by Robert Evert
Allyn burst out laughing. “I knew this was one of your asinine jokes!” He wadded the paper and threw it at Magnus’s face. “Damn it, Mag. You had me going, you miserable cretin.”
Shaken, Magnus retrieved the ball and unraveled it. “But this is what it said! Honest!” He seized Allyn’s arm again, his fingers squeezing hard. “I’m not lying.” He handed him the rumpled paper with shaking hands. “What does it say?”
“It says Anals of the Kings.”
“Anals? Really?”
“Magnus!”
“I’m not lying! I swear!”
“Okay! Okay!” Allyn sat in his chair. “Is it possible it had two of these?” He tapped the n.
“No! I’m positive it was spelled like that! I memorized it. You know how good my memory is. Why?”
“Because Anals of the Kings is humorous, but it doesn’t make much sense. Annals of the Kings—with two n’s—does.”
“Oh! Then I suppose it could’ve had two of those. It was dark and arrows were flying!”
Allyn examined the paper again.
“What am I going to do, Allyn?”
“Like I said, the first thing you’re going to do is stay away from this lady friend of yours. Plainly, she’s up to no good.”
Chapter Nine
Natalie watched the boy from across the crowded market square. He was walking rapidly, looking repeatedly over his shoulder as he pushed his way through the mass of peasants buying and selling their goods. He appeared to be on the verge of crying, or vomiting—or both.
Boy? He was as old as she was. Why did she keep thinking of him as a boy?
Maybe it was like what Reg said: If she thought of him as a person, she’d feel guilty for putting him in harm’s way.
No. That was absurd. Of course, he was a person. She knew that.
His name was Magnus. And he was poor. And he had a crippled left hand. And he was alone…
You can’t save all the stray puppies in the world.
Natalie stopped at a tinker’s cart and examined some of his knives.
“Only ten copper!” the tinker said, showing her a long, thin blade good for de-boning meat.
She didn’t need another knife. She already had one sheathed in a deep pocket sewn into her cloak and another strapped to her right calf. Still, the tinker’s knife was of exceptional quality, and ten copper was a reasonable price.
Natalie glanced at Magnus. The kid was genuinely rattled. He almost shot out of his skin when a merchant called to him.
Coming across a dead body had that impact on some people. It had on Natalie; at least, the first body she’d seen had had an impact on her. Now she could dig graves for a living and not feel a thing. Magnus was more sensitive. Stumbling across Sir Horus’s corpse was not something he was fit to handle.
Poor Sir Horus…
He was a good man, but careless. She should feel badly for his death, but she didn’t. He knew what he was getting into. Magnus on the other hand…
Across the market, Magnus peered wildly around and then darted into a rundown boarding house a few buildings up from the square.
At least he wasn’t squandering his money away in some fancy inn.
“Nine copper?” the tinker persisted.
“That will be lovely.” Natalie handed the old man nine copper coins and strolled about the crowd, going from vendor to vendor, giving Magnus time to get to his room and relax.
She shouldn’t have picked him. She knew that now. He wasn’t cut out for what she needed him to do. People who got mixed up with adventurers and the kings’ quests had to have thick skin. Unfortunately, Magnus’s skin was paper-thin.
Then again, so was hers when she’d started.
Don’t let your emotions guide your actions, Reg had told her earlier that morning. They’ll only get in the way.
That was a load of crap. She had seen Reg cry more than once. Hell, when they’d heard about Sir Horus’s murder, he was visibly upset. So was Sir Edris.
Sir Edris and Reg had been attempting to figure out who’d shot him. Natalie had her suspicions; but Sir Edris assured her Brago was nowhere within a hundred miles of Eryn Mas. She had to be sure, though. She needed to talk to Magnus to find out what he saw.
Making her way through the bustling market, Natalie came to the weatherworn boarding house into which Magnus had run. She knocked on the front door.
A woman in her late fifties with graying hair answered. “Yes? May I help you?”
