by C. J. Archer
She leaned forward. "I said that this is the perfect weather. The captain was right."
"Perhaps he was a weather predictor in his past life," Balthazar shouted.
"There's no such thing," I told him. "And I happen to know he simply asked the innkeeper. Apparently when the clouds over the hills are that dark by nightfall, there'll almost certainly be a torrential storm."
We settled back into silence, partly because it was too difficult to talk, and partly because we were so anxious. Kitty in particular hadn't said a word all morning. I wondered if she was considering her future and all the possibilities ahead of her, spreading out like the branches of a giant oak, or if she was simply mourning the loss of her luxuries and status. We had decided not to take any of her jewels with us except those she'd worn every day since leaving. Anything more would look suspicious.
We arrived at the river around midday and ate the food packed for us by the inn's kitchen staff. The rain had eased a little but still fell consistently. The road was slick with mud, and rivulets connected the large puddles. The rivulets almost became streams themselves as the road sloped down to the bridge.
"It's time," Dane said, opening the carriage door. "Your Grace."
She refused his offered hand. "If I am to be a commoner from now on, I must act like one."
"A woman can still accept assistance from a man to alight from a carriage," I said. To show her, I took Dane's hand and stepped down.
I drew my hood tighter around my face and waited as the duchess emerged, followed by Meg and Balthazar. We were very soon wetter than ever.
"Go carefully," Dane said.
I took Balthazar's arm while Meg held Kitty's hand. With our heads bent against the rain, we continued, our steps cautious on the road then just as cautious as we crossed the bridge. It was narrow, the stones slippery. The side of one section had been washed away in a previous storm, and the swollen river was threatening to take another toll today. Heaving, churning, muddy water smashed into the stones with a thunderous applause that we could not even shout over. The bridge builders hadn't made it high enough to clear the river in flood. It was a mistake that had given Dane an idea, thanks to Rhys's warning about the damaged crossing.
We four picked our way over the bridge, carefully setting one foot in front of the other. Balthazar clung to my arm, his walking stick searching for purchase within the grooves between stones.
At the halfway point, Meg and Kitty stopped. Kitty removed her cloak, revealing one of my plain gowns underneath. She briefly hugged the velvet cloak to her chest before tossing it into the river.
Meg went to remove her cloak to hand it to the duchess, but Kitty refused with a shake of her head. They continued on and safely met the river bank on the other side.
I dared a glance over my shoulder. Theodore was not far behind us, holding his horse's reins, his other hand on the mount's neck. The animal's ears twitched and his head was raised high, but he didn't look as though he would bolt. Behind Theodore came Quentin with the mount he'd ridden. With my heart in my throat, I watched the slender youth try to encourage the anxious horse onto the bridge. It made one tentative step then another and another before accepting its path.
Dane had selected the calmer, older horses for Theodore and Quentin today, while Max acted as coachman. Dane always rode Lightning and Erik usually rode a particular horse too, so they continued on them today. If they'd ridden out on different horses this morning, someone might have become suspicious.
Balthazar and I made it safely to the other side. Theodore joined us just as Erik started his crossing. Or tried to. Lightning tossed his head and refused to set a hoof on the slick stones. Lightning's fear infected the second horse and Erik battled against both, using his shoulders to keep them from crushing him between them. I could see his lips working as he tried to soothe the animals but Lightning was having none of it. He flatly refused to move.
Erik glanced over his shoulder at something Dane said then he mounted onto Lightning's saddle. After a comforting rub on his neck, the horse seemed to calm which, in turn, calmed the second beast, and Erik was able to move them forward onto the bridge.
When Quentin joined us, and Erik was halfway across, Max and Dane set off with the four carriage horses pulling the vehicle itself. The bridge was barely wide enough at the point where some of the stones had been washed away. The horses seemed to sense the danger and stopped altogether. Like Lightning, they wouldn't budge.
