Villain's Assistant

by Carley Hibbert

  Benjamin hurried inside and through a dark hallway, following the sound of weak conversation. Wilted merchants and farmers propped themselves up against tables and walls as they drank tepid, watered-down ale and cider. Unfortunately, the odor here wasn’t much better than in the stables. He saw Denny buying penny ale at the far end of the hall. Denny then found a table that had the best view and set his mugs down next to a farmer and his boy. He turned on his charm and quickly had a few servant girls chatting and pushing the farmer to another table. He looked at Benjamin and rubbed his ear—their signal to move.

  The heat proved to be the best distraction, as the first two guards he passed were dozing. Standing in heavy uniforms proved too much for even the most vigilant on such a hot day. Some of the soldiers looked more ill than intimidating and barely noticed anyone walking by. One did ask Benjamin where he was going, but before he was able to give his prepared answer, the guard waved him off and returned to his mug. Benjamin slipped by quickly. No one followed him or questioned him further. The stool next to the dungeon entrance was empty. The remains of a meal that smelled suspicious lay next to the stool. Baldo? Benjamin twisted his cloak in frustration. Why didn’t I think of drugging the guards?

  He hurried down the stairs, hoping to remove the Lieutenant before the sick guard was able to return to his station. He peeked around the corner. A form was bent over a lock on one of the doors. Benjamin squeezed the keys between his fingers as he stalked down the hallway.

  “This better not be Baldo,” he whispered under his breath.

  The startled figure turned.

  Rebecca stood, chagrined. As she removed a bent tool from the lock, she actually blushed. He felt his own cheeks heat to a deep flush as well, but not because he was embarrassed. She silently stepped back as he slid into her former spot. He shoved a key in the door, his arms shaking as he unlocked the door with near silence.

  A moan echoed down the stairs toward them. The missing guard must have returned to his post. Benjamin dragged a muffled but defiant Rebecca around the nearest corner. After wrestling silently with her, she dug her nails into his hand until he let go and hissed, “Keys.”

  Benjamin peered around the corner. The light from the guard’s lantern fell on the keys dangling from the lock in the door. A sweaty, gray-faced guard slumped against the wall and groaned. They both flung themselves against the wall and looked at each other. There was only a narrow, straight tunnel to hide in. Great! Two stringy teenagers were going to have to silently take out a guard. This was not part of the plan for a reason.

  Another moan sent the guard scampering back toward the stairs and a bucket. Benjamin peeked around the corner.

  They sprang from their dark corner to the Lieutenant’s door. The keys were gone, and the door was locked. Benjamin peered through the slot in the door. The dim light from the passageway parted the darkness of the room. A black form huddled in one of the corners. Benjamin pulled out a candle from his pocket, lit it on one of the torches, and handed it to Rebecca to hold.

  “How do we know this is the Lieutenant?” Benjamin asked, pulling his black notebook out of his pocket.

  “All the others were empty.”

  Benjamin nodded and scribbled: tie up girl before leaving without her. He pressed his lips together, narrowed his eyes at Rebecca, and then slid his book back into his pocket. He was not going to walk away from this with much hope for employment anywhere if he failed now.

  He held out his hand to Rebecca, who hesitated before handing over a small roll of tools. “I can do it,” she said.

  “Right, but this isn’t about you.”

  Benjamin silently unrolled the cloth and motioned for Rebecca to lower the candle. He took a deep breath to erase the fear of the guard returning, grabbed the sturdiest tool in the pile, and grinned when he heard the click of the lock. A dark mass sprang out of the door, knocking him onto the cold stone floor.

  “Lieutenant?” Rebecca gasped.

  The mass froze and peered up at Rebecca. The Lieutenant slid off Benjamin’s chest and awkwardly wrapped his filthy arms around his ward. Rebecca grimaced and waved off the dungeon stench.

  “Rebecca, what are you doing here?” The Lieutenant’s voice was strained. When he turned his pale face to Benjamin, his eye patch had lost its glimmer. Benjamin clutched his tools over his pounding heart, rigid as a possum playing dead.

  “Do you think we were just going to leave you here?” Rebecca wiped a tear away.

