A man shoved through the crowd, his eyes angry. “What’s the meaning of this?” he asked, but then he saw the body, saw me and the dagger. “Call the Guard.”
“They’re already here,” someone said roughly, and two guardsmen pushed into the open. “What happened?”
“She killed him,” someone said, and only then did I realize that the inn was silent. No music, no laughter, no voices. Only the rustle of bodies and a few taut whispers.
“Is this true?” one of the guardsmen asked Borund.
I watched Borund. I hadn’t taken my eyes off him since William had helped him up. He stared at me intently, his face unreadable.
“Yes,” he said. But before anyone could move, he added, “But she’s my personal bodyguard, and this man was trying to kill me.”
Chapter 9
“HEtriedtokillme!”Borund spat. I stepped back from the violence in his voice, almost slid into the darkness of the alley at the side of the tavern and vanished, an instinctive response from the Dredge. But Borund’s violence was without a mark, and tinged with shock. “He tried to kill me, openly, in the middle of a tavern!”
We’d moved out of the tavern, stood now outside the door. Borund had removed his blood- and sauce-encrusted jacket, had folded it and handed it to William. William kept back a few paces from Borund, his face white and shaken, eyes wide. Like when I’d spun on the wharf and almost sliced open his chest. The horror of what I’d done, that I’d seen in his eyes earlier inside the tavern, had died. This was delayed reaction.
He glanced toward me. I held his gaze, didn’t waver, even though I felt sick to my stomach.
“You’re hurt,” he said, but his voice was distant.
I looked down, grimaced at my sliced shirt, at the cut that had already stopped bleeding. “I’m fine. It’s nothing. Barely a scratch.”
Borund didn’t notice.
On the street, a group of raucous men passed, pausing at the door, and Borund moved farther down the street, watching the group warily. Some of the shock was beginning to fade, replaced by a heated calm. I could see it in his eyes, even in the darkness.
He remained silent until the roar and music of the tavern was cut off behind the group of men. “He wasn’t acting on his own. I’ve never seen the man before. He must have been hired.”
“I wonder who sent him,” William muttered.
Borund turned toward William. “That is the question, isn’t it?”
“It was the green-coated merchant,” I said.
Borund turned toward me. “Charls?” he asked incredulously.
“The one you spoke to before entering the tavern.” I could see him clearly, the thin face, dark eyes filled with hatred. Gray mixed with red.
Borund stood still, as if unable to move, his mouth slightly parted.
Then the tavern door banged open and the guardsmen stalked out. I pulled back unconsciously, but Borund straightened as they turned and nodded.
They glanced once toward me, eyes suspicious, mouths tight. A new fear clawed through me. I wondered if Erick had told them about me, had told them to watch for me, that I’d murdered someone and then fled.
But there was no recognition in these guardsmen’s eyes, only a generalized distrust, as if they still didn’t believe Borund’s story, knew that something about it was wrong. But they couldn’t figure out what. Not with William supporting the statement. No one else in the tavern had seen anything, or was willing to come forward.
The guardsmen nodded again and stalked off, heading toward the palace, its walls on the hill overlooking the city lit with oil light. I felt tensed muscles relax, in my shoulders, in my gut.
When the guards faded into the darkened streets, Borund turned toward William. “You tried to warn me before. Did you know it was Charls?”
William shook his head. “No. I only knew that it no longer felt safe to move around in Amenkor, especially at night. I didn’t realize there was such a . . . personal threat.”
Borund grunted. “Then it was good you brought up your concerns when you did, otherwise I’d be dead.”
He turned toward me, his eyes intent, as hard and unreadable as stone. “And you,” he said softly. “It was a gift of the Mistress that you were here. A very fortuitous gift.”
I straightened under his stare and said, “I’ve been watching you, following you.” The words were harsh, defensive, defiant.
“I see. Is that how you know it was Charls?”
“After he spoke with you, he motioned to the man who tried to kill you. Then left.”
“And you followed that man into the tavern? To stop him from killing me?”
