Chapter 10
Errands
Jyuth had said she was free to go.
Instead, she’d waited just outside the door to the wizard’s apartment, by the rose bushes that framed the entryway.
She told herself she was only doing so in case he needed something else. But the truth of it was she was intrigued by the tall, beautiful woman who had strode so purposefully into the wizard’s rooms without the typical fear she saw others display around him. And then he’d referred to her as his daughter. They didn’t look alike, but she did seem to share his confidence.
Alana could hear the two of them shouting at each other, in the way only family members tend to do. And then the voices returned to a normal volume, and she couldn’t hear what they were saying. It was too much for her conscience to put her ear against the door to listen better, so she picked at some dirt underneath her fingernails. Then the woman’s voice erupted again.
“You’re leaving!”
The doors swung violently open into her face, and she saw the woman’s figure receding down the garden path. Alana had seen that hurried shuffle and hunched posture before. That woman was crying and not trying to hide it.
“Girl. Don’t stand there with your mouth open. I thought you were dismissed. Get in here.” A wet wizard was standing in the doorway, picking slices of lemon out of his beard and off his robes.
Alana hurried into the room, secured the entrance, and took a deep breath before turning to face the wizard.
“My lord, I’m very sorry. I-I-I was just waiting in case you needed me.”
“I told you I didn’t need you, Alana.” The wizard’s face softened, and he sighed. “Bring me a towel and some water. I’m starting to feel sticky.”
“So, Alana, what did you hear?” asked Jyuth. “And tell me precisely. I have ways of knowing the truth you’d rather not become accustomed to.”
While Jyuth dried his face, Alana recounted what she’d heard as completely as she could, finishing her tale with what the wizard’s daughter had screamed before she left the apartment.
Her stomach churned at the possible implications of her actions. Was she going to be fired? She and her sister depended on the income from the palace; the options weren’t good for people in the Narrows. Or maybe she was going to end up like the king and queen with her head on a spike! She looked at the floor, but her eyes grew wide as her mind raced with all of the terrible alternatives.
“Thank you for telling me everything, Alana. And I’m glad you didn’t hear all of our exchange. For your sake.” Jyuth finished drying his hands and face and threw the towel on the sofa. “Now, I’m sure you have some questions…”
“Questions, my lord? No, I don’t have any questions; that’s not my place.” Alana couldn’t believe she was getting away with what she did. She just wanted to get out of there now.
“If I asked you if you have any questions, then I’ll be disappointed if you don’t have any questions,” said Jyuth. “And even though you try to hide it, I can see you’re intelligent. And I like to nurture intelligence, wherever I find it. So, ask away. And do sit. I hate to talk and stand at the same time.”
“Yes, my lord.” Alana wasn’t sure if this was some kind of trick. Maybe she should just ask some inane questions and still make good her escape. But she might not get the chance to have a conversation with Lord Jyuth again. Curiosity won out. “Who was that?”
“Ah, yes. You haven’t been in the palace long; otherwise, you’d know Neenahwi. She was my apprentice, and I have long considered her to be the daughter I never had. We have a somewhat complicated history. She’s from the Wild Continent, you know. I’m sure you noticed her distinctive appearance.”
“Why is she here? I mean, what brought her to Edland from the Wild Continent?”
“That’s her story to tell, not mine,” he replied, “but she once resided here in the palace with me, traveled with me in my studies, and now she lives in the city. Next question.”
Alana took a deep breath before asking the next question. The answer was what had made Lady Neenahwi explode and it could be a touchy subject with the wizard.
“She said you’re leaving. What does that mean? Everyone knows you come and go. Sometimes you’re gone for years…”
“Alana, what I tell you now you have to promise me you won’t tell another soul.” At the nod of her head, he continued. “Good. Well, I plan on, how shall I put it, retiring. Yes, retiring. It’s time I let this kingdom stand on its own two feet, or at least let someone else meddle in it instead of me. Such as my daughter. I want to go somewhere quiet and have peace to study. Oh, how I need to have peace and quiet. And I want it to be warm all year round. I’m tired of snow!” He said the last words with a smile on his face, and it was apparent he was trying to make a joke, but Alana just frowned at him.
“Don’t worry, Alana. This city isn’t going to sink into the ocean without me. And it’s probably going to do better with whatever lord protector is elected than any king I install. I’m not going to leave Edland in the lurch and disappear.”
“Is that why you wanted there to be an election? So you couldn’t be blamed for a bad leader after you were gone? Are you really going to just leave it up to the people?”
“I see the dam blocking those questions has burst, and the torrent comes out!” The old man let out a deep laugh that came from down low.
“And I also see I was right about your quick mind, Alana. Call it an old man’s ego, but that’s exactly the reason why I thought an election would be the right course. Mind you, I want you to understand the king and his queen didn’t die because of me wanting an election. There were much more severe issues I had to address that led to that outcome. The election was simply making the best of a bad lot. And what was your last question?”
