Templar's Destiny (9780545415095) (3 page)

“I'm sorry, Fabienne. We mean the lad no harm. Give us direction an' we'll find the place on our own,” Bertrand said.

She slumped as if the very life had been taken out of her. “He's impulsive. It is all I can do to keep him here with me and out of trouble.”

In the end we stayed and ate a dinner of bread and cheese and drank strong red wine. The wine was not something Aine or I was accustomed to and after a few moments I felt a languor slip over me. When I looked to Aine her eyes had shut.

“It is market day tomorrow,” Fabienne explained. “You will have a good chance of blending in as you leave here. We will stay a few days before heading back to the estates, so that no one will wonder why we have come for so short a time.” She stood and took some blankets down from a shelf in the corner. “The Cochon is in old town. A full day's travel following the river.”

“We thank ye,” said Aine, whose eyes had popped open. Her cheeks had grown bright and warm with the wine's glow, and I stared a moment.

“You will not thank me if you are discovered there as a girl,” she said in a warning tone. “It is a very bad place.”

I was suddenly afraid that Aine's disguise would not keep her safe. “Mayhap ye should stay here, just for a bit,” I said. “We could go. Ye could stay an' we'd meet up with ye on the way back.”

“I go with ye.” Her voice was flat, and I knew there was no sense arguing. I had a fleeting thought that it might be best if I left her here before she could do anything about it.

Try it an' I'll black yer eye, as I've done before.

I grinned over at her, and she glared. I forgot that we were linked. It was something I would have to pay close attention to in the future.

Sleep was slow to take me, though Aine was softly snoring the moment her head rested on the pallet. We were settled in an alcove off the main room while Bertrand and Fabienne drank wine and caught up on common friends. I listened with half a mind, tired and yet consumed by the thought of Templars working with the King's men.

“I dare not get involved, Bertrand. I'm sorry. We are alone here. You know that I barely escaped the King's court without losing everything. Philippe went mad when Queen Joan died trying to birth the child. I am
tsigane
and gypsies are no longer safe anywhere near court. To keep what is mine, I must stay beyond the King's sight.” Fabienne's words drew me from my thoughts.

“But, Fabienne, Alexander —”

“Cannot protect us forever. He was able to save us once, but a second time … no. I am fine, but I worry about Gaston and Lisette. They are all I have.”

Silence hung a moment. “I understand. I'll ask nothing more than ye tell Alexander what ye have just learned an' that we head to the Cochon Rouge,” said Bertrand.

“I haven't heard from Alex for a long time,” she protested.

“But he
will
come. Ye know it in yer heart an' soul. If he is in this land, he will come to ye.” He quieted his words then. “Fabienne, Alexander trusts ye with his life. An' 'tis his life as well as others in jeopardy. He will come to ye, an' when he does —”

“Mamere?” Gaston's sleepy voice called softly.

The conversation ended, and Fabienne went off to tend to him. Not long after, I heard the soft shush of Bertrand's sleeping.

The dark was broken only by the flicker of candles, left to sputter and die. Outside the lash of the rain and the wind's howl made me glad to be where we were this night. I spoke the prayer of the Lord quietly as I stared at the rough, wooden beams above my head. What was a gypsy? And where were Torquil, the carving, and Alexander?

“Keep yer head down an' yer feet nimble,” Bertrand said as we stepped out of the dark alley beyond Fabienne's rooms. Aine and I would travel apart from Bertrand to avoid suspicion. “I will take a room under the name Monsieur LeGotte. Ask for me only when ye know none are about,” he continued.

I nodded. Aine was far away — not in body, but in mind. I watched her eyes dart to and fro looking for something. “Aine?” Bertrand said.

“Robert.” She reminded him of the name we had agreed to call her.

“Aye. I'm sorry, I forgot. Ye heard me, did ye no'?” he asked.

“Aye. Head down. Feet nimble,” she murmured, still craning about. The rain had stopped sometime in the night, but a fog hung over the Île de la Cité. The streets were filling with vendors who moved in and out of the mist like wraiths in a kirk yard.

“I'm off, then,” he said as he pulled his cloak up over his head and ducked deep into the cowl. “God go with ye both.”

“An' with ye, Bertrand,” I said, a chill running through me. The last time I had seen the Templar Alexander, we had parted with similar words. I turned to follow, albeit at a slower pace, but Aine stopped me with an outstretched hand.

“No' yet,” she said, moving off toward a cart filled with figs. I thought she wanted some, but she didn't seem of a mind to choose. I bought several, packing them away to break our fast later. Aine fussed with the edge of the vendor's tarp, lost in the far-off expression she had worn all morning.

“What is it? God's toes, lass, ye're driving me mad,” I said, exasperated.

“I thought for sure that he would be here,” she answered.

“Who —” I began, just as Gaston bolted around the bend, knocking me into the fig cart, much to the outrage of its owner.

