No True Way (20 page)

She sighed. “I know.”

“But it might not even be him,” Paddy argued. “We don't know anywhere near all the folk who come and go at Daedrus' house.”

“No, you don't, but I trust your instincts,” Hektor
answered. “You've both been hanging around the watch house your whole lives. You know how people act. So, you tell me, as watchmen, has Mern been actin' in any way in the last few weeks that might make you think he was guilty of somethin'?”

Kassie and Paddy exchanged a look, then they both nodded glumly.

“I'll talk to Daedrus.”

*   *   *

“No! Under no circumstances do I want him arrested, Sergeant!”

Three days later, Hektor stood in Daedrus' front parlor, trying to make the old Artificer see sense while his birds filled the air with a cacophony of agitated shrieking.

“But, sir—”

Daedrus fixed the much younger man with an indignant glare. “Don't you ‘sir' me, Hektor Dann,” he snapped. “I'm to attend your wedding in less than a fortnight, so we can just dispense with such formalities right here and now.”

“Fine. Daedrus . . .”

“No. You brought this to my attention, just as you should have, and I've spoken with the boy, and he's admitted the whole thing to both myself and to his father. His choice of materials shows he has a discerning mind and a keen intelligence, as do the others.”

“Others?”

Daedrus waved a dismiss hand at him. “He's been sharing my books with a few others in his home village. They have no hope of gaining access to such works, since they are so far from the capital,” he continued before Hektor could voice another protest. “He did have access, so it only made sense that he be the one to do the
procuring. Now, I've arranged for certain volumes to be regularly lent out, all above board, all with the complete knowledge of myself and the other participants, so you needn't worry about that.”

“Other participants?”

“Yes, yes, yes. The boy gave me a list of libraries that he'd been particularly tempted by, and since they all belong to close friends of mine, I've taken the liberty of discussing with them the setting up of a formal lending library, and they are all quite excited about the project. As the great Artificer Brayce once said: ‘No advance or invention ever came from knowledge hoarded, but only from knowledge sprinkled into fertile minds. Then it can move mountains.'” Daedrus paused. “Or something like that, I forget the actual quote. And for that matter, who said it. Now that I think of it, it might have been Isora, King Valdemar's Head Gardener back in the day. My point is that young Mern is wasted as a sweet waterseller. He shows excellent organizational skills, or he will, once he's trained up a bit. Now that he doesn't have to do the lending in a clandestine manner, he's free to tweak it. I think we'll put him in charge.”

“Sir!”

“A bit of proper responsibility is just what he needs.”

“You'll have no library left!”

“Don't be silly, my boy, that's not how it works at all. No, no, you leave it to me. All is in good hands.” Daedrus pushed Hektor gently but firmly toward the door. “Paddy tells me that Aiden and Suli are moving into their new flat today, and they'll need you to help them before you're to meet with the watch house tailor to have your new dress uniform fitted for your wedding, so off you go, Sergeant!”

“But . . .” Hektor tried once more. “I have to report what I found to the captain.”

“Quite right. Tell him I'm hosting the first meeting of the Friends of Haven's Public Library Association here tonight, and we'd welcome a volume or two from his own collection if he has a mind to offer them. I have a list here somewhere of works that might suit. Ah yes, here it is!” Daedrus pressed a piece of paper into Hektor's unresisting hand.

“Now, if you would be so kind as to ask Kasiath to drop by a bit early tomorrow before lessons if she could. I'm afraid my children have gotten a little unsettled by all of this,” he continued, wincing as the cacophony continued. “And they could use some calming down. Give your mother my regards, and tell young Jakon and Raik that I'm escorting my dear friend, Annise, to the third year Bardic Trainees' concert at the Virgin and Stars Tavern next week. Annise needs two canes to get around these days, so we'll be taking chairs instead of walking. They needn't accompany us unless they want to. I know they worry—quite unnecessarily by the way—about my being out of doors late at night, but they might enjoy the music. So, love to all, good afternoon!”

