The Miscreant (14 page)

Dragoslav straightened up from searching through the desk drawer when the door opened. “Daren, what are you doing in my office?”

“Sorry, I was looking for the privy. Your man at the gate said you wouldn’t appreciate me going out and pissing on the azaleas.”

Bertie walked cautiously into the room. “And you thought I would be more hospitable with my desk? What are you really doing in here?”

Dragoslav held up a finger, crossed the room, and closed the door. “All right, you caught me. I’ll tell you the truth. I was looking for the identities of anyone who is helping Remiel finance his damn road. Once I found it, I was supposed to kill you.”

Bertie’s forehead puckered and he arched back slightly. “What—”

Dragoslav’s hand flashed forward in a lightning quick strike, plunging his slender blade into the Free Trader’s heart. He caught Bertie before he fell and eased him to the ground. Just as he stood up, he heard the door open behind him again.

“Daren, what happened to Bertie?” Cameron asked as he rushed to the fallen man’s side.

Dragoslav rolled his eyes, closed the door, and pulled a length of wire from inside his sleeve.

“Dear God!” Cameron cried. “He’s been stabbed!”

Dragoslav looped the garrote around Cameron’s fleshy throat and pulled while bracing his knee in the man’s back until he stopped moving. No sooner had he recovered from his second execution when the door opened again and his wife Katharine strode into the small room.

“Cameron, is something wrong?”

“You’ve got to be shitting me!” Dragoslav cursed.

Katherine opened her mouth to scream, but a swift knuckle punch to her throat aborted the attempt before it was born. The aging woman collapsed, clawing at her crushed windpipe which would never again draw another breath. Dragoslav closed, and this time locked, the door behind him. The entire operation was quickly unraveling.

Someone knocked on the door and tried the handle. “Hello, is something amiss in there?”

“Shit on a shingle!” Dragoslav hissed.

He looked at the window and considered his escape. He did not relish the idea of trying to outrun numerous guards and their dogs, particularly with his youth long behind him. Dragoslav recovered his knife from Bertie’s corpse and plunged it into his own chest, careful to slip the blade between the thick flesh on his side and the ribs. He hurled a large book through the window, shattering the glass. Glancing around the room for something with which to corroborate his alibi, Dragoslav picked up a small bronze bust, held a deep breath, and bashed himself between the eyes.

He slapped a hand to his throbbing forehead. “Bloody crap on a cracker!”

Intentionally trying to knock oneself out was a far more challenging feat than most people might think. Taking another breath, he whipped his head forward, hitting himself with the bust hard enough to make him stagger and drop to the floor. He was vaguely aware of the door surrendering under an assault and several men bursting into the room.

Dragoslav felt hands lifting him into a sitting position and he pointed a wavering finger toward the window. He pressed his other hand to the wound on his forehead when he felt blood trickling down into his eye.

“Daren, can you hear me?” a man he knew as Marvin asked. “What happened?”

Dragoslav looked around in a daze that was only half pretend. “There was a man. I think he came out from under the desk. Bertie and I were discussing moving a large supply of wine I have with one of his ships when he came out of nowhere. He stabbed Bertie. I rushed him, but he stuck me too and smashed me in the head with something. I don’t know what happened after that.” He looked at the Hunters lying dead on the floor. “Is that Katherine and Cameron? How did they…?”

“I don’t know. I think maybe they came in and surprised the assassin before he fled,” Marvin said as he and another man helped Dragoslav to his feet. “Come on; let’s get you to a physic.”

Dragoslav resisted and looked to the party’s host. “Bertie?”

“It’s too late for him. Come on.”

CHAPTER 12

Garran’s world returned in a flash of pain and light. He opened his eyes and immediately clamped them shut as a wave of agony coursed through his body. As he lay on a bed, forcing his breath between his clenched teeth, he was unable to find a single spot on his body that did not hurt. Even the soles of his feet throbbed.

He tried to turn his head, but his muscles protested and fought even this simple command. Garran’s eyes flicked over what he could see of his body, and it did not look good. Small boards splinted his arms and legs, and straps held him securely to his bunk. He caught movement in his periphery and flicked his eyes toward it.

“You’re awake,” Cranston, the camp’s resident physic said.

“How bad is it?”

“Pretty bad, especially for me and everyone in the betting pool who bet against you ever regaining consciousness, but I doubled down on you ever walking again, so there’s still hope.”

Garran wiggled his toes.

“Well, damn, it just isn’t my day. I guess this is why I’m here and not tending the king or some wealthy guildsman.”

“Sorry to disappoint you. How long have I been out?”

“Almost four days. You must be starving. It’s a good thing you didn’t break your jaw.”

“It feels like I did.”

“Yes, I hear you managed to catch almost every branch on the way down, a fair number with your face. I’ll have someone bring you some food. There’s water next to your bed. If you can manage the cup, I suggest you drink as much as you can. I would also be personally grateful if you could use the bedpan on your own.”