I gave Gaston a sharp look. “Does yer mamere know ye are out?” I straightened the vendor's fruit and bought two more figs.

Gaston shrugged. “Come. I will take you a shorter way,” he said, and was off before we'd barely moved to follow. The road he chose wound along the banks of the Seine, off in the direction Bertrand had headed, but within moments we had turned away.

Gaston took us through a myriad of narrow lanes that snaked and branched throughout the city. As we moved, I drew a fine net of power around the three of us. Aine felt the change and joined my efforts, reinforcing the strands. The net would not hide our presence completely, but would blur our edges from the eyes of any who passed us. I felt the tingle of the net on my skin, and my heart began to race.

People traversed the twisting streets with little care that we were among them. For that I was grateful. “The men who seek you are new to the ranks of the Templars,” Gaston said over his shoulder, jarring me from my task. Gaston moved with his usual grace. His feet hardly seemed to touch the surface of the ground. It made me feel large and lumbering.

“How d'ye know?” I asked.

Aine's song rang strong and loud inside my head. It gave me the reach I needed to keep the net of power around us, but it also distracted me, for with it came an awareness of the animals in the trees and bushes. Only through concentration could I understand what Gaston said.

“They're young. No more than a year out of black robes. I know one of them — Zachariah. He came from our village,” he said.

We were passing through a stand of poplars, and the wind grew harsh, tearing at my cloak. With little thought I commanded the power to sit down upon it. At once the air grew still. “An' what d'ye know o' him?” I asked.

“It is no secret that Zachariah did not want to become a Templar,” he said. “His father is a minor noble who donated a tract of land in the northern provinces to the Order.”

“Why give up money and position to become a poor knight?” Aine asked. I fished out a fig from the pack and handed it to her, to help replenish some of the strength she'd used reinforcing the net of power.

“He is the second son and the land was far behind on the tax owed to the King,” said Gaston.

I understood and explained it to Aine. “There is no' enough money to support him or the land. By giving the tract to the Church they have taken care of two issues a' once. The Templars train, arm, an' support Zachariah, an' the debt accumulated by the land is no longer an issue. The Templars are under the Church an' as such pay no taxes.” As I spoke Gaston surveyed the woods, his eyebrow cocked at a quizzical angle.

“Do you find the weather to be strange today?”

I shrugged and changed the subject. “I canno' imagine anyone no' wanting to be a Templar,” I said. It had been the one thing I had wanted for nearly all of my life.

“I don't want to be one,” Gaston declared. “There are too many rules and too many eyes on you. And all that praying!
Non.
It is not something I want to do, ever.”

His reaction made me smile. Hadn't I felt the same way about the prayers? But to do what he did — stealing — I shuddered to think on it. He would lose a hand, if taken in by the law, and perhaps his life if caught by his victims. Either possibility was terrible and left me wondering what I could do about it.

We traveled for much of the day, stopping only occasionally for breaks. The sullen rays of the morning sun overtook the dense cover of cloud, and by afternoon it was too warm to stay bundled up in our cloaks. I peeled mine away as I walked, tipping my face to enjoy the warmth that had been rare of late, when all at once I slid into a vision.

Gaston crouching behind a screen. A great, wooden door closing, stirring the dust in its wake. A drawer opening. Red wax. A rolled parchment. A seal impressed on the wax.

I stumbled as the vision broke and felt Aine's hands steady on my arms and her song strong in my head. I blinked in the sunlight. This was the first time a vision had taken me while I was moving, and I had continued on without stopping.

“Are you all right?” Gaston asked, slowing.

“Aye. I just missed my footing,” I murmured. The images were still strong within me, and I should have needed time to recover, but Aine's gift had taken it away almost completely.
Thanks
, I mindspoke to her.

Her eyes flashed to mine, and she nodded. “Best be careful,” she said aloud. “We have no time to turn an ankle.”

Gaston's pace resumed, and we trailed behind. “How often do they meet?” I asked.

“I see them mostly at week's end, when the sun sinks. The earliest arrive and drink in the tavern until the rest come, then they move to the upper room.” He glanced back at us. “Your timing is fortuitous. We can make it there before them if we hurry,” he said with a pointed look, and I quickened my pace.

“Will ye be marked if ye arrive with us?” I was trying to riddle through the images that had come to me and why. This seal had appeared in several of my visions, on a ring that hung on a chain. But why had I seen it, this time pressed into wax? And why was Gaston nearby?

“I do some chores for the innkeeper. Sweep up and fill the patrons' cups as they go dry,” he said. “My arrival will be of no notice to any.”

“Good,” I said. Aine seemed a bit slower and quieter than she had been for much of the day. I looked back and noted the sweat that dotted her forehead. My recovery had been fast, but Aine's was not quite that way. “Gaston, slow up. My ankle is aching a bit. Surely we will make it in time aplenty.”