Hektor found himself on the front step with the door closed very firmly behind him before he could get another word in edgewise. He stood a moment, trying to sort out what had just happened, then headed for the watch house with a resigned air. As the breeze sent the first few drops of a warm, spring rain spattering across his face, his thoughts returned to Ismy.

Ismy looking up at him with a smile, her arm tucked securely in his. Ismy . . .
mentioning a prewedding dinner with her violent and unpredictable father.

His steps faltered as he wondered what the likelihood of him actually surviving until the wedding was. Maybe he could convince his brothers to come with him as backup. For that matter, maybe he could convince the entire watch house to come with him as backup . . .

He quickened his pace, and as the capital's bells began to chime the hour, he turned onto Iron Street a few moments later, already lost in thought as to what kind of report he could possibly write about all of this.

Dylan Birtolo

Sera sat at the edge of the road, leaning back against the inn's stone wall. It was hard and rough, with points that bit into her muscles, but she was used to the discomfort. She shifted to make it as bearable as possible but continued watching people as they passed by on their way to Wineboro's central market. She was close enough to smell the freshly baked bread, and it made her stomach rumble.

The inn's location, on the borders of the town and along the road to Tindale, forced all traffic from the East to pass by its door. By serving as a beacon to late night travelers and offering succor without the need to search through the narrower town streets, it had prospered, and the innkeeper had built expansions onto it twice, judging by the different colored stones used. The location also served Sera's purposes, letting her keep an eye out for any new travelers with coin to spare.

Some of the local residents glanced her way as they walked past, but most simply ignored her. A select few who considered themselves of higher stature went the extra measure to sneer in her direction before leaving her behind. It was almost time to leave this place and
look for a new town to make her livelihood. Beggars were not welcome in one place for long, and it seemed that she was at the point of overstaying her welcome. Sera pulled her ragged cloak tight around her. She might as well make one last attempt at picking up some traveling coin before taking to the road again.

As if in answer to her thoughts, a suitable mark crested the hill to the east, near the horizon. Even from this distance, the traveler's wealth was obvious. He—at least Sera assumed it was a he, based on the style of dress—had two horses trailing behind his own, both hauling bags bulging with goods. His clothes were bright, with dyed colors designed to catch the eye and capture attention.

Sera took a deep breath and waited for him to arrive. As he got closer, she scanned the street to make sure the stage would be set for her performance. He glanced up at the inn when he was a few strides away, but he refocused on the road in front of him. It didn't look as though he would stop. Sera used her hand to push herself up from the wall, trying to keep her back hunched and looking weak as she stumbled in front of his horse.

He pulled hard on the reins, making his horse whinny as it stopped hard on its front feet. The animal snorted at her, and she felt warm, wet breath against her face, blowing her hood back. The merchant looked down at her, concern etched on his face. When he saw her ragged cloak, dirty clothes, and bare feet, his lips tightened into a sneer.

“Out of the way, beggar.” He jerked his reins hard, yanking his horse's head to the side. He gave his mount a harsh kick, trying to urge it to move around her.

“Please, just a little bit of coin for a meal.” Sera held
out a wooden bowl that she had deliberately chipped and beaten up to add to the image.

The merchant grumbled and reached into the purse tied to his belt. He pulled out a couple of coins, barely enough for a crust of bread and watered ale, and dropped them into her bowl. They hit the bottom with a
clink
and bounced into the dirt at the horse's feet.

As they did, Sera reached out, using her Gift. It wasn't powerful enough for her to Mindspeak, but she pressed on him a sense of pity and sorrow. She willed him to look at her again, to see the dirty young girl with skin stretched tight over her cheekbones from lack of food. She brought to mind every aspect of her pitiful appearance, down to her raw fingers with dirt caked under the little nails that remained from scrabbling for roots to feast on.

He turned away from the road to look back at her. His eyebrows furrowed together, and he frowned, as if seeing her for the first time. His shoulders slumped, and the morning light glistened in eyes beginning to tear up. Untying the purse from his belt, he leaned out of the saddle to hand it to her.

“You need this far more than I do. Please, get some food, a room, and a bath.”

