by Katie Roman
“Has a new captain. I can go back one day. It is not gone to me forever.”
“You are much calmer about it than I expected of you.”
Kay laughed at this. “I like to let folks think I will cut off their hand as easily as I’ll shake it. It helped keep people afraid of the Dawn, and even spared some bloodshed.”
“So all those times you put a price on my head was just an act people like Jack and Marcus bought into?”
“Make me angry again and find out if it was a bluff.” Kay gave Grace a wink. “People want to believe certain things. Everyone believed you were a naïve twit who couldn’t take care of herself. You may have dueled in the king’s tournament, but your respectful manner and relative innocence kept people blind to your Death Dealer antics. Didn’t that serve you well?”
“I suppose, but…”
“Well, the same worked for me. I have no qualms about leaving the Dawn behind. My name will carry weight in the days to come. You cannot deny that.”
Grace nodded. The threat of an unrestrained attack from Kay Lansa was still enough to chill Grace’s heart, and she knew Kay better now. For those who hadn’t spent weeks in her company, it would be downright terrifying.
“Thank you,” Grace said. “Thank you for helping us.”
Kay gave her a close-lipped smile. “Come on, let’s see what they are talking about without us.” She lengthened her stride to catch up to the rest. Grace did the same.
~*~*~
Thankfully the king’s road was well maintained. Most of their walk was on open road, but always before them was the forest that surrounded Glenbard. It was once the private hunting grounds of nobility, but when the king’s palace was moved further inland, the hunting grounds became open to everyone. It also provided lumber for the city as it expanded outward. The forest was still large enough for them to hide in if need be, but Grace hoped it wouldn’t come to that. If they had to hide they wouldn’t be able to make a fire, and it was too cold to go without one. Also, they had no sleeping rolls. The Dawn and the people of Dunkirst had none to spare. So as it was, they were in for a frozen night while Donald scoured the city for aid.
Each step brought them closer. When they passed into the forest from the open road, it was only another hour before they arrived at the end of the wooded path. Trees had been cut away to make a large clearing before the northern city gates. A few merchant wagons were lined up, waiting for entrance. To the east, if Grace focused hard enough she could just make out the sea.
“At least they are still letting people into the city,” Marcus said, and Grace heard the relief in his voice. They had feared that if the harbor was blockaded, the city would be on lock down.
“I have never seen it like this,” Kay remarked. “Usually people come and go as they please, so long as the gates are open.”
At the entrance a group of guards stood, asking a variety of questions. Kay was right; that was unusual. It wasn’t like the city guards to deny entrance like this.
“I’ll see if I can get in.” Donald hugged Grace and bid Marcus, Charlotte, and Kay a quick farewell. He unhooked his sword from his belt and passed it to Marcus.
They stood back and watched as he made for the gate. Grace’s body tensed at the prospect he might be denied entrance, or worse recognized as a traitor. She thought about running forward and dragging him back. She knew other ways into the city; ways they could all use. She started forward, but Marcus grabbed her by the arm and held her in place.
Donald pushed his way to the front of the line, gesturing through the gates and looking like he begged for entrance. When one of the guards patted his clothing and waved him through the gate, Grace sighed in relief to see her friend pass safely into Glenbard.
~*~*~
A cloud of tension hung over the city streets. Everywhere Donald went was heavily guarded, not just by the city Guard, but also by soldiers bearing the insignia of Escion. Donald headed for the marketplace from the city gate. It would be the most likely place to hear the news, but everyone he encountered avoided eye contact and shuffled on their way. The guards watched everyone like the entire city was a thief on the prowl.
He stopped before a market stall that sold fish. Most of the other food stalls were already closed, having sold what wares they had earlier in the day. Fish, at least, was still moderately plentiful. The merchant in the stall was an older woman; her olive complexion was wrinkled and her hair was steely gray. She watched Donald approach her stall with interest. Looking around, he could see that perhaps fish wasn’t as plentiful as he thought. Most of her product was unnaturally grayed and an unpleasant smell wafted up at him.
