by Dawn Cook
My heart seemed to stop. It was the game I had been playing with my father.
Misery closed my throat as I saw the layout wasn’t quite right. “I didn’t take the pawn,” I whispered in grief. “I took the knight.” Jeck looked up from folding his blanket in confusion. “The game,” I said, my voice high. “I’m the white side. And I took the knight before Garrett—” I caught my breath and held it. Angels save me, they were dead.
Jeck glanced from me to the game and back again. “That puts your thief in danger.”
“I know.” It was almost a sob. Standing with my thin cloak clenched tight about me, I watched him crouch to adjust the pieces. He then moved his king to threaten my thief. I stared at him, my mind swirling with a sickening slurry of emotion. “Just let me go,” I warbled. “My parents are dead. Kavenlow used me. There’s nothing left—”
“Tell it to Prince Garrett.” Face tight, he swept the pieces up into his palm and dropped them into a saddlebag. It was the last of the camp. Jaw clenched in what looked like anger, he cinched Tuck’s riding pad so tight that the flighty gray tossed his head and squealed.
“I’m going to pick you up and put you on him,” Jeck said as he came forward. He was so much taller than I was, and I stared up at him, numb. “If you kick me, I’ll break your toes. If you hit me, I’m going to drop you. Put out your hands so I can tie them.”
I was too miserable to move. With a jerky quickness, Jeck snatched my hands and wrapped a cord about my wrists. Garrett had killed my parents. He was going to kill Kavenlow. I would be dead when Garrett grew tired of me. I should have run. I should have listened to Duncan.
I gasped when Jeck’s gloved hands went around me and he picked me up. Tuck snorted as I landed gently on him, my feet to either side of the tall gray. The horse danced, and I almost fell. Jeck shoved me upright, and his rough touch sparked my anger, cutting cleanly through my grief.
I might be a beggar’s child, I might have lost my kingdom to a woman I’d never seen and then to Garrett, I might have been betrayed by the man I thought of as a second father, but I would sling nets and shovel chu from the careen pits before I accepted being treated like this. My face burned as Jeck brusquely tugged my cloak out from under me so it lay right. “I need my hands to hold on,” I said, forcing a half cry into my voice though I was seething.
“You’ll hold on as you are, or you’ll ride the entire way on my lap,” he said calmly. My eyes darted over everything, and I weighed my chances to escape as he knotted Tuck’s bridle to the black gelding. After a final check on the extinguished fire, Jeck untied his horse and led us to the trail. I balanced easily, ducking the low branches.
Frustration kept me silent. My fingers twined in Tuck’s mane in a white-knuckled grip. I could not let Jeck take me back to the palace. Stomach clenching, I assessed what I had to work with as we edged down onto the sunken trail and Jeck swung onto his horse.
I had no boots. My wrists were bound. I’d have to escape by horse, and mine was tied to Jeck’s. My shoulders were tight with tension as we shifted from a walk into a smooth canter. I licked my lips, glancing at Jeck riding beside and a little before me.
I had to get him off his horse. It was all I had; the rest would come as I needed it.
“Captain!” I cried out as I let myself slip. “Jeck!” I shrieked, clenching my eyes shut as I fell. I let go of Tuck’s mane lest I get dragged under him. I hit the ground in a painful thump, my shoulder taking most of the hurt. A stick bit into my thigh, and I snatched it, tangling it into my hair. It was only the length of my finger, but it would be enough.
Tuck danced aside, not liking his rider falling off. Jeck’s gelding, too, was spooked, and it took a moment for Jeck to calm him before he could turn him around and dismount.
The fall had shaken me, and my confusion wasn’t entirely faked as he grasped my shoulder. “That was a foolish thing to do,” he said roughly. “Don’t do it again.”
I hid my disgust that his knife was on his saddle and out of my reach. He had put his hat and its darts on the saddle as well. “I hurt my hands,” I said, allowing my eyes to fill as I held them out to show him. “I can’t hold on if they are tied.”
Jeck pulled me up, and I wobbled until I found my balance. With an excessive force, he put me back on Tuck. “I’m not going to free your hands,” he said, squinting up at me from under his hat, his jaw tight and his shoulders tense. “Do that again, and you’ll ride with me.”
