Heartseeker Page 15

  “We strike blows ’gainst the king when we can.”

  Bethan made a noise of disgust and turned her back on us to walk a little way into the darkness of the trees before uttering a cry of frustration. Those of us left by the fire looked at one another, not sure what we were meant to do, so we chose to wait and watch the captain of the king’s guard set her hands on her hips and stare down at the dirt. After a moment, she rounded on her heel and marched back to us.

  “Dahl, take him back with the others. Reynold, let everyone know we’ll be away early tomorrow morning. Part of your company will escort the prisoners back to face whatever awaits them in the city. The rest of us will press on ahead with all haste and with any luck, we’ll make the capital by nightfall.”

  Iordan cleared his throat. “Captain, the king is not expecting us until the day after tomorrow. There is the Mayquin’s entrance to consider. The plans for the celebration—”

  “The celebration and every one of its planners can go straight to the seven hells!” barked Bethan. “Three of my men are dead, and it’s clear that someone is bent on the Mayquin not reaching Bellskeep. I won’t parade her straight down the middle of the River when there are those that mean her harm. We leave at first light.” And with that, she stalked out of the clearing.

  Dahl grasped Jon’s dirty collar and hauled him upright. I wanted to run to him, throw my arms round his waist, and tell the soldier not to touch him again. I wanted to ask him why he was here, why the Ordish were here. But I had to stand, as helpless as the day Iordan had ripped me from the orchard, and watch Dahl’s rough hands on my brother, shoving him into the night toward the rest of the bound men in the clearing without a backward glance in my direction.

  The inquisitor’s thin hand fell on my shoulder. “It’s about time you were abed, Mayquin.”

  “If you please, master,” I began as we started back for the coach, “what’ll become of those men?”

  “I imagine they’ll be questioned further back at the capital,” he answered wearily. “I’m led to believe there are more . . . persuasive methods available there.”

  I didn’t dare ask what those methods might be. And I wasn’t going to be able to get the answers I wanted from my brother, but some of the inquisitor’s walls had come tumbling down and I thought maybe I could wiggle in through the cracks.

  “Master, what didn’t you want the captain to ask back in the clearing?”

  The inquisitor spared a silent glance at the soldiers we passed. “These are troubled times, child.”

  “Are they?” I asked, surprised. “We didn’t have much trouble in Presston.”

  Iordan pretended not to hear. “There are a great many things to consider. A royal marriage with a one-time enemy, the Ordish problem, and the king himself growing older and more . . . suggestible. The crown needs someone who can be relied upon to see through any deception. Despite your upbringing, child, you’re neither slow nor dim-witted—can you not see how there would be those eager to prevent your arrival in the capital?”

  “So, people who want to lie to the king—”

  “Would very much like to keep lying to the king, yes,” finished Iordan. “But it’s best not to name names in the middle of a clearing, surrounded by the king’s soldiers.”

  The flicker of the coach’s lanterns greeted us as we approached. I was bone tired, but my heart was still singing Jonquin, Jonquin, Jonquin with every beat. The sooner I was shot of the inquisitor, the sooner I could see about finding him. Iordan opened the door and we both stepped into the narrow hallway.

  “Master?”

  The inquisitor had already begun sliding open the door to his compartment. “Could I persuade you to hold any further questioning until daybreak, child?” he said with a groan.

  “No, sir, I just wanted to say . . . thank you. For telling me.”

  The prickly man paused in the doorway. “There’s no one else who would tell you. I have no love for those who would use ignorance and fear to snuff out the light of reason. Though you’re doing your duty, it’s unfair to expect a young woman such as yourself to walk cheerfully into a den of vipers. Keep your wits about you, girl, and you may just keep the kingdom in one piece.”

  And with that, he slid the door into place, leaving me alone in the corridor.

  17

  It wasn’t my brightest-ever idea.

