by Robert Evert
Natalie, clutching her knife, stepped farther in the stable. “What happened, Henry? What’re you talking about? Are you okay?”
Henry chewed on a ragged fingernail as he stared at the hay-covered stable floor. A horse thrashed its mane.
“Henry?” Natalie rested a hand on Henry’s shoulder. He recoiled, bloodshot eyes wide. “It’s okay. You’re all right.” She knelt in front of him, nearly stepping on an empty brandy bottle. “Just tell me what’s going on, okay?”
“Do you…do you remember yesterday? Back when Brago was here? He, he had that big red mare with the white splotch between the eyes. Remember? You saddled her, remember?”
Natalie nodded, not trusting what she might blurt out.
Henry resumed staring at the floor as if trying to recall some detail upon which his life depended. “He had something in his saddlebags—books and…and maps and things. Hell, I don’t know, but it was something important. Something very important.”
The cold grip of hysteria tightened around Natalie’s throat. “Maybe they fell out!” she said. “Maybe they fell out and, and…got covered with straw or something.” She kicked wildly at the straw, hoping to find the books she knew were back in her bedroom.
Henry shrugged. “I checked. I checked everywhere. My gods, he’s going to kill me!”
“No, he won’t. I promise you, Henry, everything will be fine! Why, I bet those books’ll turn up real quick. Tonight, maybe! Maybe somebody…Maybe they fell out of his saddlebags in the road and—and somebody picked them up! We’ll, we’ll spread the word, and somebody will return them here. I bet you anything!”
But this seemed to unnerve Henry even more. “You don’t understand. I told him I didn’t know what he was talking about. If, if I…if I suddenly find them…Oh, Nat, he’s crazy. He’s—I’ve never seen a man so angry before. I thought he was going to kill me right there, in front of everybody. He—”
“Did you tell him about me?” Natalie asked quickly. “I mean, you didn’t, did you?”
Henry shrugged a second time. “I told him everything he wanted to know. I nearly pissed myself. Oh, Nat, he’s…he’s a madman!”
Panic surged over her. “What…what did he want to know?”
Henry chewed his fingernails again, still staring vaguely at the floor.
Natalie shook him. “What did you tell him? About me, I mean. What did he want to know?”
“He asked who else could have taken it. I told him it was only you and me in the stables that morning. I told him we both saddled the mare and…”
“And what?” To her own ears, Natalie was practically screaming. “What else did he want?”
“He wanted to know where you lived.”
Natalie leapt up, shaking. “Did, did you tell him? What did you say?”
“Well, I…I don’t exactly know where you live. I told him your family has a small farm just past the hills south of town, west of the Lesser Green. Natalie? Natalie?”
Chapter Eleven
Natalie sprinted out of the stables, flying through the pre-dawn darkness, past the street vendors setting up their carts, past the night guards coming off duty. She ran and ran and ran until, halfway through the Merchant’s Quarter, she doubled over, breathing hard and crying.
“Nat!” Artis called out from somewhere behind her. He strode quickly through an open doorway.
“Oh, Art!” she sobbed, throwing herself into his arms. “Henry…and, and—”
“Nat, I heard something last night.” Glancing about, Artis guided Natalie down a side alley and out of earshot from the street cleaners shoveling horse manure into their wheelbarrows. “Word is, somebody stole something from Brago, and he’s furious. He’s offering a hundred gold to anybody who can recover his belongings and find the thief who took them.”
“Oh, gods!” Natalie panted. “Henry…he, he talked to Henry and, and Henry told him about me…about where I live!”
“All right. Calm down, okay?” Artis held her firmly by the shoulders. “Tell me,” he said quietly, “where did you put the books and papers? Where are they?”
Natalie stared at the street cleaners rolling their wheelbarrows past the alley’s entrance, expecting at any moment one would point at her, shouting, “There she is! Get her!” Several passersby shot her puzzled glances.