I nodded, making my face sullen to hide my excitement. I was on the trail. I was on a horse pointed away from the palace. And in this splinter of time—Jeck wasn’t.
He turned his back on me. As he reached for his hat, I tore the stick from my hair and jammed it into Tuck’s hindquarters.
“Heyah!” I shouted. The flighty horse squealed, bolting into a run. Gasping, I clutched his mane and crouched low. Jeck’s horse was tied to us and had no choice but to follow. Jeck’s tenuous grip was torn away. The horses and I fled. Surrounded by trees, there was only one way to go. I didn’t need to do anything but hang on.
“Tess!” Jeck shouted. “Damn you, woman!”
I grinned, encouraging Tuck with wild, hissed words. I was free and running.
The wind in my hair had never felt so glorious. The aches from my night on the ground melted into victory. The thudding of eight hooves pounded into me, making me wish I could go on forever.
But horses are stupid beasts, more inclined to fill their belly than run from a pain they quickly forget. Tuck began to slow, and judging I was far enough away to get out of my bindings, I sat up, murmuring until he came to a jolting, arched-necked stop. Jeck’s horse obediently halted since they were still tied together. As they vied for the same spot of green, I looked behind me. Jeck was rapidly closing the distance, pounding down the path.
I stretched for Jeck’s knife tucked into the saddle. Fingers bent awkwardly, I tugged and sawed. Finally the cord parted. Heart pounding, I looked to see Jeck scooping up his fallen hat. I could almost make out what he was saying, hollering at the top of his voice. The black horse watched him with pricked ears. Jeck should have stuck to his own tired mount instead of stealing a rested one who didn’t know him.
I put the knife away. My pulse hammered and I slipped from Tuck. Ignoring the twinge in my ankle, I quickly made friends with the black gelding. As Jeck yelled at me, I swung myself onto my saddle and arranged my filthy dress. “What am I going to call you?” I said as I patted the gelding’s neck. I glanced behind me to Jeck. Unable to resist, I pulled the black up into a squealing, two-footed half turn. “I’m not a thief!” I called merrily as his front feet thudded down and he pranced. “I’m using my means to their fullest potential!”
Leaning forward, I screamed into the black horse’s ear. He surged forward, willingly charging ahead with a reckless abandon until our pace was neither safe nor stoppable. Tuck thundered alongside, urging the black into a faster pace.
Jeck will never catch me now, I thought in satisfaction. I would go to Saltwood. I would find Kavenlow. He would explain to me why he had taken a beggar’s child and made her into a player. And then he would tell me just what the devil a player was.
Sixteen
The stableman watched me as I counted the money he had put into my hand. It was obvious by his glances into the yard where Tuck and the black gelding stood blowing at the smell of grain that he thought it suspicious I had them. I didn’t care as long as he bought the saddle. A part of me regretted selling it, but I needed money for passage across the bay.
Satisfied the coinage was correct, I wrapped the money in a cloth and tucked it away. The relief I felt surprised me. Money had never been important until I didn’t have any. “Thank you,” I said, trying to sound as coarse as my dress and hair were. Five days in the wilds with little water had left me so filthy I could hardly stand myself.
He grunted in acknowledgment as he took my saddle and moved it to the tack rack. “We don’t see much leatherwork from the ca
pital,” he said. “Leastwise not for sale.” He hit the word hard, as if expecting me to confess it wasn’t mine.
Last night had been miserable. Duncan hadn’t been at our abandoned camp. Alone and depressed, I had kept the horses plodding forward most of the night. There was no moon because of the clouds, making traveling difficult. I wasn’t willing to risk a fire when I stopped, and between the cold, the dirt, the misery of my dead parents, and waiting for Jeck to catch me up or the wolves to take me down, I hadn’t slept. Morning found me moving before the sun had risen. I was wretchedly tired, but I wouldn’t rest until a ship was carrying me across the bay.
I took a slow breath, letting my anxiety go as I brought the musty smell of hay and horses deep into me. I liked stables. I had often hidden in the palace livery to avoid my studies, until Kavenlow realized what I was doing and switched my lessons to horsemanship, pushing me so far into exhaustion that I would willingly sit with paper and ink the following day. Looking back, I realized he had been very good at such persuasion, invariably getting his way without calling upon my parents to force my obedience.
