Retribution

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

Although they hadn’t departed until afternoon, Brice and Hannah rode steadily until nearly dark. They stopped at a small city named Chamara, located at a wide bend in the river. An inn beckoned, under the sign of a gray fox. The stableman promised to care for the horses, and the inn had a vacant room, hot food, and decent wine. A troubadour sang merrily and played a stringed instrument, but when he sang of the missing princess, Hannah headed for the room with Brice at her heels.

Brice spread his bedroll on the floor in front of the door, so nobody could enter without waking him. Just after dawn, they departed and followed the King’s Road north. The farm horses were used to pulling wagons a short distance and tired quickly. Hannah thought about replacing them with horses better suited for travel and decided against it. They were part of the disguise.

By mid-morning, they dismounted and walked the horses while they talked and concocted a story that they were heading for an uncle’s farm near the King’s Palace to work. He had sent word to them that he needed help because he had broken a leg. Nothing specific. They had never visited the farm, knew little about it, and hadn’t ever met the uncle. They kept one rule foremost; it’s hard to be trapped in a lie when you claim you know nothing.

They alternated riding and walking until late in the day when they searched for another inn or place to spend the night. When they found a small clearing, complete with a stream and well-used fire pit, they decided to sleep there and let the horses graze.

The fire burned cheerfully at dusk, they’d eaten and watered the horses when a regular pounding drew their attention. Two riders approached, bent low over their horses’ necks. Neither man gave them so much as a look as their cantering horses flashed by the small camp.

“They’re in a hurry,” Hannah said.

Brice spoke slowly as if thinking as he talked, “Those were expensive horses, not farm animals. And the men were not soldiers, at least they didn’t wear uniforms, but both wore swords.”

“The word is out about me.”

Brice said, “Yes, those two are out to collect the reward.”

“I wonder if they know about the army protecting the princess.” Hannah went to her pack and reapplied the dust to change her image. She considered using one of the other spells but held off.

Other riders awakened them twice during the night. At dawn, they were on the road again, but shortly after they started, a military patrol stopped and questioned them. Hannah played stupid while Brice haltingly answered questions, mostly by denying he knew anything. He played the part well.

After the patrol had released them, Hannah said, “They wore the King’s colors.”

“But did the work of Princess Elenore, if you ask me. You can’t blame them for wanting to earn a lifetime of gold for themselves, can you?”

She looked at him, almost angry and snapped, “Yes, I can.”

“If Elenore is crowned Queen, were they being disloyal?”

She didn’t have an answer. They were stopped twice more before pausing to eat a noon meal of stale bread and cheese. At a stream crossing, Brice rode into the water and took the reins of a reluctant mule pulling a wagon that didn’t want to enter the water. He led it across. The farmer thanked them and said, “If’n you’re going up the King’s Road, it’s goin’ to take you all day.”

“More patrols?” Brice asked.

“About every hundred steps and they’re searching harder. Asking more questions.”

“Our uncle lives near the King’s Palace and needs our help on his farm.”

The farmer said, “You helped me, askin’ nothing in return. I’ll offer the same.”

“How’s that?” Brice asked.

“Ain’t no farmers anywhere who talk as nice as you two, none have the pretty hands you do. Not a blister, scar, or broken nail. Now, I don’t look forward to Princess Elenore raising my taxes so her and that fancy husband of hers can build another new castle, but I don’t know nothing about that missing princess, either.”

Quite a speech. Hannah glanced at her own hands. They were thin and graceful, a woman’s hands. She said, “We have to go north, army patrols or no.”

He pulled a clump of grass and fed it to the mule, then said, “That isn’t the only road, you know.”

Brice flashed him a puzzled look, then said, “There’s another?”

“If a body was to follow this stream up about a half day, and follow the little trail, he’d find himself on another road. Follow that one north a half day, and he’d be at the Earl’s Castle. From there the road goes right to the King’s Palace.”

Hannah stiffened at his words. The Earl’s Castle. The place where she had been a fire starter. Instead of being pleased, she dreaded the thought of going back. Why, the road there was the one where she and her father, the Old Mage, had ridden when they left the castle, and where he died at the hands of Elenore’s assassins.

The farmer started to climb into his wagon and paused as he touched her arm with his fingertips. “Don’t raise my taxes, Princess.”