“They’re at the bottom of my chest,” she replied in a raspy whisper. “Under my clothes. Oh, Art! He’s going to kill me!”
Artis tightened his grip. “Nat, look at me. Look at me.” She did, terrified. “This is what you’re going to do: you’re going to go to the Hilltop Inn. It’s over in the New Quarter. They have a tavern and a little eatery. Go and stay there.”
“The Hilltop?”
“It’s public and owned by a noble, so nobody would dare attack you there. You’ll be safe.”
“But what—what are you doing to do? I don’t want to be alone!”
“You’ll be fine. I’m going to go get the books and hide them somewhere else. Then we’ll figure out how to keep you safe.”
• • •
How she reached the Hilltop Inn, Natalie couldn’t recall. First, she was running through the streets, crying. Then, she was clinging to Artis. Now, she was sitting in the back of the Hilltop’s fancy eatery, as far away from the ornate doors as possible.
She’d stopped crying but still shook. Everybody kept glancing at her as they ate their breakfast. Did they know what she’d done? It wouldn’t take much for Henry to figure out she’d been lying. Why else would she have fled work like that? Word would get around, and then—
Tears welled again.
The barmaid brought Natalie her cup of green tea. Natalie stirred it for no other reason than to pretend she was doing something. However, she trembled so much, the spoon rattled against the cup as if she wanted to make a toast. An elderly noblewoman eating poached eggs slid her an annoyed sidelong glare.
People came and left as Natalie sat there, trying to hold herself together. She didn’t know how much longer she could take it; very soon she would either run away screaming or crawl under the table. Then, to her immense relief, Hadley and Ida rushed in.
“There you are!” Hadley hurried over to her table. Natalie leapt up and tried to explain what had happened. Hadley hushed her. “We ran into Artis,” she said calmly. “We know everything. Let’s get you situated.”
They began to lead her up the back stairs.
Natalie glanced around. “Where are we—?”
“We got you a room. And don’t even worry about the money; it’s been paid for.”
“We’re also going to get you some decent clothes,” said Ida. “I’m surprised they let you sit in here looking like that.”
On the second floor, they came to a small room—it contained only a single chair and narrow bed, but it was clean and bright, and more luxurious than any place Natalie had ever been.
“I want to go home,” she protested.
“You can’t go home.” Hadley closed and locked the door; it sounded like a giant portcullis slamming shut. “That’ll be the first place Brago looks for you.”
Ida sat Natalie on the bed. “It’s only for the night, just until we can figure out what to do.”
“Artis…” Natalie said weakly.
“He knows where you are. He told us to make sure you didn’t do anything stupid.”
Hadley pulled the chair closer. “So what happened? Can you talk about it?”
Natalie stared blankly at the window, where the bright morning sunlight streamed in like a taunting arrow aimed directly at her. “He went to Henry’s.”
“Brago?”
Natalie nodded quickly, wiping her nose. “He knew somebody had taken his things, and, and…and he thought it was Henry.”
Hadley and Ida exchanged nervous glances.
“Is Henry…okay?” Ida asked.
Natalie shook her head. “He’s—he’s really shaken up. He thinks Brago’s going to kill him, too.”
Hadle
y inched the chair even closer. “It’s all over the city,” she said quietly, “about Brago’s things getting stolen, and him offering a hundred gold for their recovery. My brother and his friends were even thinking about trying to find the thief themselves.”
“You’re not helping,” said Ida.
“What? Why? She needs to know!”
“I have to get out of here.” Natalie tried to stand, but Hadley guided her back to sitting. “Do you know what he’ll do if he finds me, if he realizes what I did?”
Ida wrapped an arm around her. “That’s why you need to stay here, at least for a little while, okay? We’ll figure out what to do. Maybe we can just put the books back when he’s not looking, and all will be forgiven.”
Natalie started to respond when somebody tapped on the door. She cried out, leaping to her feet.
“It’s me,” Artis whispered.