I drew breath to answer, then glanced toward William. He still seemed shocked, his hair appearing even wilder. But he was more focused now, paying closer attention.
Instead of answering out loud, I simply nodded.
Borund considered this, his gaze so intense I was forced to look away.
Finally, he murmured, “Fortuitous gift indeed.” As if he’d reached a decision, he stirred, glanced once toward William and back. “Have you reconsidered my offer? I’m forced to agree with William now. A bodyguard is necessary.”
I stood straight, hesitated only a moment, and said, “What do you want me to do?”
They led me through the streets of the wharf, beyond the warehouses, and up into the streets below the palace, into the upper city. Borund offered to return to my niche, to gather up whatever I wanted, but I had my dagger, my clothes. There was nothing in the space I’d formed out of crab traps and tarps. Nothing worth returning for.
We moved swiftly through the streets, William ahead while I trailed behind, both of the men tense, wary.
At one point, we passed the end of the bridge where I’d crossed the River from the Dredge into Amenkor. I paused, stared out over the expanse, over the river water, and thought of Erick, of the white-dusty man, of Cobbler ’s Fountain.
Then I turned away. Both Borund and William had stopped farther on up the road, were looking back at me, but neither said anything when I moved to follow them.
Carriages appeared, and men on horseback, and once two guardsmen. Each time Borund slowed until the men and horses had passed. The buildings—crowded and close at first, with narrow alleys—changed. Courtyards appeared, not ruined and decayed like on the Dredge, but with closed iron gates and trees. Alleys widened. Surrounding walls appeared, the buildings set back from the streets, enclosed and protected. And the stench of fish and salt and sea faded.
Then William paused on a corner, scanned in all directions, and moved purposefully across the street to a small gate set back inside an alcove in a wall. A moment later, Borund and I joined him.
As William unlocked the wrought-iron gate, Borund turned and muttered, “This is your new home, Varis.”
We stepped inside a garden, pathways curling away in all directions, clear in the darkness because they were made of white stone and glowed in the moonlight. Trees, branches hanging down limply, sighed in a sudden breeze from the harbor, smelling of the ocean. Everything was shadowed, details hard to make out in the darkness.
Borund strode quickly into the garden, toward a building I could barely see, leaving William and me behind.
“What’s wrong?” William asked.
I looked up into William’s eyes, saw the stars behind him, and said, “There should be buildings here. It shouldn’t be so . . . empty. It’s unnatural.”
William smiled. “It’s a garden. It’s supposed to be empty, without buildings.” He shook his head, then moved out into the garden.
A twinge of guilt slid through me, as if I’d done something wrong. I watched him a moment before following.
We passed into the shadow of the building, to another door. Borund was waiting for us inside, at the beginning of a long hallway, along with an elderly man and a woman who carried a lantern. More light could be seen farther down the hall.
“Lizbeth,” Borund said, and the woman dipped her head anxiously.
“This is Varis. She’s going to be staying here for the immediate future. Have a room made up, with whatever she requires.”
Lizbeth turned her gaze on me, frowning. Her eyes were sharp, like Bloodmark’s, catching every detail, noting every mark, every tear, every smudge and bruise. “Will she be needing new clothes?”
Borund turned to look at me, then smiled tightly. “Yes. New clothes. But nothing too removed from what she’s wearing right now. No dresses. Nothing . . . ruffled or anything. Bring her a variety and let her choose.”
Lizbeth nodded. “And water for a bath, I expect. Soap, too. Lots of soap.”
“Whatever Varis wants, nothing more.” There was a hint of warning in Borund’s voice, and Lizbeth shot him a questioning look. “Varis is part of the household now.”
“As what? We can’t afford any more help.”
A wave of annoyance passed over Borund’s face and he frowned heavily. “Varis is my new bodyguard. She’ll be with us whenever we leave the manse.”
Lizbeth backed away slightly, her sharp gaze returning to me with renewed interest. “I see. I’ll go get the water started in the bathing room. Is the east room acceptable?”