Another step and he was in the wagon, the mule pulling him steadily away. Hannah watched, and he never turned back. My hands. He knew they were a woman’s hands.

Brice said, “What do you think?”

“I’m so scared.”

“It’s your choice.”

“You remember, that’s my old home?”

Brice said, “With as many patrols as he says there are, we’ll be slowed and take extra days to get there if we remain on this road, and if they have that many patrols already, how many will there be tomorrow?”

“We have no choice. I think I see the path he mentioned.” Hannah rode directly for the right bank of the stream. The farmer was right. The path was seldom used, but obvious when looking. They moved at a sedate speed, allowing the horses to choose the pace.

Farms and villages had lined the King’s Road so thickly that you could see two or three smoking chimneys from anywhere. Travelers had moved in both directions, and they had hidden in the middle of hundreds of people moving about their business.

Now they were alone, surrounded by a forest so thick the horses often had trouble moving through it. Hannah watched for signs of other people who’d passed this way, and she was pleased when she spotted the flat stump left when someone had sawn down a tree. In another place, blackened rocks in a circle revealed where someone had built a fire, but the center had green grass and even a small bush growing. No fire had been there for a year or more.

As promised by the farmer, late in the day they reached the road. Brice suggested they double back where they knew it was safe and spend the night. She agreed.

Hannah spread her blankets on the ground, but she refused to eat and couldn’t sleep. Her mind couldn’t shake the idea that she would be in the place where her mother had taught her to read, curtsy, bow, and smile when she didn’t want to. She’d learned to sew colorful shapes, make her letters, and even discussed politics.

That was all before the fever took her mother. She didn’t know how she’d been shunted aside and made a fire starter in the morning kitchens, but there was a story she’d like to learn. Someone had either known or suspected her lineage and instead of killing her, had made her a servant. Politics again.

“You’re going to be tired tomorrow.”

“I can’t sleep.”

“We can leave now,” Brice suggested.

“Anyone seeing us on the road would wonder and talk about it. Better to only travel during the day.”

“We can ride right past the castle, you know. Stay on the road.”

“I’ll still see it.”

“Was it so bad?”

“I didn’t think so, not when my mother was alive. And not when I worked in the kitchens, really. Oh, I knew there were things I didn’t know or understand, but all kids have those feelings. What I don’t like, is that someone in that castle knew who I was and put me out like throwing scraps to pigs.”

“Any idea who?”

“Not yet. But I will.”

Brice rolled over and went back to sleep while she reviewed everything she could recall. When dawn broke, she was up and ready to ride. Brice looked sore, tired, and still sleepy, but he washed his face, ate a handful of nuts and declared he was ready.

They mounted and rode to the road again, which was less than half as wide as the King’s Road. She remembered her first venture outside the castle and the enormity of the forest and road, and now it was little more than a wide pathway. Yet, it was wide enough to ride beside each other, even if the uneven cadence of the horses occasionally crushed their legs together.

They pulled to a stop as they reached the crest of a hill and could see roofs appearing in the distance over the tallest trees. She hadn’t seen the outside of the castle but once, briefly, yet as she observed, her mind placed each room she knew with the building. The one on the far left was the servant’s quarters, gray brick with narrow passageways and tiny, bare, rooms. The home she remembered.

The memory caught in her throat. Breathing became hard, and her heart pounded wildly.

“You alright?”

She ignored Brice’s voice, as memories flooded back. Finally, she mumbled, “I’m fine.”

Brice fell back and allowed her to take the lead at her own pace. The roofs quickly disappeared, but they came upon a farmer with a wagon filled with green and tan melons. He probably sold his crops to the castle, and perhaps at the small market inside the protective walls.

“Mornin,” Brice called, using the country-sounding greeting the farmer with the mule had warned him about.

No matter what, Brice was a quick learner. The farmer in the wagon turned, surprised they’d managed to sneak up on him.

He nodded, none too friendly, so they passed by. Around the next bend the road split. One leg went straight into the gates of the castle, the other circled around. It was the same gate she’d used to go pick mushrooms.

Inside the walls, there was an open area, and beyond it the stables. She pulled the horse to a halt. She’d been prepared to see the kitchens and had been ready for them. But the stables? They were where she’d last seen her one friend, Cleanup.

“Hey, you’re blocking the road,” the farmer called from behind.

They moved aside, but Hannah held up her hand to stop the wagon. “Do you come here often?”