  The lumbermen had done some quick work on the ruined privy while we’d been gone. The boards, unstained and un-smoothed, looked as if they’d be murder on a bare behind. I wasn’t keen to leave that way in the first place, but with the chance of splinters added into the smelly bargain of wiggling through the trap, it made what I reckoned on doing even more distasteful.

  I made myself wait three-quarters of an hour to give the camp and Master Iordan time to bed down and be catching flies. In the meantime, my mind was racing. What in the world had brought Jon and these Ordish men to the Great Wood in order to waylay a royal caravan? And who’d told them about me?

  The night outside the coach grew still. The voices of soldiers and woodsmen fell quiet in sleep or ponderation.

  You’re a Fallow of the orchard. Nowt you can’t do. Just don’t think too hard on how you’re getting out.

  As far as I could see, there was no other way to sneak out of the rolling crate without being twigged straight off. There’d be at least two soldiers standing watch outside, but likely they weren’t expecting I’d try to leave the same way the villain came in.

  Taking a deep breath, I quietly opened the new door and peered down the hole. It wasn’t big—the man who’d bust in had been lean as a whippet, but bigger than me, surely. I didn’t like to think of getting into a second spot of bother concerning a privy, especially if that bother included getting wedged inside one, but I knew if I stopped to think too long, I might lose my nerve. Shutting the door silently, I dangled my legs into the trap, keeping my eyes fixed on the dim light at the bottom. Arms quivering under the strain, I lowered myself down, the smell of waste getting stronger with every breath. I wished the villain had broken that part of the box as well, but he probably didn’t want to touch it any more than I did. I gagged, my nose just inches from the damp wood, until I felt my toes hit the blessed ground below. It took everything in me not to drop out the bottom like a sack of flour just to get away from the stink, but I forced myself to take it slow until my head passed through the trap at the bottom and I lay under the coach, sucking in fresh air, quiet as I could.

  Two pairs of legs stood straight and soldierly before the doors of the coach, and I hoped the soldiers attached to them weren’t struck by a sudden fancy to have a peek underneath. Slow as I could, I rolled out from under the privy hole until I was faceup in the clearing, staring at the few stars I could see winking through the tops of the great trees.

  As much as I hated to ask for help, I wasn’t going to be able to get to Jon on my own.

  Gareth made a sound like a drain unblocking when I gave him a poke. He was curled up on the steward’s bench on the back of the wagon, his bedroll pulled up round his ears. He woke in a second, scrunched and ready to spring straight out from under the covers like an angry caterpillar.

  What are you doing? he mouthed, sound not even passing his lips.

  I crooked my finger, hoping he’d follow me without asking too many questions. Nights in the forest were inky dark—not even moonlight could penetrate the thick branches of the pines. The shadows were deep and good for secrets and mischief.

  I crept into one far enough away from the carriage not to be seen, but not far enough to lose my way. It wasn’t but a second before Gareth was by my side.

  “Are you mad? How in the Mother’s name did you—?” He broke off as he caught my whiff. “Oh, hells, you didn’t.”

  “Never mind that. I gotta know right now, Gareth, can I trust you?”

  “What?”

  “Ju
st yes or no, can I trust you?” I hissed.

  The steward’s silence stretched out almost as far as the dark. I should’ve just left him snoring on his bench, I thought, but he finally spoke up. “Yes.”

  I squinted at him real hard, but he and the forest stayed dark. I squeezed his arm.

  “Thank you.”

  “I should have done better this morning,” he murmured. “In the coach. I should have had that villain on the floor. You shouldn’t have had to—”

  “Didn’t you hear the captain?” We didn’t have time for nonsense. “You’re not a soldier. Did that straw man in the practice yard ever try to hit back? I just got the drop on him, that’s all.”

  He took a breath to argue, but I cut him off. “I need you to find out where they’re keeping the men who attacked us.”

  “Why?”

  I screwed up my courage. “’Cause one of ’em’s my brother.”

