Part 10 (2/2)

”I understand you need regals, Garritt.”

Eldyn's fingers tightened on the railing.

”The sum of a hundred regals, to be exact.”

Eldyn turned from the stairs. ”How can you know that?” However, even as he said this, he understood. Westen must have eavesdropped on one of his conversations with Mr. Sarvinge and Mr. Grealing. ”You have been spying on me.”

The highwayman shrugged. ”I can give you the gold you need.”

Despite his tiredness and dread, Eldyn laughed. ”Give? You would give it to me? I should think not. You are not much one for giving but rather taking, are you not? Would that I had a mask and pistol, Mr. Westen, if that is indeed your name. For then I could elicit your charity just as you do of those you waylay on the roads.”

”Do not think you know me,” Westen answered, his voice low. ”Though I will grant you, there is some truth to your words. And you are right. I offer no gift. For I want something in return.”

Fear was gone, as was weariness. For all his present uncertainty, there were some things that caused Eldyn no doubt. ”If you think I would sell my sister to the likes of you, think again.”

The highwayman laughed. ”So you would sell her, you mean, but only to the right man. How like a true gentleman, who thinks nothing of love but only of money, and who, from his female kin, would gladly steal any hope of the former in order to gain the latter. For what is marriage but wh.o.r.emongering for the wealthy? And they say I'm a thief.”

Eldyn's cheeks burned, and his hands became fists. ”I would do anything to a.s.sure her happiness.”

”Would you, Garritt? I am curious: what exactly would you do in order to a.s.sure your sister's future?” Westen reached inside his jacket and took out a leather purse. It was heavy, by the way he held it. ”I have it here, Garritt-a hundred regals. Is that not what you need to make what you dream come to pa.s.s?”

Eldyn licked his lips. A few hours ago, in this very spot, he had taken bread from Miss Walpert. Now he felt a different sort of hunger. He meant to tell Westen to sod off, to turn away and march up the stairs.

Instead, he said, ”What do you want?” The highwayman smiled, led him to the corner, and spoke in the lowest of voices.

The thing was not difficult, and that was what first let Eldyn know it was wrong. There was a village at Hayrick Cross, three miles north of the city. There was a blacksmith's shop in the village. There was a man in the shop with red hair. Eldyn was to ask the man for nine nails and to pay him with three pennies. After buying the nails, he should go to the public house in the village. He should order an ale. He should take a quarter hour to drink it, no more, no less. Once finished, he should go to the old well east of the village. He should look for a loose stone in the rim and pry it up. Under the stone would be a slip of paper. On the paper would be a word. He was to memorize the word, then tear up the paper and throw it in the well.

Upon returning to Invarel, he was to read The Fox every day it was published, particularly the advertis.e.m.e.nts on the last page. When he saw an advertis.e.m.e.nt listing pewter candlesticks, silver snuffboxes, and gold thimbles for sale, he was to go to the street printed in the advertis.e.m.e.nt but not to the house number. Instead, the address he must go to could be derived from the number of candlesticks, snuffboxes, and thimbles listed in the advertis.e.m.e.nt. Once there, he should knock. A man would ask him his name. He should give it as Mr. ____, with the surname being the word he had read on the paper at the well.

The man would give him a leather tube. The tube would contain a letter at one end and a reservoir of ink at the other. Eldyn was not to look at the letter. He was to put the tube in a cloth sack with the nine nails he had bought and travel to Hayrick Cross that night, arriving precisely halfway through the umbral, no matter how long or short the night was. He was to wait by the well until the red-haired man from the blacksmith's shop arrived. He was to tell the man he did not need the nails and to give him the sack. If anyone else arrived at the well, or if anyone else was with the red-haired man, or if anyone accosted him on the road there-especially an agent of the king or a servant of the Gray Conclave-he was to turn one end of the tube, which would release the ink, letting it spill into the other chamber and blotting out the message written on the paper.

Once this business was done, he was to go back to Invarel. He was to look for more advertis.e.m.e.nts in The Fox. If he saw one, he was to go to the address (remembering how to decipher it) and get another leather tube. If a week pa.s.sed and he saw no advertis.e.m.e.nt, his work was done and his hundred regals earned. That was it. That was all he had to do. There was nothing else.

