SWORDS (The Paladin's Thief Book 3)

by Benjamin Hewett

  Lucinda rolls her eyes. I can see it clearly in the moonlight. “Carmen can take care of herself.”

  “So you hid in the baggage?”

  “It was Carmen’s idea. Someone has to look after Valery.”

  “But you’re not really going to be doing that.” I’ve known Lucinda for a long time, maybe ten years. She feeds orphans, but she doesn’t babysit or bandage them.

  “No, not really. But Val can tag along.” Lucinda stretches her hand out. “Help me up.”

  I do without saying a word. I know better than to tell her to stop spying on Magnus.

  “I’m thirsty.”

  “Okay.” I give her a leg up so she can get onto the wall, and then I follow her, running up it where two walls make the corner. It’s an easy trick, but she eyes me appreciatively.

  “You know, this is the first time I’ve been on a job, with you.”

  I shrug, enjoying the height of the wall. “This isn’t really a job, Lucinda. This is my family.”

  We don’t bother waking up Val or Magnus for bandage changes. Instead, Lucinda and I pad softly down the town’s main thoroughfare, which is nice, but definitely a step down from Ector. For one thing, there aren’t any street lanterns to light the way. I tell her Magnus’s story about Byzantus and about his odd friend Cobalt, and she asks me a few questions about knife work. I shrug, and hand her a ring from Tom’s collection. “This one can tell you all you need to know,” I say.

  She shudders, and takes it off almost immediately. “No, thank you. Are they all like that?”

  I nod. “They get in your head after a few minutes, like you’re not sure who you are.”

  Lucinda stares at me blankly in the moonlight, hair blowing in the cold wind.

  “Here, try this one.” I hand her the largest of the rings, one that I could almost fit two fingers into. For a moment I feel the urge to bludgeon someone, and I hear the ghost screams of a woman’s voice. It’s my least favorite, but when I wear it, everything I pick up feels light as a feather.

  Lucinda slips it on and shivers. After a few seconds she hands it back. “Spooky.”

  “That’s not exactly how I would describe it.”

  I hand her another one, the one that makes me want to giggle.

  “Spooky,” is all she says.

  It’s probably not smart to pass around oath rings around in the middle of the street, but Lucinda’s response is out of tune with my expectations. I make her try on every single one, but by the end it’s evident they don’t get to her like they get to me. “They all feel the same,” she says and refuses to try them on again.

  We circle back to the coach yard and I wake up our new driver. He mumbles a few curses about driving at night, but gets up and readies the new team after lighting a few of the livery’s lamps. I let him know I’ve swapped my trunk for another passenger.

  “As long as she don’t mind a luggage rack for a seat.”

  “That’s fine. How much for a couple pillows? And a blanket?”

  We arrange things so that Magnus doesn’t have to trouble himself about Lucinda. Namely, I throw the mangled trunk bits into the bushes and she hides in the yard while I roust him and the kids from the inn and change bandages. I’m the only one who notices the slight dipping of the struts as she hops onto the back of the coach once the door is closed and everyone is situated.

  She doesn’t want to tell Magnus yet because she’s afraid he’ll try to send her back to Ector. Not that it would do him any good to insist, but Lucinda’s smart to delay the argument for a few more leagues.

  In fact, it’s another day and a half of nearly straight driving before Magnus figures it out. I bet Lucinda the first watch that we’d make it all the way to Avrigne before he notices. Unfortunately, we have to make a sudden stop along the road because of a harness issue and Lucinda isn’t quick enough scrambling to the roof and flattening out.

  Magnus catches her by the heel and drags her down, his eyes going wide with shock when he realizes who it is. “Lucinda!”

  “Ouch! Put me down, you big pile of toad shistle! Wait! Softly!”

  “You were in the trunk!” He turns to me. “She was in the trunk. Did you know about this?”

  “What? Lucinda? How did you get here? Are you the one who broke into my trunk?”

  She gives me a sulky stare, but Magnus sees the wink.

  “Did you just wink at Teacup?”