  “But Mouthrot—”

  “He’s gone for the next few days,” Benjamin said as he forced himself off the floor.

  The Lieutenant slumped in relief. Benjamin propped him up, while Rebecca threw her cloak over the Lieutenant’s shoulders. “You still shouldn’t have risked coming down here.” He shot an accusing glare at both Rebecca and Benjamin.

  “Not my idea,” Benjamin muttered as they stumbled forward.

  The old man was weak and unsteady, having lived off a prisoner’s scant rations for a week. Of course, it might have been much worse than that. There was bruising around his wrists.

  “We’ll talk about this later, Rebecca,” the old man warned, pressing his hand to his head as they struggled to the stairs. “I’m assuming you have a plan to get past the guards.”

  “Of course,” Benjamin said.

  When Rebecca was able to support the Lieutenant alone, Benjamin checked the pathway in front of them. At the top of the stairs, a guard was retching on the floor. They slunk past unnoticed.

  Benjamin leaned over the bent Lieutenant. “If anyone asks, our dad isn’t feeling well and we were trying to find a quick exit but got lost,” he whispered.

  Rebecca nodded, straining under the Lieutenant’s weight.

  They passed a few empty posts. One guard lay in a puddle of filth. Soon enough, they could hear voices in the hall. Benjamin slowed them down just as they cleared the corner. A few men were lying face down over the tables, but what turned Benjamin’s stomach was the sight of Mouthrot scowling over the dining hall. People were clearing out.

  Benjamin threw his hood over his head. He pulled the Lieutenant closer to shield him from view, hoping his hood covered his scruffy face. “We’re going out the back.”

  Denny stood up from his table, his eyes wide at seeing Rebecca. He paralleled their stumbling steps in an attempt to block Mouthrot’s view of them and then bumped into a serving girl, knocking her tray to the ground. She screamed. He then stepped back and kicked over a bucket. The woman who was scrubbing the floor erupted into colorful language, drawing eyes to her. Both women took turns fuming at each other and then at Denny, who stopped to apologize and pick up broken pieces of pottery.

  Just as Benjamin reached the exit, the Lieutenant lost his footing. Rebecca lunged forward to help steady him. Benjamin cast a glance behind him as he pulled them through the doorway. Mouthrot was looking in their direction, gaping. Benjamin checked the Lieutenant’s hood, but it still covered his face.

  “He sees us.”

  “Oh no!” Rebecca gasped.

  They hurried past the old woman, who had hung more sheets in Benjamin’s absence. They tucked themselves behind one. Footsteps clattered in the hallway and then stopped. From behind the rippling cloth, Benjamin could see Mouthrot frantically searching for them. A large basin sat just within view. Benjamin patted his pockets and realized that he had lost the keys. Rebecca nudged him impatiently. He looked at the basin again, attempting to judge its distance.

  The Lieutenant handed him a small rock. “Here, I was kneeling on this.”

  He pitched the rock. A deep ringing filled the small courtyard. The washwoman jumped so violently that she upset the tub of water onto the men. Mouthrot howled at the shaking woman as he frantically untangled wet sheets from his feet.

  They dashed to the stables, where Denny had the cart waiting. He frowned at Rebecca but rushed over to help the old man into the cart. The Lieutenant dragged Rebecca into the cart with him. Only the intensity of the old man
’s eye suppressed her arguing. Denny and Benjamin threw their cloaks over them and tied down the tarp.

  “I’ll walk out ahead of you.” Benjamin ran from the stables, grabbing a cast-off hat.

  He dragged the palms of his hands against the grimy walls and wiped them on his face and the back of his neck. He stumbled against a gaggle of women complaining about prices and snatched a strip of fabric to tie loosely around his neck. The women barely altered their conversation as they pushed him out of the way.

  He walked through the gates, mixing with others. Benjamin passed several groups before he stopped to look back. He watched Denny pull the wagon through the gate. The guard held a farmer back to allow them through. A wet and angry Mouthrot scanned the crowds, his gold teeth flashing as he bellowed orders. The guards stopped the outflow of merchants. A group of wet men walked past Denny’s cart to look more closely at the women who had just left.

