“How many entertainers does it take to make tea?” Cleo joked.
“Here you are, my dear,” Skuddy said, precisely offering Cleo a small cup. Looking into the small vessel, she saw the dregs sifting down towards the bottom. A warm wisp of steam stretched above the cup and curled until it became too faint to repel the assaulting cool air. Both Skuddy and Gnochi were slurping their cups.
“I can’t believe you loaned wagons and supplies to the king,” Gnochi said.
“Only at the tip of the sword,” Skuddy replied. “Providence knows that we need to be here during the winteryear, so it was either donate to the cause, or be expelled.”
Cleo brought the teacup to her lips, allowing the drink to flow into her mouth and disseminate its warmth.
“So, they’ve got your family?” Skuddy’s voice turned deadly serious.
“My memory from that time is hazy at best, but I do remember threats against their lives. The farmhouse burnt to the ground.”
“What about the library? Did Jackal find the library?”
“No. The door was intact. Nothing clearly amiss outside. The locked room hadn’t been touched.”
Cleo allowed a large yawn to escape despite her interest in the conversation at hand. She downed the remainder of her tea in an effort to energize her mind, but as she emptied the cup, she noticed the dregs were absent from the bottom. She knew that she would have noticed swallowing them. A slow anxiety grew in her mind.
Another yawn quelled the alarm racing through her body. She moved to cover her mouth with a hand but found her arms leaden and too heavy to lift. She gritted her teeth, urging her arms to obey but only managed to hover one hand a few inches off the plate. It shook with a violence, as though all the energy from the tea had gone to her hand and fought for control. After a moment, her arm fell to the rim of the plate, knocking the teacup to the floor where it shattered. The sound of the breaking ceramic cup seemed to come from such a distance that it sounded to her like the twinkling of stars in the night sky.
Cleo’s eyes lugged themselves up so that they were level with Gnochi’s. She gave him as hard a stare as she could muster with her brain shutting down.
“She has a strong constitution to have fought off the sedative this long,” Skuddy admitted. His voice sounded so faint to Cleo’s ears.
Cleo wanted to speak, but her voice was groggy, and her mind had all but retired into a dreamless abyss. Her eyelids drooped, threatening to bear down and shut off the remaining light from her eyes.
“Hush now,” Gnochi said. Cleo felt someone guiding her over to the wagon’s bed. “I have some important business to attend to in town. Dreadfully boring things, truly. I’ll be back by the morning,” he said, tucking her under a light quilt. He balled the poncho up and placed it under her head. “Sweet dreams,” he said, placing a gentle kiss on her forehead. Cleo’s lids lost their battle with fatigue and plunged her into darkness. Sleep overtook her.
◆◆◆
“Skudd, you have no idea how much of a burden you’ve relieved me of by watching her as I fulfill this contract. I need to have all of my attention on hand, and I cannot be worried about her safety too,” Gnochi said, sizing up his own appearance in the wardrobe’s mirror.
Gone were the dusty, travel-weary clothes and the beaten boots that disguised his bard status. Gone was the leather armor purposefully designed to disguise his physique. Gnochi now wore a bright red shirt loosely tied with gold-trimmed hemp. Dark green silk trousers ran down his leg to where they bunched up at the top of his ceremonial flat shoes, yellow as the sun at midday. For the first time in his life, his beard was neatly trimmed in recognition of the cultural standards of the Blue aristocracy. Additionally, a hand through his hair would rub off more than a wad of hair sheen-paste.
“Gnochi, you’re treading on hot coals. Working for Silentore.” Skuddy shook his head. “And assassinating someone high-up in the Providential keep. On a whim alone.”
“I need the closure. If they’re dead, I need to know,” Gnochi said, his voice, grim.
“Well, I respect your decision. You will always have a home in Nimbus, and we will keep Cleo safe, regardless.”
“Then all that’s left before I head out is to acknowledge that there is likely to be backlash on our people for my actions.”
“We’ve been through worse and will still yet, but I’ll make sure that everyone is safe.”
“And should something happen to me,” Gnochi said, pausing to measure his words. “I want you to give Cleo these letters and lead her to the Library.” He handed a stack of tightly bound letters to Skuddy. “That is if she still wants to pursue a bard’s life.”