  It’s suddenly a good time to take my kids for a walk and let Magnus and Lucinda work out their differences. There’s a fair bit of yelling as we stroll into the shade of some overhanging trees. I can tell from Timmy’s puzzled look that he didn’t know, and from Val’s grin that she’d been in on it the whole time. “Fresh bandages my foot,” I say, once we’re out of earshot.

  Val giggles.

  Timmy’s more worried about his tools. “Da, you packed the boot-kit, right? I handed it to you after you put in Val’s spare dress.”

  I shake my head. “No good, Timmy. Apparently, I wasn’t the only one packing the trunk.”

  By the time we get back from stretching our legs, the dust has almost settled.

  Magnus isn’t happy about being tricked. “Lucinda, listen to reason. We’re being hunted,” he says. “You’d be safer in Ector.”

  “You listen to reason, Magnus. You saw how safe Ector was. In three days, I survived a tavern brawl, a fire, a murderous cobbler, and a group of hell-bound assassins. I figure I’ll be at least that safe on the road with you.”

  Magnus is speechless.

  “Even better,” she says coyly, “I’ll be learning new things and seeing new places with people I like.” She taps Magnus on the nose with her index finger and then slides it down to his chest. “And you promised to teach me how to use a sword. We can get started a bit sooner than expected, no?”

  The blush in his cheek reveals that he isn’t just worried about safety. “I guess I’ll. . . um . . . I’ll ride with the driver,” he mutters in defeat. “It’ll be a bit crowded inside.”

  As the miles pass, I notice that while Lucinda got her way, Magnus seems to have scored a point. She watches him through the small forward windows as he chats amicably with the driver. It seems to irritate her to no end that he’s outside and she’s inside.

  Soon Lucinda asks Val to trade places with her so she can watch out the back window instead. This arrangement persists for the rest of the day and through the following night, with those inside sleeping with heads on bouncing shoulders, grabbing what rest we can. It’s worse for Magnus, and in the morning when we switch drivers, coach, and horses in Emery-by-the-River, Lucinda prevails again by insisting that she will be riding in the luggage space for the purpose of fresh air, and he’s welcome to join her or take advantage of the padded seat inside. The old driver rolls his eyes as he stumbles into the livery building for some much-needed rest, and Magnus relents. Within minutes he’s asleep, too tired now to be bothered by the squeak of wood and springs designed to soften the impact of long travel.

  But the real trouble begins at dinner on the evening of the fourth day, in a town called Flow-by-Downs, and it doesn’t start with Lucinda or Magnus, who seem to be on the mend. They’re sitting together with Val at a table across the common room from Timmy and me, eating quietly, the perfect portrait of an road-weary family. It suits them.

  Timmy and I are on the fireplace side of the tavern, The Golden Sisal. We’re over here because Lucinda thinks smaller groups are less conspicuous. I think it’s a good idea, too, because it gives me a chance to get away from the grumpy pair while they iron out their differences. And it gives us a second perspective on the inn.

  The trouble starts with a tall, thin-faced farmer at the bar. He’s got beautiful, straight white teeth, and he’s holding a drink and trying to amuse the barmaid who’s busy serving a row of tired hire-men. The men look like they’ve had a long day harvesting the last crops and readying fields for winter. Their shirts are covered in the blackish soil common to East March, and sev
eral haven’t bothered to remove their wool sweaters.

  Shiny-teeth is the only one who has any energy for conversation. “How do you know a Paladin is dead?”

  The barmaid smiles while cleaning a tankard with a questionable cloth. These jokes have been a mainstay for almost as long as the five abbeys have been in existence. Odd, but nobody tells jokes about Nightshades. “How can you tell?”

  “It’s the only time you’ll see him smile.”

  “They are a bit somber, aren’t they?” She giggles. “Tell me another, Dale,” she says, starting on a new tankard. “If you think you can manage.”

  “Oh, I can manage,” he says, taking the challenge. Dale thinks a bit, and glances at the other men at the bar. Then he leans toward her, but he’s not very good at keeping his voice down. “How do you empty a room full of Paladins?” he asks.

  “Heard it,” she says, putting down her tankard and reaching for another. “You start a house fire next door and call for help. They’ll be outside in a moment, demanding to help.”