“I’ll do my best.”

Cranston unbuckled the straps pinning him to the bed. “I didn’t want you moving about while you were unconscious. I still recommend avoiding all unnecessary movement for a while. The fact you can move your feet shows you don’t have any serious back injury, but it’s best not to test it for at least a couple of weeks.”

Garran started to reach for the cup of water, but his bladder suddenly reminded him that he had been asleep for several days. Just picking up the enameled tin pot made his arm throb, but he managed to maneuver it and his body into a position to make use of it.

“A lot easier than hitting the mouth of a whiskey bottle, I bet,” Cyril said as he stepped into the room.

Garran finished his business, set the bedpan back on the small table next to his bed, and gently rolled onto his back once more. “I hope I don’t get into trouble for breaking the king’s property,” Garran said with a grin.

“We’ll call it an act of God. How are you feeling?”

“Like I fell out of a tree and got trampled by horses after reaching the ground.”

“Cranston has something to help with that, but I wanted to talk to you while you were still coherent.”

“Me too. Did you look at my harness? Did someone set me up to fall?”

“I thought you might be concerned about that. I had one of the blacksmiths take a look at it. Best he and I can tell is that there was a natural flaw in one of the metal rings and it broke. There wasn’t any evidence that someone filed it or damaged it in any way.”

“Huh, I guess not everything is a conspiracy.”

“Nope, sometimes God just don’t like us much. On the bright side, I stand to make a fair amount of gold off your recovery.”

“Thanks for your vote of confidence.”

“Can you feel your legs?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, maybe not as much as I thought, but it’s still better than most of the men are going to make out.”

“It sounds like you went against the odds-on favorite.”

“I’ve always been a sucker for the long bet. This time it paid off.” Cyril saw Cranston return with a small vial and stood to leave. “I’ll let your friends know you’re awake.”

Cranston pulled the cork from the tube. “Drink this; it will help with the pain.”

Garran let the physic pour the liquid into his mouth. His body immediately began to tingle, and he felt his muscles go numb. His pain all but vanished as his head began to swim like a barrel bobbing on ocean waves.

“Holy crap, what was that?”

“Laudanum.”

“You best keep that stuff a secret, or men are going to be falling out of trees like pinecones.”

Cranston smiled. “That’s why it’s kept locked up with the payroll in Commander Godfrey’s tent.”

Garran looked at the physic, watched him float around in his vision, and gave him a lopsided smile. “Are you a drinking man, Cranston?”

“I wouldn’t trust anyone who wasn’t.”

“How would you like to make a trade?”

***

Colin came to visit as soon as his shift ended. Garran opened his eyes and found his friend sitting in a chair next to his bed and a plate of food on his nightstand.

“Hi, I thought it would be rude to wake you,” Colin said when Garran opened his eyes.

“And you thought sitting there watching me sleep would be less disturbing?”

“You certainly sound like your usual self. How are you feeling?”

“I’m feeling great!”

“Are you drunk?”

Garran giggled. “I’m a whole lot better than drunk.”

“Well, I’m glad you’re okay even if I do lose a bet.”

“You bet against me? That’s hurtful.”

“I saw you bounce! It was the smart wager. I heard you’ll probably still be able to walk, so I’m breaking even.”

“I’m so happy for you. How’s my still and Rose?”

“They’re both fine.”

“Good. Tell her I love her, and we’ll be together soon.”

“You can tell her yourself. She’ll be in to see you after the dinner meal.”

“I was talking about my still, but that’s good too.”

Colin laughed and shook his head. “I’ll tell her you said that.”

“You better not. Despite several limbs’ best attempts to break everything; I think my prick still works.”

“I think you better stay off that for a while as well or it might not.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right. I can’t afford to put a bend in it or something that would cause it to lose any length. Maybe I should have Cranston put a splint on that too.”

Colin snorted and shook his head again. “You are something else.”

“Damn right I am, and don’t you ever forget it.” Garran looked toward the doorway and sang out, “Craaaaanstuuuuuuun.”

The physic poked his head in from the curtained-off room he used as his office and personal quarters. “What?”

“I’m starting to feel again. Time for my medicine.”

“I think you can wait another hour or two for your next dose.”

“Hey, we had a deal, you quack!”

“You have another visitor coming. I’ll give it to you after she’s gone so you can sleep the rest of the night.”

“I guess you’re right. Sorry about calling you a quack…you bastard.” Garran looked at Colin and snorted.

“I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself despite breaking half the bones in your body.” Colin looked over his shoulder and spotted Rose standing in the doorway. “I’ll leave you two alone. Remember my advice.”

“Yeah, I heard you,” Garran glanced down at his waist, “but he’s stone deaf.”

Rose smiled and nodded at Colin as they passed and took the chair he had just vacated. “How are you?”

“Not bad, all things considered.”

