The Unwilling Adventurer (The Unwilling #1) (12 page)

Sensing they'd been spotted, the crate fell away to reveal itself as some strange cloak able to reflect the appearance of a crate. From the cloak arose a tall man dressed completely in black. He wore a wide-brimmed hat, and over the lower half of his face was a bandanna. The skin on the upper part of his face was pale, almost white, and the man's eyes burned as red as coals. He raised his arm and Fred saw he held a small crossbow with a black dart as its projectile. The boy couldn't run; his surprise and fear froze him to the spot. Everything slowed down; the man pointed the weapon straight at him and pulled back his finger.

A strong arm wrapped around Fred and pulled him out of the line of fire. Fred realized it was Ned from the billowing cloak around him, and Ned's face above him blazed with his light of anger. The dart shot harmlessly into the ground, and in a flash the man in black jumped backwards onto the stack of crates. He rearmed the weapon and pointed the miniature crossbow at Lord Sturgeon. "What's going on here? Who are you?" the lord demanded of the stranger.

Pat noticed where it was pointed and jumped at him, forcing the lord to the ground just in time to avoid another dart. The crowds around them saw the attack and a cry went up; panic and confusion reigned as everyone ran in every direction. The man reloaded, but Ned sat up over Fred and slammed his staff into the ground. That entire section of the city shook with the reverberations, and the stranger turned to glare at the old man. Ned stood and the tip of his staff glowed. The man in black's eyes widened; he pocketed his weapon beneath his cloak, turned to face the wall and made a great leap. His hands caught the smallest crevices and outcroppings, and he climbed his way up to the top. He slipped over the wall and out of sight.

A few moments later a retinue of guards atop the wall, hearing the commotion, rushed up; the leader leaned over the battlements of the wall. "What's going on here? Is anyone hurt?" he called down to the onlookers.

Sturgeon picked himself up off the ground and brushed himself off. "We're all fine, captain, but an assassin just escaped your clutches. He climbed up the wall and went out of sight."

The captain glanced around the wall, and several of the men looked over the other side onto the river below. "No one here, sir," one of the men informed their captain.

The lord fumed. "He was there, I tell you. He climbed right up that wall."

"Then he can't have gone far," the captain soothed the angry lord. "We'll be sure to check the fields around the city."

The men dashed off to search the perimeter and the area quieted down, though mostly because the crowds had fled. Lord Sturgeon stepped toward the crates, and his fists were clenched at his side. "Damn whoever did this! If they think they can kill me than they have a thing to learn."

"But who would wish to kill you?" Pat asked him.

Sturgeon waved his hand to brush aside her question. "You can't run a business as large as mine without making enemies. Perhaps it was my lesser competitors," he suggested.

"Perhaps," Ned spoke up. "But under the circumstances you had better retreat to your home, and we to the castle."

The lord hesitated. "Are you sure you're not better protected at my home? It's closer, only a few levels up."

Ned closed his eyes and shook his head. "This must be reported to Lord Tramadore immediately. We will be the messengers, and you must protect yourself with your guards."

Sturgeon pursed his lips together, but nodded. "Yes, I suppose your wisdom is sound. I shall double the guards around my house and see to it that this matter is investigated to the fullest extent of my power," the man agreed.

The three companions followed Sturgeon as far as his house, a fine, three-story mansion with a small park out front in the center of the city. The festive mood and busy streets were replaced with an eerie quiet; word had spread about the attack, and so had the rumors. Sturgeon's household came out to greet him fearful that he'd been mauled by a tiger.

He smiled at them and held up his hands. "I am fine, and no, a tiger was not involved."

The worried household included his son, who rushed through the servants to his father. "What happened, father?"

Lord Sturgeon glared at his son and turned him around back to the manor. "This is better left for a talk inside," he replied, and pushed his child toward the doors. Sturgeon turned to the three companions. "Are you sure you won't seek safety in my home?"

Ned nodded. "We will report what we can to Lord Tramadore."