“Nonsense,” Skuddy said, though he grabbed the letters and placed them in his breast pocket. “If anyone can infiltrate such a place, make such a move, and escape while evading detection, it is you, Gnochi. Come home safely.”
“Promise me. The best training I’ve had to prepare me for this was from you and Javawooga, but things still happen that cannot be predicted and cannot be planned for.”
“If something should happen, we will care for her as we care for any of our own,” Skuddy assured.
“Thank you, my friend. If all goes accordingly, I should be out of the upper city by midnight and through the outer walls by dawn. But I do have one contact with whom I can crash, should the need arise.” Before walking to the door of the wagon, he stopped at Cleo’s sleeping form and stared for a moment. After a moment, now-manicured hands pawed at his cheeks, rubbing the moisture that had leaked from his eyes. He had turned to leave, but Skuddy stopped him.
“Gnochi, wait,” he whispered. “There is one more thing that I can give you to help out.” Skuddy retreated to the curtained area and returned with a long, black cloak. The front breast of the cloak was adorned with a seal. “We received this from Providence. He’s requested his own royal jester.”
“It’s lacking some of our traditional color, huh?”
“Probably so the king isn’t overwhelmed when he first sees you.” Skuddy laughed. “This should help you get into the castle without their finding a sword, or dagger, or whatever weapon you plan to use. Return in one piece.”
Gnochi slipped it over his clothes, nodded thanks, and then said, “Come outside. I want to show you something.” He led Skuddy over to where Perogie was tethered. Her eyes widened when she saw the two approaching.
“This must be the mare you’d written to me about? Perogie, is it?”
“Yes,” Gnochi said, patting her neck. “She’s loyal as any man could ask for. He unlatched the guitar case from her saddlebag. “This,” Gnochi said as he pried the case open, “is my weapon.” Skuddy took the guitar and turned it over inspecting each grain of the smooth wood. He found something on the neck of the guitar and squinted to better see it.
“The Royal Lyre?” He asked. Gnochi was not sure what he was talking about, so he looked at the spot Skuddy pointed to, and saw, in the faintest painted lettering, the words on the guitar’s neck.
“I’m not sure. I could’ve done that, but if I painted that on there after being shot, it makes sense that I wouldn’t remember doing so. Either way, the pun is fitting, even if it’s not accurate.” Gnochi wielded the guitar and strummed a pair of chords in quick succession. The metallic twang was still faintly perceptible, but both men heard enough to wince at the imperfection.
“That’s—is there a blade in there?”
“Down the neck. Single use only,” Gnochi commented. Skuddy squinted into the dark base of the guitar, nodding as he spied the slender profile of the black-tempered blade.
“No one else would catch that. But what of the guard? One blade, which cannot be longer than your arm, is not going to save you from the guard of the keep who will have blades twice or more as long.”
“I have other methods to take them out,” Gnochi said, absently turning the tuning pegs.
“Well, my hope has been raised even more than it was a moment ago. By the way, who, dare I
ask, made your Royal Lyre?”
“Guess.”
“Mirage?”
“Of course.”
“Wow, she really has outdone herself. I don’t suppose I could try again to get you two to—”
“I should’ve known I wouldn’t get through a visit without you trying to marry me off,” Gnochi laughed. The two shared a smile, and then, after a moment, Skuddy broke the silence.
“Well, I have to begin making preparations. Will you require an escort, or will you be taking Perogie?”
“I’ll walk. Keep Perogie here for me. But Skuddy, you can assume that if you need to send Cleo off, Perogie is hers as she is mine. Hell, she probably likes Cleo more than she does me at this point.” Gnochi laughed. As if listening, Perogie snorted and shook her mane gaily in response.
Skuddy looked back to his wagon, then took a flask from an inner pocket, tucked back his head, swallowed a mouthful, then offered it to Gnochi, saying, “For true joy—”
“Is a serious business,” Gnochi answered, taking a swig of the bitter drink. The two embraced.
Skuddy nodded, and then said, “Be well, Gnochi Gleeman,” and then returned to his own wagon.
