Queen (Brotherhood of the Throne) (20 page)

Pater was driving the wagon – the
other volunteers remained dressed as prisoners.

Neemah left with Wils and the rest of
the militia. They were taking the other two wagons, along with the wagon guards
and former prisoners – men, women and children – back down to Fallad. The party
Gaskain had sent would meet them at the border. Brenna had sent Blaze back with
Wils. She’d be boarding a ship for Langemore as soon as they reached the coast
and she didn’t know when or how she’d be returning. She wanted Blaze safe at
home.

Dasid guessed they had four days of
travel until they hit the mountain pass - from there it would be another three
days to the coast. They’d skirt Blackwall and bypass the town. And try to stay
away from Duke Thorold’s troops, or course.

Brenna huddled into her coat as a
cold wind blew in from the west.

“Are ye all right there lass?”
Pater asked her from the seat beside her. It was their second day of travel and
despite Neemah’s horrible tasting tea, she was short of breath.

“I’ll be fine. I have another libo
nut that I’ll chew on when we stop for the night,” she replied. “Just another
two days and then we’re going down again.” She rubbed her hands against her
arms, trying to stay warm. She’d tried to walk the first day but once she’d
started wheezing, Dasid and Pater had insisted she ride on the wagon. And she
hated it - hated feeling weak - hated feeling like she was a burden - hated the
inactivity but most of all she hated that her body had betrayed her.

“Yup, and yer to make sure ye don’t
overdo it from now until then,” Pater said.

“And you’re to make sure I make
sure,” Brenna grumbled.

Pater chuckled and she smiled in
spite of herself. There were worse places to be on a crisp, fall day. His hands
flicked the reins slightly as the team of horses struggled up a steep pitch.

“Where did you learn to drive a
wagon?” she asked.

“I grew up on a farm,” Pater said.
“Least aways in the summers. I used to drive the wagon when we were into
picking season for apples and pears. Now don’t look so surprised.”

“I always assumed you were from
Kingsreach.”

“Well, I am, but my brother works
the family farm over t’ the Wheton River in Comack. Summers were for tending
the crops. I took over the stand in the Quarter when I was about your age.”
Pater smiled over at her.

For the rest of the day Brenna
tried to sit quietly and conserve her strength. Dasid had asked her not to use
magic or old steel unless it was necessary and Brenna was surprised to realize
how quickly she’d become dependent on her talents. It was less than a year and
a half since she’d first tried to steal the knife from the priest and already she
counted on old steel to sense if friends or foe were around. And it was
becoming the same with magic. Until she consciously decided not to use it she
hadn’t realized how often she tweaked the wind to bring a warm breeze or harden
the mud under her feet.

Brenna shook her head and reached
down to her knife. She ran her fingers across the leather grip, worn smooth
from hours of use from her mother, and now her. Even when she was healing she
was using magic. At the noon break one of the men had come to her for a
poultice for a blister and she’d caught herself pulling in magic and whispering
spells when she was cutting up the lavender. No wonder most folk disliked
witches so - they could never be sure anything they did was free of magic.

“Pater, are you afraid of witches?”
she asked.

The older man reined in the team of
horses. They’d come to a steeper section of trail and the wagon always went up
separately.

“Well, I’m not sure I’d say I was
afraid of ‘em,” Pater said. “I’ve dealt with my share of Aruntians and though
most folk call ‘em witches I never seen ‘em use magic.”

“What if you couldn’t see them use
it but they were using it anyway. To, I don’t know, influence you, make you buy
something you didn’t want or need.” Brenna paused. “And what if neither they
nor you realized they were doing it? What then?”

“Well, I guess if it’s not done a
purpose there’s nothin’ t’ be done about it, is there?” Pater turned to look at
her. “And if I don’t know, then what’s the harm? Less of course ye ruin my
business by makin’ me buy things I can’t sell t’ my customers.”

“Yes, exactly,” Brenna said.

“And ye think witches can do this?”