Hadley let him in, then relocked the door.
Artis knelt and rubbed Natalie’s knee. “You okay?”
“I’m, I’m fine. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have overreacted. I just got a little frightened. I think I should get back to work now.” Natalie stood.
“Not today,” said Hadley, guiding her back onto the bed again. “You’re taking a day off. It’ll serve you good.”
“It’s completely understandable to feel a little frightened, Nat,” said Artis.
“Yeah,” Ida added, “Brago’s crazy!”
“Not helping,” Hadley said mockingly.
“Let’s just figure out what we can do to fix this.” Artis sat in Hadley’s chair, a heavy pack on his lap. “I got everything, including some fresh clothes.” Again, Natalie started to protest, but Artis ignored her. “I spoke with your mother and told her you were going to be working extra shifts, and that you’d be staying with Ida so you didn’t have to hike back and forth from the city each morning. I also made sure she and the kids were okay, so you don’t need to worry about them. They’re fine and have everything they need.”
Natalie cradled her head in her hands, while Hadley and Ida rubbed her back. “I’m so sorry for causing all of this. You don’t have to go through all of this trouble. I’m sure things’ll blow over. They’re just stupid books, right? Really. I should just go back to work.”
She stood, but Artis blocked her path.
“Nat, I know this is going to be difficult for you, but I think it’d be best if you kept out of sight for a bit. You probably should stay away from Henry’s, too.”
“Why? What’s wrong?”
“Nat…” Artis said soothingly.
“What’s wrong?” she repeated louder. Artis turned away, which only angered her more. “What? What happened?”
“Nat…” Artis sighed. “When I was coming back from your house…somebody told me that Henry’s stables were on fire.”
Natalie covered her mouth. “Henry…?”
“I don’t know. I didn’t stop to ask. I just smelled the smoke and heard people talking.”
“My gods…” muttered Hadley.
“We have to get those books back to Brago before he kills somebody,” said Ida. “Maybe we can sneak into his room and put them back, or make it look like they fell behind a cabinet or something.”
Artis shook his head. “I don’t think you two understand. The reward isn’t for the books and papers, but also for the person who stole them. I don’t think this’ll stop once he gets his things back.”
Natalie’s face drained.
“Nat? Nat, this isn’t your fault.”
“The hell it isn’t! I took his books!”
They all shushed her, shooting fretful glances at the closed door.
“If I weren’t so stupid—”
“That son of a bitch attacked you,” said Artis. “He was going to kill you—for no reason! Nat, listen to me—this isn’t your fault!”
Natalie shoved past their outstretched arms and started to pace.
“I have to do something. I can’t…I can’t hide here. I have a family. They need food and—and money!”
Hadley drew a small pouch out from her pocket. “Don’t worry about money.”
“Don’t worry about money?” Natalie knocked the pouch away, sending it skidding across the floor. “You don’t have to worry about money! You have a wealthy father and brothers who take care of you! You have a decent house and…and—”
Artis made to hug her, but Natalie struck him hard across the chest with the back of her hand.
“None of you have to worry about anything! I can’t just decide to up and move! I can’t have Daddy buy me everything I want. I can’t lounge around all day doing nothing. I have a family to support! They count on me! They need me!”
“It’s okay, Nat…” Artis tried to stroke her hair.
She smacked him away again. “No, it’s not fucking okay! Damn it! It isn’t fair, it just isn’t fair!”
Natalie ran to the door and opened it, but Artis caught her and heaved it closed.
She hit him again. “Get out of my way!”
He grabbed her by the shoulders. She slapped him hard across the face, leaving a white mark that slowly began to turn pink. But he didn’t let go. “Nat! Nat! This isn’t your fault.”
Natalie sobbed again. Artis hugged her.
“This isn’t your fault.”
“Stop saying that!” She shoved him back and paced across the room.
“So what are we going to do?” Ida asked.
“We?” Natalie repeated.
