Riddle in Stone (The Riddle in Stone Series - Book One) (33 page)

Trying to appear as calm and normal as possible, Edmund strode up the street leading to the royal stables where Toby worked. He glanced behind him again. The street was full of people milling about, but none of them seemed to be following him. He scanned their faces. Nobody resembled the law enforcer. Trying to hide Thorax tucked under his left arm, he pulled his newly purchased cloak closer around him. He increased his pace.

I can’t believe he kicked me out.

You’re lucky he didn’t throw you in the stockades . . . or worse! Never antagonize kings unless you have an army behind you.

But he needed to know I was being serious! The ass kept thinking I was telling some sort of stupid joke.

A fat lot of good it did you.

Under the hood covering much of his face, Edmund shook his head in disgust and desperation.

Now what?

Maybe you should just go back there and say that it was all a joke, there are no goblins in the northern mountains.

That would hardly help us get into the tower. We need an army!

“I suppose we should start thinking of another plan,” he said to Thorax.

Several people passing by gave him odd looks.

We could try rescuing Molly with a smaller group, force our way into the tower, grab her, and get out.

That wouldn’t solve the goblin problem. They’d still be there, biding their time until they sweep down and kill everybody . . . just like Thomas and all the others back home.

But Molly would be safe. All we’d need is a hundred stout men and that book from the library.

A cart driver shouted for him to get out of the way. Edmund stepped to the side of the street as the cart clattered past.

“I suppose we should take one thing at a time,” he said to Thorax.

Hidden underneath his cloak, Thorax’s head bobbed up and down.

“Let’s see. There would be me, Pond, Norb, the knights and their squires occupying Rood . . . ”

Not all the knights will come. They can’t leave the village unguarded. Somebody will have to stay behind and take care of the women and children.

“So maybe six or seven knights and their squires . . . and maybe forty townsfolk. Maybe another twenty lads from the farms . . . ”

Edmund thought about this.

He knew Norb and Pond would help. But they weren’t warriors. Neither were any of the men from Rood or the ranches. What they needed were skilled swordsmen who could fight.

Perhaps Borst the blacksmith will come. He could certainly knock a few goblin heads off. Especially if he has a few drinks in him.

He’ll come. Everybody who can will come, but most of the dirty work is going to have to be done by the knights. Just me and the knights . . .

If we could just get four or five more seasoned warriors.

How are we going to find four or five skilled mercenaries?

As he approached the stables, he scanned the shadows for the law enforcer. Nobody seemed to be waiting for him.

What am I going to—?

Hoarse laugher burst from the building across the street. Startled, Edmund wheeled around, sword drawn. People around him backed away, giving him a wide berth.

He exhaled and sheathed his sword, remembering the tavern across from the stables.

It’s just those stupid—

Then an idea shot to mind.

Running to the building, he cast open its door.

Inside a fire burned brightly in a center fire pit, illuminating rows of wooden tables, many on their sides or tipped over. Scantily clad women strutted around, serving drinks to burly men with muscles covering their mountainous bodies. There was shouting and steins of beer crashing across the room. Several of the men were entertaining women sitting on their laps.

Are you sure this is wise? They might turn you in.

We need men who can fight and they can fight!

Setting Thorax down, Edmund climbed on top of one of the tables and waved his arms.

Nobody paid him any notice.

He pushed back his hood, hoping that none of them were on the lookout for a one-eyed man who stuttered.

“Excuse me,” he said, trying not to stammer.

The uproar continued unabated.

“Ex-excuse me,” he repeated louder.

Still no one took notice of him.

Come on, get their attention!

Edmund screamed, “Hey!”

Everyone fell silent. A room full of enormous men and the serving girls peered at him, startled.

“I, I, I . . . I’m, I’m terribly sorry, sirs,” Edmund began, not really knowing what to say. “But I need your help. You see—”

One of the knights shouted, “A song!”

Everybody began clapping or banging their fists on the tables.

“Yes, give us a song, master dwarf!”

“I’m not a dwarf,” Edmund called out, to little effect.

More cheering and thumping shook the room. Somebody started singing. Others joined in. Soon the entire tavern bounced with an old drinking tune.