  Gareth’s jaw near unhinged.

  “How . . . ? Your brother?”

  “Story’s too long for now,” I said. “But I’ve got to know why he’s here. You understand, don’t you?”

  “I do, but—”

  “And you can’t breathe a word to nobody. Not the captains, not Master Iordan, nobody.” In spite of the steward’s promise, I was still sore afraid of the words having been said out loud. “They’ll take the orchard—my home—if they knew, and then my coming to Bellskeep will be all for nothing!”

  Gareth was quiet, sorting over everything I’d dropped on him like a tangled bit of knitting. I couldn’t afford to lose him.

  “Please, Gareth. I’ll be the quietest Mayquin there ever was.”

  In the dark, it was hard to tell what he was thinking, but my heart leapt high when he stood up straight and squared his shoulders.

  “What do you want me to do?” he answered finally.

  * * *

  IT WASN’T HARD to find the clearing.

  I’d a fragile hope of setting Jon free, but it was shattered when I saw the captives trussed together in small circles around thick stakes, pounded into the ground. Tricky ropes circled their hands, and each man’s ankle was bound to his neighbor’s with even more complicated knots. They were dozing best they could, slumped against one another’s shoulders or leaning back on the poles. Four soldiers from the second cavalry unit milled round, still on edge from the day’s fighting, eyes darting toward every shadow cast by the fire.

  “The big one’s Alfroy,” whispered Gareth, pointing the men out by name. “Then Dafin, Calford, and Hale.”

  I was busy searching the captives for Jon. When I finally spotted him, I felt as though I’d been kissed by luck herself. He was tied on the outside of one of the circles, facing straight into the woods, only inches from a good, tall tree with a deep, dark shadow. His head was thrown back in sleep, his mouth slightly open, and Lieutenant Dahl’s handiwork written all over his face. My heart hurt for the golden-haired boy who danced with his sweetheart by the river just a few months earlier.

  Gareth squinted into the clearing, second thoughts written all over him.

  “You ready?”

  The steward bit his bottom lip. “No, but I guess that’s beside the point.”

  “Just try to keep them looking the other way as long as you can. I’ll see what I can get out of Jon.”

  “I’ll do what I can. Good luck, Only.”

  “And to you,” I answered, slipping farther back into the dark of the great trees. The steward took a deep breath and started into the light as if he’d every right to be there.

  The four soldiers started at his approach, hands rushing to sword pommels, but relaxed as he drew near. “Evening, Gareth,” hailed Alfroy, warming his hands to the fire.

  “Good eve, masters. I’ve come to ask if there’s anything I might get for you?” From between the trees, I watched the aurora of blue and green fan out from behind him.

  “Not unless you can hasten the clock to the end of our watch,” Dafin said, yawning and scratching at a row of stitching on his cheek.

  “I can’t move the clock, but maybe I could fill the time with . . . a song?”

  I hadn’t believed him at first when he said he could sing.

  “When I was just a boy, I sang one of the songs I heard from the soldiers to my mother. It turned out the tune was more suited to an alehouse than her house. I got a switching, but I still enjoyed the singing of it.”

  “You still remember it?”

  He blushed. “Every word, I’m afraid.”

  The soldiers chuckled. “G’wan, then, lad.” Calford thrust a meaty thumb over his shoulder. “These scoundrels aren’t going anywhere.”

  For a second, I thought maybe he was about to lose his nerve, but he smiled, took a deep lungful, and filled the clearing with his voice.

  ’Twas early one spring morning

  My sweet and I should wed.

  We’d say our vows and late carouse

  And then go off to bed.

  But the night before

  My mates they swore

  To give me one last fling,

  So to the tavern we did go

  And while we drink, we sing:

  Hoist the tankards high, boys!

  Hoist those glasses so high,

  In the morning you’ll be married

  But tonight no cup will run dry!

