Fletcher (A Prydain novel Book 3)

by AJ Adams

  “And the feathers?”

  “All done, except for the little grey ones.”

  “Why aren’t they ready? What were you doing?”

  The words, “Your laundry, your packing, and feeding and grooming your damn horse” were on my lips. But I remembered Meg, who’d been sold. “They’ll be done in the morning.”

  I got a lecture. “Expertise takes effort, Lind.”

  I half listened, wondering what on earth had set him off. It wasn’t the dark rage that was hidden deep inside but rather a nervous kind of energy. Ware was twitchier than a fox tiptoeing through a pack of hounds.

  The grey eyes were dark, always a sign of temper, but he was on autopilot, clearly ranting at me while the rest of his mind worried. It was totally unlike his cool, calm, collected self.

  He talked himself out, and I took him by the hand. “I put a bucket of hot coals in the bedroom so it’s nice and warm, and the sheets are newly washed.”

  “Did you hear what I said?”

  “Yes. I’m lazy.”

  “I didn’t say that.” He was definitely uptight. “What I said was...” Then he repeated the whole damn lecture, ending with, “We have an agreement, Lind. You must obey me, always. No questioning, no backchat, no...” And he went on and on and on.

  When he finally shut up, I soothed him. “Yes, I’ll be good. I’ll do whatever you want, okay? And I’m sorry about the feathers. Want me to stay up and do them now?”

  It worked because Ware shook his head. “No, it’s late. Do them in the morning.” Then, recollecting himself, he added. “You’ll have to get up early.”

  Bossy, right? Total pain in the arse. But I nodded. Nicely. “Absolutely.”

  In bed, Ware was the same, insistent on dominating. After stroking me till I was creamy, he had me underneath him, face down, pinning me by looping a thumb through my collar.

  His breath was in my ear, the heat of his body searing mine, the scent of musk mixed with wood snaking around my senses. His whisper was fierce in the dark. “Say you’re mine!

  “Never!” I was having far too much fun, writhing against him.

  He was pounding into me, driving me to heaven. “Mine! Say it!”

  “It!” I squealed. “Don’t stop! Never stop, Ware!”

  We exploded together, arching into each other, groaning with shuddering release. Afterwards I lay in heaven, feeling the lithe muscles against my back with his arms winding around me, cradling me.

  “You drive me insane,” he whispered. “I drown in you.”

  I nuzzled his wrist. “Same here.”

  He seemed over it, but the next day Ware remained uptight. It was “Do this” and “Do that” all day long. I humoured him, sensing there was something going on but not having a clue what. Then we had a repeat of the possessive bonking at night.

  It went on for three days, with Ware ordering me about constantly.

  “Master Eward is the same,” Peony told me. “He yelled at me today for absolutely nothing. It’s not like him at all.”

  “Well, that’s pigs for you.” I knew Ware was close by, messing with Thunderclaps in the workshop while I did the menial job of dying feathers in a pot outside in the garden, but I didn’t care.

  Peony looked over her shoulder nervously. “For Wotan’s sake don’t say that. If someone hears, we’ll be beaten.”

  “Frankly, it would be a relief. Ware’s driving me nuts.” I was dipping the feathers quickly as Peony ate her way through some butter biscuits Ware had bought me. “I’m almost beginning to think better of my last pig.”

  “The foot soldier? But he sold you by the hour!”

  “Yes, but at least he ignored me for days on end.”

  “When he was drunk or gambling,” Peony knew all about Jarvis. “But Master Ware is teaching you his craft.”

  “Yes, there’s that.”

  “Is he teaching you the secret of the Thunderclap?” Peony picked up a bright pink feather that was getting away from me. “It’s herbs that make it explode, right?”

  “Oh, he doesn’t tell me his secrets,” I lied. “He does the special work while I do laundry.”

  “Well, even so, you are lucky.”

  I looked at Peony and saw the longing in her eyes. A fifth generation thrall belonging to a noble, a kind one at that, was jealous of me. It reminded me of essentials. “Yes, I guess I am.” It came from the heart, too.

  Peony went off, and I took the feathers inside. Ware was looking grumpy as he fiddled about with his mortar and pestle, but I was determined to ignore his bad mood.

