Chapter 8:

  The Village

  “We should wait a night.”

  It was the fourth time Ean had said it. Chadwick let out an exasperated sigh. Asali ignored him. Roarke kept walking. Ean ran a few steps to catch up with him.

  The ex-general didn’t even glance his way. “Your opinion has been noted.”

  Ean felt the burn of frustration in his chest. “How am I supposed protect the Prince if I can’t scope out the town? One night. Wait here one night and let me evaluate any potential threats before going in.”

  Chadwick shoved past him. “You’re the only threat here. There is a perfectly serviceable town up ahead with a hot meal, a cold ale, and a warm bed. You’re not keeping us from that.”

  “If you claim to be Leo’s friend, shouldn’t you be thinking of his safety?” Ean retorted.

  Chadwick whirled around. For a second, Ean thought he was going to swing at him, but Leo intervened, pulling Chadwick away with a hand on his shoulder. Ean gave him a taunting smirk; Chadwick glowered back.

  Leo spoke up, his tone resolute. “Let’s not be overly cautious. We’re still in Eastmere, and Northpoint is a well-known village. All pilgrims stop there on their way to the healing springs. It’s hardly an enemy strong hold.”

  “Robbers and bandits live in Eastmere too,” Ean argued. “Waltzing into town, after dark, means we’re going in blind. I’ve been hired as your bodyguard, so let me do my job.”

  “You’ll get to scope out the town when we walk through it,” Roarke said. “And there’ll be some daylight left for you to get a good look.” He nodded up ahead where a wooden sign had been posted, indicating it was only a mile to Northpoint.

  Ean glanced at the sky. The sun was flirting with the horizon. They would reach town before nightfall, but barely. He scowled. “We should wait a night.”

  “For the crown’s sake, let it go,” Asali groused.

  Ean’s response was clipped. “If this goes to shit, I’m dancing on your graves.”

  “You’ll be the first to die,” Chadwick returned, “seeing as you’ve sworn to protect us all.” He sounded pleased at the thought.

  Ean dropped back before he broke his oath to the Prince by breaking Chadwick’s nose. His jaw clenched over a few choice words. He hated being unprepared, but there wasn’t time to be caught up in anger, not when he had a job to do. Since he couldn’t survey the town, he’d have to think defensively. He dropped his pack to the ground and pulled his short swords from his back. He shoved them into the bag, followed by his thigh knives. That left the two long knives around his waist as the only visible weaponry on his body, an acceptable amount for the road. If there was a threat in the village, he wanted to look like a simple traveler, not an overly-armed bodyguard. He refastened his pack and ran to catch up with the others.

  They reached Northpoint as the sun started to set. It was a proper village, not the paltry collection of barns that had made up Bridgewater. There were thirty houses on the main road along with a smithee, an herbalist, two mercantiles, and three pubs, one of which was connected to a poorly disguised brothel. The streetlamps, oil lanterns posted on tall iron stakes, provided plenty of light for the road but cast deep shadows in the alleys between the houses and stores. Ean’s fingers twitched.

  He counted over forty townsfolk in the street: men returning from a day in the fields, women with baskets of freshly washed laundry, small children playing in the road. Their party was met with raised hands and hearty shouts of welcome. The children took off at a scamper, running across the square and into the largest building in the town: the village inn and tavern. They emerged with three men.

  The smallest of the men led the group. His hairline was receding and there was a paunch at his belly. His clothes were surprisingly fine, a silk tunic and velvet doublet. Ean pegged him as the innkeeper. The other men were younger and rougher. They had the look of laborers, but their clothes were just as fashionable. Ean wondered if they had been trying to impress a pretty serving maid.

  “Hello, hello, hello!” the innkeeper proclaimed in greeting. Roarke took a step forward and was immediately accosted by a vigorous handshake. “Welcome to Northpoint. I am Gervis Burrows.” He released Roarke’s hand, slightly pink from the pressure, and traveled down the line. “Hello. I am humbly at your service. Such a pleasure to have you. Best of evenings to you, hello. I’m Gervis Burrows.” He sustained his rattle of pleasantries until he had shaken each of their hands, then stepped back and propped his hand on his hips. “You’re the first traveling party to arrive this season. We thought the rains would keep everyone home for another week or two, but here you are.” He smiled, too wide for Ean’s comfort. “You are traveling to the springs, yes?”