Natalie bowed slightly, like lesser nobility tended to do when meeting somebody for the first time. It was a way to let people know they were in the presence of somebody of good breeding and of higher station than the common rabble.
“I believe you can,” said Natalie. “I understand you have a boarder named Magnus. About my height, looks like me?”
In truth, she and Magnus didn’t look much alike at all, especially with her hair dyed dark brown; however, people tended to believe things if they were stated as fact.
“Yes, dear. We have,” she said, bewildered. “He hasn’t had no callers before, no lady friends, if you don’t mind me saying so. How do you know our Magnus?”
Natalie let the right amount of embarrassment show in her face, and then said begrudgingly, “He’s my brother.”
“He is? You don’t say! He never said nothing about no sister, or about any family for that matter. Not that he doesn’t do no talking. That boy chatters away more than an excited monkey. No offense, I mean. He’s delightful. Paid for his room throughout the winter. Never had that happen before. A very good lad he is.”
“Thank you. I’m glad he’s behaving. He”—again, Natalie allowed herself to appear a bit ashamed—“he isn’t exactly our parents’ favorite, if you know what I mean.”
“Ah! A black sheep, is he? I can see that. Every family has at least one. Why, my brother, Samuel, is a rogue like no other. My parents had a devil of a time with him, I could tell you stories!”
Natalie smiled politely, trying not to encourage her. “I’m sure you could. At any rate, I was shopping in the market”—Natalie offered the knife she was holding as proof—“and I thought I’d check on Magnus. You said he hasn’t had any visitors?”
“None. Keeps to himself, he does. Kind of queer that way. He’ll talk the paint off the wall, but he doesn’t seem to have many friends. It’s a shame, if you ask me. He’s a good-looking lad, except for that poor hand of his. What he needs is a proper girl to give his life meaning. Somebody who doesn’t mind a little…abnormality, as they say. As a matter of fact, as soon as you asked about him, I thought you might be interested.”
Natalie produced a light laugh. “I’m interested in him—but not that way.”
“No, of course not! Say, would you like me to go fetch him?”
This is where Natalie knew she had to play her cards right. “Actually, if you don’t mind, I’d like to go up to his room.” She grimaced guiltily. “I’d like to, you know, snoop around, make sure he has everything, if you get me.”
“Ah! I get you.” The landlady winked. “Boys will always say they’re doing fine, but one peek at how they’re living tells you volumes.”
“Exactly. So”—Natalie headed to the stairs—“you don’t mind if I go up?”
“No, of course not, dearie. You stay as long as you like. It’s reassuring to know he has somebody to care about him. I was getting worried lately.”
This got Natalie’s attention. “Oh? Why’s that?”
“Well, it’s really not for me to judge anybody, you understand; however, since you asked, our Magnus has been a tad off over the past couple of days. Skittish, I’d call it. Frightened even. Why, only yesterday, I heard him in his room talking to himself, like he does. Sounded all upset. So I knocked on the door, and he screamed. Shouted like I stuck him with a pin, he did. Anyways, I was going to ask him if he was in any trouble, but, now that you’re here, I suppose I don’t have to bother.”
An idea came to Natalie. She laid a han
d tenderly on the landlady’s arm. “Thank you so much for taking such good care of him. We greatly appreciate it.”
The landlady tutted. “Oh, it’s nothing! Like I’ve been saying, he’s a marvelous tenant. Paid me for the entire winter up front. Did I tell you that? And he talks to me when I have the time. None of the other tenants so much as have a kind word in the morning. Your brother, though, will chirp away like a nest of happy birds.”
“I’m sure. But, if you don’t mind, could you do our family a favor?”
“You only have to name it. If it’s in my doing, I’ll see to it.”
“If it isn’t too much trouble, could you, you know, keep an eye on him? If anybody ever comes calling, maybe note who they are. He’s such an impressionable boy, and I’d hate to see him fall in with the wrong crowd.”