"They'll have to unhitch the carriage and leave it," Balthazar said. "The horses won't move any further with it."
Just as he finished speaking, the torrent swallowed a section of the bridge wall and gnawed away at the remaining stones. The horse nearest Dane reared and Dane was forced to let the reins go. When it settled again, he jumped onto the horse's back. Without a saddle, he was not secure.
The move seemed to quiet the horse a little, enough that Max and Dane were able to encourage the two in front to move forward. All four horses slowly but successfully passed the damaged portion of the bridge. And then it was the carriage's turn. Both Max and Dane looked back at the wheels. They eased the pace right back and kept the horses straight, steady. From where we stood, it looked like they had a mere inch either side. If the horses stepped off course, the carriage would tumble over, taking the horses with it into the river, and Dane too.
I squeezed my eyes shut.
"They should let it go over," Meg said. "We don't need the carriage."
I opened my eyes to see Kitty let go of Meg's hand. She cupped her mouth. "Unhitch it!" she shouted.
But they couldn't hear her. With every part of me tense, I watched as they inched the horses and carriage past the narrow, damaged part of the bridge where the hungry river tried to bite off another morsel. The front set of wheels cleared the gap and the second set looked as though it would too until suddenly the stones beneath the rear left wheel disappeared into the river.
The carriage tilted. Dane's horse reared and all four bolted. Max pressed himself to the bridge wall to get out of the way. Dane somehow managed to hang on.
I hustled Balthazar to the side of the road where Erik stood with his two horses, just as the contraption passed us at speed. It didn't stop. The carriage wheels slid on the muddy road, unable to get purchase. It was in danger of overturning.
It rounded the corner on two wheels, the other two spinning in the air, then disappeared from sight.
"Come on," Theodore said. "Your Grace, can you walk?"
Kitty wasn't listening. She was staring downriver at some debris that had been tangled up with a web of thick tree roots growing out of the bank. Among the branches was a sodden blue strip of fabric. Her cloak.
She turned away, her face wet from the rain, her eyes bright and clear. "I can walk. And please, call me Kitty. I am no longer a duchess."
I picked up my skirts, a rather pointless exercise with the hem already caked in mud. "Meg, help Balthazar."
I ran ahead, splashing through the puddles too large to leap over. Erik rode past on his own horse, leading Lightning. Max and Quentin followed on horseback while Theodore kept pace alongside me in silence, his own horse trotting behind.
"He'll be fine," he said with a confidence that I needed to hear.
Theodore was right. The carriage had stopped some distance away beneath a thick overhang of trees. It was upright and the horses calmly waited in the middle of the road while Dane inspected them. Erik dismounted and helped.
"Don't do that again," I snapped when I reached them. "Next time, unhitch the carriage and bring across just the horses."
Dane straightened. "That would be a sign that we knew the carriage wouldn't make it. We'd have to explain why we attempted the crossing at all in these conditions if that were the case."
He was right but I wouldn't admit it. Leaving behind the duke's carriage would have people questioning why we crossed with the duchess on foot. What did we plan to do with her on the other side? If the carriage couldn't cross, we would be expected
to return to the village and attempt the crossing when the waters receded.
We had to take the carriage with us. We couldn't leave it behind, nor could we send it over the bridge with Kitty's cloak. If we wanted to make it look like a vehicular accident, we'd not only have to push the carriage off the bridge, but the horses too, and we'd also have to pretend that Meg and I died in the accident, not just Kitty. We couldn't do that to Meg's family.
The only way to fake the death of the Duchess of Gladstow, and only her, was to tell everyone we all got out of the carriage and walked across the bridge while the men brought the horses and empty carriage across. Alas, the duchess had slipped and fallen in. We'd searched for her body for the rest of the afternoon, but unable to find it, we'd assumed the floodwaters had taken it.
In Tilting, we would hand over the carriage and her luggage to the duke's men. If they searched downriver, they would find Kitty's cloak among the flood debris, but nothing else.
