The Rogue Knight (6 page)

When Cole passed the
ELLOWEER
sign, for an instant he felt almost weightless, and tingles fizzed through him. His ears popped. Otherwise he felt no differently. The bridge looked the same. And the signs seemed to only mark the border. Maybe the bridge had been built the old-fashioned way. Or maybe the Elloweer side used an illusion to make it match the Sambria side. If so, it was very well done.

Peddlers and their blankets continued to border the bridge, but the merchandise was now incredible. One man had bowls of beautifully cut gems, ranging from the size of marbles to the size of eggs. Sparkling in the sunlight, they looked very authentic. Another man displayed an assortment of parrots with the brightest plumage Cole could have imagined. A third merchant hawked objects made of pure gold. But since nobody else gave the exotic goods a second look, Cole figured they must be illusions.

Near the far side of the bridge Cole saw an act that made him slow down. A young man sat on a woven mat with his legs crossed. Holding one arm straight out, he clutched a long bamboo pole vertically without letting it touch the ground. An older man started to climb the pole while the young man continued to serenely hold it upright. The older man flipped himself upside down and balanced atop the pole on one hand. In front of the mat was a bowl with ringers in it. A couple of insistent kids bothered their parents until they each got a copper bit to donate.

Illusion or not, Cole had never seen a street performance to rival it, and he would have paused to add a ringer of his own if he'd had one handy. Instead, he picked up his pace again, head down to partly conceal his face, eyes furtively studying the crowd.

Cole tried not to show his relief as he walked off the far side of the bridge. Nobody had stopped him, and he had seen none of the slavers from the caravan.

The road from the bridge emptied into a large square. In the center of the square, fenced off by a low, crystal wall, eight marble statues of young women frolicked together with loose choreography, their movements graceful and carefree. As Cole watched the prancing statues, he realized that their motions repeated about every minute and figured they were on an automatic loop.

The lofty buildings around the square competed for attention. One appeared to be constructed entirely of gold and silver. Another featured moving murals—monstrous figures engaged in fierce combat. A third rippled with ever-changing swirls of color, a prismatic display that made Cole think of molten rainbows.

Amazed by the sights, but anxious to get away from the busy area, Cole went down one of the lesser streets that branched out from the square. He needed to find the fountain with seven spouts, but had no idea where to start looking. The east side of Carthage seemed just as sprawling as the west.

Strange figures moved among the crowd, drawing less attention than Cole would have expected: a tall, graceful woman with the slit pupils and furry ears of a cat; a heavyset man with blue spikes protruding all over his body; a woman with feathery wings like an angel; a man whose head was way too large for his body. Cole tried not to stare. Their appearances could be illusions. Or maybe, like Twitch, they were truly different from regular humans.

“Hey, kid, try your luck,” said a man seated behind a crate with a blanket on it. Short and trim with a neat little mustache, he spoke in a raspy tenor. Three upside-down cups rested on the blanket.

“Sorry, not today,” Cole replied.

“Come on,” the man said. “You're loaded. It's easy.”

“I'm not loaded,” Cole said.

The man gave him a skeptical look and motioned him closer. Cole leaned in and the guy lowered his voice a little. “You've got ringers tied around your legs, kiddo.”

Feeling startled and foolish, Cole checked for obvious bulges in his pants legs. They looked all right.

“You didn't do a bad job,” the man said. “Most people wouldn't notice. I've got an eye for details. What do you say? Give it a shot. Easy as picking up money off the street.”

“None of my money is handy,” Cole said.

“All that on your legs and nothing in your pocket?” the man asked incredulously.

“Sorry,” Cole said, turning his pants pockets inside out.

“Hm,” the man said. “That makes you interesting. I bet you've got a story. On the run or something? You look a little young to be a criminal.”

“But not too young to take my money?”

“A guy's gotta eat! What's your story?”

Cole shrugged. “I'm just meeting up with some friends.”

The man grinned, tapping his temple. “I get it. The friends wanted you to take some ringers from one place to another. No questions asked. You deliver the ringers, make a little for yourself. Am I right?”

“Something like that,” Cole said.

“So you can't risk the ringers you're carrying,” the man said. “In a way, you were telling me the truth. You're broke until you make your delivery.”