“I’m not one for spying on my tenants,” she said defensively, then added, “but of course I’ll keep an eye on the lad. Shame he’s out in this world at such a young age, and with that hand. He could use somebody making sure right is right with him.”
Natalie allowed tears to form. She pretended to fight them back. “Thank you! You don’t know how much we appreciate you looking after him. It’s such a weight off our hearts.”
“Oh! Now don’t you go getting yourself all worked into a lather. I’ll make sure he’s looked after. You don’t need to worry about that!”
“Splendid!” Natalie dabbed a handkerchief at the corners of her eyes and gestured to the second-floor landing. “Upstairs?”
“Yes, third door on the left. Go straight up!”
Natalie climbed the narrow stairs. When she came to his door, she paused.
How was she going to handle this? Magnus was going to be scared. She wanted to comfort him but not let him think he was in any danger. At the very least, he couldn’t figure out what was going on. She’d have to play it by ear.
As she reached to knock, the door lurched open, revealing an alarmed Magnus. He shrieked and slammed the door.
“Is everything okay up there?” the landlady called from the foyer.
Natalie peered down the stairs. “He isn’t exactly happy to see his big sister here.” She rolled her eyes. “Boys!”
The landlady laughed and, with a broom in hand, disappeared into another room.
Natalie waited for her to get out of earshot, then said, “Open up, Magnus.”
“Drop the knife!”
“What? Oh. Sorry.” She slid the knife she’d purchased in the market underneath the door. “There. The deadly female assassin won’t stab you now.”
The door popped opened. “So you admit you’re an assassin!”
Natalie exhaled wearily. “Yes. I admit it. I’m the world’s deadliest killer. Try not to pee yourself.”
She pushed her way in and closed the door. She examined the room. It was furnished with only a narrow cot, a wooden chair, and a lidless chest filled with used winter clothes. There wasn’t one new or expensive thing in sight.
Good. He wasn’t proud. That’d save him a lot of headaches.
She studied the solitary window. Copper coins were jammed between the windowpanes, preventing anybody from forcing them open or jimmying the latch.
Smart. She’d have to remember that trick.
Natalie sat in the chair. It wobbled, one leg being slightly shorter than the others.
With his good hand, Magnus aimed the boning knife at her. The other shook pathetically by his side. Natalie couldn’t help but feel sorry for him.
“Look, Magnus,” she said gently. “We heard what happened in the library.”
“We?” His voice was shrill.
Damn it! She had to stop saying that. She decided to ignore the slip.
“I can imagine you’re very upset. Did you see the body?”
“See it? I’ll say so! I saw it before and after the arrow slammed into his back!”
Oh gods, he was there…
“Did you—?” She struggled not to sound anxious. “Did you see who shot him?”
“Did I!” Magnus faltered. “Actually—I didn’t. Not clearly.” His voice went shrill again. “But he whistled! Can you believe that? He shoots somebody in the back and, and he walked away, whistling!”
Whistling?
Natalie’s skin went clammy.
It was him. Brago was in Eryn Mas.
“You’re scared too,” he said, even more horrified. “And don’t try to deny it! I can see it in your face!”
“What…” Her voice cracked. “What did he look like? The killer, I mean. Was he big and muscular? Or fat? Or short? Do you remember anything at all?”
“No. I mean, he wasn’t any of those things. He may have been tall, I don’t know. I was a ways away from him. But he wasn’t big, big.” Magnus flared out his arms, imitating somebody with bulging muscles. “He was normal.”
Normal. That didn’t describe Brago. There was nothing normal about him. Still, she couldn’t help but feel he’d killed Sir Horus. He was nearby. She could feel it.
“Sit down, Magnus.” To her surprise, he did as she asked, still gripping the knife. “I think we need to talk.”
“That’s never good to hear,” Magnus said. “Nobody ever needs to talk. They may want to talk or they would like to talk. But nobody ever needs to talk unless something bad is about to happen.”
Something bad was about to happen. For weeks, Natalie had been fighting the dark foreboding that had been descending upon her. Now she forced herself to heed it.
