Renegade Heart (5 page)

The next morning Magnosa rose early. She took time to dress and apply her face powder, rouge and lip colour. Once she was satisfied with her appearance she left her private chamber and climbed the stairs to the attic where she had given Wolf a straw mattress for the night.

In the gloom under the sloping roof the mattress was empty. In fact it didn’t look as though he had slept there at all. Her first feeling was one of relief that he had gone without dragging her further into his problems. Her second was one of panic as she recalled his insistence on taking Enola with him.

It was seldom Magnosa travelled faster than her practised elegant walk, but, making an exception in the circumstances, she fairly flew down the stairs to where Enola’s small and simple room was off situated just off the scullery. Magnosa threw open the door and could have wept to see the girl sleeping soundly in her bed.

Protruding from beneath the bed was a bare foot and Magnosa crouched down for a closer look. Wolf lay curled on the floor, his knees drawn up to his chest, his arms across his face. His breathing was deep and regular. After two long turns, it seemed, he had found his way back to the one place he truly belonged.

But there was much to do if they were to get Wolf out of the city, and reluctantly Magnosa woke the sleeping youngsters. It was interesting, she thought, to see Enola revealed no surprise at finding Wolf under her bed and the boy showed no embarrassment. For them it was still the natural order of things regardless of their time apart.

Because of the nature of her escape plan, Magnosa had no choice but to include her working girls. They clustered around to inspect Wolf which seemed to involve much giggling and lewd comments. Enola sat back and watched proudly, joining in the laughter as the girls attempted to undress him, ignoring Wolf’s protests he could do it for himself.

“Why can’t I keep my own clothes underneath?” he argued.

“Sweetie, whores don’t wear anything underneath,” One of the girls teased, evoking a fresh wave of laughter. “A man sticks his hand up your skirts he doesn’t expect to find undergarments.”

“If a man sticks his hand up my skirts he’ll get more than he expects anyway,” Wolf replied grimly.

He stood in the centre of the parlour floor feeling ridiculous in a buttercup yellow dress and lacy, cream bonnet. The whores stepped back to admire their work and were deeply disappointed.

“He looks like a boy in a dress.”

“That wouldn’t fool a blind man.”

“Face paint,” Magnosa said. “And gloves.”

When they had finished, he looked no more feminine than when they are started and it was clear he was beginning to despair. It would be bad enough to be captured, but to be captured while dressed as a woman would be unbearable. He could only hope they would hang him quickly and spare his shame.

“He’ll have to do,” Magnosa sighed. To Wolf she added, “When the wagon arrives, keep your head down and don’t speak. If anyone asks, the girls will say you are new and shy. Don’t make your move until you are clear of the city. If you can hold your nerve, wait until you reach the forest.”

He nodded nervously. Ever since Magnosa had outlined her plan the night before, he had wondered if it could really work. He was also aware failure would mean execution for all of them and responsibility for other people was not something that sat well with him.

Magnosa’s idea to disguise him as a woman and smuggle him through the gates aboard a whore wagon bound for one of the military outposts was a bold one. It relied upon the troopers on gate duty paying little or no attention to the whores setting out on one of their regular journeys. It relied on the driver having no interest in the women he was ferrying aboard his wagon. And, it was also a way of ensuring, Wolf knew, that he could not take Enola with him.

Left alone to say their goodbyes, Wolf and Enola looked awkwardly at each other, neither of them knowing what to say. He spread his arms wide and forced a smile.

“Still me,” he said giving a little twirl in his dress.

“I know that,” Enola stepped closer to him and he wrapped his arms around her slender body, breathing in the smell of her soft hair. She smiled up at him. “I’d recognise those big blue eyes anywhere, however you’ve disguised yourself. I just hate saying goodbye to you so soon. I only just found you.”

“I’ll come back for you,” he said earnestly. “One day when it’s safe. You believe me don’t you?”

“Of course I do,” she nodded, “but what if it’s never safe for you to come back?”

“I’ll find a way.” He closed his eyes and held her tight. “Just promise you’ll wait for me.”

Sgod was a large sullen man who felt that life owed him more than driving whores to the outpost. He resented the fact he had never achieved more and frequently took his frustrations out on his mousey wife as though she were the one to blame for his failures. The whores despised him, but for once the moody driver was a blessing as he had no interest in making conversation. He did not even bother to turn around and acknowledge them as Wolf and the girls boarded the wagon, much to everyone’s relief.

“The only good thing about getting caught is that Sgod would hang as well,” one of the girls whispered to Wolf as the wagon trundled through the city.

Nearing the gates, Wolf felt his nerve wavering. A barrier had been placed across the outward gate and the whole area swarmed with heavily armed troopers and Watchmen. Every wagon ahead of them was stopped and thoroughly searched much to the chagrin of the traders. Beside Wolf, Taola placed a firm hand on his arm.

“If you panic now,” she murmured in a low voice, “you will condemn us all. Trust me, they will have no interest in a cartload of whores.”