“Pretty much,” Cole said.

“I don't suppose you'll come back this way after you get paid,” the man mused.

“I can't afford to risk my money,” Cole said.

“How about a freebie?” the man suggested. “It's been slow today.”

Cole glanced down the street in the direction he had been headed. He didn't want to get roped into some sort of con.

“No strings attached,” the man assured him. “Pick a cup.”

“Okay.” Lifting the middle one, Cole uncovered a translucent blue marble. “Now what?”

“Replace it.”

Cole covered the marble.

The man smiled. “I haven't touched anything yet. Only you did. Agreed?”

Cole gave a nod.

“You watching?” the man asked. Sliding the cups with no great haste, he switched the middle cup with the left one. “All right. Guess where the ball is.”

Cole pointed at the left cup, which had been in the middle.

“Want to bet that money you're carrying?” the man asked. “If you're right, I'll double it. You can deliver their share and keep yours.”

“No thanks,” Cole said.

“You sure? I'm good for it. Final offer.”

“It's not mine to bet,” Cole said.

“Fair enough,” the man said. He lifted the cup on the right. There was nothing beneath it. The cup in the middle had nothing as well. “Try the one you chose.”

Picking it up, Cole revealed a small bird with brown feathers and a yellow breast. The little bird hopped twice and then flew away, tiny wings flapping.

“I had a feeling I would have lost,” Cole said.

Grinning, the man quickly turned over the cup on the right and handed it to Cole. The cup was full of blue marbles. “Trust those feelings, kid. When something looks too good to be true, it is. All the locals know better than to get involved in a shell game. I set up near Gateway Square to welcome the visitors, teach them a practical lesson or two. I haven't seen you around. New to town?”

“Pretty new,” Cole replied.

“Tell me about these guys you're working for,” the man said. “Could they use a fellow like me?”

“I don't really know a lot about them,” Cole said. “They're kind of mysterious.”

The man sighed. “Life in East Carthage.”

“Hey, maybe you can help me,” Cole tried. “I'm looking for a fountain with seven spouts.”

“What's it worth to you?”

“It would save me some time. It's part of the delivery process. I haven't gone around counting the fountain spouts.”

“You think I do?”

“Maybe. You're good with details. I could mention your help to the guys I work for.”

The man gave him a pensive stare. “You seem like a good kid. You're trying to make some extra ringers. I can appreciate that. You want Lorona Fountain. It's a long walk, but not complicated.” He gave Cole an explanation that involved four turns. “Got it?”

Cole repeated the directions back to him.

“Good,” the man said. “If you come to know and trust these people, tell them I helped you. Until then, be careful. Taking ringers from one location to another may seem like easy money. But when something looks too good to be true . . .”

“I hear you,” Cole said, feeling a little guilty about misleading him. For a shyster, the guy seemed like a decent person. “Thanks for the advice. And the directions.”

“Around your chest might be better,” the man said. “For the ringers. You can hide any bulges under enough layers to mask them.”

“I'll keep that in mind,” Cole said, starting down the street. He mentally repeated the instructions as he went and kept his eyes open for the first intersection where he needed to turn.

The farther away Cole went from the river, the less fanciful the buildings appeared. Although he continued to spot bizarre people, the city itself began to look more normal.

He came to Lorona Fountain without missing a turn. The fountain served as the centerpiece of a modest plaza bordered by narrow streets and the plastered walls of residential buildings. Four cherubic statues played in the basin. Three of the pudgy cherubs clutched a shell in each hand, while the central one held a single shell over his head. Unlike some of the other statues Cole had seen in East Carthage, these were stationary. Each shell sprayed water.

The man had been correct. This fountain had seven spouts. Hopefully, that made it unique in East Carthage.

Cole didn't see any of his friends. He felt a jolt of worry. What if something had happened to them? Shouldn't they have had time to get here first? He supposed he had hurried quite a bit with the Jumping Sword. What would he do if they didn't show up? He became acutely aware of how little he wanted to explore the five kingdoms on his own. In a foreign place like Elloweer, he would feel totally adrift.

Not wanting to look too conspicuous, he went and sat on a bench in the shade. Before long, his weariness began to catch up with him. The gentle splashing of the fountain didn't help.