“I’m not sure, Pater.” Brenna
looked over at him. “At least, I’m not sure other witches can but I’m pretty
sure I can. In fact, I’m pretty sure I’ve been using magic constantly since I
first knew I could.”

“Well, I wouldn’t worry so much if
I were ye, Brenna. Yer heart's always been in the right place. I’m sure ye
wouldn’t hurt anyone.” Pater shook the reins and the wagon started up the steep
incline.

“I hope you’re right,” Brenna said.
She pulled her coat more tightly around her. Just because she had good
intentions didn’t mean she could justify using magic to make people do things.
Is that why Kane listened to her? Is that what made him her consort? Had she
somehow manipulated him? And what kind of ruler uses magic to make people do
what she wants? That’s was as bad as the threats Duke Thorold used. Worse even,
because at least with an open threat there is a conscious choice. When she used
magic she’d taken away conscious choice.

It was well into the evening and
Brenna, sipping Neemah’s foul tasting tea, finally decided she couldn’t resolve
the issue tonight. Besides, she had other worries. One more night and she’d be
on the way down – then the day after that they needed to get past Blackwall.
Brenna dumped the rest of the tea out beside the fire and lay down, wrapping
her bedroll around her. Just one more day and night, then she’d ask Kane if she
was making him do anything he didn’t want to.

Kane sucked in a lungful of cold
night air as he sprinted after Eryl. It was fully dark and the chill of winter
had definitely made its way into Kingsreach. Eryl stopped at the edge of the
alley and Kane reached out and touched the other man’s arm. They both froze,
listening intently. The sounds of pursuit were fainter but still there, back
and to the left.  Kane gestured to Eryl and they silently headed right.

They’d been in the Crooked Dog, as
usual, when one of Eryl’s lads had burst in shouting that the Kingsguard were coming
their way. As Eryl and Kane left by the back door they’d heard pounding on the
front. That had been half an hour ago. They’d been pursued by Kingsguard who
had been placed near the Dog and now they were trying to lose them. Kane
followed Eryl into a rough shack.

“We can hide out here for a while,”
Eryl said, leaning against a rough wooden beam, panting.

“No, we have to keep moving,” Kane
said, his voice low. “The longer we wait the more Guard there’ll be on the
streets. We have to get out of the Quarter in the next two hours.”

“Why two hours?”

“That’s how long it takes to rouse
men from the barracks and get them moved into position,” Kane replied. “I think
there are about eight to ten Guard following us right now. There will be
another twenty to thirty on duty and most of them will have been posted around
town, many in the Quarter. But the barracks hold over four hundred men. Once
they’ve been deployed I doubt we’ll be able to get past them all.”

“Can’t we find a safe place and hide
out for a few days?” Eryl asked.

Kane could only see the other man’s
outline in the dark but he heard the worry in his voice.

“If Thorold finds out that it’s me
he’s looking for he will tear down every single building in Thieves Quarter to
find me. There is no safe place in the Quarter. Maybe not even in Kingsreach.”
Kane touched his sword briefly. If he could contact Brenna she could find them
some help. He let his hand fall from his sword hilt. She’d be struggling with
the altitude right now - he would not put her in danger by asking her to use
her abilities while she was in the mountains.

“Come on,” he said to Eryl. “You
find us a way out of the Quarter. I have an idea of where we can go. Head
towards the river.”

It took just over an hour for them
to get out of the Quarter. Eryl’s path took them through back alleys and over
fences and once, across a steeply pitched roof. Kane knew that Brenna would
have had no trouble with any of it but he’d had to move slowly at times, trying
to muffle the noise of his sword and his boots so he didn’t give away their
position.

“All right,” Eryl said. “This is where
you take over.”

They had left the Quarter behind
them six blocks ago and now stood alongside the riverbank. The river looked black
as it murmured gently in the darkness. Kane smelled the rich, damp earth of the
bank. He eyed the sky.

