Death of a King

by Robert Evert

  “I wasn’t!”

  “Liar!” said Sir Edris.

  “All right! All right!” Magnus said, hitting the arm pinning him to the wall. He couldn’t get it to budge. “I was! But do you blame me? You’re all crazy!”

  “Let him go, Sir Edris,” Natalie said. “Let me talk to him.”

  “Nat!”

  “Please. He’s my responsibility.”

  “Oh, very blasted well. But so help me, if he tries to escape!”

  Reg locked the door. “He won’t.”

  Magnus rubbed his throat. “You’re all crazy! Especially you!” he said to Natalie. “Changing your name and…and giving people two-hundred-year-old teacups!”

  Natalie guided Magnus to an empty chair next to a table littered with maps and papers. Sir Edris swept them up.

  “Now,” Natalie said, righting an overturned chair. She sat across from the frightened boy. “You’re in a bad spot, Magnus. I can’t deny that. The only way you can get out of it is to tell us what you overheard.”

  “I didn’t overhear—”

  “Magnus,” she said firmly.

  “Okay! Okay! By the gods, you people are insane!”

  Sir Edris leaned forward, his face inches from Magnus’s. “If you say that again, I’ll—”

  “I only called you insane once, you troll! I said ‘crazy’ before. Pay attention!”

  Sir Edris grabbed Magnus by his already torn shirt, but Natalie leapt up and pulled him back.

  “Okay, enough with the insults, Magnus. You’re not helping your situation.” She stared hard at him. “Are you working for anybody else?”

  “What? No! You’re the only…” He faltered, then looked at her, ashamed.

  Natalie gasped.

  Sir Edris cursed. “Damn it! I knew it! I knew he was like Roland.”

  “Who—” Natalie’s voice shook as much as her hands. “Who else are you working for, Magnus?”

  “Nobody!” Then he added, “I don’t know!”

  Sir Edris cocked a fist. “Which is it? Nobody or somebody?”

  “I don’t know!” Magnus cried.

  “How could you not know if you’re working for somebody?”

  “Let me handle this. Okay? Go stand over there.” Swearing, Sir Edris moved away from the table. Natalie sat across from Magnus again. “Look at me, Magnus. Look at me.” Magnus reluctantly glanced at her. “I put my life in your hands. Remember? Remember what I told you? Remember the scar?”

  Magnus squirmed uncomfortably.

  “That’s right,” she said. “This isn’t a game. Somebody wants to kill me. So answer the question. Who else are you working for?”

  “I’m not working for—”

  “For the love of the gods!” shouted Sir Edris.

  “Let me explain! Okay?”

  Natalie reclined comfortably in her chair. “Go ahead.”

  Magnus rubbed the red hand-shaped mark encompassing his throat. “I’m not working for anybody. That is, not really. Not like I am, or was, working for you. I mean, I got paid. I got paid a lot! But I didn’t ask for it. I didn’t agree to work for him. He gave me the money!”

  “What the hell is he prattling on about?” Sir Edris asked Natalie.

  “That’s what we’re trying to ascertain.” She turned to Magnus. “Answer the question, Magnus. Are you working for anybody besides me?”

  “Yes. Sort of. Let me explain! You see, when, when I went to Green Hill, I was standing in the street looking at this really terrible tavern, the one we pretended sent the letter to my friend. Remember?”

  “Yes, I remember. It was called The Gilded Lily,” Natalie said. “Go on.”

  “You sent the boy to The Lily?” Sir Edris asked in disbelief.

  “Dear gods,” Reg gasped. “You didn’t touch any of the girls, did you?”

  “What? No. No! I didn’t. I swear!”

  “I believe we’re getting off track.” Natalie signaled for Magnus to go on. “So you were standing in the street. What then?”

  Magnus eyed the tankards on the ground, wondering if his captors would let him have a drink. His throat was bone dry. “This, this man, he comes up to me and gives me money!”

  “What?” Sir Edris asked doubtfully. “What man? Why would he give you money?”

  “He kept asking me these questions. He must’ve thought I was somebody else!”