“Most days when I harvest. You going to let me pass?”

“There’s a young man that works in the stables named Cleanup. Do you know him?”

“Sure. He’s a trainer. Silly sort, if you ask me. Always smiling.”

“Thanks.” She moved the rest of the way to allow the wagon past.

When he had passed, Brice leaned closer. “We can go see him if you like.”

“Not yet, but I had to know he’s well. I’ll send for him later.”

“Anything else you want to see or know about?”

“No, he’s all I care about in this place.”

Brice sat taller. “Then let’s follow the road see where it takes us.”

She smiled. “It had better take us to the King’s Palace.”

A day later, in the early morning, they sat at the crest of another hill and admired the tall, gray structure that was the King’s Palace. Only one army patrol had passed them, and it hadn’t taken the time to question them. The main gate was to the right, but Hannah planned to enter via a smaller, side gate. Despite fewer people passing through, there were fewer guards.

Brice said, “We haven’t talked about how we will enter—and what we will do once inside. How will we avoid Princess Elenore and her entourage of killers and supporters?”

Hannah said, “Well, I know she’s been planning and setting traps to prevent me from gaining entrance for years, but don’t forget I’ve had the same time to plan. I’ve considered a hundred options, but only one seems right.”

“Which is?”

“I enter the way I left.” She spurred her horse and trotted ahead, where a cluster of people waited for the gate to open. Hannah turned the horse onto a game trail and when out of sight from the road, climbed down. She selected several items from her pack, then hung it from a branch on a tree.

“What are we doing?”

“Leave everything here. Keep your hands free, and take nothing with you that will alarm the guards.”

Then what?”

“Just follow my lead. We’re going inside to the market to find a knife for my birthday. You’ll tell anyone who asks that our mother saved her egg money for it.”

Brice said, “That’ll get us inside, then what?”

“We will buy a rope.” She turned and walked back onto the road, after removing the bridles and turning the horses loose. He joined her, and they walked into the crowd of perhaps thirty people waiting for the guards to open the gate.

The waiting people were getting restless before the gate creaked and swung. The crowd surged ahead, nearly all heading directly for the open market. Hannah allowed them to carry her along, as her eyes scanned the crowd, the guards, the observers high on the ramparts, and even faces in windows.

There was an air of excitement she didn’t remember. But the dancers, singers, and musicians in the market hadn’t begun yet, either. With Brice at her heels, she ducked down an aisle and pretended to choose a hat from a display while studying the guards and castle walls. Then, when she felt sure nobody followed, she moved to another stall.

“Help you find something?” a small voice near her knee asked. A boy stood there, hands on hips, eyes fastened on hers.

“Rope,” she said. “About as big around as my finger.”

“Follow me, I know a man who makes the best in the entire market and he’ll give it to you at a low price because you’re with me.”

She laughed. The boy provided additional misdirection, and she welcomed it. She said, “Well then, I suppose I should reward you.”

“Yes, you should. I think a full copper is a fair price, don’t you? The seller will save you that much, and you have to count the time I save you.”

Hannah liked the urchin, even though he tried to charge ten times what his services were worth. She pulled a thin-copper, twice what she should pay, and held it where he could see it.

“Or, a thin would work,” he said as his greedy eyes found the coin.

“Only if I strike a deal with the seller. Agreed?”

“You can trust me to hold the coin. You might lose it,” he said, making a sad face.

“No, I can’t trust you, and we both know it.”

He shrugged and headed in the precise direction she wanted to go. They arrived at a stall where ropes, new and used, were coiled and hanging on display. She flipped the coin into the air, and it disappeared.

“Is he bothering you?” the heavy man in the stall asked.

“Not at all. We’re old friends. He said you’re the man to see for rope,” Hannah said.

The man winked at the boy, and would no doubt be more kind to him in the future, and perhaps a small token of appreciation would change hands. He said, “So it’s rope you need?”

“Only a short one, today. Strong enough to hold me, maybe ten paces long, it does not have to be new.”

He waved a hand at his inventory on display. “See what you want?”

She did and pointed.

“Only two shields, or a full copper. It’s been gently used.”

“One shield and three shims if you know of a good knife seller nearby. I’ll tell him you sent me.” The knife seller would owe the rope vendor for the referral, but accepting the first offer in a market is a sign of weakness, and the merchant would remember her.