“Need some dinner for your children?” the woman asked, holding up a small, pitiful looking haddock. Its eyes were fixed on Donald with its death stare.
“Uh, no thank you. I was looking for work, actually, but most places seem to be closed up for the day.”
“His Grace only allows certain shops open at certain times now. Ever since the riots by the grain storage and the temples, he won’t allow too many people to be gathered in one spot.” The old woman looked sidelong at a guard who stood just out of earshot.
“Riots? What kind of riots?”
“The kind where it is acceptable for a city guard to beat a woman to death. The kind where His Grace’s knights can make arrests in the temples, ignoring years of laws protecting those who seek sanctuary.” The old woman’s voice came out in a harsh whisper. “Each day rations are cut, and each day what little we have dwindles and goes directly to feed the duke’s army.”
The guard remained stock still, not having heard the merchant’s treasonous talk. Donald kept an eye on him, just in case the man showed any sign of acknowledging their conversation.
“Where’s the King of Thieves?” Donald asked softly. “He sees to the needs of the people on the Lane, or at least he did when I was in Glenbard last.”
The woman spat into the dirt. “Marcus is gone and we have that tramp in his place,” she answered vehemently and spat again.
This time the guard took notice. “Buy something or move along, sir,” he said, pointing at Donald. “It is almost curfew.”
Donald waved away the woman’s offer for a piece of fish. “I need a room for the night. I used to stay at the Angel…is it still a few coppers for a room and a meal?”
“If you want to brave that den of wolves, sure.” Seeing that she wouldn’t be making a sale, she impatiently waved Donald away.
Donald turned toward Rogue’s Lane. Everywhere he walked, he saw hungry faces peering at him from the alley. He left his party without any rations, thinking he would be able to purchase food in the city. His stomach growled in hunger, but he still reached into his coin purse and threw a few coppers into the alley, where the hollow-faced children scrambled to pick them up. He kept walking before they had a chance to beg for more.
Most of Glenbard looked devoid of life, but the Angel still looked alive. From the street he could hear a fiddle and drunken singing. The Angel was always the liveliest place on the Lane, which was part of the reason Grace and he had stumbled into it when they first arrived in the city. But now the liveliness seemed out of place when everywhere else people looked hungry and hunted.
Donald pushed the door open and was assaulted by the Angel’s usual smell of ale, urine, vomit, and fish. There were about ten patrons in all, laughing, eating, and dancing, though one woman sat by the fire, quietly surveying the revelers. She was waif-like, with mousey brown hair and a plain face, but she had a hard look about her, like she wouldn’t take any nonsense if offered. Donald felt like he’d seen her before, but he couldn’t say where. She had no features that made her remarkable and he’d seen plenty of young women who fit her description, but there was something familiar about her.
She looked at him when he entered and her eyes flicked over him as though she, too, was trying to place if and where she had seen him. She crooked a finger for him to come closer. At first, Donald stood rooted to his spot. He looked
away from the woman, scanning the common room for Jim Little.
A rat-faced man about his age popped into his view. “Her Majesty wants you to come over,” he said.
“Her Majesty?” Donald decided it was time to play dumb. “Where is Marcus?”
“If you wish to keep your tongue, you’ll not utter that name again.” The man opened his coat just enough to flash the steel of his dagger. “Come along.”
Donald held up his hands in surrender and followed the rat over to the woman. Since it was what he would have done with Marcus, he bowed to her.
“You will excuse my poor manners, Majesty,” he said, making his tone sweet. “Last time I was in Glenbard, another served as King of the Thieves’ Guild. I did not realize you ruled now.”
She smiled and laughed. “Let him be, Gerald.” She waved her thief away. “I am queen now. Were you once one of Marcus’s thieves? I pay better because I don’t hoard coin.”
He hoarded coin to feed the Lane families, Donald thought. “No, I was just a regular patron of the Angel whenever I came into Glenbard. It was impossible not to know Marcus if you spent any time on the Lane.” He shrugged. “I was actually here to inquire about getting a room for the night. Does Jim Little still own this establishment?”