Gnochi removed the packs from Perogie’s saddle. She nuzzled him. “No, you stay here. I need you to watch over Cleo tonight, ‘Ogie.” Perogie shot him an accusing stare that seemed to say: When are we going back to normalcy? When does the running end? Gnochi looked down, as though he did not know how to respond. Eventually he said: “We’ll be alright. Pretty simple operation. If it goes successfully, maybe things will change for the better? Or maybe our lives will revert back to where they were.” Gnochi paused to rub her nose. “Not that I’m one for the flashy, I might add,” he said, pulling back his cloak to reveal the colorful garments, “but I cannot risk ignoring the contract only to find out that they were alive all along.”
Chapter 44
The evening sun managed to sneak through slight tears in the tent’s tight fabric. A column of dust spiraled through the air in Skuddy’s wagon. He opened the window, allowing the stale breeze to enter. Skuddy turned to Cleo, who still slept motionless on the bed. “Are you awake my dear?” he asked, not expecting her to respond. The sedative they put in her tea would keep any healthy person asleep for hours.
A sharp knock sounded from beyond the door. “You called?”
“Yes, come in,” Skuddy replied. A young man, a hair taller than the girl asleep on the bed, entered and squeezed the door closed behind him. He sat against a wall. Skuddy towered over him.
“You are Aarez, I presume?” Skuddy asked.
“Yes,” the boy replied, emphasizing the separation of his hands from the puppet that he had draped over his thigh.
“Good because I need to talk to Aarez now, not Sir—”
“I’m in control right now, as you can see.” Aarez responded with an ounce of spite evident in his voice. He gestured his free hands at Skuddy. “Sorry,” he said, rubbing the dusty floorboards.
“You’ve no doubt heard of the arrival of Gleeman and the girl with him, Cleo,” Skuddy said, motioning the sleeping girl.
“Yes. What does this have to do with us?”
“Gnochi is practically a dead man. I need you. I need Pidgeon. I even need Sir Lucas. I’ve got a job for you three.” Skuddy inched closer.
“I’m listening.”
“You can get to the Hopewell Forest Manor from here?”
“The shanty my family rents out to Nimbus?”
“Safehouse. Yes. You are to take the girl there,” Skuddy instructed. “Wait out whatever storm is coming our way. Then bring her to the western gathering grounds. We are going to be moving Nimbus from its place at Blue Haven.”
“That’s a big job. And you know that I don’t get along with people, let alone children,” Aarez said.
“Of course, you would be compensated properly,” Skuddy said, not mentioning that the two were likely the same age. “And I can do a little more.”
“Oh?”
“I can see about having Javawooga visit while we are at the western gathering grounds.” Aarez’s jaw dropped. “Yes, the Javawooga: The man of legend; the legend of a man. He yet lives and I can get in touch with him.” Skuddy paused for a moment. “Today, you, Sir Lucas, and Pidgeon might sway a tavern. After training with him, you need not even enter the city for innkeepers and tavern mistresses to brawl over rights to your performances at their businesses. But more importantly, I’m sure Javawooga could help you learn to control your echo with Lucas.”
Aarez scowled, and then said, “How do we even know that he’ll agree to train us, or that it’ll be impactful?”
“Look at Gnochi. As someone without an echo, he needn’t break a sweat to enrapture an entire castle. He can make the stiffest squire chuckle, a newly widowed woman smile, and an orphan hope for the future. Gleeman can right the heart of a colonel who had lost his entire regiment in battle. And Javawooga, responding to my request, trained him.”
“If Gleeman is so good, then why are you putting this contingency plan in action now?” Aarez asked. “Why not give the man a chance?”
“Gnochi may have had to kill before, but he is not a killer. That much I know,” Skuddy said.
“I’ve been here years and have never heard of him,” Aarez said. They had taken the echoer in when he was barely a teen. For protection. For training. “Let alone seen him. People change. And I can only imagine what kinds of pressures he must be under to put himself and the girl in danger as much as he has.”