“When I heard about your accident, I feared the worst. Was it an accident?”

“Looks that way.”

“How long are you going to be stuck in this bed?”

“Cranston says six weeks at a minimum, but I won’t be able to work for at least twice that long.”

Rose trailed her hand down his chest and along his thigh. “That’s a very long time.”

Garran lifted his head slightly and peered down at his midriff. “Oh look, it does still work. Be a dear, take a look under the blanket, and tell me if it’s crooked.”

Rose grinned mischievously and lifted the edge of the blanket. “Straight as an arrow.”

“I guess it’s true what they say. You can’t keep a good man down.”

***

Much to Cranston’s surprise, Garran was able to move about the room on crutches after just two weeks. His forays were brief, but at least he was able to use the medical building’s toilet on his own. That was about the limit of his freedom since his broken arms and legs ached after even those short stints. Rose, Colin, and a few of his crew came to visit him most days, but his fellow hospital guests broke the bulk of his tedium—them and the laudanum.

Two axe injuries, which Garran liked to call axidents, three falls, and one fellow who failed to yield to a falling tree provided him ample company. Being cooped up in the infirmary was possibly the most challenging task Garran had ever faced. Even his trial back in Wooder’s Bend was less agonizing than the boredom. Were it not for the laudanum, he was certain he would go mad.

Cranston came into the room where Garran and three other men were sitting around a small table playing cards. “How are you feeling today, Garran?”

Garran pressed a hand against his lower back and winced. “I feel okay, but my back is aching something fierce.”

“I’m not increasing your laudanum, so stop trying to play me for more. I’m already giving you twice what I should.”

“You’re a cruel man, Cranston.”

The physic gently squeezed Garran’s arms and legs with his hands, starting at the wrists and ankles and working his way toward his torso. “How’s the pain—really?”

“I’m still sore, but it’s getting better, especially if I don’t try to move around too much.”

“It’s a miracle you can move at all yet. I expected it to be at least another two weeks before you could get out of bed on your own. You’re an amazingly fast healer.”

“I think my bones are just as impatient and restless as I am and want to get out of here.”

“Well, tell your bones they still need to take it easy.”

“I try, but they don’t like to listen. There is one thing that gets their attention though.”

“What’s that?”

“Laudanum.”

“I think you’re developing a problem.”

“I’ve developed all kinds of problems. I’m just choosing to focus on one right now.”

“Pain,” Cranston stated with a nod.

“Nope, lucidity. Pain management is a side effect.”

“You’re like a dog with a bone.”

“You got that right. Speaking of bones, have you seen Rose? She didn’t stop by yesterday.”

“I’ve only seen her serving meals. I’ll let her know you asked about her.”

“Thanks, now let’s make with the goofy juice. I’m feeling a nasty case of lucidity coming on.”

“You’re just going to have to suffer through reality for a while. I’ll not be responsible for creating an addict,” Cranston said and stood up to leave.

“Too late!” Garran shouted at his back. “You can’t put the arrow back in the quiver after you’ve loosed it!”

“You can go get it and put it back,” one of his ward mates said.

Garran glared at the speaker. “Shut up, Pete, you dirty pervert.”

It had been three days since Rose visited, and Garran wondered what was keeping her. Colin said he saw her at every meal, but he had no idea what was consuming her time. Garran was making plans to escape the ward and go visit her when she finally showed up.

“Hey, where have you been?” Garran asked the moment she entered the infirmary. “I was about to come find you.”

She sat on the stool next to his bed. “I’m sorry. Everyone is behaving themselves, so we have to do all the pot scrubbing and such ourselves. I just haven’t had more than a minute to myself, and I’m exhausted.”

Garran squeezed her hand. “I’m sure trouble will find me soon after I’m able to escape this wretched infirmary. In fact, I may just go find it myself so I can spend more time with you.”

“You need to stay in bed and behave. None of us are going anywhere soon.”

Garran glanced at the splints still immobilizing his arms and legs. “That’s for sure.”

“I know you’re always hungry, so I brought you something.”

Rose set a linen towel, concealing something within its folds, on Garran’s chest. Garran peeled back the corners and smiled at the small loaf of sweetbread that was still warm from the oven.

“I can sure use it. Mending broken bones leaves me famished. I’m hungry five minutes after eating it seems like.”

“Cranston said you are always hungry and that maybe it’s because you are healing so fast. I certainly want you to get better, so I baked you that.”

“Thank you. It smells delicious.”

“Don’t just sit there and smell it. Eat it!”

Garran used his fingers to tear off a piece and stuffed it into his mouth. He closed his eyes and smiled as he savored the warm, fresh bread. Rose plucked a tiny piece off of it and nibbled at it at Garran’s urging. 

Rose sighed and stood up. “I just barely finished with the lunch dishes, and I already have to go prepare for dinner. You get better. I’ll come back as soon as I can.”