  “Gods!” Sir Edris paced the cramped room. “Let me put the damn squirrel out of my misery. He’s making my head hurt with all of this rambling.”

  “Nobody is hurting anybody,” Natalie said. “Not yet at any rate.”

  “What?” Magnus shrieked. His heart pounded harder. “I didn’t do anything! Honest!”

  “Go on with your story, Magnus. You were standing in the street, and this man gives you money?”

  “Well, no. Not there in the street. So he starts talking to me, and he brings me into the tavern, and there are these women, and they’re naked. Completely naked! And the guy says not to touch them or I’d lose my good arm. But they were really something. They were naked! Completely naked!”

  Natalie took a deep breath. “Skip the naked women. Okay? What did this man do when he got you inside?”

  Magnus considered Sir Edris, quivering with rage. “He, he asked me questions.”

  “You said that already!” the knight hollered.

  “What did he ask you, Magnus?” Natalie asked. “What did he look like?”

  Magnus flicked his chin toward Sir Edris. “He looked like him.”

  “What?” Sir Edris thundered. “Nonsense!”

  “It’s not Brago,” she said, relieved. “Thank the gods.”

  “Yes. That’s one good thing. Still, I want to know who this squirrel is working for.”

  “Be polite,” Natalie said to Sir Edris.

  Sir Edris grumbled something that might have been an apology. “Hurry up. I can’t take much more of this.”

  “Go on, Magnus,” Natalie said. “Do you know what this man’s name was?”

  Magnus thought, though nothing came to him. “It was Sir something-or-another.”

  “Oh, very blasted well.” Sir Edris flung a fistful of coins at Magnus’s head.

  “Hey!” Magnus shielded his face from the onslaught. “Stop it! I can’t remember his name!”

  “Imbecile!”

  “Okay, Magnus,” Natalie said. “Don’t worry about the name. Tell us what he asked you? What did you two talk about?”

  “He asked me if I saw him.”

  “Him who?” everybody asked.

  “I don’t know.”

  Sir Edris tossed his hands in the air. “Of course not. Imbecile.”

  “Hey!” Magnus shouted. “I’m not an imbecile!”

  “All right, stop it. Both of you!” Natalie took another deep breath. “So what did you say?”

  “Sir Loc Shire!” Magnus cried out. “That was his name. I’m positive!”

  The men groaned.

  “Magnus,” Natalie said patiently. “Loc Shire is a place. Not a person.”

  “Oh.”

  “At least we know where the knight was from,” Reg said.

  “Loc Shire,” Sir Edris mused. “Which of King Richard’s men resembles me?”

  “Sir Walter looks like you,” Reg offered.

  “What?” Sir Edris huffed. “Nonsense! The man is a fat pig!”

  “Have you looked in a mirror lately?” Magnus asked.

  Sir Edris lunged at him.

  Natalie leapt to her feet, arms outstretched as she stood between Magnus and Sir Edris. “All right! All right! Enough.” Everybody calmed down. Natalie brushed her tousled hair out of her face. “So this man you’ve never seen before walks up to you, takes you into the tavern, and asks you if you’ve seen somebody. Right?”

  “Right.”

  “And what did you say?”

  “I told him I hadn’t. He seemed happy about that and he gave me some money.”

  “Anything else?” Natalie
asked.

  “Oh! Yeah! He also gave me some beer.”

  Sir Edris slapped his forehead.

  “Did he say anything else, Magnus?” Natalie asked.

  Magnus thought again. “Not to touch the girls.”

  “I think we’re done here,” said Sir Edris.

  “One more question,” Natalie said. “And I need you to be completely honest, Magnus.”

  “I have been!”

  “I know you have. But tell me this—did you say anything about me or what we’ve done?”

  “No! You told me not to.” Magnus’s gaze skidded between the two men still holding their weapons. “You aren’t going to let them kill me, are you Natalie?”

  Natalie tensed, as though struggling with the decision, then relaxed slightly. “No. As long as you promise not to tell anybody about me.”

  “I promise! I swear!”

  “Fine,” Natalie said. “You may go.”

  “What?” the men erupted.

  Magnus scampered to the door, but Reg blocked his way.