  “Stop encouraging Peony to call people pigs.”

  So Ware had heard every word. “Okay.”

  “You said that before. Promises are to be kept. Your word is your bond, Lind.”

  “I’m sorry.” I spotted the bowls of sulphur and saltpetre by his side. “Want me to make you some charcoal?”

  “Don’t try to distract me!” Ware snapped. Then he stopped and stared at me. “How the hell did you know what I need?”

  It was my turn to stare and mouth silently. I’d wanted to get out of another lecture, and instead, I’d given myself away. Ware knew that I knew the secret of black powder.

  For a horrific moment I wondered if he’d kill me. A thrall learning a Guild skill was bad enough, but a thrall possessing the secret behind the Thunderclap and muskets threatened all the nobles and citizens.

  “You belonged to a Brighthelme smith.” Ware was always quick.

  “Yes.”

  “He was one of the craftsmen who made muskets?”

  “Yes.”

  Time stretched. I could already feel a blade cut my throat as the fletcher protected his secret, the Guild and the nobles he worked for.

  Ware sighed and went back to his mortar. “Very well, make me some charcoal.”

  My heart was beating so fast that I thought I might explode. Sweat was running down my back. “That’s it?”

  “Yes. Get to work, Lind.” The steel eyes were hooded. I couldn’t tell what he was thinking, but clearly I had a pass.

  “Why?”

  Five minutes before, that question would have earned me a mountain of trouble. Now Ware just shrugged. “You lied to Peony.”

  I’d kept the secret and so I was alive. “But I might tell someone else.” Tyr silence my unruly tongue! Can you believe it? Why can I never leave well alone?

  “Lind, if you’d told, it would be all over Prydain. Also, you weren’t even tempted to tell.” Ware was actually smiling. “You lied fluently, without a hint of shame. That’s exactly the attitude the Guild looks for. Well done.”

  “The Guild approves of liars?” I couldn’t believe my ears.

  “We call it protecting our sacred knowledge, but yes.” He tugged my hair in a cheerful way. “Don’t cook today, Lind. Tonight you get a treat.”

  “Good service is rewarded?” I knew it was just Ware’s system for controlling me, but I was happy anyway. “I’ll go brush the apple green tunic.”

  That night he took me out for dinner to the Merry Troubadour. I drank a flask of red wine, so when we finished the roast pork stuffed with chestnuts, I was happy. “Let’s go home and go to bed.”

  “You really are the limit, Lind.” But he said it without anger. “Have you no shame?”

  “Right, I forgot. Let’s go to bed, sir.”

  “What did I do to deserve this?” But he was picking up his bow and piloting me out past the curious glances.

  “You’re the best. Everyone knows it.”

  “Shut up, Lind.”

  “Okay.”

  I had my hands under his tunic the second we were in the door. “Can we do it slowly? And can you drop the “mine-mine-mine” please?”

  Ware’s reply was a little muffled because his head got caught up in his shirt but he was laughing when he emerged. “Lind, you’re impossible.”

  “I know. Want to fuck?”

  “Yes.”

  It was glorious, and afterwards when
I was lying in his arms, totally relaxed, Ware was his usual self again, too. “You’re dreadful, Lind, but you’re terrific in bed.”

  “I had a good time, too.”

  “Hmmm.” Ware was flat on his back, still panting. “I heard. The whole castle probably heard.”

  “So I’m a screamer. Don’t tell me you’re shocked.”

  “I guess not.” He was laughing. “But Lind, you have to do better.”

  “Tyr’s blood! Two minutes and you’re back into that?”

  “Lind!”

  “Ware!” I mimicked him brutally, the wine giving me an edge. “Please! Give me a break! I’m doing what you ask, so quit pushing!”

  “Discipline—”

  “Drop it, okay?” Those purple grapes were fuelling me nicely. “You know I don’t talk, and we’ve got a good deal going, so what the fuck is wrong?”

  “Nothing. And don’t swear.”

  “What were you and your mate Eward talking about?”

  “He’s the constable. Have some respect.”

  “Okay, you and the constable. What were you gossiping about?”

