06 - Rule of Thieves (11 page)

My tone made it clear this wasn’t a request.

I could see by the way the miller chewed his graying mustache that it annoyed him to receive orders from a stranger in his own house. But I could also see his thoughts at work, reminding him that he didn’t know who I was or exactly what position I held in the Praetor’s keep. Until he knew that, he was not eager to offend me.

He gave up his inner battle. “Jarrod!” he called out abruptly, roaring the name so loudly it could have been heard through the walls. He didn’t have to shout twice.

There came a rustling noise from the loft above, and then a sandy-haired boy appeared, climbing over the edge and scrambling down the ladder. I had no doubt he had been observing our conversation all this while from his hidden vantage point.

His stepfather appeared to have the same thought. “What are you doing hiding yourself away up there instead of tending to your work outside? Lazing about, sleeping in the middle of the day while the other hands do the hard jobs, are you?”

The youth came to stand before us in an attitude of defiance. “I wasn’t sleeping. If you must know, I was looking for—”

“I don’t care what your excuse is,” the miller cut him off. “I’ll get to the bottom of that later. Right now, this visitor has come from the Praetor’s castle to ask you questions about your brother.”

The lad’s rebelliousness melted away instantly. “You’ve seen him? You’ve seen Martyn?” he asked, turning an eager face to me.

It was a face not dissimilar to that of his elder brother. There was not the same strong likeness to Brig. Jarrod’s face was rounder and smooth with youth. But there were hints of both his father and brother around his gray eyes and in the shape of his mouth and chin. I suspected in time the family resemblance would grow stronger.

My attention moved past these details to focus on the rig of black encircling the boy’s eye. I detected fainter, less recent bruises on his jaw and both arms.

So. I had not been mistaken last night, when I had seen him in my dream, being beaten by his stepfather. Anger flared in me at the thought of anyone hurting Brig’s son in such a way, and my outrage inspired a plan. Perhaps it had been brewing in my mind ever since Luken had speculated about Martyn running away with thieves.

I set it in motion by saying, “It’s true. I did encounter your brother on my recent travels. I’m afraid I have to give you the unhappy news that he is dead.”

Then I diverged from the truth with, “It’s hard for me to claim a great deal of sympathy in light of the fact that on our last meeting the young thief robbed me blind. After the crime, he was killed in pursuit but not before losing my valuables beyond retrieval.”

With a pang, I watched Jarrod’s face crumple at the news of his brother’s death. But I couldn’t afford to show pity.

I rounded on the boys’ startled stepfather, saying, “This is the business that brings me here. On discovering the dead thief had a guardian, I knew you could not fail in your obligation to make good my loss at the hands of your stepson.”

“Now, hold on there,” Master Luken sputtered, face reddening at the discovery. “I cannot be held responsible for Martin’s thieving!”

“According to the law of the land, you can,” I lied. “As the youth was a minor, it’s your legal duty to make compensation for his wrongdoing. I’m within my rights in expecting to be repaid the full amount. I assure you it is a considerable sum.”

Beginning to look alarmed, the miller tried a more cajoling tone. “But I haven’t the coin to spare. Besides, I’ve only just suffered a grave loss, the death of a beloved son.”

“A
step
son,” I corrected brusquely. “And one you previously said you were well rid of.”

“I spoke in haste,” Luken protested. “Them thing’s I said before was only in jest. You must know what a man’s eldest son means to him. You wouldn’t have the heart to ask me to part with money I don’t have while I’m suffering such grief?”

“I wish I could help you.” My tone suggested the opposite. Still, I leaned back as if in thought and let my gaze drift around the room. It settled on young Jarrod.

“What about this youngling?” I asked casually. “He might be worth something.”

The miller scratched his chin. “I don’t take your meaning. What would you want with the boy?”

“I could use a personal servant, now I’m living up at the castle. The child could make himself useful to me and earn back the debt accrued by his dead brother. In that way, I would be repaid for my losses without the need for you to open your purse.”

I held my breath, hoping he wouldn’t sense the importance of this.

Greed entered Master Luken’s eyes. “You’re saying we’d be even and I wouldn’t owe you a single copper? All you’d want is to take the lad away with you?”