  Gareth sang so sweet and so clear, it took me a few notes before I remembered I wasn’t there to listen. I felt round the earth till I found a long pine branch. Making double sure the soldiers were more interested in Gareth’s song than the Ordish, I poked the branch out from behind the tree and gave the bottom of Jon’s boot three sharp jabs.

  He jerked his head up with a snort, peering into the shadows in front of him. “Mother’s breath! Only!” His eyes, weary and bruised, lit up lantern bright.

  “Shhhhh!” I bossed him, trying to cover up that I was so glad to see him, I was ready to burst into tears. “What are you doing here, Jonquin Fallow?”

  “I could ask you the same!”

  “They came to get me, Jon, all ’cause of some stupid cunning! They came to the orchard and told Papa if I didn’t come, they’d take it all away from us.” Before I could stop it, I was sobbing quietly. I wanted so bad to burst out from behind the great tree and bury my head in Jon’s shoulder, but all I could do was watch him watch me, wishing the very same thing.

  “Oh, Pip,” he muttered. “Don’t do that, you’ll make me blub as well. What do you mean, ‘cunning’? What’s the king want you for?”

  Across the clearing, the soldiers joined in Gareth’s chorus with the gusto of men who’d lived to fight another day.

  Hoist the tankards high, boys!

  Hoist those glasses so high,

  In the morning you’ll be married

  But tonight no cup will run dry!

  This ain’t time to be pitying yourself, I thought sternly. “I can see when folk lie. The king wants me to tell him the truth.”

  Jonquin tilted his head as if hearing a faraway voice, then gave a little gasp of astonishment. “That night by the river! You twigged Toly and he knew!”

  I nodded miserably. Jon’s face contorted with rage. “Still wish I’d a minute alone with him and that knife of his.”

  Across the clearing, the fella in Gareth’s song was having problems of his own.

  ’Twas past the second morning bell

  When I regained my head

  Tied to the village hitching post

  While wearing not a thread . . .

  I didn’t want to think any thoughts of Toly except what I’d do if I ran into him once we got to the city. “How in the name of All did you get here?”

  Jonquin’s face darkened. “After we got down to the Bay, Maura’s brother Barrow disappeared. Toly must not have
been the only kingsman with the clans. Then a fella turned up—he ferreted out some folk who’d lost whelps, including Maura’s pa, Luc. He told us he was a servant to the king, moved by his conscience. Said the whelps were being moved to another of the king’s holdings and we’d have a chance to take them back. Most didn’t believe him. Most thought he was a kingsman himself. Most, like Master Fairweather, told him to pound salt, once he said what it was.”

  “Most men got better sense than to attack the king’s cavalry!”

  Jon looked at me helplessly. “Maura’s family’s been broken since Barrow was took. I said I’d go in Luc’s place. His knees ain’t what they used to be; he’d be no good in a skirmish.”

  The soldiers roared as the fella in the song hid his bare backside from the town bailiff. I could see why it earned Gareth a switching. How many verses did the steward have left in his pocket? Hopefully enough for the groom-in-waiting to find some threads and for me to learn more from Jonquin.

  “What was the man like? The one who came to the Gathering?”

  “Plain fella, mousy, all dressed in brown. Didn’t look rich, didn’t look poor. But he was right persuasive—said we’d outnumber them two to one. Gave us all the weapons.” He hung his head. “We were damn fools to trust him. But it was the first thing to give some of these men hope in a good many turns of the wheel. Now half of ’em . . .” He trailed off. Though the sound of the shovels had stopped, neither of us could pretend we hadn’t heard ’em. “We were damn fools.”

  “The fella who . . . came into the wagon, he was definitely after me.” I paused, not sure I wanted to hear the answer to my own question. “What was supposed to happen to me, Jon?”

  “I didn’t know about none of that, honest! All I knew was that there was something in the coach we needed, but only Wash Blackrudder knew what it was.” Jon’s face twisted in fear. “I think we’re like to swing for this, Only.”