The Hollow Crown: A Novel of Crosspointe (15 page)

“I am her friend. Leave her alone. You’ll hurt her.”

The other man gave a slow shake of his head. “I don’t think I can; I don’t want to.”

“You’re a selfish bastard.”

“I am. I know what I want and I get it.” He offered no apology.

“Even knowing what it will cost her?”

“It won’t cost her anything.”

“Don’t be an ass. It already has.” Keros ran his tongue around the sharp edge of his teeth. “I don’t have any family anymore, at least not of blood. But I count Margaret as my sister. I don’t believe she’ll ever accept your advances. Your crimes against the Ramplings are too many. But if, by some bizarre circumstance, you manage to sway her, then be warned. If you use her ill, I will destroy you.” He lifted his hand and spun majick around his fingers in a lacy blue-green ball. “I’ll fry you where you stand.”

He lifted his fingers to his mouth and blew the majick from his fingers. It spun away and stuck to Weverton’s chest. For a moment nothing happened. Then tiny filaments of majick unfurled from the ball, snaking around Weverton’s body, containing him in a loose cocoon. It flared with brilliant light and he let out a sharp scream as he crumpled to the ground. The majick faded as quickly as it had flared.

Keros knelt down, grasping Weverton’s chin and ignoring the oily
shift
of the thing in his mind. The other man was shaking as if with a palsy. The pain of that spell was excruciating. “Think hard. This is just a taste of what I will do to you.”

He rose and walked away, leaving Weverton lying on the ground. He met Ellyn and Margaret on the trail.

“What happened? What was that scream?”

Keros smiled, a cold, vicious smile. “Turns out Weverton is afraid of snakes. He’ll be along soon. Let’s leave him to recover his dignity in peace.”

Two days later they skirted Lake Ferradon and dropped down along the foothills of the Grimstone Mountains, stopping a league outside the village of Molford. They were dragging with exhaustion and wet to the skin. The rain had continued on and off and the previous night had been miserable. Margaret had slept little, sitting up all night against a tree. Her hands were pruny with the unceasing damp and her mood was black. She was miserably sore. Though Nicholas and she had switched back and forth, each having the opportunity to sit in the saddle, she was woefully out of shape for riding and her lower half was a fiery mass of aches.

Something had happened between Keros and Nicholas, she was certain of it. When Nicholas returned to camp two nights before, he had been dusted with leaves and twigs as if he’d been lying on the ground. His face appeared sickly pale and his hands had been shaking. He’d hardly been able to hold his food. He’d said little since then, and he and Keros did not speak. Even now it made her smile with spiteful satisfaction. He deserved so much for what he’d done to her family over the years, and there was little enough she could do to pay him back. But Keros had made the effort.

She eyed the majicar. He looked more tired than she did. His shoulders slumped and he was having a hard time keeping his eyes open as he sat on a log, his arms propped on his knees, his head sagging low.

“What now?” Ellyn came and sat beside Margaret.

They’d built a small fire and ate stale bread and cheese. Margaret shivered and pulled her cloak more tightly around herself. Its majickal protections were unraveling, allowing the wool to absorb the wet. Her boots were the same. She glanced at her companion.

“Carston was being held at Molford Manor, just east of Molford village. First we need to discover whether he’s still being held there. After that—” She shrugged. “We’ll figure it out once we see what we are up against.”

“How do you expect to find out whether he’s there?” Nicholas asked. He stood in the shadows outside the light of the fire. “They will be suspicious of us—four strangers on horseback.”

Margaret touched her forefingers together and pressed them to her lips. She’d been piecing together a plan for the past two days. “We have two choices. We can try to sneak into the village and learn what we need to know, but this is one of the regent’s strongholds. They will be expecting spies to come sniffing in the shadows and will be wary.”

“And the second choice?” Keros asked from across the fire.

“Nicholas and I pretend to be a wealthy couple on our way from Blakely to Tixora for a wedding. I, of course refuse to do the sensible thing and sail around through Wigan Sound because I want my horses there so everyone can know how rich I am, and I love them like children. My long-suffering husband, who is also weak-willed, gives into all my whims no matter how silly. So when there was a flood in our village and all able bodies were called out to help, I refused to wait and chance being late for the wedding. Thus we’ve set off on this adventure without a proper escort. Unfortunately, in a mudslide, we lost everything but ourselves, a precious packhorse, and our two servants. We are now in need of an inn to recuperate while we send for clothing and necessities from home. We’ll have to stay for several days at least, but we’ll pay very well. After all, we didn’t lose all our money.”