Then they parted ways, with the remainder of the group hurrying to the castle. They found Tramadore himself outside his gates with the captain they'd met earlier. When Tramadore saw the three he rushed forward and looked them over. "Captain Spalding here told me what he could, but I wish to know the full story. Is Sturgeon still safe?"

"He is, but anything else must wait until we are inside," Ned promised.

Lord Tramadore led them into the castle, and the great doors to the courtyard were closed behind them. The lord took them to the entrance hall and turned to the left, where lay a large study. He showed them their seats around his large wooden desk, and settled himself in for the tale. Ned briefly explained what had occurred, and when the story finished Lord Tramadore shook his head. "That someone such as that would be in my city. Do you or Sturgeon have any inkling who it might have been?" the lord asked him.

Ned pulled at his beard, and solemnly nodded. "Judging by his skills and weapon of choice, I believe it was the assassin known as Deadly Sins." Fred started at the name; it was the same one he'd heard around the dead man in the previous town.

Lord Tramadore leaned back in his chair with his mouth set in a firm line. "This is very serious, but it brings up more questions than answers."

Pat straightened up and frowned. "More questions? What other one can there be but motive and the culprit?"

Their host held up a finger. "First, I have never heard of this particular assassin failing in any his missions," the lord pointed out.

"Nor have I. An assassin's reputation depends on success. This one gave up rather quickly," Ned spoke up.

Lord Tramadore raised another finger. "The second problem is the target."

Pat was greatly surprised by the lord's statement. "The target? Lord Sturgeon? What could he have to do with this?"

"That is exactly what I wish to know," Lord Tramadore countered. "He is a very important man, even beyond the walls of this city. He's made a great deal of enemies, but none have tried their hand at killing him. Rather, the moment a whisper of suggested foul play leaves their lips they are found dead."

"Lord Sturgeon is such a man?" Pat exclaimed. Fred was less surprised than the girl. The man had a shifty way about him.

Lord Tramadore crossed one leg over the other and cupped his chin in one hand. "He is not a man to take lightly, and I always guessed him to have Deadly Sins in his purse. Either this assassin has found a higher buyer, or what you saw was not what it seems." Fred's head spun at such a revelation; commerce and assassinations were a disgustingly intertwined and confusing business.

Ned sighed and leaned forward on his staff. "Unfortunately we have only speculation, and a very scared city. What will you do about the festivities?" he asked the lord.

Lord Tramadore shrugged. "I will post more guards on the walls, but I can't see any reason to stop it, not when it means a great deal to my people. Fortunately, the festivities end tomorrow night, and the assassin had, or has, only one target. In the meantime I will make a full inquiry into the matter, and send the knights to all the houses with words of encouragement."

Ned stood and smiled. "A very good plan, Lord Tramadore."

The lord nodded. "I try to stay true to my heritage, regardless of the oafish face I put on in public. And for you three, what will you do? If the assassination was real then you've angered a very dangerous foe. He may seek revenge."

"And be given a warm send off," Ned replied with a chuckle. His staff glowed for a moment, and quickly faded.

Lord Tramadore laughed and rose to his feet. "I must admit he chose the worst castor to deal with." The lord looked to Fred. "And you were very fortunate to find him. How did you manage to catch such a highly skilled assassin?"

Fred shrank down in his chair and shrugged. "He moved, and I noticed his cloak."

Lord Tramadore rubbed his chin and gave a side-glance toward Ned. "Just happened to notice it, eh? Very lucky of you."

Ned frowned. "Yes, very lucky indeed." He tapped the youngsters on the shoulders and they stood. "But if you'll excuse us, I think we'll have our dinner alone and be off to bed. Fewer questions from other nosy guests, you see." Ned turned toward the door, froze, and glanced back; he had a sheepish look on his face. "By the way, where are our rooms?"

Their host laughed and walked around his desk. "Let me show you them myself, and arrange for food to be brought up."