  They’re looking for a girl? Benjamin observed in confusion. Not the Lieutenant or me?

  Denny nodded, tight-lipped, as he passed by. Benjamin nodded back. He glanced toward to the fortress to see if they were being followed. No one took an interest in Denny or his cart. Benjamin took out his waterskin and scanned the road. The sun was beginning to descend, but the day was nowhere near cooling off. He peered down the road again; Mouthrot and a few men were on horseback, stopping women. He strolled quickly to catch up to Denny.

  “Mouthrot is on the road,” Benjamin said, leaning into the cart.

  “Should I get out and help push?” Rebecca peeked out of the cloaks that covered her and the Lieutenant.

  “No! He is looking for you,” Benjamin growled.

  “What?” Rebecca and Denny said together while the Lieutenant just groaned.

  Horses pounded by, but Mouthrot didn't even glance at the two boys. Dust covered them as their enemy tore past.

  When the riders were out of sight, Benjamin slipped his waterskin under the cloaks. All color had drained from Rebecca’s face. Her guardian placed a weary hand on her shoulder and pulled the cloak tightly over both of them. Benjamin glanced at Denny, who stared bewildered back at him. Benjamin shrugged and helped Denny push. Then something occurred to him.

  How could Mouthrot recognize a girl he’d never seen before?

  SIXTEEN

  Dusk hung around the little house by the time they arrived. They had taken the long way back to make sure they weren’t followed. Rina greeted them as they settled the cart by the barn. Exhaustion seeped into Benjamin’s legs as he collapsed against the barn.

  He took a moment to let his frustration grind itself away as he pressed the back of his head into the rough wood. Denny’s face was like cold stone as he helped Rebecca and the Lieutenant out of the wagon and into his house. Benjamin wasn’t the only one who didn’t know about Rebecca’s connection to Mouthrot.

  Benjamin waited outside, watching the house fade into the deepening darkness as his chest grew heavy. He knew he should plan their next move, but all he could do was question why he was still here. He should just go back to his hideout and forget these people. He didn’t need them. Rebecca and the Lieutenant said they wanted his help, but they held him at arm’s length, keeping important information from him. They didn’t trust him, and he didn’t trust them. Rina trotted up to him and butted his leg.

  “Oww!” he howled. “Dumb goat!”

  Benjamin hopped on one leg, taking in the absurdity of the moment. There was only one way to sort this. He hobbled inside to find some answers. He untied the rag from his neck and wiped the grime from his face and hands.

  The Lieutenant sat at the table, a plate in front of him. He silently sipped from a mug. Denny consoled Rebecca with awkward pats on her back. Her eyes and nose were swollen and her face blotchy. Benjamin wished he had seen the Lieutenant finally put Rebecca in her place. It was about time.

  The old man looked over at Benjamin and pointed to the bench across from him. He sat down, taken aback by the authority used to command him. The Lieutenant's eye patch was scuffed, the jewels scraped off. But on the whole, he looked unscathed, just exhausted. Benjamin waited for the explanations due him, as King Aldo’s spy chewed his bread. Benjamin noticed no one offered him food and was about to get some when the Lieutenant cleared his throat.

  “Denny and Rebecca told me about how you freed me and sent for the king. I’ll leave the king’s response to the king.” The Lieutenant’s knuckles whitened around his mug. “Your first response should have been to get yourselves out of danger, not diving headfirst into a hornets’ nest. Rebecca should not have been allowed anywhere near that fortress.”

  The Lieutenant’s face was twisted into hard lines. He was obviously not happy with anyone in the room. Wait a minute, Benjamin thought with no small taint of bitterness. We just successfully rescued you…and you’re disappointed? Benjamin clenched his fists as his heart pounded behind his ears. Was the old man actually reprimanding Benjamin for saving his life—or for not knowing that Mouthrot would recognize Rebecca?

  The Lieutenant stabbed a finger into the table. “You set up a scenario that Rebecca could not pass up, even at your strong insistence that she stay home. Did it not occur to you that I already sent a message to the king about Mouthrot being alive and well?”