Jyuth paused to think back, and a mischievous look crossed his face. “Oh, yes, as if I, Jyuth the Wise, Wizard of Kingshold, would tamper with the election!” And he laughed again, Alana uncertain what his response had meant. “You do remind me, though, I have a few errands in the city where I need your help.”
Jyuth had made her memorize the tasks he gave her along with the addresses in the city she had to visit. He’d given her two sealed messages and two gold crowns and an additional warning for her to watch her back, which had now made her the tiniest bit twitchy.
First stop was the Stonemasons’ Guild just outside the Inner Wall to deliver a message to Guild Master Ballard. The guards at the door to the guild house were a rough-looking lot, more like professional slouches than professional guards, but they did still stop her from entering until they saw the royal seal on the documents.
Alana had asked the wizard why he was using a royal seal when the monarchy was no more, which seemed to amuse him greatly. He said it should at least get the messages read. She delivered the message to the guild master personally as instructed, and she waited in the antechamber outside his office for a response. Ballard came out himself to hand her a rolled-up piece of parchment, sealed with the crossed chisel sigil of the guild. “Tell him I’ll be there tomorrow, around noon. For lunch!”
The next stop took her all the way down to the end of the Lance, and along the Outer Wall, until she saw the compound, a wall enclosing three buildings and a courtyard visible through the gate. This was the home of the Hollow Syndicate, an ancient group of assassins, apparently completely legal even though their business was murder. She’d heard stories of how trainee assassins were typically bonded with the guild as small boys and girls, where they then, eventually, graduated or were released.
The school for trainees shared the compound with the house that was home to the members, though novices weren’t allowed entry. Apparently, non-Syndicate members weren’t allowed either, as the doorman wouldn’t let her in. But he did promise to convey the message to Lady Chalice, the leader of the house.
Jyuth had warned her she likely wouldn’t be able to enter, but she was still disappointed all the same. The stonemaso
ns’ guild house was the first she’d ever seen from the inside, and while it didn’t have the grandness of the palace, it had a feeling of sensible elegance and a certain coziness that appealed to Alana. And though the Hollow Syndicate wasn’t an official guild, she wondered how their house would compare, especially as their members were regarded with higher status.
She didn’t have to wait for a reply, and so, she was left to her daydreams of what it’d be like to be trained as a killer, as she walked back out onto the busy city streets.
Her third stop was to a smithy, not on the Lance where most of the blacksmiths who created arms and armor for knights, lords, and ladies were located. This smith was on the other side of the Outer Wall, Garlick’s shop near the Narrows.
She knew the place by sight and reputation. Garlick tended to horse’s shoes and iron for carts and building materials, and she didn’t know why Jyuth would have business with him. But she followed her instructions and introduced herself to the smith as a messenger from Merchant Harwich.
Garlick retrieved a sealed message from a room adjoining the smithy itself—the private rooms of the blacksmith and his family, as evidenced by the sounds of children playing—and handed it over with little discussion. She made her farewells and moved onto her last stop.
Out in the streets, she tried to stay close to the afternoon crowds, wary of the wizard’s warning about being followed. As she neared the Narrows, the number of people she recognized increased, many saying good afternoon and stopping as if to pass the time of day, but Alana made her excuses in each case and hurried on her way.
As she passed one alleyway, a hand reached out and grabbed her arm, pulling her off the main street. Alana’s hand went to the little knife she carried in a pocket. Screams were of little use if someone was willing to attack in broad daylight.
“Alana, it’s me, Davith.”
“What are you doing, Davith? I was just about to stick you. You want to end up like your dad?”
“No! Look, you need to know, there’s someone following you.” Davith was small for his fifteen or so summers, but that’s what happened when you grew up on the streets and had to fight for every meal. He was part of a small gang of similar street kids. They did a little petty theft, mainly of people outside the neighborhood, and Alana had something of a soft spot for Davith and his friends. She sometimes thought about how she and her sister could have ended up on the streets when her parents died.
“Who?” she asked, anxiously looking over her shoulder. “What do they look like? How do you know?”
“We saw you come through the Redgate an hour or so ago, and we tagged this solo man just after you. Looked like a tradesman, but not one we recognized. So, we were going to see if he’d like to make a charitable contribution, you know, but he was never out of eyesight of you. He didn’t tag us, I swear. He was hanging around when you were at Garlick’s, and then as soon as you left, he moved, too. We thought you should know.”
“Shit,” she exclaimed. Alana wasn’t one for swearing. She got that from her Da, who never swore even though he was a sailor. Her Ma, though, now she could swear. This seemed like one of the occasions when her father would forgive her. “I mean, thanks, Davith. Maybe I can lose him in the Narrows.”
“You want us to help?” he asked excitedly. “We could create a little diversion to would give you enough time to slip away.”
“Davith, if you weren’t covered in filth I’d kiss you. Instead, you do a good job, and I’ll give you this shiny gold crown. You know where I live. You can come and get it tonight after the ninth bell.”
