m sure he’ll be overjoyed to have you back.”

  My sarcasm only made the boy more defiant. “I don’t have to return to Luken. Maybe I’ll run away, like Martyn.”

  I lifted a careless shoulder. “Perhaps you should. But before you get any more brilliant ideas about bludgeoning me to death and making off for freedom, you should know your brother wanted you under my care.”

  “That’s a lie.” But from the way his voice shook, he
wasn’t very confident. “Martyn wouldn’t hand me over to a stranger, especially not one like you. You said yourself you pursued him to his death.”

  “Is that why you were going to crush my skull? To avenge him?”

  His silence was confirmation.

  I shook my head and asked of no one in particular, “What is it with Brig’s boys and their obsession with revenge?”

  That threw him off guard. “How do you know my father’s name?”

  I passed over the question, saying, “I respect the need to right a wrong as much as anybody. But before you set out on a quest for revenge, you need to explore the facts and make sure your enemy is really your enemy. Your brother made that same mistake. In another life, we should have been friends. Which makes it a sad irony that we were set against one another by a lie. I never would, never could, feel anything but goodwill toward a child of Brig’s. That’s why, in the end, I couldn’t kill Martyn myself. Not even when he threatened my life.”

  I sensed the boy’s hostility vanishing, leaving him vulnerable and confused. “Why do you keep speaking of my father? Did you know him?”

  “I knew him very well. Come, sit down, and I’ll tell you all about it.”

  I patted the ground beside me.

  At his continued hesitation, I prompted,

  “That is, if you’ve decided to let me live out the night?”

  “I haven’t made up my mind about that yet,” he said seriously. “But I will sit.”

  He sat, and I told him everything while outside the rain beat down.

  ____________________

  The storm cleared out by late morning, and we were on our way again after eating the last of my jerky and biscuits. We made good time on the Selbius road, and the journey was pleasanter than it had been before.

  Last night’s talk had dissolved the tension. I still sensed a rebellious streak in Jarrod and thought the boy would bear watching. But at least his defiant spirit wasn’t at odds with my purpose anymore. More importantly, I no longer had the feeling he was waiting for me to turn my back so he could plunge a knife into it.

  As we drew nearer to the city, the road widened and branched out in two directions, one leading toward Selbius, the other to Dimmingwood. I felt the usual pull to enter that leafy green haven. I played with the idea of taking my young charge to the outlaws. I had done my good deed in separating the boy from his abusive stepfather. Perhaps setting him free now, with Dradac to keep an eye on him, would count as fulfilling my promise to the dying Martyn? After all, I had troubles enough of my own awaiting me in the city. Why shouldn’t I pass on this particular burden to someone else? Growing up among the forest thieves had been good enough for me.

  But in my head, I heard Brig’s words from many years ago, arguing that outlaw life was no fit thing for a child. I had been the child referred to then, but surely the sentiment held doubly true for his own son. No, it was useless fighting it. I had to do what my old friend would want were he alive today.

  Jarrod must have noticed how I slowed my horse as we approached the fork in the road.

  “Are we going into the woods?” he wanted to know.

  The tree line looked shady and tempting, but I passed it by.

  “Not today,” I said. “But someday when the time is right, I’ll take you into Dimming and show you where your father spent his last years.”

  I felt Jarrod’s shrug, although I couldn’t see it since he sat behind me. “I’m not sure I want to see,” he answered. “I barely remember him anyway. I was mostly an infant when he went away.”

  His words were careless, but his tone gave away the lie in them.

  I said, “I never asked Brig much about his family, but I always knew it grieved him to be apart from you.”

  “That’s not what my ma told us. She said he didn’t care to see us anymore.”

  “That much is certainly untrue,” I said. “As I heard it, your mother took you away because she did not want you to follow your father’s path in life. That’s not the same thing as him abandoning you.”

  “Maybe. But either way, he chose something else over us.”

  There wasn’t much I could say to that, because it was true. And what must sting more for Jarrod, and for Martyn when he was alive, was discovering that I’d had the benefit of Brig’s care throughout my childhood while his own sons had not.

  I wanted Jarrod to think well of his father, but there was no way I could explain the motives of a man long dead. I was glad when Jarrod changed the subject to ask how much longer before we reached Selbius. I too was impatient to end this awkward journey. Not least because I had the uneasy feeling I had been away overlong and my absence may have been noted by someone I was not ready to provoke.