“Aye, he does. He likes to cower in the back with his cook. Gerald, go fetch Jim and tell him he has a customer.”
“What is your name, young man?” She curled her lips into a cruel little smile.
Donald tried to place where he had seen her before. He returned the smile, forcing it to show her he had nothing to hide. “Calvin.”
“Well tonight you are my guest, Calvin. Now, where is that cowardly man? Jim!” she cried. “Get in here!”
“I'm coming, Majesty!” Donald heard a voice from the kitchen.
He looked over his shoulder to see Jim Little waddle out of the kitchen. He looked worn and thinner than the last time Donald had seen him. He looked sad too, and walked hunched over in fear of the Queen of Thieves. He lifted his eyes to stare at Donald and suddenly smiled.
“Do you remember our guest, Jim?”
“Of course. He is an old friend. I thought you would be wintering on Nareroc.”
“Not this winter, Jim. I brought other friends home with me. Any idea where we can find more stable lodging? They plan to stay quite some time and are looking for a boarding house.”
Jim's smile widened until the Queen of Thieves came up behind Donald and snaked an arm around his shoulder.
“There can be talk of that later. Bring us something to eat. Now.” She steered Donald away from Jim and brought him over to a table where her thieves sat, drinking and laughing.
The thieves moved aside to make way for their queen. She issued a few orders and several men got up and left the inn entirely. She slid into the chair across from Donald.
“So, what should I call the Queen of Thieves?” Donald asked.
“Majesty works just fine, Calvin,” she said, smirking.
Pompous woman, Donald thought. “I suppose that does work.” Donald scratched the back of his neck. “What is for dinner today? A woman in the market said rations of grain and oil were cut, and I know elsewhere people go hungry for days at a time.”
The queen laughed. “We are well taken care of, don't fear.”
Eventually Jim brought out fish stew with fresh bread and spiced apples. Donald hadn't eaten so well since he attended the wedding in Arganis. The queen wasn’t lying when she said they were well taken care of.
~*~*~
Grace watched the city gates close as the sun went down. The travelers who were not allowed entrance to the city built fires and pitched makeshift tents, gathering in a circle. Her group stayed on the fringes to avoid being recognized.
“We will freeze to death,” Charlotte said, pulling her cloak tighter. “We should see if they will let us sit by their fire.”
“We cannot afford to be recognized,” replied Marcus.
“They will recognize our corpses well enough. Besides, there are some traders in that group. We could tell them about our deal with the prince,” Charlotte continued. “They could start spreading the word.”
“I don't think it is wise to get people's hopes up when we haven't even made contact with anyone inside the city.” Marcus balled up his hands and stuck them under his armpits.
Grace stamped her feet to keep warm. The orange and yellow blaze of the campfire looked inviting. She just wanted to head into the circle of light and warm her extremities. Instead, she was stuck under the eaves with her bickering comrades.
“We are better off here,” said Marcus.
“Without even a flint to get a fire started,” Charlotte groaned.
They continued to argue and Grace began running in place. Kay remained silent and watchful for a while, but finally she stepped between Charlotte and Marcus.
“If I am to sleep on the ground, I'm going to be warm while I do it.” Kay stalked off toward the fire.
Deciding it was the better option, Grace followed her. She could hear Charlotte taking up the rear.
“Any room around that fire for weary travelers?” Kay asked, stepping toward the circle.
“Aye, we were just taking bets if your lot would come lookin' for warmth,” a middle aged woman said. She held out her hand to a young man sitting next to her. He placed a few coins in her palm. No one else sat with them. “I know you,” the woman continued. “Captain Lansa, right?”
Kay sat down, putting her hands toward the fire for warmth. “Have I pillaged your ship, mistress? Because I would not like that sort of unpleasantry to get between me and warmth.”
“Not mine, but a competitor’s,” the woman laughed. “I suppose I should be thanking you.” She reached a hand out and Kay shook it.