  The men at the bar chuckle, but Dale shakes his head. “Maybe. But they leave faster if you send a naked woman in to tell them.”

  The barmaid blushes, and this time there are some real guffaws from the hire-men. Lucinda tries to hide a smile so big that I can see it on the other side of the room.

  Magnus pushes a plate back as if he’s going to stand up, but Lucinda’s hand is already on his arm. She’s smiling at him sweetly, but her shoulders are tense. Magnus might mean well, but he’ll only end up making a scene, and that’s the last thing we need right now. Speed and anonymity are our greatest allies.

  “What?” he says to her. “Some of us marry. And I smile plenty. The clean life is a life of joy. People need to know that.”

  “And you’re going to set them straight with that giant frown, are you?” she asks carefully.

  Magnus relaxes a little.

  “Don’t bother them, Magnus,” she insists. “It’s funny.”

  “Maybe it is a little funny.” The corners of his mouth turn up slightly, seeing the irony. “And you’re funny, too. I shouldn’t have taken offense.”

  Lucinda doesn’t blush, but I can tell she’s pleased. “You have a beautiful smile, Magnus. Don’t hide it.”

  Unfortunately, I’m not the only one who notices the exchange. People from several tables are scrutinizing at Magnus and Lucinda, now. That’s a far cry from recognition, but still not good. So much for a low profile.

  “Let’s go,” I say to Timmy, sweeping the rest of my food into a wax paper pouch.

  Across the way, I can see Lucinda and Magnus doing the same thing, aware that they’ve attracted too much attention.

  Val isn’t moving though. “Lucinda,” she complains, forgetting to call her ‘mother,’ “you said I’d get to meet people here!” Val has her eyes on the freckled farm boy in the corner, nursing a bowl of soup alongside his dad.

  My eyes slide to Timmy, but he doesn’t have any similar protests. He’s already on his feet, eyes flitting about between the boots of everyone in eyesight. Suddenly his eyes jump to me and back to the table by the door, down to the man’s boots, and back to me, twice in rapid succession. For Timmy in public, this is equivalent to a hoarse shout.

  Instantly my attention focuses. The man is sitting a poisoned dagger’s stroke from anyone passing to the door. His boots are extremely nice for such a small town, and not a pattern I’ve seen in East March. They are thicker, with a fringe of winter fur. South. Byzantus. Why do they never change their boots?

  He sees my eyes and Timmy’s, and his hand jumps to his vest pocket as I spin to check all sides, catching sudden motion in three places.

  “Magnus!” I yell, diving sideways across our table, yanking Timmy with me. The air goes thick and slow, and the ring I’m wearing gets hot. Then our table ends and we’re rolling through air. I can see the strands of smoke from each candle drifting lazily to the ceiling and the warm glow of candle-lit steel emerging from scabbard. Magnus kicks backwards out of his chair, knocking over his table and lifting a plate to shield himself in one swift move.

  Th-thunk.

  More darts from the man by the door.

  The man with the boots moves like light entering a dark room, and I have to stare a bit. He’s on his feet in an eyeblink, closing the distance to Lucinda and Magnus even as I take cover.

  Lucinda’s the only one on the offensive. There’s a spray of cider as her mug takes the strange-booted assassin in the shoulder, only missing his head because he’s moving fast as lightning. Her knife comes out and she flinches as if she’s throwing it. It’s a feint, but the door-assassin dives sideways, not wanting to stop it the same way he stopped the mug. It’s enough to slow him down.

  Now the cowards in the inn join Timmy and me on the floor. I pop up, thinking for a second to draw attention from Lucinda and Magnus. The one by Lucinda is trying to edge around her toward Magnus, and she’s edging with him, a tankard in one hand turned sideways to protect her knuckles, and her Ralfian gripped tightly in the other hand. Another man rises silently from behind Val near the back window, and a third man shoves Farmer Dale aside as he leaps toward Magnus from behind, drawing a jagged sword and a dagger at the same time.

  Magnus is fixated on the one by the door, unsheathing his sword to help Lucinda. It takes me a split second to realize that this man is a decoy. He’s supposed to keep us busy while the other two close from behind. Dammit Magnus! Stop babying her. Look behind you!