A memory swirled up unbidden, of Kavenlow squinting from the sun and smiling proudly the first time I made my pony jump a fence. I had been seven, and so full of myself one would think I’d jumped the cracks of hell. The stableman cleared his throat, and I brought myself back.
“Maybe you could help me,” I asked. “I’m trying to catch up with my father. Tall, gray-bearded man on horse? He’d be dressed well. It would have only been a day or so ago.”
“Haven’t seen him,” the man muttered, rubbing a filthy rag over my saddle.
“Thank you,” I said, edging away. “I may be back to buy food for my horses.”
“I’ll give it to you cheaper than the inns in town,” he said, his voice eager.
Nodding, I stepped from the still warmth of the stables into the late afternoon. Jeck’s horse pricked his ears, his eyes begging me to scratch the underside of his massive jaw. The silly beast stretched out his neck like an enormous cat, a low moan escaping him as my fingernails raked through his stiff hair. My hand pulled away with dust and sweat under my nails. I looked at them, sighing. I wanted nothing more than a good meal and a bath. But I didn’t think being on foot would slow Jeck appreciably, and I felt as if any moment a dart would find me.
Taking the two horses’ leads, I walked into town. The dock street was a dirt track, widening where thick wooden pilings jutted out into the bay and a scattering of ships rested. Barnacle-encrusted fishing boats were pulled out onto the rocky beach. Most were empty and abandoned, having processed their haul already, but one latecomer was busy. A vicious flock of seagulls and crows circled and dived as the man threw out the offal of his catch. The harsh noise of the birds and the dog chasing them were loud. By the looks of it, the tide was almost in.
Jeck’s horse called out, startling me. Another answered him. My gaze went to the hard-packed yard of an inn, the Seasick Pony by the placard showing a wide-eyed, pathetic beast with green spittle coming from it. My heart gave a pound when I saw Pitch tethered outside.
“Pitch!” I cried, not caring that I was attracting stares as I jogged to her. The black gelding behind me was nearly as enthusiastic, neck arched and tail raised. “Oh, don’t you look fine,” I murmured as I tied Tuck and Jeck’s horse beside her.
A small stableboy with a broom taller than he was watched me suspiciously, and I took my hands off her. A flush of guilt for selling the saddle went through me when I saw that my gear was on Pitch, right beside Duncan’s. But if Pitch was outside, then Duncan was inside.
Leaving the three horses to their reunion, I eagerly stepped over the dice game on the front steps of the inn and entered. The room was stuffy and dim, noisy with too many men struggling to fit months of entertainment into days. My gaze roved over the throng, my eagerness dulling as the stares of the women grew hostile. Nervous, I checked my bedraggled topknot.
“Gone!” I heard a familiar voice moan, and I spun to the bar. “Vanished like a meat pie from a windowsill in spring.”
A smile pulled up the corners of my mouth as I found Duncan sprawled miserably across the counter, monopolizing the innkeeper. Not wanting to attract more attention by calling out to him, I edged through the tables with an intentness that would hopefully tell the watching eyes I had my own business to attend to.
“She was going to make me rich,” Duncan said as I gave a grasping sailor a nasty look and sidled out of his reach. “And now she’s gone. I looked for her. God knows I did, but I couldn’t find a trace. Vanished like a punta in a whirl of wind.”
“Ah,” the innkeeper said. “Don’t chase the women that run from you, lad. You’ll find better. Have another ale?” It was clearly a well-practiced litany by his bored countenance.
“No.” Duncan pulled his tankard close. “You don’t understand. I could look a lifetime and never find another like her. I didn’t even care her cooking was like the scrapings from under the stewpot and her tea was like rabbit piss.”
I grimaced, startled to find the innkeeper looking me over with a derisive interest. “Did she have curly brown hair to her waist with sticks and leaves in it?” he asked.
“Aye.” Duncan sighed, sounding angry. “Full of leaves and wickedly sharp darts. Damn it all to hell, it was perfect. Now I’m back to nothing.”
My hand went up to check my hair. I hadn’t brushed it in hours. I must look as if I had been pulled through a knothole backward.
“And was her dress too short?”