Grace came and sat next to Kay, with Charlotte settling in next to her. “And Glenbard's own noblewoman? What an honor, indeed.” The woman shook Grace's hand, then Charlotte's. “Name's Glenda – purveyor of fine fabrics, dresses, and all manner of finery. This is my nephew, Roger.”
“Ladies,” Roger said quietly.
Grace’s heart beat erratically at the idea that they had been recognized so easily, and a chill ran down her spine. What hope did they possibly have if their identity was called out in mere seconds? But Glenda’s easy smile set her at ease.
“You own the dress shop on Merchant's Way,” Grace exclaimed. “I heard the queen herself orders your dresses. What are you doing out in the cold?”
“I went into Ursana to fit a noblewoman for a dress. I came home to find they are only letting a few people into the city each day.” Glenda scowled and sniffed, sticking her nose in the air. “My shop is practically an institution in Glenbard, and yet I am treated like trash. I thought about bribing the guard, but I have tried bribing guards for months for extra food rations and while they took my coin, I still went away empty handed.”
“So it is really that bad?” Kay adjusted herself so she sat on her legs. “Used to be a silver piece got you the guard's help. A gold piece made sure you kept it.”
“Are other merchants having the same problems?” Charlotte asked.
“That duke from Escion has ruined Glenbard,” Glenda answered. “He disbanded the magistrates and declared martial law by order of the king. Used to be I could go to the Merchant's Way magistrate and plead my case, but now I've got no one. And I never thought I would say this, but the duke never should have had Marcus arrested. That old thief could have at least kept a lid on the Lane. I paid a silver piece a week to keep the Guild out of my business, but this new ‘Queen of Thieves’ hit my shop and my home three times in a month. I tell you, King Frederick is letting his country waste away. I heard he disowned his own son because Prince Drake wanted to make peace with Sera.”
“How do you feel about His Highness, Glenda?” Grace carefully asked.
“He's probably not much better than his father, but at least he tried. I don't see Frederick even acknowledging there is a probl
em,” Glenda replied with a shrug. “I don't know what I expect, though. Unless you have a title and land, your voice doesn't reach the ears it needs to.”
“What if it could?” Grace leaned forward, looking through the flame at Glenda, and the dressmaker cocked an eyebrow. Grace looked at Charlotte, who nodded. Grace dropped her voice. “Drake is willing to let the districts in Glenbard chose their own magistrates; to allow commoners and merchants to have a hand in politics instead of being victims of it.”
“You are joking,” Roger said, speaking up for the first time since introductions were made.
“It is true.” Charlotte reached into her shirt and produced the scroll Drake had signed, bearing the owl seal of the prince. “We have been sent ahead of the prince to spread the word and rally support. Being such a prosperous merchant, perhaps you could help spread the word?”
“May I see it?” Glenda asked, curious. Charlotte unrolled the paper, allowing Glenda to read it over. Satisfied, she answered, “I can spread the word, and if I see any trustworthy merchants leaving Glenbard in the morning, I will pass it on to them as well. You really think His Highness will be able to do this?” She flashed the scroll in Charlotte’s face before handing it back.
Grace shrugged and looked up toward the sky, as though it might give her answers she sought. “Even if he fails, the people will rise up and fight Frederick. The king will have to change things or be prepared to quell a rebellion in Cesernan.”
“And if he succeeds,” Marcus said, finally coming out of the darkness to sit next to Kay. “The people will finally have a say in how things are run.” Marcus leaned over Kay to smile at Grace. She returned it and looked back at Glenda.
“My word, even the King of Thieves has thrown his hat in with nobility. What strange times we live in.” Glenda bowed from her seat, but Roger actually stood up and bowed. “Do you folks need help getting into the city tomorrow morning?”
“We have someone who is supposed to come fetch us,” Grace answered.
“If I were you, I would get in and wait by the gate, then. If your friend leaves Glenbard, it will be at least two days before they let him back in,” Glenda said. “I can bring you in as my servants. The guards don't pay much attention to servants. Put up your hoods to cover your features and I will hide your weapons in my fabrics.”
