Part 48 (2/2)
Eldyn couldn't argue with that logic. Besides, it seemed both he and Rafferdy were on errands neither antic.i.p.ated with pleasure. The lumenal was to be longer tomorrow. He could always look for work then. One more day wouldn't make a difference.
”Well come on, then,” he said. ”We've already lost another minute just standing here.”
They proceeded to the tavern, finding it dim, cavelike, and utterly to their liking. There they pa.s.sed several pleasant hours smoking, drinking, talking, and laughing. Eldyn had forgotten how much he truly liked Rafferdy. He was at once reminded of fond days past and filled with hope at what the future held for both of them.
Their mood became solemn only once, when Eldyn asked if he ever saw Miss Lockwell. Eldyn often thought of her still, and he knew how much Rafferdy had cared for her.
”She is Miss Lockwell no longer,” Rafferdy said. He finished his whiskey and poured another.
”She is married?” Eldyn said, shocked by this news. ”To whom?”
”To a man who, it turns out, works for my father.”
Eldyn could not disguise his horror. ”You mean a servant?”
”No, you misunderstand. Mr. Quent is an agent of the king, as is my father. He a.s.sists Lord Rafferdy in his work for the Crown-whatever that is. I confess, it is still a mystery to me. I have never met this Mr. Quent, but I gather he has worked for my father for many years. What's more, it turns out he was, in the past, a friend of Mr. Lockwell's. So it seems Miss Lockwell and I were connected before we ever encountered each other. A curious world, isn't it? We think we meet people by chance, when chance has nothing to do with it.” He took a long draft from his gla.s.s.
Eldyn didn't know what to say, so he took a drink himself. He knew this could only have been hard news to his friend. First his own engagement to Miss Everaud had been broken off under a cloud of scandal, and now this. How unfortunate the subject of marriage must seem to him! All the same, Rafferdy must have known that, no matter what happened, he never would have been able to marry Miss Lockwell.
”I'm glad for her,” Rafferdy said, his voice gone smoky from the whiskey. ”I am given to understand he is somewhat old for her but that he has a large estate and is a respectable gentleman. So she is pretty, and he is rich. No doubt society will judge it an excellent match. I know my father does; thus a woman he found intolerable for his son is in turn found ideal for his a.s.sociate. Strange, isn't it, how it's the direction we are viewed from that makes us attractive or abhorrent? But it is well. Yes, I am glad for her.”
Despite Rafferdy's grave look, Eldyn believed him.
”To Miss Lockwell,” he said, raising his gla.s.s.
”To Mrs. Quent,” Rafferdy replied.
After that, they drank for a little while in silence.
Gradually their spirits rose again, and their talk resumed. Soon they were laughing again like old times as Rafferdy imitated some lord or lady he had overheard at Lady Marsdel's. At last the whiskey was gone, and with a sigh Rafferdy said that his errand could not wait.
”What is it you must do that you find so disagreeable?” Eldyn asked.
Rafferdy twisted the ring on his right hand. ”I am, if you can believe it, on my way to a lesson in magick with Mr. Bennick.”
At first he thought Rafferdy was making another jest. But no-he was serious! Eldyn expressed his extreme astonishment and pressed Rafferdy for his motivations. Last Eldyn knew, Rafferdy had mocked those young men at university who studied the arcane arts.
”My reasons will have to wait for when we meet next,” Rafferdy said. ”I am now very late.”
Indeed, it was later than Eldyn thought as they stepped out the tavern door. The sun was already nearly to the Citadel, and boys walked about Greenly Circle, hawking the evening broadsheets.
Eldyn shook Rafferdy's hand and began to ask when they should plan to meet again. However, as he spoke, one of the boys pa.s.sed by, holding up a copy of The Messenger.
Rafferdy frowned. ”What is it, Garritt? Did you have too much to drink? You look unwell of a sudden.”
Eldyn reached into his pocket, fumbled, and pulled out the penny. It was dull copper again. ”Here!” he said, throwing the penny to the boy. ”Give me one of those.”
He s.n.a.t.c.hed the broadsheet from the boy, then turned it over, reading the headline that had caught his eye: NOTORIOUS HIGHWAYMAN ESCAPES.
”What is it, Garritt? You're pale as if you saw a ghost.”
Yes, it was like being haunted by the ghost of one thought dead. Eldyn read the first lines of the article. It had happened that morning, in the gray hour just before dawn. Howls were heard coming from the jail beneath Barrowgate. A guard was found dead, his flesh torn as if by some animal, his mouth stuffed full of Murghese gold. The prisoner was nowhere to be seen....
A hand fell on his arm. Eldyn flinched away, but it was only Rafferdy. He looked at Eldyn, concern on his face.
”What's wrong, Garritt?”
Eldyn shook his head. ”It is...forgive me. I must go.”
Before Rafferdy could say anything more, Eldyn turned and ran across Greenly Circle, clutching the broadsheet in his hands.
H IS BLOOD DRUMMED in his ears by the time he reached the inn in Lowpark. Despite his dread, he had been forced to walk the last part of the way, for his lungs felt as if he had breathed fire.
The inn was quiet as he entered. Hope rose within him. Perhaps he had not come yet; perhaps he was waiting for dark to fall. Eldyn hurried up the stairs to the chambers he shared with Sas.h.i.+e.
The door opened as he touched the handle. He stepped into the room, and a low sound escaped him. The bedclothes lay in a tattered heap, and the pillows were gutted, their contents strewn about. The curtains had been ripped down, the table overturned. There were lines on one wall-four gouges made close together. Eldyn reached out a shaking hand, tracing the gouges with his fingers. A sickness welled up inside him.
Footsteps sounded behind him. He lurched around, and so strong was his relief, his joy, that it overwhelmed him as much as fear had a moment ago.
”h.e.l.lo, sweet brother,” Sas.h.i.+e said, smiling in the doorway, a basket in her hands. Then she stepped inside, and her smile vanished. The basket slipped from her grasp. Oranges rolled across the floor.
He went to her and took her hand. ”Are you all right? Did you see anyone following you?”
”Following me? I don't understand.” She gazed around, her eyes large. ”What's happened, brother? Who did this?”
”We have to go. Now.”
”But my things, my dresses-”
”There's no time for that.” Tightening his grip on her hand, he pulled her after him, into the hall and down the stairs.
He halted at the bottom. She began to question him again, but he pressed a finger to her lips. He gathered the dim air around both of them like a cloak, then listened. Usually there was a low murmur of conversation in the public room or clatters from the kitchen. However, the inn was silent. The lamps had not been lit against the coming night.
Eldyn waited. He could not believe Westen was far. He had come looking for Sas.h.i.+e but had not found her. Yet surely he was close and had seen them both enter the inn. In which case, why did he not attack?
Because he did not want to kill them-he wanted something far more than that. He wanted Sas.h.i.+e.
Eldyn tightened his grip on his sister's hand. She let out a gasp of pain, but he ignored it. Their only hope was to make a dash for the door and run down the lane. There would be people on the main thoroughfare below. He could not believe Westen would show himself in front of a crowd-not when he was a wanted man, not when a drawing of his face had appeared in every broadsheet in the city.
”Move quickly,” he whispered. ”And do as I say.”
Keeping the gloom close around them, he started for the door, pulling Sas.h.i.+e after him.
Ahead, something stirred in the dimness of the public room. He glimpsed the silhouette of a tall, upright figure as it pa.s.sed before the silver square of a window. The figure was lost to sight, but a moment later another shadow appeared, this one nearer to the floor. A low sound, a kind of growling, rose on the air. Sas.h.i.+e screamed.
There was no point in concealment now. He flung the shadows off.
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