With everyone accounted for, Meg, Kitty, Balthazar and I climbed back into the carriage. Kitty rearranged her hair into a simpler style and removed her earrings and the choker necklace. She tucked them into her pockets and settled back in the seat.
She closed her eyes and sighed. In the clothing she'd borrowed from me and her bedraggled state, she looked like a village girl. But if someone looked past the clothes and hair, and saw the soft hands, the noble bearing, they would know she was not one of us. Meg and I had a big task on our hands turning the regal duchess into plain Kitty.
Chapter 15
Kitty didn't say a word until we reached the village later that afternoon, and even then, she remained silent until we closed the door to our shared bedchamber.
"Do you think they believed me?" she asked, removing her soaked jerkin and dropping it on the floor.
Meg picked it up and wrung it out over the basin. "Why wouldn't they? You look like a maid."
"I tried very hard to walk like you two and look down at my feet. It wasn't easy. I couldn't see where I was going."
"Maids can look up," I said.
"Meg, help me with these fastenings on my skirt. They're complicated." They were simply hooks and eyes, and any woman could undo them, even though they were located at the back. It would take some time before Kitty grew used to being a commoner.
"Perhaps you should keep your face averted in public," Meg said. "We don't want anyone describing you to your husband if he comes here and asks questions."
Kitty made a miffed sound through her nose. "He won't ask questions. He'll accept the captain's explanation without hesitation because he wants to believe me dead."
She was probably right. Indeed, we were counting on it.
Even so, we dined in our room. Afterwards, the men joined us and reported that they'd given their account of the accident to the innkeeper who'd directed them to the village governor and sheriff.
"We wrote a letter to the duke, informing him that we'll continue to Tilting as planned and hand over the carriage and horses to his men," Balthazar said.
"Did the inn staff or patrons say anything about me?" Kitty asked. "I mean, the me that is a maid?" She plucked at her skirt. "Did they believe I was just an ordinary woman?"
"Yes," Dane said at the same time Erik said, "No."
"No one will believe you are ordinary," the Marginer explained. "The men see how very beautiful you are, how desirable.” He took her hand and kissed it, his gaze lifted to hers through his lashes.
She plucked her hand away. "As long as they didn't mistake me for a duchess."
"No one suspected a thing," Max said. "You're safe." His gaze flicked to Meg. "Thank the god and goddess."
We discussed further aspects of our ruse, the lies we would have to form, and made sure we all had the same story memorized.
The following morning, we set off early and maintained a swift pace to the next village then finally, the day after, we arrived in Tilting.
I hadn't known what to expect, but it wasn't the sea of buildings that hugged the Upway River at Glancia's south western corner. The buildings within the walled city were taller than the cruder structures outside, some reaching as high as three stories. Some even had panes of glass in the windows, like the palace.
In the distance, rising above the city on a hill, was a turreted castle built of dark stone. Glancian kings had made it their base for generations, until the sorcerer had built Leon something different and spectacular outside Mull. The castle reminded me of a beast, squatting on the hilltop, keeping watch over its dominion.
One other structure also rose above the others, but it was more elegant than its fortified neighbor. The high temple was topped with domes and spires, and a single tower shot into the sky from its center. The bell housed in the tower was silent.
"It stinks," Meg said, wrinkling her nose.
"It's worse downriver," Kitty said. "That's where the tanneries and slaughter houses are. But that's not near here. You can probably smell Merdu's Pit."
"Merdu's Pit?"
"The worst of the slums."
I followed her gaze but it looked the same as the rest of the city. The streets were narrow and crowded, the sun blocked by tall buildings. Washing hung from tenement windows and children played in the side streets. The cobbles were slick with mud, dung and slops. Our carriage fought for space on the main thoroughfare, jostling with carts and barrows, and a drove of pigs being urged on by a lad younger than Quentin. The stench became worse downwind.
