Kaschar's Quarter
Page 5
“You walk, scum,” the farmer said. “No sense lettin’ you run away.” Matthieu knew better than to respond, even with a look. The most dangerous men were those who had never known power until it was given to them with a blade. Some help those horses will be inside, he thought. He would have to hope that these men were as slow of foot as they were of mind, or else his escape attempt would end just as had those of the men and women in Hassebeck’s tribunal.
Though he felt more rested now than he had this morning, he still shuffled along through the mud as pitifully as he could without giving away his ruse. Arriving at the house would take longer this way; all the more time to conceive of a way to confound his captors and make it out of the city before they could catch him again.
Once inside, he could lose them in the wine cellars and climb over the garden wall. He thought of the stables and Master Kerns’ bay trotter, but he forced that little hope from his mind. Surely, the Mentites had taken the horses with them while they left the city to burn. Only his own strength could save him now; that and his determination not to die at his companions’ hands. If his legs could take him beyond the Falcon Gate and onto the road to Cyrnne, then he might be able to make the trees on the south. From there, he knew little enough about the forest to survive out there for long but it still offered his best chance to escape.
When the steps to Beate’s home came into sight, he only spared a single glance at her body, his eyes drawn one last time to the brilliant stains across the front of her dress. He offered up a silent prayer that the men with him would not mention her.
“Here it is,” he said. As the farmers rode their horses up the steps in search of a place to hitch them, Matthieu knew that now would be the test of his strength.
He ran faster than he had anticipated. One of the men shouted after him but it was too late; he had already made his way into the hall and up a flight of stairs before he heard heavy steps charging after him. Large as it was, the Kerns’ home was known to him as well as his own; they would not be able to find him here even with twice as many men as they had.
The library and its enviable collection fell behind him as he came up short of breath in a small bedroom. Inside, the bed was still made while the closet doors hung open to reveal an empty space. He tip-toed his way inside and lay down beside the bed opposite the door. Angry voices could be heard downstairs, sometimes moving closer but more often than not fading into silence. His heart nearly gave out when he heard one much closer, piteous where the others had been rough.
“Please, do not hurt me…” He knew that voice. His heart leaped within him at its sound: Heide was still alive.
“Heide?” he called. “Where are you?”
“Matthieu? Is that you?” It had come from directly in front of him, under the bed. Pulling the blankets up, he saw her there, cradled in old clothes and pillows. He wondered how long she had hidden here; her brow was moist with sweat. “How are you-?”
“I should ask you the same. You have to come with me; there are men outside who want to kill me. I will not allow the same fate for you.” He took her hand gently and almost recoiled at the searing warmth. “We must leave now.”
When she had emerged fully, he saw that Heide could barely stand. Angry red blotches splashed across her face and arms like burns. No, he pleaded. Please, God, not her too. She hobbled after him for a few steps before it became clear that she would not be able to run with him. Stealing a single glance down the hall to make sure no one had followed him, he took Heide in his arms and edged his way through the doorway. She felt as light as a doll.
The hallway was clear; beyond were the kitchen and the stables. As he made his way to the first, Heide let out a weak groan. Matthieu caught her eyes through her grimace and shook his head. A single sound now could betray them. They entered the kitchen, where only a feeble wisp of smoke above the cook fire told that people had been here the night before. He knew not where Master Kerns’ household had fallen and hoped desperately that they were far from Heide. Step by step, they came closer to the back door that led outside to the stables when a shout rang out from behind him. He did not need to know what the voice had said, only that he had to flee before its owner found him.
It took all his faith to run out into the stable yard without first peeking around the corner. He suppressed a cry of joy at the sight of the gates lying in splinters before him; the horses were gone but at least their way was clear.
“Hold on tightly,” he whispered to Heide as he summoned all his strength and left the house and its occupants behind them forever.
TO BE CONTINUED
IN
THE DEFAULT KING
VOLUME 2
NO DARKNESS AT ALL