Duncan’s head bobbed. “God help me, but she had a red underskirt. I saw it when she was on horseback. And she rode like a man.” Hunched over the bar, he stared up at the innkeeper. “Like a man, I say!”
I frowned and tugged at my dress. How else could I ride if I didn’t have a proper saddle?
“And does she have a temper about her?” the innkeeper asked, looking from me long enough to spit on the floor.
“Slap your face as soon as give you the time of day,” he said morosely. “You sound as if you’ve seen her.”
The man shifted his eyes from me to Duncan. “She’s burning well standing behind you.”
Duncan spun so quickly, he nearly knocked his stool down. “Tess!” he cried, shock on his face as he rose. “You’re alive!” A score of unvoiced thoughts cascaded over him, too fast for me to recognize. Then he settled on one, and beaming, came forward with his hands outstretched.
Alarmed, I held out my hands to keep him away. Duncan pushed them aside and gave me a hug that forced the air from my lungs. His stubble had turned into the beginnings of a nasty-looking brown and red beard, and it scraped my bruised forehead. “Stop!” I protested, unable to keep the grin from me. He had missed me. I didn’t think anyone, except Heather, had missed me before.
“You’re all right!” he said, smiling as he put me at arm’s length. “I thought I’d lost you.”
Embarrassed, I glanced over the room as the noise resumed. The innkeeper had made his escape to a table, but I couldn’t help notice he kept an eye on us.
“What happened?” Duncan asked, trying to lead me to his stool. “Who was that? How long were you standing there?” He frowned, reaching out to my head. “Hey. You’re hurt.”
“Don’t.” Flustered, I pulled away, and his frown deepened. “It’s just a bump.”
He took my shoulders and peered down at my scalp. His eyes hardened. “He hit you?”
I looked up, surprised at his anger. “Yes,” I said, “and tied me up and sat on me. But I got away—with your horse and his—so I guess we’re even.”
Hope lit Duncan’s eyes. “Tuck! Is he outside?” He strode out the door, and I stood for three heartbeats, unbelieving. The man was as skittish as his horse, I thought, decidedly put out. I followed him into the street, trying to scrape my dignity from the floor as I went.
Squinting in the brighter light, I found Duncan running his quick hands eagerly over Tuck. “Hey, boy,” he said, his eye
s alight with pleasure. “Look at you. Not a scratch. Stupid beast. It was only a tree.” He slapped Tuck’s neck fondly, and I sourly wondered if Duncan’s attempt to find me had been out of concern for me or his horse.
“Tess,” he said earnestly. “Thank you. I raised him up from a foal when he was born out of season and abandoned. I can’t imagine where I’d get another like him.”
“You’re welcome,” I said, forgiving him for leaving me standing alone in a tavern.
“What happened?” he said as I started to move his gear off Pitch and onto Tuck. “Who was that who grabbed you?” He leaned close until I could smell the smoke from the inn on him. “You stole his horse?” he asked, clearly exasperated. “Tess, you’ve got to stop doing that.”
My anxiety flowed back. “I’ve got to go,” I said as I tied my pack onto the black gelding.
“Good idea.” He started to take his things off Pitch and put them on Tuck with an unhurried quickness. “Now for the third time, who was that? You think he’ll follow you?”
I started to help him, hesitating as I tried to decide what I should do with Jeck’s things. Now that I had mine back, it didn’t feel right to keep them. “Oh, he’s following me all right,” I said, feeling a pinch of urgency. “He’s a—” A new caution stopped me from saying player. “He’s the captain of King Edmund’s guard,” I whispered, not sure how much was lie and how much was truth. “It was luck that got me away, and he’s as angry as a stingray on a deck. I have to find a boat to take me across the bay. I’ve got to find Kavenlow.”
“Us.” Duncan pushed Tuck’s bony head out of the way to see me. “You have to find a boat to take us across the bay.”
His stance was determined as he squinted in the sun at me. Though as tall as Jeck, he lacked the captain’s bulk, replacing it with a lanky quickness. His hand was still swollen from the dart that had nearly killed him, and it made him look vulnerable in my eyes. “Duncan,” I protested softly, “this isn’t one of your schemes. He’s not going to stop until he finds me. I know I promised I’d give you anything for helping me get past the gates, but a week of my time is going to get you killed.”