What were the chances of Ansel or one of his men happening by? Cole surveyed the area carefully. He was on the other side of the city from where Ansel had spotted him. This plaza was relatively small and had little traffic. Joe must have chosen it for its anonymity. Ansel would be watching the main roads and bridges. And he would probably be more focused on West Carthage.

The longer he sat, the more Cole felt his exhaustion. Should he get up and pace? It would be foolish to doze. How bad would it be to close his eyes for a minute? Nobody else had shown interest in his shady bench, so Cole curled up his legs and leaned against the armrest. The position was dangerously comfortable.

Shaded from the high sun by a gnarled tree with sprawling branches, the temperature was nearly perfect. The fountain gurgled soothingly. As an experiment, Cole closed his eyes. He knew he should open them and take another peek. But it felt so nice to rest them, and he had just looked around a moment ago.

“Get out of here, you vagrant,” a voice growled in Cole's ear, jarring him awake.

Cole leaped to his feet, blearily fumbling for an apology, until he recognized Jace grinning at him. Cole might have thrown a punch if he wasn't so glad to see him. “You need a new joke.”

“I'll get one when this stops working,” Jace said. “You're pretty casual for a wanted man. Pleasant dreams?”

“Just trying to fit in,” Cole said. He looked around. “Where are the others?”

“Not far,” Jace said. “I booked us a few rooms nearby. We can't wander the town with people after you. We'll stay near here until Joe shows up.”

“Ansel saw me,” Cole reported. “The slaver—he came after me.”

“I know,” Jace said. “Twitch kept an eye on you. He told us you escaped with the Jumping Sword.”

“He knew that?” Cole asked.

“Twitch is pretty sneaky,” Jace said. “After watching your getaway, he caught up to me and Mira like it wasn't much trouble.”

“Ansel promised to hunt me down,” Cole said.

“Sounds like a great reason for a public nap,” Jace said. “Come on.”

C
HAPTER

 6 

KASORI

H
alfway down a quiet side street, a few blocks from Lorona Fountain, the modest inn stood three stories tall. Light blue shutters covered the windows. Not flashy, not dumpy, it looked like dozens of other buildings Cole had passed throughout the day.

“No common room,” Jace muttered as they approached the front door. “That means no crowds.”

The main door from the street led to a smallish foyer where an inattentive woman sat behind a counter to receive guests. Jace waved at her as they walked by. She acknowledged him with a vague smile. Even in a strange and deadly world full of magical illusions, Cole supposed a boring job was still a boring job.

On their way up to the second floor, Jace produced a key. “I rented three rooms—the nicest one they had available, and two of their cheaper ones, including one that sleeps four. I wanted the workers to think we were servants getting rooms for our master. The lady up front didn't press me for specifics. The best room is up on the third floor. We gave it to Mira.”

“Is it safe to leave her alone up there?” Cole asked.

“Our smallest room is just down from her,” Jace said. “I'll stay there. You can go bunk with Twitch for now, finish up the nap you started by the fountain. If you want, you can bathe in the room at the end of the hall.”

Cole didn't fail to notice that Jace kept trying to create situations where he might have Mira to himself. Jace still had it bad for her. He had probably booked rooms on different floors deliberately. Cole knew he shouldn't say anything, but some opportunities were too easy to resist. “Hoping for some more alone time with the princess?”

“Huh?” Jace asked guiltily.

“Like how you worked it to come into the city with her,” Cole said.

Jace gave an embarrassed smile and shook his head. “You really don't know when to shut up.”

“You didn't think it was obvious?”

Jaw clenched, Jace paused, air whistling through his nostrils. When he spoke, his voice was quiet. “It doesn't matter how I feel. She was out of my league even before I learned she was a princess.”

Cole shook his head. “You're probably the cockiest guy I've met. Why does it disappear when it comes to her?”

Jace shrugged. “Have you ever liked somebody you couldn't have?”

Cole could feel the blood rushing to his face. “Maybe.”

“How much did you like her?”

Cole shrugged, suddenly wishing the conversation was over. How had this become about Jenna? “A lot, I guess.”

“Did you ever let her know how you felt?”