Sera smiled, dropping her gaze as she mumbled her thanks. When she looked up, the merchant smiled and nodded at her before nudging his horse and team to go around her. She pocketed the purse, tucking it inside her rags and out of sight. She stooped to pick up the coins in the dirt, sliding them inside the purse. She hobbled back over to the wall, in case anyone was watching, before resuming her watch.

*   *   *

Over the rest of the day, Sera didn't find another mark as lucrative as her first. She doubted that the other three combined would equal the wealth of her first take. It was getting close to sunset, and most of the people traveling to market had already left. She saw familiar faces as they passed by, and Sera made sure to hide her face and avoid eye contact. It had never been a problem before, but an ounce of caution was worth more than a pound of trouble.

It was about time for her to retire, take a long bath, and then leave before anyone took notice of her sudden wealth. She was sure the innkeeper wouldn't mind, especially if she left a healthy tip. But she did not want to wait long enough to have people asking questions.

She climbed the first few steps to the inn's front door when she heard the quick patter of hoof beats on the packed dirt as a horse galloped toward her. Sera turned and froze as she saw a woman riding up on the most gorgeous all-white horse she had ever seen. She had heard of the Companions, but she had never seen one in person before. The descriptions of their grace and beauty paled in comparison to the reality. She could only watch, transfixed, as the Herald rode up to the front entrance of the inn and stopped just a few feet from her.

Sera made eye contact with the Companion and got lost in the deep blue gaze of the animal, which was clearly not just an animal. She felt as though the Companion could see into her soul, and saw all that she had done. While it did not judge her, it knew and did not approve. Sera felt a sense of guilt rise up in her, but she stamped it down. What did it know about needing to
survive anyway? Sera's bitterness gave her the strength to tear her gaze away. She felt the Companion staring at her, and it made the skin between her shoulder blades itch. She walked toward the center of town, searching for another inn. She wouldn't be denied her bath and hot meal because of a horse. After she got cleaned up and ate, she'd return to her hideout. Wineboro suddenly felt very small.

*   *   *

Calling it a hideout stretched the definition of the word, at best. It was a small clearing in the woods, a place that Sera knew she would be able to recognize again. The thick trees curled out from each other, giving the area the appearance of two giant hands cupped together, fingers spread and stretched to the sky, ready to catch the moon. Sera paused for a moment, leaning against one of the trees and enjoying the relative quiet. Insects provided an incessant hum, but it was nothing compared to the constant bustle of the town.

Walking to a large root that arched up from the ground, she dug up her stash underneath it, taking her latest prizes and tucking them into the sack. It didn't look like much, but it had nicer clothes, some food, and enough wealth to live comfortably for several weeks. Perhaps that was what she would do at the next town: change clothes before she arrived and stay at the best rooms the inn had for a few days before moving on. That had been her cycle of late; living comfortably for a while until her funds nearly ran out, then moving on and earning more until she was no longer welcome.

Sera put down her sack and walked around, collecting twigs for a fire. As she moved around, she couldn't help but think back to the Companion's stare. She clenched
her jaw and squeezed the branches so tight that some of them snapped in her grip. She began talking to herself, a habit she'd picked up from spending so much time alone.

“It isn't like I'm stealing anything. They give me the money on their own. I just give them a little nudge. I'm not forcing them to do anything. Besides, it doesn't always work.”

She tossed the sticks into the center of the clearing with a loud clatter. She snatched up the branches, arranging them into a pile as she muttered to herself.

“Besides, what does a Companion know about anything? They get to live at Haven with Heralds, and have everything they need given to them. They don't know what it's like to be working all day in the street with your mother, trying to entertain people enough to eat for the first time in weeks.”

Sera froze, holding a twig a few inches above the kindle pile as her mind shot back through the years. She pictured her mother's face, long and sad as she counted the coins in their collection bowl, realizing there wouldn't be enough for them both to eat. She would smile, trying to hide her sadness from her daughter with that jongleur's mask, but Sera saw through it even at that age. She couldn't remember the last time she saw her mother smile for real.