“Make that four shims, and you have a rope. The knife seller you want is right over there,” he pointed and then reached for the rope.

Brice had remained quietly watchful, shifting positions to keep an eye on anyone who might be sneaking up on them. The knife seller had his wares displayed on a table. She spotted a throwing knife similar to her old one but didn’t reach for it. Instead, she selected a small knife that would fit inside a small scabbard at her waist and dickered over the price. Just as she was about to pay, she lifted the other and quickly examined it. “Is this for throwing?”

“Please be careful. Both edges are sharp, and that is something I’m reluctant to sell to you, son.”

“I always wanted to learn. Brice, will you buy this and teach me?”

“You throw?” the vendor asked.

“Enough to be sure to supervise a boy wanting to learn. May I hold it?” Brice made a brief show of deciding, then nodded.

Hannah paid and carried the two knives safely tucked into a sheet of thick material . She steered them to a seller of meat pies and bought two for each, then as they ate, appearing like any two farmer-boys in the market, they drifted to an area where less expensive things were for sale.

After she had assured herself no one was watching them, she moved into a small alley. They walked along it and then crossed over to another alley she remembered. Soon, they reached a tiny courtyard filled with broken wheels, wagon tongues, and two decrepit benches.

“Check to see we’re alone.”

Brice darted down the way they’d come, then checked the other intersecting alleys. Hannah looked up at the balcony and the chimney at one side. She stuffed the knives inside her waistband and uncoiled the rope. The deserted courtyard was protected from casual sight on all sides, and the few windows she could see were empty of faces.

She tossed the coil of rope above the chimney trying to get it to uncoil as it passed behind the top stones. It fell short. She gathered it and tried again. Her third try succeeded.

She grabbed the other end and made them about equal. Then, with a look at Brice for luck, she took both ends in her hands and pulled herself up, using the protruding stones on the wall for steps as she placed the toe of her boot on them. In seconds, she was level with the familiar small balcony two stories above the ground.

She waved for Brice to follow and when he reached the railing, she reached over and grabbed the back of his shirt to help lift him. He half-fell onto the balcony.

“Why are we doing this?” he asked as she pulled the rope free and coiled it.

Hannah turned and took in the accumulated dried leaves and sticks, the unwashed stones, and evidence of a family of mice living near the door. All were as hoped. She said, “Keep a lookout.”

She moved to the door while pulling the knives free. She slipped the short one with the thin blade between the door and jamb, feeling her way and wishing she had a magic spell for opening latches. She remembered the way the door locked. A bolt fell into place, using only gravity, but then it rested in a metal recess.

She worked the bolt aside, feeling it move slightly and overcoming her fears that it had rusted in place in the six years since she’d stood here. The tension on the bolt slipped, and it slid back into place. She tried again, and again, and again. Twice she had it almost to where she could lift, but it slipped away.

“Need help?” Brice asked.

“Yes. I need you to be quiet so I can concentrate.”

She almost had it when Brice shushed her. They froze in position as an old woman pushed a wheelbarrow down the alley, her eyes never once looking up. When she was out of sight, Hannah tried again, and on her first try, the bolt slid aside, then the knife pushed it up. She pulled on the door, and it squeaked open.

She went inside, Brice at her heels.

The room was almost dark, but they pulled the door nearly shut, so hopefully, nobody outside would see it had been opened. She went to one of the few windows and pulled back the heavy black covering. Light filtered in through a window so dirty the sunlight barely penetrated. She did the same with the other two windows, then pulled the door firmly closed.

“What is this place?” Brice whispered.

“My father’s workshop.”

“The one the King promised to keep locked until your return?”

“Yes.”

Their eyes were adjusting to the dim light. Brice was wandering around, but as a mage, even a beginner, he knew enough to look and not touch. She went to his side, and they examined what lay on a work table: vials of minerals, slivers of wood, knives and pliers, a tiny hammer, and a round lump of crudely made glass, or what looked like glass.

Brice asked, “Is there a reason why you came here?”

“Of course.”

“Do you know where it’s at?”

“Outside the door.”

Brice paused. “The door?”

“Not the one we entered through, but the other.”

He looked, clearly puzzled. “Isn’t that a hallway inside the royal quarters?”

“It is. And if things are as they should be, there is a Royal Palace guard who is charged with keeping people out.”