  “That’s the plan,” said Roarke. Ean hadn’t realized how drawled his accent was until it was contrasted with the whippet-fast speech of the innkeeper. “I trust you have some rooms for us, and maybe a hot meal?”

  “Yes, of course, absolutely. Come in and make yourselves welcome. Randall and Carter will help with your bags.”

  The younger men stepped forward with nods and smiles. The others were eager to surrender their packs, but Ean held onto his. He followed the party into the front hall of the inn. A small desk stood beside the staircase leading up the second floor. Gervis opened a ledger, thumbing through until he found his last entry.

  Footsteps clattered on the stairs. A boy appeared, his face marked with spots and his limbs gangly with new growth.

  “Ana said there were travelers!” His voice cracked on his exclamation, and he turned to Gervis with round eyes. “It’s my turn, isn’t it?”

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  Gervis’ mouth thinned. “Hold your tongue in front of our guests, Craven.”

  “But it is, isn’t it?” Craven persisted. He joined Gervis by the desk and stared at the party with a greedy sort of excitement.

  “What did I just say?” Gervis scolded.

  “Boy’s just wound up,” Randall commented from behind.

  “And forgetting his manners.” Gervis cast a stern look at the boy, who ducked his head.

  “Sorry, Father.”

  Gervis lifted his eyes to Randall and Carter and Ean turned to follow his gaze. Both men nodded in agreement although no words were spoken. The back of his neck prickled. He hated silent conversations.

  “I do apologize for my son,” Gervis said, addressing the group. “The children don’t get much fun around here, so they’re always begging to be the one to ring the bells. It’s how we announce travelers. Most of our business comes from parties like yours, so everyone will come to the tavern tonight to try to sell you their goods.” He chuckled and nodded at his son. “Go ahead. Ring the bells.”

  Craven let out a whoop and ran outside. Gervis turned back to his book. “I’ll give you my best rooms at a discount, since you’re the first to make it in. How many will you be needing?”

  “Three,” said Roarke, ambling forward and pulling out his purse. They bartered a few minutes because Gervis’ so-called discount was the same price as a fine inn in Balucia. Ean had no doubt that the rates were even higher when the town was packed full of pilgrims.

  Outside, the bells started ringing, a warm, round sound, pitched at a harmonic third from each other. Ean glanced out to watch the town rouse itself at the noise. Doors were opened and neighbors called out. More lanterns were lit. Ean didn’t like that they were now the center of attention, but it would offer some measure of protection against the less-reputable members of town. It’d be hard to pick a pocket when there were dozens of eyes about.

  “Gervis Burrows!” A tall, matronly woman swept in from the tavern. She had a strong jaw and graying hair that she wore in an intricate knot at the back of her head. “Are you haggling these poor folks over a few coppers when they’ve been on their feet all day?” Despite her sharp tone, she greeted Gervis with a kiss and a smile. “They’re hardly litter-born royalty.”

  Ean’s eyebrow twitched against his will. Flora laughed, a forced, flat sound.

  Chadwick gave a more convincing chuckle. “People don’t actually get carried in litters to the springs, do they?”

  “There were three last year,” Gervis said with a shake of his head. He gestured to the woman. “This is my wife, Bruna. If there is anything not to your satisfaction, she will work her wonders to fix it.” He turned to her. “The two suites on the second floor, and the blue room on the third, I think.”

  She nodded. “I’ll send Junia and Charity to air the rooms out.” She smiled at them. “Take your time to settle in and wash up. Dinner will be in the tavern when you’re ready.”

  She left, calling for her help, her skirt rustling as it trailed on the floor behind her. It was masterfully embroidered with lilies and moon-drops. Like Gervis’ and the other men, her clothes seemed out of place in such a rustic town. Ean wondered just how much they cheated their guests.