  “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “Liar!” Yes, definitely the wine. “You went there three days ago to chat about elephant wars and when you came back, you were totally uptight.”

  “Was not.”

  “Were so.”

  Ware had been putting back a fair bit of the purple grape, too, so he wasn’t at his sharpest. “Was not,” he repeated sulkily.

  “You’ve been grumpier than a bear with a hornet up its bum. Why won’t you just tell me what’s up?”

  “If you must know,” he snapped, “your pig is back!”

  Chapter Fifteen: Fletcher

  “Is that all?” Lind had drunk freely at dinner, so she was feeling no pain. “I know he is. The poxy whoreson’s working for that fat-gut steward. They’re second cousins.”

  I didn’t bother telling her off for swearing and disrespect. The wretched girl was immune. “How did you know?”

  “Thralls know everything.” Lind snuggled into me, yawning comfortably. “I heard before you did, probably.”

  “He’ll be joining the convoy.”

  “With Duggard. And twenty extra carts filled with goods.”

  Thralls did hear everything. “Now listen to me, Lind. You’re to be on your best behaviour.”

  “Yes, yes. I won’t get you into trouble.” The wine had turned my little rebel friendly as usual. “Don’t worry.”

  “They’ll try to bait you. You must promise—” but Lind was asleep. I stroked her hair and prayed she’d be good. I fell asleep, wondering again if I were a fool to depend on this difficult girl.

  Jarvis turned up the very next day. “I’ve orders from the steward to check on your arrangements, Master Fletcher.”

  He was burly, loud and sloppy-looking, and as he saluted me, Lind bristled. I was ready to grab her at the first “Tyr’s warty cock” but she pressed her lips tightly together and was silent. Fuming but silent.

  Frankly, I was relieved. I was very much aware that I’d made no headway at all in the month I’d had her. She swore like a mercenary, had an indelible lack of respect, and I couldn’t get her to display more than basic courtesy.

  She’d performed her chores, and she was sensible enough to know that blabbing Guild secrets meant death, but I knew that her relative docility with me came purely from her wish to become skilled.

  I’d gone overboard after the news that Jarvis was coming, giving her order after order for days on end, thinking to force her into a position where obedience came automatically.

  It hadn’t worked.

  Lind never disobeyed, but I knew damn well that she would go her own way as soon as she felt like it. A lifetime of thraldom hadn’t made a dent in her rebellious soul, and it looked increasingly unlikely that I would either.

  I would have to pray that when the time came, she’d cooperate and get me into the tower. In the meantime, I had to work with an even more unsavoury character to get me to the stronghold. I knew as soon as I saw Jarvis, Lind’s former master, that he was a piece of work.

  “Been hearing stories about you getting into it with the Guild.” Jarvis was staring at Lind’s collar.

  “Have you?” I didn’t like this man.

  “Yeah, I thought you must be broke when I heard you took this job.” Jarvis spoke as if I were a common merchant instead of a master craftsman. “But maybe I was wrong.” Jarvis checked over my boots, softest hand-tooled Llanfaes leather, my rich hose and thick linen shirt. “Unless... is that collar plated?”

  “No.”

  “Sorry. Guess I got the wrong end of the stick.” Jarvis shrugged, paused and grudgingly added, “Sir.”

  Lind had been right: this man was a pig.

  “The steward wishes to assure himself that the arrangements for the rangers are made? You can tell him the team are already out gathering information. The plan for convoy security was sent to him this morning.”

  My cold tones pushed him into the semblance of respect. “Yessir!” But then his eyes raked down Lind, who was looking pretty in her black skirt and blue tunic with the creamy lace shift peeping out underneath.

  The pig salivated and leered. “She cleans up nice, doesn’t she? I never would’ve guessed it.”

  Suddenly, the thought of him owning her made me furiously angry. I would have controlled myself, but that fool Jarvis pushed me too far.

  He nodded at Lind, “She’s spent more time under men than barstools. Not sure she’s worth silver, though.”

  “Oh, fuck off.” Lind was red-faced and loud. “Fat-gut bastard!”

  I caught his fist in mid air. “No, you don’t.”

  “That vicious little she-wolf needs slapping down!”

