The Emerald Storm (5 page)

“Hadrian!” he shouted in his booming voice. He stopped work to extend his good hand. “How are you, lad? Gave ’em what for in Ratibor, eh? Where you been?”

“I stayed to sweep up,” Hadrian replied, with a wink and a smile.

“Denny in yet?” Gwen asked Dixon, stepping past him and rummaging through a drawer behind the bar.

“Nope, just me. I figured, why bother? All of you want breakfast? I can manage if you like.”

“Yes,” Gwen told him, “and make some extra.”

Dixon sighed. “You keep feeding them and they’ll just keep hanging around.”

She ignored the comment. “Did Harry deliver the ale last night?”

“Yup.”

“Three barrels, right?”

As Gwen talked with Dixon, Royce slipped his arm around her waist and gave her a gentle squeeze. The fact that he loved her was no secret, but Royce had never even held Gwen’s hand in public before. Seeing him with her, his friend looked different. It took Hadrian a moment to realize what it was—Royce was smiling.

When Gwen followed Dixon into the pantry to discuss inventory, Royce and Hadrian resumed the task of pulling chairs off tables. Throughout the years, Hadrian had likely sat in each one and drunk from every wooden cup or pewter tankard hanging behind the bar. For more than a decade, The Rose and Thorn had been his home, and it felt odd to be
just visiting
.

“So, have you decided what you’ll do now?” Royce asked.

“I’m going to find the heir.”

Royce paused, hold the chair inches above the floor. “Did you hit your head during the Battle of Ratibor? The heir is dead, remember?”

“Turns out he’s not. What’s more, I know who he is.”

“But the nice priest told us the heir was murdered by Seret Knights forty years ago,” Royce countered.

“He was.”

“Am I missing something?”

“Twins,” Hadrian told him. “One was killed, but the midwife saved the other.”

“So, who is this heir?”

“Degan Gaunt.”

Royce’s eyes widened and a sardonic grin crossed his face. “The leader of the Nationalist Army, who is bent on the New Empire’s destruction, is the imperial heir? How ironic is that, and how unfortunate for you seeing as how the Imps snatched him up.”

Hadrian nodded. “Yeah, it turns out that Esrahaddon has been helping him win all those victories in Rhenydd.”

“Esrahaddon? How do you know that?”

“I found him in Gaunt’s camp. Right before the Battle of Ratibor. Looks like the old wizard was planning to put Gaunt on the throne by force.”

The two finished with the chairs and took seats at a table near the windows. Outside, a lone apple seller wheeled a cart past, presumably on her way to the Gentry Quarter.

“I hope you’re not taking Esrahaddon’s word about Gaunt being the heir. You can never be sure exactly what he’s up to,” said Royce.

“No—well, yes—he confirmed the heir was alive, but I discovered his identity through Gaunt’s sister.”

“So, how do you plan to find Gaunt? Did either of them tell you where he is?”

“No. I’m pretty sure Esrahaddon knows, or at least has a good idea, but he wouldn’t tell me, and I’ve not seen him since the battle. He did say he would need us for a job soon. I think he’ll want help rescuing Gaunt. He hasn’t been around here, has he?”

Royce shook his head. “I’m happy to say I haven’t seen him. Is that why you’re in town?”

“Not really. I’m sure he can find me, wherever I am. After all, he found us in Colnora when he wanted us to come to Dahlgren. I’m on my way to see Myron at the abbey. If anyone knows about the history of the heir, he does. I also had to drop off a letter to Alric.”

“A letter?”

“When I was stuck in Colnora during the siege, your old friends helped get me out.”

“The Diamond?”

Hadrian nodded. “Price arranged for me to slip away one night in exchange for delivering the letter. He preferred risking my neck rather than one of his boys.”

“What did it say? Who was it from?”

Hadrian shrugged. “How would I know?”

“You didn’t read it?” he asked incredulously.

“No, it was for Alric.”

“Let me see it.”

“Can’t. I dropped it off at the castle on the way in.”

Royce dropped his face into his hands. “Sometimes, I just…” Royce shook his head. “Unbelievable.”

“What’s wrong?” Gwen asked, joining them.

“Hadrian’s an idiot,” Royce replied, his voice muffled by his hands.

“I’m sure that’s not true.”

“Thank you, Gwen. See, at least
she
appreciates me.”

“So, Hadrian, tell me about Ratibor. Royce told me about the rebellion. How did it go?” Gwen asked with an excited smile.

“Emery was killed. Do you know who he was?”