As he spoke, Westen had pressed Eldyn into the corner, blocking his escape with an arm braced against the wall.

”It is mischief you wish me to work,” Eldyn said, keeping his voice low. ”And treason as well, I warrant. What messages could be pa.s.sed back and forth in such an unG.o.dly manner save those that seek to harm the Crown?”

”So you are a king's man?”

”I am not a criminal.”

”And what deed, if it be just, can ever truly be called a crime? How can it be stealing to take something that was already stolen and give it back to its rightful owner?”

”You call it justice, robbing people on the road? I don't care who you give the money to. I don't care if you give it all away-which I am certain you do not. I still call it thievery.” He broke free of the highwayman. Except he had the feeling it was Westen who let him go, that if the taller man had wanted it, Eldyn would still be pinned in place.

”You will change your mind.”

Eldyn halted on the stairs, but he did not turn around.

”I know what your dear sister has spoken about you. And I've watched you. You are like me, Garritt, whether you know it or not. We both want to be something more than we are.”

No, he was wrong. They were nothing alike. Eldyn hurried up the stairs, into his rooms, and locked the door behind him.

T HE BRIEF DAY was already half over when he awoke. Sunset was five hours away. He was glad. It would be a blessing to have this done with. Once his fate was decided, there would be nothing more to worry about.

He washed his face, ran a razor over his cheeks, and combed and tied back his hair. He polished his boots and brushed his coat, gently, so as not to cause more distress to the poor garment. Soon he would have a new coat. Not fine like this one had been once, but not threadbare either. A simple coat, and warm.

The door to Sas.h.i.+e's little room was closed. He knocked. ”Please come out, dearest,” he crooned, but he heard only a shuffling of steps. He sighed. She would forgive him soon.

And when will that be? The moment you tell her that you have a.s.sured her future working as a servant in the very inn where her happiness was ruined? Is that when you can expect her to forgive you?

There was nothing for it; he went downstairs.

He saw the innkeeper just heading into the back salon. Good, that would give him a private place to make his proposal. He gathered his will, then headed for the dining room to ask Mr. Walpert for his daughter's hand.

His boot kicked something as he went, and he looked down. On the floor lay a hunk of half-eaten bread. Flies danced upon it in a merry feast. A moment ago he had been ravenous, but now his stomach clenched.

”Is there something you need, Mr. Garritt?”

He looked up. The innkeeper stood before him, smiling, a kindness in his rheumy eyes.

Eldyn took a breath. ”I wanted to-”

Then Eldyn saw him, past the innkeeper's shoulder, through the door into the public room. He leaned against the bar, regaling a group of coa.r.s.e men and painted women with some tale of his exploits.

”Yes, Mr. Garritt?” The innkeeper c.o.c.ked his head.

Eldyn swallowed. ”I just wanted a cup of tea, that's all.”

”But of course! Anything for our young Mr. Garritt. Sit yourself down, and I'll bring it to you myself!”

Sickness flooded Eldyn, but only for a moment. Then he felt a strange sensation come over him. It was like the lifting of a weight, like the release of a vise's pressure. He went to sit in a corner of the public room and soon was sipping his tea. He did not look at the bar.

Just as he finished his tea, he heard the sound of boots behind him. A leather purse landed with a thud on the table.

”You begin tonight,” said a low voice in his ear.

Eldyn reached out and took the purse. There was a soft laugh, then the sound of boots walking away. Eldyn weighed the purse in his hand. It was heavier than he'd imagined. He tucked it inside his coat, then rose and hurried to the door. He had just four hours to find Mr. Sarvinge and Mr. Grealing.

And after that, time to work.

CHAPTER NINE.

T HAT A CHANGE had come over Dashton Rafferdy was soon apparent to his intimate acquaintances. It was a fact noted at Lord Baydon's city house over breakfast and expounded upon in Lady Marsdel's parlor during evening conversations. The languid air about him had all but dissipated; mirrors no longer seemed to occupy him so fully; and some mornings he had been seen out and about the city no more than an hour after dawn. All agreed that he looked unusually well.

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