“No way!” Cole exclaimed.

“Why not?”

Cole swallowed. “I didn't think it could work out.”

“You were scared,” Jace said.

“Mostly, I guess,” Cole said. “We became friends. That was good enough.”

“Was it really?” Jace pressed.

“No,” Cole admitted. “But I had time. I thought I would tell her someday.”

Jace chuckled. “Good luck with that now.”

Cole stared at him soberly.

“Is she back home?”

Cole kept staring.

“Oh,” Jace said, understanding dawning. “It's that Jenna girl you talk about. Your friend.”

“Yeah,” Cole said, trying not to turn any redder.

“And now she's lost,” Jace said with no trace of mockery. “She's a slave.”

The last thing Cole wanted to do was cry in front of Jace, but his uncharacteristic kindness wasn't making it easy. “Until I find her.”

“You will,” Jace said seriously. “Listen, you didn't tell Jenna how you felt because you were nervous. But with Mira, there are real reasons I can't say anything. She's a shaper. I'm not. She's way older than she looks. And she's the High King's daughter. Even in exile, that means she doesn't slum with kids like me.”

“You're scared too,” Cole said.

Jace huffed. “Maybe. And ashamed for wanting something so far out of reach. I'm a former slave with no family. And I'm far from grown up. But that doesn't mean my feelings aren't real. What I can do is watch out for her. And be her friend. Spend a little time with her. Is that too much to ask?”

“I get it,” Cole said. “I won't tease you. I used to be terrified of people teasing me about Jenna.”

“Think about everything we need to do,” Jace said. “If Mira catches on to how much I like her, it could really mess things up.”

“I'm pretty sure she suspects,” Cole said.

“Suspecting is okay,” Jace said. “I just can't make it clear. Do you think about Jenna a lot?”

“All the time,” Cole said. “Not in romantic ways,” he rushed to clarify. “I worry about her. I think about my friend Dalton, too. And the other kids.”

“I'll help you find them,” Jace said.

“Thanks.”

Jace handed Cole a key and indicated a door. “I left some food in there that I brought from the autocoach. I'll go out and buy more later. You shouldn't go outside more than necessary.”

“Got it,” Cole said, wondering if he would have to spend the rest of his time in Elloweer indoors. “Thanks for finding us a place to crash.”

Jace nodded and took off down the hall. Cole watched him go, suspecting he may have spoken to the real Jace for the first time. Cole sometimes doubted whether Jace even had feelings. They were usually hidden behind serious defenses.

Cole used the key to enter his room. Four narrow beds took up much of the space. At least everything was tidy. Twitch sat on the edge of one of the beds, antennae and wings visible. Gazing at his friend, something occurred to Cole. “You'll be like that all the time now.”

Twitch gave a nervous smile. “Yeah, outside the borders of Elloweer I looked like a regular human unless I used my ring. I've been gone long enough that it's weird to think I can no longer camouflage myself that way. It sometimes made life easier. Outside of our few villages, the grinaldi aren't commonly seen. When I went abroad in Elloweer, I always stood out.”

Cole crossed the room and sat on a bed. “Jace said you followed me after I ran into Ansel.”

Twitch stared at the floor. “I wanted to make sure you were all right.”

“Thanks for having my back,” Cole said. “Watch out, though. You don't want to get mixed up with those slavers.”

“I believe you,” Twitch said. “What did he say to you? I couldn't get close enough to hear.”

“He promised to hunt me down and chop off my hand with the freemark,” Cole said.

Twitch winced. “He didn't seem like the sort of guy you'd want as an enemy.”

“No,” Cole agreed.

“I bet you're tired,” Twitch said.

“Kind of,” Cole said. “I dozed off a little, and it helped. How about you?”

“I'm exhausted,” Twitch said. “But being back in Elloweer is strange. I feel extra alert.”

“Nice to be home?” Cole asked.

“This isn't home,” Twitch said, blinking rapidly. “Kasori is home. My village. The rest of Elloweer is mostly foreign to me. But being back here reminds me what I left behind.”

“You left to help your village,” Cole recalled.

Twitch bowed his head, antennae quivering. “And I failed miserably.”

“What were you trying to do?” Cole asked.