Gwen nodded.

“So were a lot of others, but we took the city.”

“And Arista?”

“She survived the fight, but took the aftermath hard. She’s become something of a heroine there. They put her in charge of the whole kingdom.”

“She’s a remarkable woman,” Gwen said. “Don’t you think so, Hadrian?” Before he could answer, a loud crash from the kitchen made her sigh. “Excuse me while I help Dixon.”

She started to stand but Royce reached his feet first and motioned her to stay. “Sit,” he said, kissing the crown of her head. “I’ll help him. You two get caught up.”

Gwen looked surprised but simply said, “Thank you.”

Royce hurried off, shouting in an unusually good-natured tone, “Dixon! What’s taking you so long? You’ve still got one hand, haven’t you?”

Gwen and Hadrian both laughed, mirroring surprised expressions.

“So, what’s new around here?” Hadrian asked.

“Not a whole lot. Albert came by last week with a job from a nobleman to place the earrings of a married woman in the bedchambers of a priest, but Royce declined it.”

“Really? He loves plant jobs. And a noble? That’s just easy money.”

She shrugged. “I think with you retired, he’s—”

Outside, an approaching clatter of hooves halted abruptly. A moment later a man with a distinct limp, dressed as a royal courier, entered the tavern. He paused at the doorway, looking puzzled.

“Can I help you?” Gwen asked, as she stood.

“I have a message from His Majesty for the Royal Protectors. I was told they were here.”

“I’ll take that,” Gwen said, stepping forward.

The courier stiffened and shook his head. “It is for the Royal Protectors only.”

Gwen halted and Hadrian noticed her annoyed expression.

“You must be new,” Hadrian addressed the courier, rising to his feet. “I’m Hadrian Blackwater.”

The courier nodded smartly and pulled a waxed scroll from his satchel. He handed over the dispatch and departed. Hadrian sat back down and broke the falcon seal.

“It’s a job, isn’t it?” Gwen’s expression darkened and she stared at the floor.

“It’s nothing. Alric just wants to see us,” Hadrian said. She looked up, her eyes revealing a troubled mix of emotions Hadrian could not decipher. “Gwen, what’s wrong?” he pressed, his voice softening.

At length she replied, almost in a whisper, “Royce asked me to marry him.”

Hadrian sat back in his chair. “Seriously?”

She nodded and added hastily, “I guess he thought that since you retired from Riyria, he would, too.”

“That’s—why, that’s wonderful!” Hadrian burst out as he leaped to his feet and hugged her. “Congratulations! He didn’t even say anything. We’ll be like family! It’s about time he got around to this. I would have asked for your hand myself years ago, except I knew if I did I’d wake up dead the next morning.”

“When he asked me it was as if—well, as if a wish I never dared ask had come true. So many problems solved, so much pain eased. Honestly, I didn’t think he ever would.”

Hadrian nodded. “That’s only because he’s not only an idiot, he’s blind as well.”

“No. I mean, well—he’s Royce.”

“Isn’t that what I just said? But I know what you’re saying. He’s really not the marrying type, is he? Clearly, you’ve had tremendous influence on him.”

“You have, too,” she said, reaching out and taking hold of his hand. “There are times I hear him say things I know come from you. Things like
responsibility
and
regret
, words that were never part of his vocabulary before. I wonder if he even knows where he found them. When I first met you two he was so withdrawn, so guarded.”

Hadrian nodded. “He has trust issues.”

“But he’s learning. His life has been so hard. I know it has. Abandoned and betrayed by those who should have loved him. He doesn’t talk about it, at least not to me. But I know.”

Hadrian shook his head. “Me either. Occasionally something might come up, but he usually avoids mentioning anything about his past. I think he’s trying to forget.”

“He’s built so many defenses, but every year it’s as if another wall has fallen. He even summoned the courage to tell me he’s part elven. His fortress is dissolving, and I can see him peering out of it at me. He wants to be free. This is the next step—and I am so proud of him.”

“When will the wedding be?”

“We were thinking in a couple of weeks at the monastery, so Myron can preside. But we’ll have to postpone, won’t we?”

“Why do you say that? Alric just wants to see us, it doesn’t mean—”

“He needs the two of you for a job,” Gwen interrupted.

“No. He might
want us
, but we’re retired. I have other things to do and Royce…well, Royce needs to start a new life—with you.”

“You’ll take it, and you must take Royce with you,” her voice was filled with sadness and a sense of regret, emotions so unlike her.