I shrugged. “It’s a possible solution. Of course, I’d have to be assured the boy doesn’t have the thieving habits of his brother and that he’s a good worker. You said something before about laziness…”

“No, that was nothing,” the miller answered quickly. “This here’s the most reliable hand in the place. Does the work of a full-grown man, does young Jarrod. He’ll give you your money’s worth for sure, wouldn’t you, boy? Speak up, lad!”

Jarrod merely stared at us, as if in a trance. I doubted he’d heard a word past the shocking announcement of his brother’s death.

Smiling weakly, Luken withdrew a handkerchief from his pocket and mopped at his sweaty forehead. “Don’t mind the child. He’s stunned with gratitude for your considerable generosity. I’ll have him packed up and ready to head off for Selbius as soon as you’re ready to collect him.”

“I’m collecting him
now
,” I said firmly. “He’ll bring whatever belongings can be gathered immediately, and he can share my horse for the ride back.”

The miller looked confused at this hasty turn of events but didn’t argue. It would have done him no good, because my mind was set. I wouldn’t leave Brig’s only remaining offspring in this fellow’s hands for another hour.

____________________

It was a silent ride back toward Selbius after we left the mill and the settlement of Low Hills. Having brought the boy, Jarrod, up on the horse behind me, I tried to make conversation during the ride. But he seemed to have little to say.

I sensed the turmoil of his emotions, and it wasn’t hard to make out which feelings were dominant. Grief. Anger. Resentment. Those last two surprised me. I had been so set on rescuing him, it hadn’t occurred to me until now that he might not appreciate my intrusion into his life. Strange as it was to imagine, maybe he hadn’t wanted to leave his home and his domineering stepfather. Or maybe he was unhappy at being dragged away to settle the miller’s “debt,” without any say in the matter. Whatever he was sulking over, I decided he would sort it out in time.

I had wanted to make it back to the city before nightfall. But shortly after we set out, the sky darkened prematurely. Thunder rumbled and thick clouds rolled in, heavy with the threat of rain. A strong wind kicked up, whipping the horse’s mane and casting dust from the road into my eyes. Then I felt the first cold sprinkles on my skin.

Up ahead, the road snaked around a series of low rises. At the foot of the nearest one, I spotted a tumbledown old shack I had passed earlier in the day, on my way to the mill. It was a way hut, one of the crude shelters for travelers that dotted the countryside along the main roads. These rough shelters were often unstocked and in disrepair. But any roof over our heads would be better than being caught in the open during a storm.

I nudged my horse off the road and pulled him up in front of the shed.

My young passenger broke his silence to ask, “Why are we stopping?”

Dismounting, I explained, “There’s a downpour coming and I don’t care to be caught in it, do you? This travelers’ hut will keep out the worst of the weather, and we can continue on to Selbius in the morning after the storm has passed.”

Jarrod looked at the dingy shed doubtfully. I didn’t blame him. With only three walls and a sagging roof, it hardly looked like a fit shelter for our horse, let alone us. Still, as soon as Jarrod had scrambled down from the animal’s back, I led the way inside.

The interior was shadowed, and cobwebs clung to walls so thin they blocked only the worst of the wind. There was a scattering of hay across the dirt floor and more of it in a rack on the wall. Our horse nosed up to it eagerly, and I didn’t push him away. He didn’t want to be caught out in the cold and the rain any more than we did.

I struggled with the unfamiliar task of unsaddling the animal. Jarrod, I suspected, might have more experience at the job, since I’d seen workhorses back at the mill. But he didn’t offer to help, instead dropping his small bundle of belongings in a lonely corner of the shed and sinking down beside them.

I tried not to hold his unfriendliness against him. He had just learned of the death of his brother. And my manner of delivering the news could hardly have endeared me to him. He would need some time to come around.

Pretending not to notice his mood, I finished with the horse and then withdrew a few strips of dried meat from my traveling pack. We had no fire to prepare a hot meal, and I lacked the ingredients to cook one anyway. I offered half the plain fare I did have to Jarrod. When the boy refused it, I consumed the meal alone.

The skies opened up now, and heavy rain drove down on our little shed, much of it finding its way through the holes in the roof to drip onto us. The wind howled fiercely, and what daylight had been left was replaced with a false night. It was even darker inside our shelter.