Borund glanced toward me. “No. The east room is too big. Give her Joclyn’s old room for now.”
“Joclyn’s room? But that’s just a serv—” Lizbeth cut off abruptly, going still as Borund placed a hand on her arm.
“Joclyn’s room, Lizbeth. I know what I’m doing.” There seemed to be something else in Borund’s voice—caution or warning.
Lizbeth nodded, although her brow remained creased with a frown. Borund let his hand drop, and Lizbeth handed the lantern over to the other man, took Borund’s stained jacket from William, then hefted up the edges of her skirts with her free hand and dashed down the hall, vanishing through a side door.
The rest of the group turned to follow. I trailed behind.
“Gerrold.”
“Yes, sir,” the older man answered.
“Have some food brought to Varis’ room. Whatever you have to spare in the kitchen at this late hour. Bread, wine . . . no, make that water, and . . . and butter.” Borund grinned and glanced back briefly. “Lots of butter. Once that’s done, meet William and me in the office.” And here, Borund’s voice grew dark. “We have much to discuss.”
“Yes, sir.”
I was awake when someone knocked on the door of the room Lizbeth had led me to the night before. The room was too large, containing a bed, a desk, a chair, a lantern, and a tall piece of furniture with many drawers against one wall. A large bowl rested on top of this last piece of furniture, with a pitcher full of water.
“Varis?” Lizbeth called, her voice muffled by the door. “Varis, are you awake? Borund would like to talk to you and he asked me to get you ready.”
There came another light tapping at the door, and then Lizbeth opened it, tentatively, and peeked in. When she saw the bed hadn’t been slept in, she opened the door wide in alarm, then caught sight of me.
The panic on her face vanished and she raised the hand not holding a stack of clothes to her breast and sighed heavily. “Thank the Mistress! Is everything all right? Where in heavens did you sleep?”
My gaze flicked unconsciously toward the darkness beneath the bed, then back toward her as the muscles in my shoulders stiffened defiantly.
Lizbeth frowned in incomprehension, head turning, and then nodded. “Ah.” Her expression softened. “Not used to beds? Nor baths either, I expect.” Her eyes narrowed as she took in my hair, my face. She’d left me standing over a large tub of water the night before. I’d stared at the water a long time, thinking of the barrel of rainwater I’d used after fleeing the Dredge, wondering why this tub was so large. I’d dipped my arms into the water, shocked at how cold it was. After scrubbing at my arms, I’d discovered the steps on one side and realized I was supposed to climb into the water, like when I was six at Cobbler ’s Fountain.
“Looks like we’ll be needing another bath,” Lizbeth said at the door, more to herself than to me. “Apparently, all that murky water I drained away last night was only the surface dirt. At least today we’ve had time to haul in and heat the water.” She came farther into the room and set the clothes down on the bed, moving carefully. “William explained the situation last night, after I left you at the bath. He said I was to help you . . . adjust.”
She turned toward me, the harshness I’d seen in her eyes the night before gone. Then she stepped forward, stopping a few paces away with an uncertain smile. “He said to be careful with you. That you might not understand how things are done around the manse, and that anything you wanted was to be provided. Is there anything you’d like this morning?”
I didn’t answer. She held my gaze a moment, but then her eyes drifted to my clothes.
“Nothing this morning? Well then, I brought you some new clothes, something better than those rags.” Her eyes returned to mine, narrowed shrewdly. “And I expect you’d like something to eat? Eggs perhaps? Maybe some bacon?”
I shifted forward and my stomach growled, loudly enough for Lizbeth to hear. I frowned in annoyance, and Lizbeth smiled tightly, trying to control a grin.
“I thought so. Let’s get you into a bath first, then try out these new clothes, and after that we’ll see what they have in the kitchen. How does that sound?”