CHAPTER 12

Lord Tramadore guided them up the curved stairs to the second floor of the castle. The wings were occupied by guest rooms, and he showed them ones on the far left side of the castle. Their positions allowed them a magnificent view of the fields beyond the city, and for that Fred was relieved. He still felt stifled in such confined luxury as the city and the castle. Ned's room was in between those of the youngsters, and when their tour of their abodes was finished food was brought up to that room. Lord Tramadore left them to attend to his peoples' worries, and the moment his echoing feet silenced Pat turned to Ned.

"Were you and the others aware of such troubles when you decided on this route?" she questioned him. Fred's ears perked up; he wondered who the others were.

Ned took a plate and rummaged through the platters of food placed on a small buffet. "Every route has its dangers, and this had fewer than others."

"Is that all you're to say about this trouble we find ourselves in? About this trouble you've caused us?" Pat gestured to Fred, who slumped over and frowned; he was a person, not a trouble.

Ned followed her arm and looked over the boy. "I see no problems other than a hungry boy to be fed. You should eat some yourself," he advised the girl.

The old man piled food on his plate, and Pat's hands balled into fists. She growled, stomped forward and whacked the plate out of Ned's hands. The silver clattered to the floor and food flew everywhere. Fred managed to catch a drumstick before it hit the ground, but he lost his appetite when Pat stepped up to Ned's side and stuck her face into his; the anger in the room was palpable. "I asked you this once before and allowed myself to be deceived, but you truly believe this is a game, don't you? That somehow everything will work itself out for the better and all you need to is wave your staff a few times? Well, why don't you wave that staff and send us to Galaron? Then we would be rid of each other and everyone would be as lacking in worries as yourself."

Ned looked down at his empty hand for a long moment, and then he raised his eyes. They bore into hers, and she scuttled back out of shock and fear. Fred shuddered at the thin line made by Ned's lips, and the brow furrowed in barely-restrained anger. He'd never seen Ned so angry, and it was terrifying to behold. The old man's voice was soft, a ghost of a whisper, but the words carried a heavy weight that made them both pay attention. "You believe it's that easy, do you? That as a castor I can wave my staff and rid myself of my problems?"

Pat pressed her hands against her chest and meekly shook her head. "No, that's not what I meant-"

"Then say what you meant and don't waste my time with foolish words," he snapped at her, and she cringed back. He saw her fear, and he swept some of his ire back inside of him. "I gave my word that I would protect you to the best of my ability, and I still swear by that. You have come to no harm, and we have only a few day's journey to the border of Sterning. After that we are guaranteed safety, and you shall arrive at Galaron to assume your responsibilities. Does that schedule suit you?"

Pat nodded; Ned sighed and glanced over to Fred. The boy both dreaded and hoped for a mention of his future, but Ned only turned away and left the room. The pair didn't move until his footsteps retreated down the hall, and then Fred heard a strange noise come from Pat; it was a sniffle. He looked to her and saw she'd turned her face from him. "You okay?" he asked her.

The girl nodded, but her voice sounded nasally, like she wanted to cry. "Yeah, I'm fine, just caught something in my eye. I think I'll go try to wash it out."

Pat hurried out of the room, leaving Fred alone. With all the food. He wouldn't let all of it go to waste, but his appetite was dulled by the confrontation. Still, as he stacked his plate high as Ned had done, he wondered at the tense atmosphere that surrounded those two. They hid secrets, and he both hesitated and was eager to know them. Fred shook himself from those thoughts; he didn't need to worry about them, they'd be gone soon. In his sort of life, leaving usually meant never seeing them again.

Fred took his meal to his room and gobbled down the food. Satiated, and with night setting, he decided to retire. There was a comfortable, four-post bed made ready for him, but his body was unaccustomed to such a soft bed, so he tossed and turned for several hours. His mind did little to help as it bounced around from one of the day's events to another. There was the early feast, and the hair-raising adventure in the city with the assassin. He wondered if there was ever a normal day to be had in the companionship of Ned and Pat.