“A crown!” he exclaimed, a desperate craving visible in the boy’s eyes. He and his friends could live for a while on a crown, as long as they didn’t get robbed themselves. “We could take care of him permanently for that if you like. Just give me your little knife and we’ll—”
“No thanks, Davith!” she said hurriedly. “The diversion will be just fine! And if it works, you’ll have earned the fee.”
She set the tray of crusty pies down on the table in Jyuth’s apartment.
The fourth errand had been to buy a batch of blood pies from Mama Batty’s in the Narrows. Getting the pies and making it back to the palace had been uneventful, the diversion having worked a treat. But to call it just a diversion seemed unworthy; it was a masterful display of street-urchin theater, the actors ad-libbing on the same frequency without a formal plan.
There had not been time to go through a dress rehearsal, but Davith had only needed to let his friends know the rough objective using hand signals they had developed, and then everything clicked into gear.
As Alana entered the Narrows, she was roughly aware of the presence of the man who was following fifty strides or so behind her. Once the alleyway became tight, she ducked behind a jutting corner so she could watch what was going to happen, whether she’d have some breathing room or would need a plan B. That, and she wanted to watch the show.
Her shadow approached the entrance to the Narrows, when one of the street kids leaped off a nearby building onto a cart, whipping the horse into a charge with the rope that normally held his trousers in place. The horse and cart swerved into the entranceway to the Narrows, smashing into a watermelon salesman and sending the fruits spinning across the ground.
The wagon became stuck while, at the same time, the horse went berserk from the impact and being trapped in a confined space. The man had to stop then. He couldn’t enter the Narrows through this gate, and while he pondered his next move, the other kids pounced.
A tomato—hurled with the accuracy of a lifetime of practice at throwing stones at pigeons to get food to eat—smashed into the back of his head, red juice exploding around him like a halo. He turned and another kid materialized and threw himself at the back of the man’s knees, causing him to fall face first into the street. And before he knew what was happening, a score of street kids swarmed over him, holding him down, stripping him clean like ravens on a dead rat.
That was all she needed to see, and all the time Alana needed to make it into the heart of the district she called home, walking quickly through the confined streets.
“Ah, blood pies,” exclaimed Jyuth, as he entered the sitting room. She could see how he had gained his physique, this man clearly enjoyed his food. “Excellent, Alana. How did everything go?”
Alana told the wizard about her journey, handing over the messages from the stonemasons’ guild master and the blacksmith. He opened the letters and nodded as he read them, all the while eating the blood pies. When it was time to talk about the person tailing her, Jyuth put the pie down and paid his full attention.
“Did you see who it was?” he asked. “Would you recognize him again?”
“I’m sorry, my lord. I didn’t get a good look. It was Davith who told me I was being followed. I felt it before, but I could never catch a glimpse of him.”
“Hmmph. I bet that long slimy shit, Aebur, is trying to stick his nose into my business. Well, we’ll need to be smarter next time, right, Alana?” Jyuth flashed a mischievous smile, not unlike Davith’s when she had promised him the gold crown for his work. She found herself smiling right back at the old man.
Chapter 11
Tin Man
It seemed as if half of the city had come out to line the Farm Road from the Excise Gate up to the Outer Wall, and many of them had been waiting since early morning. Though Eden’s criers had proclaimed which day he’d be arriving, they’d been less specific on the actual time.
Mareth was standing in the garret window of a ramshackle apartment building, the home of an old lady he had just met. He’d chosen this particular window as it was ideally suited to have a view down the road to the gate from where Eden would approach. Mareth took little pride in charming a little old lady in a small hovel—that wasn’t much of a challenge—but he was glad she’d made her guests a cup of tea while they all waited. You see, Mareth wasn’t alone in this endeavor. He had a new best friend: Dolph.
Dolph
had come as part of the deal with Hoxteth, with the explanation he’d be helpful to the bard. He’d make connections at the right kind of inns and meeting halls and protect him in case of any trouble if he was to say anything to anger a supporter of a rival candidate.
And what went unsaid was Dolph could keep an eye on their investment of ten crowns in advance and five a week. Dolph came without uniform, nor visible armor (though Mareth thought he had chainmail under his jerkin given some jingly noises when he walked), and he wasn’t the hulking type of guard someone used when they were obviously guarding something. More the type that managed not to attract anyone’s eye, but then when someone did notice him, they’d sense the confident menace. This was a man who broke fingers in the evening—for fun.
But still, Mareth was sure the old lady was so accommodating because she liked him.
It was a bell or so before noon, and the crowd on the Farm Road was mainly made up of commoners from The Edge of Kingshold, the collection of districts that existed in between what was still called the Outer Wall and the Curtain Wall, which was now the true boundary of the city.
The population of the city had exploded in the last few hundred years, and most of the growth had taken place in The Edge, and now the vast majority of the city’s population lived there. They were the working poor, the destitute and the forgotten. Those in positions of power and nobility gave them little thought, except in times of war, plague, and famine. But Mareth had spent most of his life with people like that since he had left the Bard College. He’d seen how even in their daily struggles, they often had more moments of happiness than those with two coins to rub together. He knew whose company he preferred now, including that of his own family.
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