She was proved to be right. Sgod halted his wagon at the barrier and hailed the guard, jabbing a dirty thumb over his shoulder.

“Usual whores for the outpost,” he grunted.

A couple of troopers approached the wagon and peered into the space under the seats. The girls and Wolf obligingly moved their feet while Taola innocently lifted the cloth bag that held Wolf’s cadet uniform. Satisfied, the troopers moved away, their attention already on the next wagon in line.

Sgod flicked the reins and the horses surged forward. Within a short while the Walled city was far enough behind to allow them to relax. Wolf looked at Taola and grinned. With Sgod hunched over the reins Wolf knew he would be able to slip from the wagon without the driver noticing. For now, he could just sit back and enjoy the ride until they reached the forest.

W
olf was dreaming. After dropping silently from the back of the wagon and running into the dense forest, he had stripped off the hideous yellow dress and donned his hated cadet uniform. He walked until night fell and finally settled in a small clearing. Having no means of making a fire, he pulled his jacket tightly around his body and fell into a troubled sleep. In his dream he was back in the city, being paraded through the streets in the yellow dress as they marched him to the gallows. When he got there, the executioner was Alganoor and it was not him they were about to hang but Enola around whose neck they hung the noose.

He woke with a start to find himself staring down the business end of a sword. Having spent the day before searching for the renegades it appeared they had now found him. A dozen of them sat on their horses, forming a semi-circle around the clearing. The one currently holding his sword to Wolf’s throat was a big bear of a man with a jagged scar running from his right eye to his chin.

“On your feet,” the man growled, backing off just far enough to allow Wolf room to stand. “What are you doing so far from home, cadet boy?”

“I’m not a cadet,” Wolf answered bravely.

“You’re wearing the uniform.”

“It’s all I have. It doesn’t make me a cadet.”

“Fadul, kill him and be done with it,” one of the renegades called out in a bored tone and the others murmured in accord.

Fadul shook his head, keeping his sword trained on a point just above Wolf’s heart. “I think we should have some sport with him before he dies.”

Wolf tipped his head back and stared the big man in the eye. “I’m not afraid of you.”

A ripple of laughter ran through the dozen mounted renegades and Fadul was not pleased. He loomed over the boy, attempting to use his size to intimidate. Wolf stood firm, refusing to back down.

“Running through an unarmed man makes you a coward,” he hissed. “Is that what the renegades have become?”

Fadul struck him hard across the face, knocking him to the ground. Wolf tasted blood in his mouth, but he scrambled to his feet and glared defiantly at the renegade. He had taken blows before that had hurt more than the one he had just been dealt and he fully intended to tell Fadul so. The man was more bully than renegade.

“Leave him,” a voice called out. There was authority in the man’s tone, but Wolf did not turn his head to see who had spoken. He kept his focus on the angry man with the sharp sword. “The boy’s right. We have no cause to slay an unarmed man.”

“He’s not a man,” Fadul spat. “He’s an insolent pup.”

“That may be so, but I’m ordering you to leave him be.”

The speaker dismounted and strode towards them. Fadul scowled and swore vehemently, but he did as he was told and returned to his horse. The leader of the renegades circled Wolf slowly. He stopped in front of him. Taking Wolf’s chin between finger and thumb he tilted the boy’s head back and studied his face closely. Wolf said nothing, sensing his fate depended solely upon this tall, fair haired man.

“Saker,” the leader called to another of the renegades. “Does he remind you of anyone?”

“No,” the man called Saker replied, sounding bored. “Should he?”

“Look again.”

Exasperated, Saker urged his horse forward and gave the boy a closer inspection. His eyes narrowed and he looked at the renegade leader in disbelief. “He can’t be. It’s impossible.”

“Unlikely,” the leader concurred. “But not impossible.”

“Do you two want to tell us what you’re going on about?” Fadul complained. “Who do you think he is, Tregaar?”

Tregaar ignored him. “We don’t know what happened to the baby.”

“I guess he’s about the right age.”

“Look at his hair…and those eyes.”

Wolf wished they would get to the point. His hair and eyes had singled him out for attention his whole life. It was ridiculous that the renegades should be as fascinated by them as everyone else.

“Who were your parents, boy?” Tregaar asked.

“I don’t know,” Wolf answered truthfully. “I was raised in an orphanage.”

His parentage was something he had never questioned. Valistra had told him once that he was feral when they found him. It was all he knew other than the fact he must have lived around people at some point because whoever had left him at the orphanage had known his name. It meant there must have been a time when he had a family and a home.

“Do you remember your given birth name?”

“It’s the same as it is now,” Wolf replied proudly. “It’s Wolf.”

Both Tregaar and Saker inhaled sharply. Tregaar put a hand on Wolf’s shoulder and he flinched, fully expecting a blow to follow. When none came, he looked up to see Tregaar smiling, a wistful smile on his rugged face.

“I knew your father, Wolf,” the renegade leader said. “You’re among friends now.”