Clearly we were going to be stranded here for some time. Since my young companion didn’t seem inclined to conversation, even had the noisy wind and rain allowed any, I might as well catch what rest I could. Using my traveling sack for a headrest, I sprawled out along the wall to sleep.

My sleep, light and dreamless, was interrupted in the small hours by the vague sensation that someone stood over me, watching. Pretending to be at rest, I lay still and kept my breath even while I reached out with my magic to identify the source of danger. It was a new presence, almost unfamiliar. It took me a moment to recognize it as Jarrod.

Opening my eyes to a narrow slit, I made out his shadowy outline in the blackness. It was too dark to see his expression or make out the details of the fist-sized object clutched in his hand. But I took a guess.

I said, “If you’re thinking of bashing my brains out as I lie here, I suggest you reconsider.”

Startled to find me awake, the boy let go the thing in his hand. It dropped to the dirt beside me. A rock.

I picked up the jagged stone before it could occur to him to retrieve it and said, “The capital city is not a kind place for younglings your age arriving alone. I know. I wasn’t much older than you when I visited it for the first time. Only I was lucky enough to have some friends there and a few life skills that helped me protect myself. You, on the other hand, wouldn’t get far.”

“Who says I want to go to Selbius?” he challenged. “That’s your idea, not mine.”

“And what exactly is
your
clever plan, Jarrod? To dispose of me, steal my horse, and hurry back home to the miller? He struck me as a devoted guardian. I’m sure he’ll be overjoyed to have you back.”

My sarcasm only made the boy more defiant. “I don’t have to return to Luken. Maybe I’ll run away, like Martyn.”

I lifted a careless shoulder. “Perhaps you should. But before you get any more brilliant ideas about bludgeoning me to death and making off for freedom, you should know your brother wanted you under my care.”

“That’s a lie.” But from the way his voice shook, he wasn’t very confident. “Martyn wouldn’t hand me over to a stranger, especially not one like you. You said yourself you pursued him to his death.”

“Is that why you were going to crush my skull? To avenge him?”

His silence was confirmation.

I shook my head and asked of no one in particular, “What is it with Brig’s boys and their obsession with revenge?”

That threw him off guard. “How do you know my father’s name?”

I passed over the question, saying, “I respect the need to right a wrong as much as anybody. But before you set out on a quest for revenge, you need to explore the facts and make sure your enemy is really your enemy. Your brother made that same mistake. In another life, we should have been friends. Which makes it a sad irony that we were set against one another by a lie. I never would, never could, feel anything but goodwill toward a child of Brig’s. That’s why, in the end, I couldn’t kill Martyn myself. Not even when he threatened my life.”

I sensed the boy’s hostility vanishing, leaving him vulnerable and confused. “Why do you keep speaking of my father? Did you know him?”

“I knew him very well. Come, sit down, and I’ll tell you all about it.”

I patted the ground beside me.

At his continued hesitation, I prompted,

“That is, if you’ve decided to let me live out the night?”

“I haven’t made up my mind about that yet,” he said seriously. “But I will sit.”

He sat, and I told him everything while outside the rain beat down.

____________________

The storm cleared out by late morning, and we were on our way again after eating the last of my jerky and biscuits. We made good time on the Selbius road, and the journey was pleasanter than it had been before.

Last night’s talk had dissolved the tension. I still sensed a rebellious streak in Jarrod and thought the boy would bear watching. But at least his defiant spirit wasn’t at odds with my purpose anymore. More importantly, I no longer had the feeling he was waiting for me to turn my back so he could plunge a knife into it.

As we drew nearer to the city, the road widened and branched out in two directions, one leading toward Selbius, the other to Dimmingwood. I felt the usual pull to enter that leafy green haven. I played with the idea of taking my young charge to the outlaws. I had done my good deed in separating the boy from his abusive stepfather. Perhaps setting him free now, with Dradac to keep an eye on him, would count as fulfilling my promise to the dying Martyn? After all, I had troubles enough of my own awaiting me in the city. Why shouldn’t I pass on this particular burden to someone else? Growing up among the forest thieves had been good enough for me.