Lizbeth led me to a hallway outside a large wooden door three hours later, my skin feeling raw from the bath Lizbeth had presided over, my new clothes scratchy, loose, and smelling of soap. I wore a brown shirt, brown breeches with a thin leather belt, and sandals. My hair hung damply around my face in tendrils, my head aching from how often my hair had been pulled by Lizbeth. She’d finally given up trying to untangle it and had cut most of the length away with a pair of scissors. It now hung down to my chin, rather than past my shoulders.
I’d glared at her the entire time, but she’d ignored me. She’d ignored my grunting protests when she’d tried to dip my head underwater as well, simply placing her hand on the top of my head and pushing me under with surprising strength. She’d soaped up my hair before I’d stopped spluttering, talking the entire time about the manse and how it was run.
Now, she rapped on the large wooden door and cast one last critical glance over me as I stuffed the last of the buttered bread into my mouth.
“You’ll do,” she mumbled, then caught my gaze and added sternly, “for now. I’ll show you around the manse once Borund is done with you.” She eyed me carefully for a long moment, and then her eyes softened and she relaxed. Like the white-dusty man had relaxed when he’d seen me take the rolls.
Something tightened at the base of my throat, hard and hot, making it difficult to swallow the last of the bread. I choked a little, turned away to cough as my eyes blurred with tears.
When I turned back, she was already halfway down the hall.
Then the door opened and instinctively I reached for the dagger and backed against the wall.
I caught myself just as my hand touched steel, recognizing William.
“Borund’s waiting,” he said, ignoring my sudden movement.
I straightened and followed him as he turned away, moving into a huge room. I’d thought the bedroom had been large until Lizbeth had led me to the kitchen. But this room was twice the size of the kitchen. The walls were lined with shelf upon shelf of small statues, wooden boxes polished to a high sheen, cut stone, glass vases, candleholders, and plants. A large rug covered most of one wall, above a stone fireplace with no fire, but stained with soot. A large sword, three times the length of my dagger, rested in a sheath on a shelf above the fireplace. The wooden floor of the room was scattered with chairs and rugs and small tables. Most of the objects were obviously from Amenkor, but a few were too exotic, the patterns too strange. An intricately carved staff leaned against one corner, the dancing figures clearly Zorelli.
Borund sat behind a large desk in the center of the room, papers spread out before him in every direction. Willi
am took a seat to Borund’s left behind the desk and pulled a set of neater pages toward himself. He dipped what looked like a stick into a small black bottle and scratched at the pages.
I halted at the door, wary of the size of the room, then forced myself to move toward the desk.
Borund sighed in disgust as I approached. “Put half in the warehouse and send the rest on. Send all of the spice to Marlett.”
“They don’t want the spice,” William said as he made more scratches. “They want the wheat.”
“Well, they can’t have it. Not at that price. And they won’t be willing to accept the price I would take for it, so they’ll have to choke on the spice.”
“What if they won’t take it?”
“Then it will have to rot in our warehouse in Marlett rather than here. We don’t have enough room here.”
“We don’t have enough room in Marlett either. Not for spice.”
“Then let it rot on the ship!”
William stared at Borund with a frown and said distinctly, “Very well.”
Borund drew in a deep breath, face darkening, then blew out the air in a rush, raising a hand to his forehead. He massaged his temple, then removed the curved wire from his face. This close, in the light streaming in through the windows to one side, I could see glass inside the wires and suddenly realized why they had flashed in the sunlight on the docks. I hadn’t seen the glass in the tavern, nor on the streets outside. It had always been too dark, or I’d been too far away.
“Apologies, William. I think the attack yesterday has affected me more than I want to admit.”
“You’ve been working all morning. You should take a rest.”
Borund grunted. “If only I could. But it’s become so much harder. It’s already midsummer. Winter is approaching fast and we haven’t half of what we need in the warehouses.” He shifted all the papers to one side in a disorderly stack and turned his attention to me.
His eyes widened in slight surprise. “I see that Lizbeth has been at work. You look . . . like an entirely different person.” He paused and I shifted my stance, weight settling slightly forward, arms spread farther away from my body. My eyes narrowed, face hardened.
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