Twitch gave a heavy sigh and shook his head. “It's my burden, not yours.”

“I'll help if I can,” Cole said. “We all will.”

Twitch looked up at him, tears shimmering in his eyes, his expression miserable. “You know how you wouldn't want me getting mixed up with those slavers?”

Cole nodded.

“I wouldn't want you guys to get tangled up in my trouble. It would be unfair. It's better to keep it to myself.”

“Come on,” Cole urged. “We're friends now. You saved my life.”

Lowering his head, Twitch vigorously rubbed the back of one wrist. After a long pause, he gave a shuddering sigh. “Do you know about the champions of Elloweer?”

“Is that a sports team?”

Twitch attempted a smile. “Every town in Elloweer has a champion. In the big cities, the champion has twelve knights. The champion rules the town, defends the town, and decides how the taxes are spent. In the larger towns, an alderman usually manages the practical stuff, while the champion lives in comfort unless fighting a duel.”

“The champion is like a general?” Cole asked.

“A general has an army. The champion just has his knights. They serve as bodyguards and assistants. The cities of Elloweer have guardsmen to police the public, but they don't fight wars with armies. By tradition, wars are decided by duels between champions.”

“Seriously? If somebody kills the champion, they take over the town?”

“Basically,” Twitch said. “It has to be a fair fight and follow the rules.”

“That's crazy!” Cole exclaimed. “The leaders would just end up being the toughest fighters.” He pictured elections back home being resolved by mortal combat. How bizarre would that be? Candidates would probably be much younger and skip the fancy suits. “How often does the best fighter also make the best leader?”

“That's why most of them use aldermen to run things,” Twitch said.

“Who makes sure the fights follow the rules?”

“The knights,” Twitch replied. “If somebody killed the champion unfairly, like by poisoning him or stabbing him in the back, the champion's successor would become the new champion instead of the killer.”

“The champion has a person ready to take his place?” Cole asked.

“Usually several people. Normally, the successors are among his knights.”

“That means one of his knights could murder the champion and replace him.”

“Which is why the champion tries to make sure his knights are honorable warriors who he can trust.”

“Why would anybody want to be a champion?” Cole asked. “Sounds dangerous.”

“It is dangerous,” Twitch agreed. “But you rule the town. If you want, you can keep most of the taxes for yourself and your friends. Some great champions have claimed multiple cities, ruling through aldermen, and they live like kings.”

“If somebody kills one of the top champions, do they get all of their towns?” Cole asked.

“Only a champion can challenge a champion,” Twitch said. “And you can only challenge for one town at a time. If the defending champion falls, the new champion brings the disputed town under his protection, and the champion's successor inherits the other towns.”

“They always fight to the death?” Cole said.

“Yeah,” Twitch replied. “Technically, the champion can yield instead of die, but it never happens. If a champion yields, the opponent doesn't have to show mercy.”

“Do these fights happen a lot?” Cole wondered.

“Not often,” Twitch said. “Every champion risks his life and his town when he challenges another. Most are happy to rule their current domains. But some champions are greedy. Or ambitious. And sometimes disputes arise between cities that must be settled by the champions.”

“Instead of war,” Cole said.

“The duel is the war,” Twitch replied.

Cole considered the implications. “That seems less wasteful than a huge battle between two cities.”

“The losing city always suffers.” Twitch lowered his gaze. “Something I know a lot about.”

“Is that what happened to your village?” Cole asked.

Twitch scratched his cheek and rubbed his nose. “Kasori isn't large. It isn't rich. For generations, our champion never fought. He was more alderman than warrior. We're simple people. There were hardly any taxes. Nobody got rich from them. We didn't fight with our neighboring grinaldi villages, and who besides those villages would take the trouble to bother us? Then Renford came.”

“Who is that?”

“There's a swamp not far from our village.” Twitch scrunched his nose. “A stagnant place full of reptiles and slime. Some ragged people live there, a few big families. The grinaldi plant, reap, and store. We work the land. The swamp folk are trappers and scavengers. They live like rats. After years without much contact between us, some of the swamp folk began to notice what we had, even though it wasn't much. They sent their sons to train as soldiers, declared themselves a community, and named Renford Poleman their champion.”