“You aren’t dressed properly,” Nicholas said. “You look like a thief, not a wealthy woman.”

“We’ll arrive after dark. I’ll be overcome by the emotions of the events and you’ll hurry me directly to our rooms. No one will see anything but my cloak. My maid, Ellyn, will purchase things for me in Molford.”

“Evelyn,” Ellyn corrected. “I’ve only been here once for a short time, but there is no sense using a name someone might recognize.”

Margaret nodded. “Good enough. It sounds enough like your real name that if one of us slipped up, we wouldn’t be in trouble.”

“It’s dangerous. If they suspect us, they’ll be able to sweep us up without much effort,” Keros said. “Truehelm is likely to have at least one or two master majicars here. I’m not sure how well Ellyn and I would do against them. Not only that, but you and Weverton could be recognized. You aren’t exactly unknown in Crosspointe.”

“No one will expect to see us here in these circumstances. It is simply unfathomable that the prim and proper Princess Margaret would be in Molford in such straits—and sneaking about with a man. It is inconceivable. As for Nicholas Weverton—I doubt anyone would believe that he would be here. But we’ll have to hope for the best. We’ll have to risk it if we want to rescue Carston before the regent becomes suspicious. Nicholas has been gone for three days now and I’m certain the regent has sent his ultimatum. He is no doubt waiting for a response. Who knows what he’ll do if he doesn’t get it? This is the quickest way to find out what we need to. We’ll simply have to be convincing so that no one suspects we could be who we are,” Margaret said. “I can do my part. Can you?” she asked Nicholas.

He gave a low bow. “Anything you wish, sweet wife,” he said in a nasally, obsequious voice.

She smiled, despite herself. “We should go now, tonight,” she said. “No time to waste.”

“Ah, my love, anything your heart desires,” he said. “There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you. Tell me to fetch the moon and I will get it for you!”

“Laying it on a bit thick, aren’t you?” Ellyn said.

“I am but a humble man and this fine woman is my dearest treasure. I would do anything for her,” Nicholas said in that ridiculous voice.

Ellyn shook her head and rolled her eyes. Keros only stood up. The two men exchanged a long, dark look, and then Keros put the fire out. Margaret took possession of the gray gelding, while Keros and Ellyn rode double on the chestnut mare. As his companion settled behind him, Keros’s expression pulled tight. Margaret wondered what he was thinking.

She rode beside Nicholas. They’d neared the outskirts of the town when he spoke again.

“Are you well, my sweetest darling?” he asked. “You are so quiet. You’ve not taken a chill, have you? Oh, my dear, I will never forgive myself if you are ill.”

She grinned. This was going to be fun. “Avery, I have told you over and over. I am desperately ill and unhappy. How could you have let this happen? My brother will be distraught with worry. We must send him word. And my things! All my beautiful things gone with the wagon and the mules. We cannot go on this way. We must send to Shevring. I will not move another inch until I have proper clothing. I will not appear at my brother’s house as a pauper!” Her voice rose shrilly.

“Now, now, my dear,” Nicholas said. “Anything you want. I’m sure Molford will have an inn. We will stay there as long as you want.”

“Molford?” She sniffed. “It will be a hovel. Oh, my nerves. It is too much. How will I survive?”

The village was a solid, well- crafted place. It was larger than Margaret expected. Many of the buildings were recently built and there were more people on the cobblestone main street than she had anticipated at this hour. They found the inn near the center of the town. It was an imposing three-story structure. The first floor was made of rock and the upper stories were half-timbered with oriel windows and a roof of cedar shakes. Yellow lights gleamed warmly from the windows and the smell of warm bread and stewed lamb drifted tantalizingly through the night. Margaret’s mouth watered and her stomach rumbled.

They pulled up in the inn yard. “Keros! Fetch the innkeeper,” Nicholas ordered and then leaped to the ground. He tied his gelding to a bush and came around to help Margaret down.