  “You’re not going to hurt him,” Natalie said. “He’s my responsibility.” She turned to Magnus. “I’m sorry I ever got you mixed up in this. You may go. But if you ever tell anybody about me or what we had you do—”

  Sir Edris snarled in Magnus’s ear, “I’ll rip your head off and kick it down the street. Do you understand me? I’m not joking, runt. I will literally rip your walnut-sized head off your puny shoulders and kick it down the damned street.”

  PART THREE

  Chapter Eighteen

  The morning after his encounter with Sir Edris, Magnus marched along the winding cobblestone streets to Eryn Mas’s third level, cursing under his breath. People were watching him; but he didn’t care how ridiculous he appeared. He’d had the entire night to screw up his courage, and he was bound and determined to tell that fat sod, Sir Edris, a thing or two.

  The knight wasn’t actually fat. Not really. He was big—damned big. But clearly being called fat got on his nerves. Magnus had a whole litany of snide things he was going to say as soon as he saw him.

  Threatening to kick his head down the street? Well, Magnus would kick his head down the street, the porker!

  That was a good one. Porker! He’d have to call him that. Boy, that’d get his face red! The fat swine, porker!

  And there was that other one. The normal-sized one with the sword—Reg. Magnus was going to tell him—actually, he hadn’t said anything too offensive. Regardless, Magnus was going to give him a piece of his mind.

  He’d call him a…a henchman!

  “You and your worthless henchman…”

  No. That wouldn’t cut very deep. What would the other guy hate to hear? Let’s see, he was kind of tall, but not overly so. He didn’t look like a giant or anything. He was muscular, but nowhere near as muscular as the knight—

  Oh! He’d call him scrawny! The henchman would hate that. He’d feel all self-conscious because he was always with Sir Fat Ass.

  “I beg your pardon?”

  Looking around, Magnus realized that he was in the middle of a crowded street directly in front of Natalie’s shop. A distinguished gentleman with long black hair pulled into a ponytail and holding a walking stick glowered at him.

  “Sorry?” Magnus asked, noting the other people staring at him. Thankfully they went about their way. The last thing he needed was a mob beating the snot out of him.

  The gentleman took a menacing step closer. “You called me a…‘fat ass.’”

  For all his trappings of being a gentleman of high standing, even nobility, there was a gleam in the man’s dark eyes hinting that Magnus was in danger of getting his bell rung, if not worse.

  “Oh! I’m, I’m terribly—” Another group of shoppers jostled Magnus as they pushed past. Magnus spun slightly, suddenly noticing that everything in the crazy shop was gone. It was completely empty. Even the suit of armor with the hole was missing.

  What the—?

  The angry gentleman loomed over Magnus.

  “Oh! I’m—” Magnus peeled his gaze away from the barren window. “I’m awfully sorry, my good sir.” He bowed, sneaking a peek at the shop again. It was still empty. The lady was gone. She up and left. How could she have move everything in one night?

  “How did who move everything?”

  “What? Oh.” Magnus pointed to the shop and then forced himself to face the gentleman. “I’m sorry. You see, I worked there. I didn’t work there, there. But I worked for the woman who owned the place. Or ran it. I’m not too sure if she owned it or ran it. Come to think of it, I’m starting to believe Sir Edris actually owned it. She—”

  “Sir Edris?” the gentleman repeated skeptically.

  “Yeah! I saw him here yesterday. At this very shop. He acted like he owned the place. That’s why I said—”

  “A knight from Upper Angle? Owning a business here? You must be mistaken, young man.” However, there was something in the tenseness of the gentleman’s countenance suggesting he wanted Magnus to be correct.

  “No, I’m not mistaken! Like I said, I had a run-in with him last night. I called him a fat ass. He got furious. Veins bulged in his neck and everything. They turned blue. Then he told me he was going to kill me right then and there. I wasn’t scared, though. I could have taken him. The giant fat ass.”

  The gentleman’s upper lip twitched. “Are you sure it was Sir Edris? Absolutely sure?”

  “Absolutely! He—”

  The man cut him off. “This woman. The one who ran the shop—”

  “Or owned it! I’m not sure which.”