“What’s your name?” Magnus blurted out. “Your real name! I know it’s not Samantha or whatever you told me.”
Her name was as good of a place as any to begin.
“Are you going to tell anybody?” Natalie asked.
“Only if I have to.”
That was an exceedingly honest and sensible answer. Now she really was upset that she had gotten him mixed up in all of this.
“My name is Natalie. Most people call me Nat.”
“Nat?” Magnus pondered this. “That fits. You look like a Nat.”
“I don’t even want to know what you mean by that.”
“I’m just saying it seems to fit—”
“Magnus…”
What to say?
Start with a little of the truth.
She relaxed, resigned to what she was going to tell him. “I grew up on a small farm outside Upper Angle.”
“I knew it!”
“I’m not rich. Or at least, I wasn’t. I was extremely poor, in fact. When my father died, I had to take care of my brothers, sisters, and disabled mother.”
Magnus thrust his deformed hand into his pocket. “Go on. I believe you so far.”
“There’s a lot to tell, but we don’t have the time. Suffice it to say, I found myself in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
“Wrong place at the wrong time? What the hell does that mean?”
Natalie took a deep breath and slowly let it out. “I was walking home from work one night and I went by a library. To tell you the truth, I snuck into the library and stole a book.”
“You? Why? Do people buy books or something? I mean, why would they when they could go to the book lenders themselves? Oh! Was that why you wanted me to put that book back? It was stolen? Wait. Why’d you have me put back a book you stole? That doesn’t make any sense.”
“The book you returned wasn’t stolen,” Natalie said. “Let me keep to one story at a time. All right? I’ll try to answer all of your questions. But first let me explain what happened.”
“Go on!”
“A couple of years ago,” she began again, “I went into a library in Upper Angle and took a book. I stole it because I like to read, and I was hoping to learn something that might help me make some money.”
“Like what? What could you learn from a book to help you make money?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Like botany, for example.”
“What’s botany?”
“The study of plants. If you knew whic
h plants made which healing salves, you could go out, find the correct plants, and sell them to the herbalists. They’re willing to pay a great deal if you find something they need or a plant that’s rare.”
“Genius!”
“Anyway,” Natalie went on, “I was coming out of the library when somebody attacked me.”
“Who? Why? What did he do? Did he try something—you know? Sordid?” That seemed to trigger another thought. “Are you really with child? Or was that a lie?”
“It was a lie. I’m sorry, but I needed you to do something for me, and I didn’t think you’d do it if I was forthright.”
Magnus opened his mouth, but Natalie cut him off. “Let me finish my story. Okay?”
He closed his mouth and leaned forward eagerly.
Natalie wished she had a drink. Her throat always felt like it was closing when she thought of Brago.
“I’m not sure why he attacked me,” she said. “Maybe he thought I was spying on him or trying to steal information. I don’t know. All you need to understand is he’s extremely dangerous. He’s evil.”
“Is he nobility?”
“What? No. Listen, okay? This man was going to kill me, but—”
Doubt was growing in Magnus’s face. She’d have to show him.
Natalie undid the top two buttons of her blouse. Magnus’s eyes went wide. They went wider when he saw the ugly white scar slashed across her left breast.
“Great gods! He did that to you? Was it Lord Hendrick? Is that why you wanted me to poison him?”
She buttoned her blouse. “No. Sit—”
“Oh! I remember! After you slugged me in the nose, you said something about a guy who tipped an imaginary hat!”
Nathaniel…
Natalie forced away the flood of bad memories drowning her heart.
“It wasn’t Lord Hendrick,” said Natalie, conscious that Magnus’s landlady was likely the snooping type. She lowered her voice. “And it wasn’t the boy who tipped an imaginary hat.”
Magnus sat on the edge of the bed, still clutching the knife, but more out of anxiety than fear.
“But he tried to kill you, too? Right? The boy with the imaginary hat?”
“Yes.”
“What did you do to all these people? I mean, you’re so nice! Why would they—?”