Skuddy studied his face, noting how his youthful features contrasted with the wisdom behind his eyes. “That is true. We have no idea what he is capable of right now. But either way, we must prepare for the worst. I’d rather the girl be anywhere but here once the inquisitors come and Nimbus is swamped in.” He held up a piece of broken ceramic in his hand, studying it in the dim light. “And do whatever you need to do to ensure that she is compliant and doesn’t run off. She has some sort of compulsion echo, though Gnochi explained that she is not in control of it. I think they’ve gotten close. I could see that he cares deeply for her, seeing her as a daughter more than his protégé.”
“Then consider us gone,” Aarez said. “Have the girl sent out and tied to her horse.” Aarez stood up and grabbed the puppet. He made to open the door.
“Oh, and Aarez,” Skuddy said, but the boy kept walking. His stale gait took him down the steps and a few paces from the wagon before Skuddy said, “Pidgeon?” The boy stopped abruptly, his movements clumsy. “Sir Lucas,” Skuddy finally said, his voice sagging in resignation.
“Turn me, Pidgeon,” a sharp voice squealed. The boy turned, a stricken pale look covering his face. Though Skuddy had seen the transformation dozens of times, the way Aarez poured his life into the doll still amazed and startled him.
The doll drew Skuddy’s eyes, its movements were subtle and fluid, full of Aarez’s borrowed life essence.
“Yes?” The sound emanated from the doll. His lips parted and shaped the word exactly as they would have been, were they made from flesh instead of wood.
“Keep her safe. And make sure that only one of you talks to her first,” Skuddy warned.
“Oh, and I suppose you will want the dummy to do the talking first,” Sir Lucas whined, rolling his glassy eyes in contempt.
“It’s probably for the best,” Skuddy replied.
“Please. We both know that I’m more personable than either of those two,” the doll said, his small arm pointing to the human he called Pidgeon.
“And in time, she will see that, but until then, let the others stay in control,” Skuddy cautioned.
Sir Lucas pushed air through his wooden mouth in frustration, then shook his head and commanded his handler, “Lead me away, Pidgeon.” The boy made a grunt that sounded instinctually feral, then shuffled away.
Chapter 45
Harvey lay on his cot, looking up at the barracks’ crumbling ceiling. He watched Roy pace the length of their share
d quarters, puffing out air in frustration. “I can’t believe we are on modified assignment,” Roy complained. “Everyone else is on hold for conflict, and we are stuck sitting here twiddling our thumbs.”
“You’d rather be a part of the group that will kill any who oppose Providence?” Harvey asked, sarcasm dripping off his words. Roy frowned and opened his mouth as if to shoot off a retort, but he swallowed it back. “Just stop talking about it, okay?”
Roy returned to his cot and sat down. “Did you see Gnochi’s face?”
“I was purely respectful. Pledging allegiance.” Harvey felt the warmth rising in his cheeks. He hoped that Roy was not looking over at him to see his embarrassment.
“Well, the way he glared at you, you might as well have been pledging marriage.”
“Doesn’t matter. We’re likely never to see them again,” He did not believe his own words. “It was formality and formality alone.”
“Don’t think like that, Harv,” Roy said, getting up suddenly. In an instant, his face filled Harvey’s vision. “We have a goal now, if we get out.”
“Yeah! If we get out.”
Roy continued, unwavering despite his friend’s pessimism. “We can get away from Blue. Too many memories here. We need a fresh start.”
“Roy, I think of you as my brother, I hope you know that. But when you get all caught up in these wild fantasies, your constant optimism makes me look like a terrible person. As opposed to what I am, a realist. We will be lucky to escape this army with our hides.” Harvey turned his head, looking out their window at the darkening Blue Haven middle district. “I’m going out,” he announced, getting up from his bed and removing his soldier’s garb. “Don’t wait up for me.”
“No wolves for you to hear in Blue Haven,” Roy snickered. Harvey slammed the door in an attempt to cut off the true words from his head.
◆◆◆
Darkness greeted sleepy eyes when a coarse pounding sounded from the other side of their door. Roy lay for a moment in the darkness, listening for the familiarity of heavy breathing that betrayed Harvey’s slumbered state, but silence was the sole noise greeting him. The pounding sounded again.
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