  The man growled.

  Had he been drinking? Magnus smelled something sweet on his breath.

  The gentleman put a hand on Magnus’s shoulder. For a thin guy, he had deceptively strong fingers. They dug into Magnus’s flesh, threatening to tear out his collarbone.

  The gentleman leaned closer. He definitely had been drinking.

  “Stop…babbling. Do you understand?”

  Keeping his mouth shut, Magnus nodded, fearing he might say something wrong.

  The man put on a strained smile.

  “Now, my young fellow.” He smoothed Magnus’s jacket. “If you’d be so kind as to answer my questions as quickly and concisely as possible, I’ll…”

  He beheld Magnus’s crippled left arm, understanding flaring in his eyes. Magnus drove his twisted hand into his pocket.

  “…I’ll give you a silver piece. Would that be agreeable to you?”

  Magnus would have given three silver pieces to get away from the man. Something about him wasn’t quite right. He nodded again anyway.

  “Splendid. Now, this woman—did she have brown hair and stand about this tall?” The man placed a gloved hand about five feet off the ground.

  “Yes! Well, that is. No.”

  The man fought his growing fury. “Which is it? Yes…or…no?”

  Magnus took a deep breath. He had to be quick and concise.

  “She was that tall. But her hair was black. Maybe not black. It was more like really dark brown. Most of it was, that is. Some was a lighter shade. Like she dyed it.”

  “Was her name,” the man paused, staring into Magnus’s eyes, “Natalie?”

  Magnus stiffened.

  What was he doing? He wasn’t supposed to tell anybody about Natalie!

  He started to say the woman’s name was Sarah, but the gentleman grabbed Magnus’s good arm and compelled him up the street.

  “Let’s go talk.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  “Come on.” The thin noble-looking gentleman with blazing eyes urged Magnus to match his pace. “I’m not going to discuss this in the open.”

  Magnus’s strides faltered. Where had he heard that before? He couldn’t recall, but he was fairly sure something bad came from it. Anything that had to be discussed in private was never good. Good news could be shared. You could scream it from the rooftops and everything would be fine. Bad news, news that had to be
whispered in the shadows, usually got people hurt—or worse.

  He followed the extravagantly dressed man through a market square crowded with bellowing merchants and shoppers milling from cart to cart. Each time merchants approached, the gentleman sneered, sending them scampering back to their stalls.

  They turned onto a main thoroughfare and entered a section of the city frequented by royalty. When Magnus was a poor street kid with torn and grimy clothes, he would’ve gotten beaten for nosing around here. Now, the city guards standing on the corner didn’t given him a second glance. He kept close to the stranger.

  I’m not going to discuss this in the open…

  Who said that?

  The gentleman glared at him. “Who said what?”

  “What?” Magnus cowered. “Oh, I, I said…who are you, sir? I don’t mean any disrespect or anything, but I like to know whose company I keep. That’s all.”

  The gentleman’s frown gave way slightly. “That’s exceedingly wise. Very well.” He swept off his black hat. “Lord Fairhill. At your service.”

  Thinking the lord was talking to him, a man in a long tasseled cloak replied, “Mister Curtis, at yours and your family’s, good sir.”

  “A—a lord?” Magnus stammered. “Look, what I said about nobility, I didn’t mean—”

  “You haven’t said anything regarding nobility.”

  “Haven’t I? Oh, that’s because I really love nobility. I love how you…”—he searched for something to envy about the man—“…walk around with a stick and everything. It’s very dignified!”

  “You shouldn’t so readily accept what people say about themselves. Didn’t you indicate the woman with Sir Edris lied to you about her name?”

  “Yeah. I…I think I did. It’s kind of hard for me to tell what I say sometimes.”

  Somebody across the street called out a greeting. Lord Fairhill gave a curt wave and resumed talking to Magnus.

  “I could be doing the same, now couldn’t I?”

  Magnus considered this. Judging from the gentleman’s expression, he wanted an answer—probably a quick and concise one. “Yes, but…but you wouldn’t tell me you’re lying. So, therefore, you must be telling the truth.”