No one paid us any attention. In Mull, such a fine carriage would have been a spectacle, but ours was not the only fine carriage in Tilting. We passed several, all going at a pace too fast along streets too small for so much traffic.
"It'll improve soon," Kitty said, peeking through the curtain on her side of the carriage. We'd agreed that she should remain hidden in Tilting in case she was recognized. The duke had too many eyes spying for him in the capital.
Before the city “improved,” we had to skirt the large market, teeming with people carrying their goods; not just women but footmen, maids and errand boys. It must be open all day. There seemed no sign of any of the carts closing up, despite the lateness of the hour.
"Oi! Watch it!" a boy called out as he ran past.
The carriage suddenly stopped to allow a man to follow, shouting for the thief to stop. The boy ducked behind a cart, wove through the crowd then disappeared from sight, a breadstick tucked under his arm.
Up ahead came another shout then a shriek. I poked my head out the window to see two uniformed constables drawing swords on a youth while a third pummeled his fist into another man on the ground. He was bleeding from the nose. Papers were scattered nearby, the breeze curling the edges and flipping some over.
I placed my hand to the door handle to push it open, but Meg held me back.
"We have to keep our heads down," she warned.
She was right, but I hated doing nothing. The constables didn't need to use such force. The man couldn't fight back.
"Help is on its way," Balthazar said, looking through the other window. "Rhys's men."
Four warrior priests led by Brother Rufus rode up and ordered the constables to ease back. The constables hesitated before one sheathed his sword and began collecting the pamphlets.
"I wonder what's going on," Kitty said as we passed Rufus. "I've never known the brothers to interfere in a constabulary matter."
Balthazar pointed at one of the pamphlets that we almost ran over. "Josie, I can't see that far. What does it say?"
"It’s a drawing of a large man wearing the governor's chain of office and badge over his fur coat. He has the head of Okoa. That's a horned monster the ancients used to believe in," I explained. "It was said to roam through forests and enter villages at night to steal children and rape women."
"This is why Rhys was worried about leaving the city," Balthazar said. "His men are needed here."
"If the king had built his palace here, we wouldn't have such lawlessness," Kitty said. "The noble
s would have stayed."
"If the governor wasn't a monster, Tilting wouldn't have this problem at all, with or without the nobles," Meg said. "No doubt he's taking advantage of them being away at Mull. At least some are coming back now the king is dead."
"Others are staying away because of this lawlessness," Balthazar told her.
We drove on and the city began to improve, as Kitty said it would. The buildings looked newer and more substantial, with many protected by high walls.
"That's our townhouse," Kitty said, pointing at a high wall. Above the wall, I could just make out an expansive gabled roof and multiple chimneys. "We stay here when my husband has business in Tilting. The houses on this side are the best in the city. Behind these walls are beautiful gardens and fountains—and the biggest houses. The governor lives in that one, and Lord and Lady Esses in the one with the green door. She has rather dubious taste and likes to keep peacocks in the garden. She used to keep swans in their pond too, but they got into the bath house and frightened the guests."
"Where's the river?" Balthazar asked.
"On the other side of these houses. They all have their own private pier, some with waterside pavilions, and others have gardens down to the water's edge. We have both, of course."
A beggar emerged from the shadows, bowl balanced between two stumps where his hands should be. "Please, sir, for my children," he said to Dane.
Dane reached into his pocket but before he could give the coins to the beggar, two mounted constables rode up. "Get away!" one shouted as he drew his sword. "Get going!"
The beggar dropped his bowl and cowered as the constable raised his sword.
"Stand down!" Dane ordered. "This man is doing no harm."
"Begging ain't allowed in this quarter," the constable said.
Quentin dismounted and gathered the beggar's bowl. "Let me help you."
"It's best not to encourage 'em," the constable said. "If you do, they'll only be back, and more too."
Quentin ignored him and assisted the beggar to his feet.
The constable pressed his sword to Quentin's shoulder. "I said, let him be."