“We,” said Hadley and Ida, firmly.
Natalie noticed the red palm-shaped mark on Artis’s cheek. “Oh, gods! Art! I’m so, so sorry. Can you forgive me? I wasn’t thinking. I…I kind of panicked, you know?”
Artis gave a non-committal shrug. “I’m used to it.”
“Art…”
“Forget him,” said Hadley. “He’ll be fine. Answer Ida’s question. What are we going to do?”
What was she going to do? Die—that’s what she was going to do. Brago would eventually find out what she did, and then he’d—
No. She couldn’t think like that. If something happened to her, her family would be doomed, too. She had to do something to fix this, but what?
“Nat?”
“Give me a second to think, okay? Just—just let me clear my head. I have to calm down and think.”
They watched her stride back and forth taking deep breaths.
“Brago,” she said eventually, “won’t let this go. He’s…he’s insane. He has to be. To set fire to Henry’s…and, and what he did to me…He won’t just let me get away with stealing his things, even if we are able to somehow return them.”
Outside, black smoke spiraled up into the blue sky, while scores of people in the street raced toward the fire. Even from her room, Natalie could smell the stables burning as a growing gray haze filled the forested valley.
“You could run,” Ida said.
“I’m not going to leave my family.”
“Maybe you could make it look like somebody else did it,” Hadley offered. “You know, throw suspicion on another person? Maybe plant the books in their house or something.”
“I’m not going to get someone killed. This is my fault.” Natalie fought back the urge to cry again. “There has to be another option.”
“You know, Nat,” said Artis, as if bringing up a delicate subject, “I could—”
“You’re not going to give my family money so I can go hide somewhere. They’re my family, my responsibility.”
“They don’t have to be just your family,” muttered Artis.
Natalie ignored him. She couldn’t talk about that again. Not now. She had to take one problem at a time. She stopped pacing, an idea skirting along the edges of her mind.
“What’re you thinking?” Hadley asked.
“Shhh! Give me a minute.”
Natalie closed her swollen eyes and thought.
She was a woman. Nobody cared about women, especially the daughter of a peasant. Had
she been nobility, Brago wouldn’t have been able to touch her. While noblemen could certainly knock her around, a commoner who touched a noble female wouldn’t live long.
She’d never become nobility, of course, but in the clear hierarchy of the classes, there were some lines people never crossed, even famous adventurers. How could she shift those lines so she could be protected?
“Protected.”
“What?” said Hadley.
Ida hushed her. “Let her think!”
Natalie gazed through the window. To the north, the bluish-grey line of the Emerald Mountains marched, blocking all else from view. The Green River raced down their sheer cliffs before it split in two, each branch tumbling around the wedge-like hill upon which the city of Upper Angle was built. Below, the tidy cobblestone streets were filled with people dressed in fine attire, heedless of her peril. Oh, how she wished she could be one of them—wealthy, and without a care in the world. She’d be well protected against men like Brago.
Protection.
“Who does Brago fear?” she asked.
“Lord Alden,” suggested Artis.
“Lord Enrick,” offered Hadley.
Natalie considered each of these men without much hope of finding her answer.
“Go to the king!” said Ida. “Tell him what happened. The attack outside the library, that is. Explain that you’d taken the books in fair compensation for your injuries.”
Natalie rubbed her neck, the tension tightening her muscles. “The king would have my hand cut off. That’s what they do to thieves.”
“There are people in the thieves’ guild he probably fears. Not even the nobility mess with them.” Then Artis shook his head. “No…they’d turn you in to get Brago’s reward.”
Natalie paced. None of this was helping. True, the nobility could protect her with a snap of their well-manicured fingers, but why would they even care about a peasant girl? Besides, King Michael and all of the lords liked Brago. He’d won several of the Kings’ Quests for the realm, adding to their already overflowing coffers. Hell, they’d even funded some of his expeditions.
Natalie straightened. “Who does the king like more than Brago?”