  “Not by you.” I squeezed till he squealed, twisted just enough to make him lose his balance, and then shoved him backwards. “Touch her, Jarvis, and I’ll gut you.”

  He nursed his hand, whining, “I work for the steward!”

  “Then conduct yourself with some dignity.”

  “Like he has any.” Lind turned on her heel and marched off. It was typical of her rudeness; she should have asked my permission to leave, but I didn’t want to broadcast her insolence by yelling at her. As the cottage was a hundred paces away, I wasn’t worried about her safety.

  Jarvis was still moaning, “I’ve orders to liaise.”

  Terrific. The man who runs the rangers answers to the convoy leader. As the steward was now in charge, and he’d appointed Jarvis, I’d have to work with him. Worse, I’d have to take his orders. I couldn’t walk away because I’d taken on this job as part of the contract. It was humiliating; exactly what Duggard had intended.

  “As the convoy leader’s assistant, you have to submit your plans to me,” Jarvis squawked.

  At this point we had an interested audience of cart drivers and castle servants. Irritated at being a public spectacle yet again, I put Jarvis in his place. “Do the job, and do it well. Fuck with me, and I’ll bury you.”

  “You can’t talk to me like that! You may be Guild, but I’m the steward’s man!”

  The lack of respect had to be dealt with. I reached for him instinctively. “Guess again.”

  “Yes, okay! Sorry! Sir!”

  He was keen to apologise because I was holding him by the neck. I lifted him off his feet, just to scare him, and squeezed a little. “Don’t forget.” He gargled, and I took it as a sign of agreement. I dropped him. “Report at dawn, soldier.”

  “Ah, I see you’ve met Jarvis.” Eward’s cheerful booming voice broke up the ring of onlookers. “If he’s no good, you should shoot him, Ware. Throttling is unworthy of you.”

  “I didn’t want to waste an arrow, sir. I’m sure we understand each other now.”

  As Jarvis scuttled off, Eward dropped his voice. “He’s a sneaky fuck. Watch out, Ware.”

  “Yes, I will.”

  Eward was twitchy. “Ware, we have a
problem. I was going to send Thomas as sergeant and Bart as his deputy, but they went hunting this morning. Bart went over a fence too fast, took a tumble and broke an ankle.”

  “That’s bad news.”

  “It gets worse,” Eward said gloomily. “The silly bastard took Thomas down with him. He’s got a broken leg.”

  Their misfortune was mine too. Although Lind squabbled with them when they were on gate duty, they were reliable and dedicated. I’d worked with them at Volgard, and we got along. It would’ve been nice to have them with me on the road.

  “I’m sending Sergeant Kennard instead.”

  This job was getting worse and worse. Kennard would be extremely difficult to get along with. Also, with him, Jarvis and Duggard being kin, they’d gang up on me.

  Still, the journey to Tanweld was just the start of my work. The real mission would come afterwards. Kennard would make an excellent fighter in the field, and I couldn’t get to Ranulf alone. “I’m sure we can work together. We all want the same result.”

  “Actually, I was planning to brief Thomas and Bart tonight, but I decided to give Kennard sealed orders,” Eward admitted.

  “You think he’d cause trouble?”

  “I think he’d tell Duggard. They’re cousins, you know. And I wouldn’t trust Duggard to keep his trap shut. He’s the most bloody awful steward we’ve ever had.”

  “I agree about Duggard, but Kennard has plenty of experience and he’s no fool. He likes his cousin, but he’ll be a soldier first.”

  “Yes, that’s true,” Eward sighed. “But just to be certain, he won’t find out what’s going on until Tanweld.”

  “All right.”

  “He knows this trip is a cover, but he won’t know the ultimate destination or your role till he needs to.”

  “Good.”

  “He’s to obey you, implicitly.”

  “Excellent.”

  “He won’t like it, but he’ll do it. He’s a pro.”

  “Of course.”

  “For Wotan’s sake, Ware. At least curse a little!”

  I had to laugh. “You do it for me!”

  “Look, our deal was that you’d lead the rangers. It wasn’t meant to land you in a heap of shit.” Eward was concerned. “The steward will be after you every moment of every day, and that Jarvis is a snake.”