“Hey!” Edmund screamed even louder.

They quieted.

“Good sirs, please listen!” he said. “I need your help rescuing a w-w-woman!”

“Is she pretty?” someone shouted.

Several knights snickered.

“How big are her breasts?” somebody else asked, to even greater laughter.

This is of no use. They’re all drunken louts.

I have to try.

You’re never going to get their attention.

Maybe I can . . .

Reaching into his pocket, Edmund snatched the Star of Iliandor and held it aloft for all to see. Bewildered, the men around him stared at it, murmuring.

“What’s that?” a man with flaming red hair asked, standing up with an effort. The woman on his lap fell to the floor.

“This,” Edmund announced, trying to sound as awe-inspiring as he could, “this is the Star of Iliandor!”

“What the hell is that?”

“The, the . . . the King, King Lionel, has issued an edict,” Edmund called out, pausing for dramatic effect. “Whoever brings him the Star of Iliandor will be granted lordship over Iliandor’s former fiefdom!”

This got some of their scattered attention.

“So why don’t you just give it to Old Yellowhair?”

More giggling.

“I’d like to give it to him,” somebody grumbled. “Right between the eyes.”

“Why? You wouldn’t hit anything he uses.”

The room exploded into drunken laughter. Several of the knights rolled around on the beer-sodden floor.

“Good Sirs!” Edmund shouted. “Good Sirs! Please, it’s a matter of honor!”

Most of the knights quieted down again.

A knight with tattoos of snakes intertwining around his bulging biceps said, “Go on. What’s this all about?”

“My love—” Edmund stopped, fighting back the emotion surging up in him. “My love is being held by goblins. I need your skill, your, your . . . swords. Whoever helps me can have this!” He shook the Star over his head. “And will become Lord of the Highlands!”

“Highlands?” somebody repeated. “Who the hell would want to be Lord of the Highlands?”

“Who would want to be a Lord, period?” another knight replied.

The knight with the tattoos actually seemed interested, and relatively sober. “Goblins, you say? Where? We crushed them into pulp.”

A great cheer went up, twenty steins rising into the air at once. Calls for more drinks rang out.

Don’t blow this.

“In the . . . in the northern mountains,” Edmund hollered over the cheering. “There are still a few goblins to the far north. Just a few here and there, you see. They hide in deep caves.”

Nobody seemed to be paying attention. Two knights in the far corner began singing. Another knight grabbed a serving girl who was walking by and lifted her high into the air. She squealed as the tray she was carrying fell clattering to the floor.

“As, as, as I was saying,” Edmund said, trying to shout louder without having his voice go shrill. “I need . . . I need skilled mercenaries to rescue her!”

More knights joined in the song. The serving girl who had been hoisted into the air was now being passed around from table to table, her insincere demands to be put down being ignored.

“Who, who, whom . . . whomever helps me . . . whomever helps me can have this!” Edmund shook the Star of Iliandor above his head again.

The serving girl being passed around the room fell through somebody’s upraised hands and thudded on the floor, her face bouncing in a pool of beer. The knights around her howled, falling off their chairs and benches in the process.

“I have a question for you,” a drunken knight said to Edmund, his head wobbling on his thick neck. “What’s stopping us from just beating the crap out of you, taking that thingamabob, and turning it over to Old Yellowhair right now?”

Uh oh!

I hadn’t thought of that . . .

Edmund’s mouth went dry.

Many of the knights were grinning, all blurry-eyed, at him. Several exchanged knowing glances. One winked.

Do something!

With a shaking hand, Edmund drew forth his scimitar and said, “My sword! And my love for Molly. That’s what would stop you!”

All motion in the tavern stopped.

Oh no. What have I done?

Twenty knights blinked at Edmund. The ones lying on the floor got to their knees. Benches creaked under the weight of their occupants as they leaned forward. For several heartbeats, they all stared at Edmund.

Then one of the knights slowly got to his feet, pointed at Edmund, and shouted, “Get this man a drink!”

Suddenly a shower of beer flew at Edmund from all directions.

Edmund stepped out of the Knights’ Tavern, dripping beer.