Hadrian smiled. “Listen, I can’t think of anything Alric could say that would get me to go, but if he does, I’ll do the job on my own—as a wedding present. We don’t even have to tell Royce the courier was here.”

“No!” she burst out. “He
has
to go. If he doesn’t, you’ll die.”

Hadrian’s first impulse was to laugh, but that thought evaporated when he saw her face. Nevertheless, he tried to lighten the strain he found there. “I’m not as easy to kill as all that, you know?” He winked at her.

“I’m from Calis, Hadrian, and I know what I’m talking about.” Her gaze drifted off toward the windows, but her eyes were unfocused, as if seeing another place. “I can’t be the one responsible for your death. The life we would have after…” She shook her head. “No, he
must
go with you,” she repeated firmly.

Hadrian was not convinced but knew there was no reason to argue further. Gwen was not the type for debate. Most women he knew invited discussion and even enjoyed arguments, but not Gwen. There was clarity to her thinking that let you know she had already made her own journey to the inevitable conclusion and was just politely waiting there for you to join her. In her own way, she was much like Royce—except for the
polite waiting
.

“With you two gone, I’ll have time to organize a first-rate wedding,” she said, her voice strained and she blinked frequently. “It will take that long just to decide what color dress a former prostitute should wear.”

“You know something, Gwen,” Hadrian began, as he reached out and took her hand. “I’ve known a lot of women, but I’ve met only two I admire. Royce is a very lucky man.”

“Royce is a man on the edge,” she replied thoughtfully. “He’s seen too much cruelty and betrayal. He’s never known mercy.” She gave his hand a squeeze. “
You
have to do this, Hadrian. You have to be the one to show him mercy. If you can do that, I know it will save him.”

Royce and Hadrian entered Essendon Castle’s courtyard, once the site of Princess Arista’s witch trial. Nothing remained of that unfortunate day except a slightly raised patch of ground where the stake and woodpile had stood. It had been just three years ago, and the weather had been turning cold then too. It was a different time. Amrath Essendon was king, and the New Empire was little more than a dream of the Imperialists.

The guards at the gate nodded and smiled at them.

“I hate that,” Royce muttered as they passed.

“What?”

“They didn’t even think to stop us, and they actually smiled. They know us by sight now—
by sight
. Alric used to have the decency to send word discreetly and receive us unannounced. Now, uniformed soldiers knock on the door in daylight waving and saying, ‘Hello, we have a job for you.’”

“He didn’t wave.”

“Give it time, he will be—waving and grinning. One day Jeremy will be buying drinks for his soldier buddies at The Rose and Thorn. They’ll all be there, the entire sentry squad, laughing, smiling, throwing their arms over our shoulders and asking us to sing
Calide Portmore
with them—‘once more with gusto!’ And at some point one particularly sweaty ox will give me a hug and say how
honored
he is to be in our company.”

“Jeremy?”

“What? That’s his name.”

“You know the name of the soldier at the gate?”

Royce scowled. “You see my point? Yes, I know his name and they know ours. We might as well wear uniforms and move into Arista’s old room.”

They climbed the stone steps to the main entrance, where a soldier quickly opened a door for them and gave a slight bow. “Master Melborn, Master Blackwater.”

“Hey, Digby.” Hadrian waved as he passed and caught Royce scowling. “Sorry.”

“It’s a good thing we’re both retired. You know, there’s a reason there are no famous
living
thieves.”

Hadrian’s heels echoed on the polished floor of the corridor as they walked. Royce’s footsteps made no sound at all. They crossed the west gallery past the suits of armor and the ballroom. The castle appeared as empty as the rest of the city. As they approached the reception hall, Hadrian spotted Mauvin Pickering heading their way. The young noble looked thinner than Hadrian remembered. There was a hollow cast to his cheeks, a shadow beneath his eyes, but his hair was the same wild mess.

“About time,” Mauvin greeted them. “Alric just sent me to look for you.”

Two years had passed since his brother Fanen’s death, and Mauvin still wore black. The haunted look in his eyes would be unnoticeable to most. Only those who had known him before the contest in Dahlgren would see the difference. That was where Sentinel Luis Guy had attacked Hadrian with a force of Seret Knights, and Mauvin and Fanen took up arms with him. The brothers had fought masterfully, as was the nature of Pickerings. Yet Mauvin had been unable to save his brother from the killing stroke. Before that day, Mauvin Pickering had been bright, loud, and joyful with a permanent smile and a wink that challenged the world. Now, he stood with his shoulders slumped and his chin dipped.