Both of Sera's parents had been street performers. When they'd learned that Sera had a Gift and could influence others when she sang, they hoped she would be able to go to the Bardic College in Haven. But that dream faded long before it ever had a chance to become reality. Her father died from illness before ever learning the truth. Sera didn't have the Bardic Gift; it was just weak Mind-magic that let her strengthen emotions
others already possessed. For the hundredth time, Sera cursed her Gift for being so trivial. Perhaps if it had been more, she could have used it to make enough money to save her father.

After he died, Sera and her mother lived as best as they were able, but her father had been the true performer. Even on those rare occasions where they were able to scrounge up enough coin for two meals, burly men with ugly scars would show up and demand a “tax.” At first, Sera's mother had refused, but the men were more than willing to show their propensity for violence. Sera learned to hide the coin, never revealing how much they had in the hope that they'd be able to hang onto it.

And then one day, the men didn't believe Sera's mother when she turned over everything she had. Thinking she was holding back, they tried to beat her into giving them more. She gave up every last coin she had, but it still wasn't enough. Her mother died that day, and Sera didn't even know the names of the men who killed her.

Sera wiped her face, the fresh tears from a long, never-healed wound leaving tracks in the dirt on her cheeks. With renewed fervor, she set to work on the fire. As it started to blaze, she paced around it, kicking at the dirt until there was an obvious circular path. When she ran out of energy she collapsed, propping herself up on her arms as she watched the flames dance and listened to the wood pop. Tomorrow was another day, and she was still alive. That was all she could do, just keep living one day at a time, no matter what she had to do.

*   *   *

The next day, Sera took the road east, heading toward Tindale. Not that it mattered much—one town was the
same as any other to her. She wore her beggar's rags while traveling. Once she got closer to civilization, she would change. But experience had taught her well that it was better to appear poor and carry a simple sack than to openly display one's fortune.

She passed a few people throughout the day, most working on their farms. Sera made sure to keep her eyes down and her shoulders slumped, an act practiced so often that it felt more natural than walking tall. It also allowed her the luxury of ruminating over her own thoughts as she traveled. Every once in a while, her mind wandered back to the Companion and the way it had stared at her. Even a good night's rest hadn't released the tension knotted between her shoulders.

A scream jolted Sera back to the present, and her gaze snapped up. Ahead, a couple stood close together in a field, their backs to each other and sheltering a small girl. Based on how they were dressed, they were farmers who had been hard at work. The girl was the one who had screamed. Her mother held a hand behind her, trying to calm the youngster.

Three men on horseback rode at a walk around the farmers, their mounts trampling the plants just starting to sprout. They carried weapons—two with gnarled clubs and one with a sword—and wore rough, ragged clothes with leather patches haphazardly sewn on.

“Lookin' good, Triel. Lookin' real good. Looks like you been eatin' fat all winter while me an' my men starved. That ain't right, is it?” One of the men reined in his horse in front of the father.

Sera passed even with the group, and one of the bandits looked her way. She snapped her stare back to the
dirt in front of her. It wasn't her problem. Besides, it wasn't as though she could do anything. The farmers could spare a bit of food.

“I already gave you a whole pig. It was my last one, you know that.” Triel's voice was strained. Sera could tell he was trying to be brave, but failing. The bandits probably knew it, too.

“Maybe you been holdin' out on us.”

The words sent a chill down Sera's spine, and she froze. They were too familiar. Even if these weren't the same men, they were the same type.

“Maybe you just need some convincin'.”

Sera glanced back and saw the leader dismount in front of the mother and reach out to grab her. Triel shouted and grabbed the man's wrist, yanking it away. The bandit responded with a harsh backhand that cracked against the man's cheekbone. He dropped to the dirt, and his wife and daughter ran to him. The bandit leader shook his hand.

“That was stupid, Triel.”

The bandit drew his sword, metal rasping against leather as it came free. The other men on the horses chuckled and leaned forward, resting their arms on the front of their saddles. The mother covered her daughter and Triel with her body, looking away with eyes tightly shut.

“NO!”

Sera was as surprised as the others to hear her own voice. Everything seemed to grow quiet as all attention was drawn to her. The bandit leader recovered first, tilting his head to look at her as if she were an oddity, something he had never seen before.