“We have about another two hours
until dawn.” He looked from his torn and dirty clothing to Eryl’s. “We can’t be
caught out in the open when daylight hits. Not the way we look.” He sniffed.
“Or smell. Come on. Follow me.”

He kept them close to the
riverbank, making sure that both he and Eryl were under cover of trees and
shrubs as much as possible. They stopped once to let a dog nose around - Kane
held his breath and prayed to Jik for the dog to not bark. Eventually the dog
snuffled off and Kane and Eryl started moving again. Soon he reached familiar
territory and Kane stopped and looked around, searching for a specific landmark.

He hadn’t been here since his Uncle
Feiren was alive, since before he and Brenna had fled Kingsreach. He felt
sadness at his uncle’s death but when he passed under the large willow tree
that trailed branches into the river, he smiled. Many summer days of his
childhood had been spent sitting in the tree, watching the boats on the river go
by. Kane sighed and turned back to his task.

It should be close. He looked back
at the tree. It was hard to judge how far he had to go based on his childhood
perspective and it might have been lost when - after his uncle’s death - the
Brotherhood sealed the rest of the tunnels. No, there it was. Kane knelt down
and scraped twigs and dirt and leaves away. Then he pushed. He exhaled in
relief when the door started to swing inward.

“Here,” he said to Eryl. “Get
inside.” He followed Eryl in and pushed the door closed from the inside. They
couldn’t do anything about the disturbed ground in front of the entrance but at
least they were inside, out of sight.

“What is this place?” Eryl asked

Kane shuffled carefully past him.
If he was very lucky he would find a few things left by his childhood self.

“It’s a cave of sorts,” Kane said.
“It used to be part of a whole section of tunnels built by the Brotherhood. I
used to play here when I was a child.”

“Tunnels? Does this lead anywhere?”

“No. There is an old cave-in a few
hundred feet down the tunnel.” Kane held his hand out in front of him as he
moved slowly in the dark. He felt the high shelf he’d been searching for. “And
I never did find the cave-in when I started at my uncle’s house. Ah, there you
are.”

“We’re close to your uncle’s
house?’ Eryl asked, his voice rising.

“Yes. We’re a few hundred yards
away from the stables.” Kane brought the items down off the shelf - a stub of a
candle and a small flint and steel. “Do you have anything I can use as tinder?”

“We can’t stay here, Kane. We need
to get out now. Barton has this house now,” Eryl said.

“I know who lives in the house,
Eryl,” Kane said, his lips tightening. “And I can’t think of anywhere that’s
safer right now. As far as I know neither Thorold nor Barton know about this
cave. Even if they found some of the other tunnels, this one has been sealed
off for years. Now, do you have anything I can use for tinder?”

It had been a very long time since
Kane had tried to spark a flame in the dark like this but eventually some
shredded cotton from Eryl’s coat caught enough to light the candle. Kane looked
around at the smooth stone walls and floor and felt some comfort in knowing
that Brothers had built this many, many years ago. It gave him a sense of peace
and calm to know that all that history, all those men and women, had worked so
diligently to enable the events that were now taking place. And now their act
of creating this tunnel was sheltering him.

“Now what?” Eryl asked. He sat slumped
across from him, his coat pulled up to his chin.

Kane smiled - at least Eryl had a
coat, he had only a thick cotton shirt and vest.  And his sword and knife.

“Now we wait,” Kane said. “When it
gets dark we’ll decide if we should stay here or go somewhere else.” Carefully he
set the candle on the ground and slid down to sit beside it. “Might as well get
some rest.”

When Eryl’s breathing evened out in
sleep, Kane leaned over and blew  out the candle. No sense wasting it - there
was little enough left of the candle and who knew when they’d be able to get
another. As he sat in the dark Kane went over the things he’d left behind at
the Crooked Dog. There was nothing that directly pointed to him but there could
be enough to convince Duke Thorold that he’d been staying there. And that would
mean that the search would take days, weeks even. Sighing, he stretched his
legs out in front of him and closed his eyes.