  I bolt from my hiding place, full speed in the time it takes to spit, benefit of Tom’s ring and being small.

  “Three!” I shout, and Magnus spins in time to dodge the sword aimed for his kidney. The not-farmer from the bar over-reaches and stumbles, slashing through Magnus’s tunic with the dagger in his other hand.

  Val half rises from her chair, wide-eyed at the sight of Magnus’s sword, the near miss, and the sudden violence. She can’t see the man approaching quietly from behind, and the word “three” means nothing to her. Strangely, I can’t get any other words out quickly enough. Apparently my ring doesn’t help with that.

  Instead, I attack, planting a foot in the stumbling not-farmer’s back, knocking him to his hands and knees as I stair-jump from him to Magnus’s shoulder and into the air, making myself as big as possible. My dagger comes out of its own volition and flies ahead of me, slicing the window-Nightshade across the cheek just before I pile into him, legs milling.

  I don’t stick around to tangle but roll away, kicking hard from the floor as a shiv slams down into the planking where my ankle was.

  And then it’s over.

  There’s the sickening sound of a beheading, and I glance back to see Magnus pulling Val away from the scene, his face white and his sword dripping red. I know from the crashing glass that the one I tangled with has retreated out the window, instead of following up on me.

  I move to the window to watch his departure, but he doesn’t notice our new horse-team, which has just arrived outside to pick us up. Thank Pan. Instead, he’s running down the main thoroughfare toward the southern gate.

  I look back. There’s no telling where Lucinda’s man is, but there’s a gash on her arm and her dagger is wet as well. For a moment I worry about poison, but the positive flow of blood—and there is plenty of that—is enough to wash out most types and dilute the others. There’s no question of sending her back to Ector now, if there was before.

  Magnus actually reaches out and pulls her close, whispering something in her ear.

  Her response is clipped and businesslike, her eyes flitting around the inn at the shell-shocked patrons. “I saved your ass, didn’t I?” She says to Magnus.

  He nods his head. “You know you did. You were amazing.”

  Lucinda doesn’t bat an eye at the compliment, still hopped up on adrenaline. She surveys the room once more over Magnus’s shoulder.

  “Does anybody know that guy’s address?” she says to gawking room while gesturing to the
front door. “We didn’t finish our discussion.”

  Nobody offers an opinion.

  There’s something steely to her gaze now, something that reminds me distinctly of Magnus, at least until she notices the wound on her arm. Then she startles and submits to Magnus’s care.

  “Tea. Can you settle our account?” Magnus asks. He points at the window while applying pressure to Lucinda’s wound with his other massive hand. “That, too.”

  I don’t bother arguing that the window isn’t our business.

  “Sure, Magnus.”

  It was the same at my house. He never wants to be a burden, and always ends up being one. Lucky for us, he’s got money to spare after Ector.

  It’s a war of morale, Tom cackles in my head. The Brothers of Light want to appear interested in the little people.

  “Well, Magnus actually is,” I mutter back.

  No response.

  I measure the window in my head. It’s two feet by two feet, but the panes are much smaller. The latch is broken and the right wing’s hinges will have to be replaced completely. The left wing is still intact.

  The barmaid peeks timidly from behind the bar as I approach. I pull out the travel purse that Magnus has given me in case we get separated.

  “Miss.”

  “S-sir?”

  “My apologies for your troubles, and for your master’s window.”

  She doesn’t question me as I put down a few kings to cover expenses, but she looks just a shade older than I’d first expected. Her voice is soft when she speaks. “Begging pardon, sir, but it’s my inn.”

  Oops.

  “Ma’am?” I adopt the more formal term.

  Her face catches on mine, studying it. “You’re the Nightshade Slayer,” she says.

  “I’m one of them.”

  She snorts. “Not one of them. The One. They almost hanged you in Ector, and then you killed a score of them when they tried to take your Paladin away.” She points at Magnus, who is ripping the sleeve off of Lucinda’s blouse—a very un-Paladin-like thing to do, I might add—as Val arrives with a pitcher and bowl from the kitchen staff. Timmy’s eyes are flitting from entrance to window to back door, keeping watch.