“Easy now, my precious, dearest love,” he said as she slid down into his arms and collapsed weakly against his chest. His arms held her tightly. “We shall soon be warm.”

“Do you have a secret yearning to be an actor?” she whispered.

“Just keeping us safe,” was his murmured reply.

The innkeeper came bustling out after Keros. He was a small man with a belly that sagged over his apron. His head was bald and he wore a thick beard and mustache. He goggled at the horses, hardly looking at his new guests.

“Sir, how may I help you?”

“My wife and I have had a terrible trial,” Nicholas said in his nasal voice. “We must have rooms—your best, mind you. I don’t care about the cost. We need hot baths and food and wine. Quickly, man. My wife is about to faint!” He swung Margaret up into his arms.

The innkeeper gaped a moment longer, finally tearing his gaze from the horses to stare first at Nicholas and then Margaret, then back at the horses. “W-who are you?” he stuttered at last.

Nicholas swept himself up imperiously, an impressive feat, given he was sopping wet and holding an equally wet and ungainly Margaret. “I am Avery Dedlok of Shevring and this is my wife, Sophia. We’ve lost our carriage in a mudslide. We need your best rooms, a meal, and hot baths. Money is no object, but I insist you show us the way now.” His voice rose, managing to sound both querulous and demanding.

“Avery, I’m going to catch my death. I can feel my life slipping away. I’m so cold. Just lay me down here and I will die, surely I will,” Margaret whimpered woefully. “I don’t want to be trouble for anyone. Truly I don’t. I’ll die here and you can find yourself a younger wife. Julia Slitterpod would make a good mother. Oh, our poor, poor motherless son,” she wailed. “Poor little Dicky. He’s young, yet. He will forget me, his poor, neglected mother. Oh, my baby, my sweet baby!” Her voice rose in a shriek and then her head fell back and dangled as if she’d fainted or died.

It was enough to jolt the innkeeper into action. He motioned desperately for Nicholas to follow. He guided them through the taproom. Margaret scanned it from between slitted eyelids. It was crowded and far too many were well armed. None of them seemed drunk. Everyone fell silent as they watched the small parade of the innkeeper, Nicholas and Margaret, with Ellyn bringing up the rear. Keros had remained outside to care for the horses.

They were led into a large suite of rooms in the rear of the house. It had a large bedroom with an attached dressing room, a spacious sitting room, a broad tiled garderobe, and a smaller attached bedroom with two beds for the servants. The suite was well appointed, with floral upholstery and bedclothes, and ornate furniture in fashion some fifty seasons before. Nicholas carried Margaret into the bedroom. He was about to put her down when she opened her eyes.

“I am filthy. Do not get this bed all wet and muddy or I will cut your throat,” she whispered fiercely.

He grinned and turned to set her in the chair. “Oh, thank Chayos, my sweetest love. You are alive! I was so worried.” He bent and kissed her hands and then turned to look at the innkeeper, who had followed them in. “Food, man! And brandy and hot tea. Quickly! Evelyn, come help your mistress.” He stood and waited until Ellyn pushed around the stout innkeeper, then guided the man out and shut the bedchamber door firmly.

Margaret stood with a small groan and unbuttoned her coat. She hung it in the closet and pulled off her boots, first removing the knives hidden in the tall shafts. She dropped them to the floor and then her socks. She wriggled her toes. They were wrinkled and cold.

“I’m going to take a bath,” she told Ellyn and didn’t wait for a reply. She went into the garderobe and shut the door.

There was, thankfully, a hot-water spigot. There was no cold. She turned the handle and steaming water fountained into the tub. It was straight out of a spring, and was slightly milky and smelled of minerals. There were baskets on a nearby shelf containing soap, washrags, brushes, and towels. She opened a jar of flowery soap, scooped out a thick dollop, and held it under the water. Next she began stripping away her clothing, leaving it in a pile at the foot of the tub. She stepped into the tub, gasping at the heat on her cold flesh. She gritted her teeth and set her other foot inside, then sank down to sit. Her fists clenched as the hot water rose up. Steam filled the room and her skin turned bright red. When the tub was full, she turned the spigot off and began scrubbing herself. When she was through, she ducked under the water to rinse her hair and then pulled the plug and let the water drain. When it was done, she opened the spigot again and filled the tub to her chin.