  Benjamin stood up, knocking the bench to the floor. “I did the best I could with the information I had!” He focused on the spy’s one good eye. Fire flared in Benjamin’s chest. He wasn’t the type for emotional outbursts, but he could feel one coming and had no intention of stopping it.

  “The few snippets of your personal history with Mouthrot that I did have painted a horrific picture if you were left in his grasp.” He leaned over the table, and the Lieutenant flexed his jaw. Benjamin slapped the tabletop hard enough that his hand burned. A painful silence filled the room. “And if Rebecca hasn’t learned to follow orders, that would be your fault, wouldn’t it? Yet, I was still able to rescue you despite her and all your precious secrets.”

  He strode toward the pantry, his hand and head throbbing. Any mistakes were on the Lieutenant’s head, not his. “Now, I’m going to get something to eat.” He wrestled items off the shelves and shoved them into his pack. He couldn’t be expected to work in total darkness. He’d given the Lieutenant a chance to explain himself—and he’d failed miserably. “Then I’m going out to the barn to sleep. And tomorrow? Well, don’t worry about that. I’ll remove myself from the shadow of your disappointment.”

  Benjamin yanked his pack on and glared at each person. Rebecca snuffled into a handkerchief, and Denny peeked up through his gold strands. The Lieutenant sat rigid in his chair, his muscles standing out like ridges on his neck.

  “I was hijacked, misled, and manipulated. Even if I can only get grunt work, I’ll be a villain. Better than working with you people. Good night.”

  He swung a jug onto his shoulder and stomped off to the barn, making sure everyone could hear where he was going.

  SEVENTEEN

  After the Lieutenant dismissed her, Rebecca slammed into her bed and screamed into her pillow. She was not going to be able to sleep anytime soon. He just wanted her out of the way, like always. If she would just stay in her bedroom, like a good girl—oh, except to cook dinner and do laundry. Her eyes burned. She tried to hold back her tears as she stared at the lit candle by her bed. Her head was beginning to throb, which only added to her frustration.

  Denny had tried to reason with the Lieutenant, but really Denny was just trying to protect her like everyone else. She could do that for herself.

  Neither the Lieutenant nor Denny wanted to see her hurt or even exposed to potential pain. It was annoying. Didn’t they know they were hurting her? She felt as if she had been holding her breath for years. A mysterious plan was used to dictate her life to her. She beat her heavy pillow into a more yielding shape and adjusted her blankets, which only reminded her how dusty and grimy they were.

  “Looks like I’ll be doing laundry tomorrow! What else are t
hey going to let me do?” she screamed.

  She hoped that made the Lieutenant feel bad, but it probably wouldn’t. She kicked her heels into the bed, filling the room with the scent of Odie and goat. Doing laundry would at least get her out of the house. “At least that will make ignoring those stupid boys much easier,” she growled. She sat up, hoping it would make something make sense.

  Her lack of “good judgment” today was construed as irrational and an act of sabotage—but she just wanted to help with the rescue. Benjamin analyzed every step. They could still be there waiting for him to alphabetize all the potential ways to unlock a dungeon door. And they needed my help! No one had considered that the Lieutenant would be so weak and unsteady after being locked away for a week on prison rations.

  She would take charge of her life. It was hers, wasn’t it? If she wasn’t going to sleep, she should at least start planning, shouldn’t she?

  She pulled out a knife from her boot and threw it into a dark knothole next to the door with a scream.

  Mouthrot saw me! Oh Great Wolves! He knows who I am! He knows I’m alive!

  She staggered under the weight of the realization. The devil who had killed her parents and burned down her home recognized her. Would he come looking for her to finish the job now? This was why the Lieutenant and the king kept her hidden away where no villain would look for her. This was why she had never breathed free air.

  She strode over to the door and pulled her knife out of the knothole. As she turned back to the bed, a hazy mirror caught her eye. She wiped the dust off. She didn’t remember her mother, and the Lieutenant refused to speak about his sister, but he had finally confessed one thing tonight. She lifted the candle to examine her tear-streaked face and her straw-colored hair. She stared at the sharp lines of her nose and cheekbones, trying to imagine she was looking at her mother. What a strange way to find out what my mother looked like!