  ____________________

  One advantage of my position in the Praetor’s house was that I no longer had to invent excuses to get me past the gate clerk. I now had legitimate business in Selbius.

  Jarrod was not as wide-eyed as I had been on my first time crossing the great bridge and entering the walled city. Apparently he had come this way a few times before when the miller brought him on errands. Still, he looked with interest at the passing crowds and shops along the street as we made our way up the main thoroughfare to the castle.

  In the courtyard, I was relieved to slide down from my horse, although the big animal had given me no special trouble. I was unaccustomed to the saddle, and having spent the last day and a half in one had left me sore. I found a use for Jarrod, tossing him the reins and telling him to return the borrowed horse to the stable. The youngster would have to start learning his way around the castle sooner or later. Might as well be today.

  My arrival at the keep was greeted with no particular notice. I stopped briefly by my room to drop off my things and reassure myself the sole possession I had left behind was safe. The bow was exactly where I had left it. And there it would remain for a while yet, because I had unpleasant business to take care of next.

  I found the Praetor’s audience chamber empty except for a gray-haired, birdlike man with twitchy hands and a formal manner who was fussing with a stack of papers at a small table in the back of the room. He wore the same livery as all the servants, but the scarlet half cape trailing from his shoulders and the decorative badge below his collar identified him as one of higher status than most. He was the house steward, as it turned out, and he informed me Praetor Tarius would not be in audience today.

  Undeterred, I left the long chamber and headed for Praetor Tarius’s study where I guessed I might find him. No doubt it broke with all kinds of protocol to seek out the important man when he had not sent for me. The twitchy house steward would be horrified. But I hadn’t asked to be a guest in this cheerless castle, so I had no qualms at being a poor one.

  I rapped my knuckles boldly against the thick door. When there was no response, I let myself inside. I walked in to find the Praetor half-undressed and seated in a deep chair with a small elderly man at his side mixing a vile-looking green concoction in a goblet.

  The old man was saying, “I’m afraid it is no better or worse than it was, my lord. But if you’ll remember, I did warn you to take a better diet and exert yourself less.”

  At my entrance, he broke off speaking. Both the room’s inhabitants stared at me.

  “Can a man not be examined by his personal healer in the privacy of his own rooms without drawing an audience?” growled the Praetor.

  Refusing to apologize, I said stiffly, “I tried the great chamber, but the house steward told me you would not be there today.”

  “Perhaps that is because I wished to be alone.”

  “If that is the case, I will wait outside until my lord sees fit to call me in.”

  My lord. How it grated every time I was forced to utter those words.

  “Never mind.” He relented as I was about to depart. “You may wait here.”

  Obediently, I stationed myself near the door and pretended to be immersed in studying the opposite wall tapestry w
hile the Praetor re-dressed himself.

  I remembered Lady Morwena’s claim that her cousin was very ill. Was there, after all, more truth to that story than I had given her credit for? Why else should he have his healer in attendance?

  I heard him dismiss the healer. The frail little man, who looked about a hundred years old, shot me a disapproving glance on his way out.

  When the door closed behind him, Praetor Tarius said, “Now. I assume this impudent intrusion means you bring to me a matter of some urgency, worthy of my attention?”

  “Two matters,” I said. “Firstly, I have acquired a personal servant, a boy of about twelve years, who will require regular food and a place to sleep.”

  He looked bored. “Take it up with the house steward. I have no time to be consulted on such trivial matters.”

  He stretched his feet out onto the stool in front of him and settled deeper into his chair. Closing his eyes, he maintained a listening attitude.

  Did I detect faint circles beneath his eyes? If so, that and a slight thinness were the only signs of weakness about him. He looked healthy in all other respects and fitter than most men his age.

  While he was off guard like this, I caught myself examining his face for some resemblance to my father. As they were brothers, there ought to be a similarity in looks, if not manner. But there was none. From what I remembered of my da, the two could not have been more different.

  Absently, I touched the family brooch pinned to my collar. I had been wearing it openly ever since reclaiming it from Terrac.

  The Praetor broke into my thoughts. “You were saying you had another question? Or have you forgotten it, preoccupied as you are with inspecting me for signs of impending death?”

  At my startled silence, he opened his eyes. “You see? I am giving you your chance to examine me and calculate the time I have left. Does it make you pity your master to see him so weak?”

  “About as much as I’d pity a desert viper,” I replied without hesitation.