Another colossal failure.

It was worth a try.

Limping next to him, Thorax shook herself, spraying people passing by.

Is there anybody in this damn city who isn’t insane or a drunkard?

“Master Edmund,” Toby exclaimed, opening the stable door. “What happened with the enforcer? Did you get everything cleared up? Is everything okay?”

Then he noticed that Edmund was creating a sudsy puddle in the street.

“What the heck happened to you? Oh, I know! You were celebrating your lordship, weren’t you?” Even greater excitement leapt into his voice. “Tell me about the King! What happened? What’s he like? Tell me everything! When can you make me a knight?”

“Hello, Toby,” Edmund said, brushing the beer from his eye. “It’s a . . . it’s a long story.” Pulling the sopping hood over his head to hide his face, he glanced around. “Listen, I need your help.”

“Sure! Name it.” The boy beamed. “By the way, I have your packages at home. I didn’t want them to get dirty in the stables. If you need them, I can run and get them straight away. Just say the word!”

“What? No. No, in fact, you can have them.” Edmund said. “Sell them if you can.”

“Really? They cost you a fortune!”

“They’re all yours. As a matter of fact . . . ” Edmund pulled out the pouch of coins he had conned from the charlatan shopkeeper. “Here.”

Toby opened the pouch and gasped.

“By the gods! Where did you get all of this?”

“Never mind about that. It’s all yours. You’ve earned it.”

“How?” Toby asked, fingering the gold coins.

“By helping me when I needed help the most. I appreciate everything you’ve done.”

Toby started counting the gold coins, struggling once he got past thirteen.

“I need you to have Blake saddled and ready to go tonight,” Edmund said. “By the middle of the night, in fact. Can you do that?”

Still clutching the pouch, Toby looked sidelong at Edmund.

“You aren’t in any trouble with the law, are you? I mean . . . you, you aren’t a killer like that enforcer said, right?” He fingered the pile of coins in his hands as if they had blood on them. “I mean, you didn’t rob anybody or anything like that. You’re a, a lord now, right? A real lord who can make people knights and everything!”

Lie.

“Yes, I’m now Lord Edmund of the Highlands,” he said, with a flamboyant bow.

Toby laughed, his expression easing considerably.

A couple blocks away, a bearded man in a grey cloak fought his way through the crowd, his head twisting and turning as if he was looking for somebody. Edmund motioned for Toby to walk with him to a less busy side street.

“I’m a lord,” Edmund repeated, getting out of view. “That’s how I got the money. The King gave it to me. You know, just to get things started up north and all.”

That seemed to make sense to Toby.

“But I can’t take office yet. I . . . I have to rescue that woman I told you about.”

Edmund guided Toby to the grazing yard behind the stables.

“What about Sir Hanley and the bandits?”

What?

“Oh yes,” Edmund said quickly, glancing back to make sure they hadn’t been followed. “The, the King has sent reinforcements. Everything will be fine. I’m going to return Sir Hanley’s horse straight away.”

Starting over, Toby resumed counting the gold coins.

“But I need Blake ready and everything,” Edmund asked. “Can you do that for me?”

“Okay, but . . . why in the middle of the night?”

Yes, why?

“Because I need to leave as soon as possible, but I . . . I have a couple of errands to run first. I have to get supplies and all of that.” Edmund’s stomach grumbled. “And I’m famished. Not to mention I have to get cleaned up.” He gestured to the soaked clothes clinging to his body. “I won’t be ready to depart for several hours, but I’d rather leave earlier than later, if you get me.”

Coins in both hands, Toby nodded, as if mulling over Edmund’s logic.

“So can you have him ready?” Edmund asked again.

A doubtful look seeped into Toby’s face. “Are you still going to make me one of your personal knights?”

Poor kid. He’s going to be devastated.

“Absolutely. But you have to wait until you’re sixteen. Finish your apprenticeship and then come see me in Rood.”

Toby grinned ear to ear. “Then Blake will be ready to go! He’s been pining away for Sir Hanley, anyway. He’ll race all the way back north like he’s on the wind.”

Good, because I’ll need all the speed that I can get.