  Gervis handed over three keys. “Randall and Carter will show you up.”

  “Our thanks,” Roarke said.

  They followed the two men up the stairs to the second floor and waited in the hall while the rooms were prepared. There was a momentary standoff when Chadwick balked at the room arrangements.

  “I’m not letting Leo alone with him,” he hissed at Roarke, jabbing a finger at Ean.

  “He can protect Leo better than any of us,” Roarke whispered back. “That’s the reason the King sent him with us. And he can pass for Leo’s servant far better than you can.”

  That was true. Ean’s traveling clothes were well made, but plain and undecorated. The others wore garments that had been tailored to them, embellished and embroidered to their own personal styles. No one would mistake them for a servant.

  Chadwick’s face pulled tight. “If he so much as touches Leo, he’s dead.”

  Ean caught his gaze, slowly reached out, and poked Leo in the shoulder. Chadwick snarled and leapt forward. Roarke caught him as Ean snickered and pulled him into the back suite before a scuffle could break out. Flora and Asali followed the two girls up to the third floor, which left the front room to Ean and Leo. It was clean, spacious, and well-furnished, but he didn’t like that the group was so separated. He would have preferred the smaller rooms if it meant they’d be next to each other.

  Leo unfastened his cloak and hung it on the peg beside the washstand. “You shouldn’t tease Chadwick so much.”

  Ean gave a non-committal grunt. Chadwick was an easy a target.

  There were two beds in the room, one large, built in a sturdy frame of pine, the other narrow and stacked on wooden pallets. It was clearly meant for a servant. Ean dropped his bag on it.

  Leo poured water from the pitcher into the basin and began washing his hands and face. “Chadwick’s over-protective. If you would let things cool down, he’d get more comfortable around you.”

  Ean didn’t really care about Chadwick. “Are you comfortable around me?”

  Leo paused. Ean could see the moment he wanted to lie, but he caught Ean watching him and settled on the truth. “Not entirely.”

  Ean nodded. It was what he’d expected, but it still made his chest pang with guilt. He wondered if it’d ever go away.

  Leo finished washing and stepped back for Ean to do the same. He scrubbed quickly and then followed the Prince out of the room. Chadwick and Roarke were waiting for them in the hall. They headed down to dinner.

  It was loud and crowded in the tavern. Gervis had been right, the whole town had gathered inside. Their arrival was met with a cheer and several tankards were raised to them.

  “Over here!” Gervis called. He sat with several men at the best table in the room, the one closest to the fire. Ean preferred tables next to the wall, better for sightlines and to keep his back defended, but they couldn’t refuse the invitation. Ean glanced quickly about the room, assessing for any obvious dangers. The lighting was dim. Low rafters threatened the top of his head. Thick columns of pine stretched from floor to ceiling to support the weight of the inn above. The room was an assassin’s dream. Plenty of places to hide, plenty of deep shadows to move in, and full of noisy, rowdy people.

  Ean pushed passed Chadwick to sit next to Leo. He didn’t like this place.

  “How are the rooms?” Gervis asked. “Are they to your liking? Is there any need we have not met? The women of your group ordered a bath. I could have one prepared for you later tonight.”

  “We are most comfortable,” Leo reassured him. “And a bath would be appreciated, but perhaps tomorrow morning, before we depart.”

  “Leaving so soon?” Gervis asked.

  “I’m afraid we must.”

  “Is your quest so dire?”

  “Aren’t all journeys to the healing springs a matter of life or death?”

  Gervis nodded. “So they are.”

  “We were forced to leave our mounts in Bridgewater,” Chadwick said. “Do you know where we can purchase replacements?”

  “Teller is your man,” said Gervis, pointing out a burly man at a far table. “His barn is the one across the street. His family has been raising ponies for the past hundred years, and not one of his animals has ever missed a step.”

  It was high praise, likely exaggerated, but they would need the ponies regardless.

  “Now, tell us the news,” Gervis said, motioning for the other men to lean in. “What has happened in Eastmere since the autumn?”