it.”
“But he has so many!” Her lips went thin and pale as lines of chalk. When her chin began to quiver, the fight seemed to leave him. His shoulders sank, and he sighed as if realizing that if he did not buy them he would face this fight at every gallows they passed.
Blushing, he leaned out the door. “I’ll give you twenty-five silvers for them,” he muttered.
“Your Grace? I’m very sorry, as I said, I do not wish to sell—”
“Fifty, then.” He made a wry smile. “You said your friend had only one of these, which proves you need only one to protect you. Keep one, and I’ll take the rest.”
Harric stammered, as if cornered by the logic, and Rudy bellowed something, but this time the revelers shouted him down, and sounds of a scuffle broke out on the porch behind.
“Here’s fifty silvers,” said the lord, handing Harric a purse and snatching six of the charms from Harric’s neck. Harric acted almost too bewildered to take the coins with one hand and close the other around one remaining charm for himself.
The lord beamed in satisfaction as he withdrew with the charms into the carriage. The driver secured the door and clambered back to his seat at the reins. “A pleasure reasoning with you, Sir Bastard,” said the lord from his window. “Gods leave you. And I wish you the best of luck in regaining your sense of smell.”
Harric hid his jubilation in a bow of humble acceptance. He glanced at the cliff above and saw a tiny sliver of sunlight on the highest outcrop.
The sun had yet to set. He had twenty cons.
He’d done it. And the moment he realized it, something cold and hard uncoiled from around his heart and left him. A darkness left him that he’d known so long he’d forgotten it was there. His mother’s curse, evaporating like morning fog. Gone. He’d done it. He was free.
Sweaty arms bear-hugged Harric from behind, pinning his arms and crushing the air from his lungs. “Wait, Your Worship!” Rudy yelled, as the carriage began to roll away.
Harric struggled in the embrace, twisting and kicking, but Rudy knew his tricks. It wasn’t the first time they’d struggled. A blow to the back of Harric’s head sent spots across his vision. Head butt. Rudy’s specialty.
“Leave him be, ye fat guts!” a reveler called. “Ye’ll spoil the party!”
“He shamed His Worship!” Rudy shouted. “Your Worship, see for yourself!”
The carriage halted before it had gone a pace. As Harric refocused his eyes, the lord appeared in the open window. Laughter from his recent triumph still lit his face. “What is this noise?”
“Your Grace,” said Harric, “this man’s a notorious drunk—”
Another head butt sent Harric’s ears ringing. A sticky hand clapped over his mouth.
“Worship, he’s been having you on. You look and see. He gots twenty of them charms under his shirt and they’re as cheap as dog teeth in these parts. When you leave he’ll bring ’em out and the whole porch will have a laugh.”
“That’s how he served my master,” said one of the saffron grooms. “Cheated at cards and stole away a prime slave.”
The lord’s smile faltered. His eyes flicked from Harric to the faces on the porch, and whatever he saw among the revelers made him flush with color. He rapped on the door and the driver descended to open it. The lord stepped across the gap to Harric’s cart, where he stood eye to eye with Harric, smoldering.
The porch fell silent.
“Is this true, bastard?” said the lord.
Rudy squeezed the voice from Harric. “Open his shirt, Your Worship, and you’ll see it’s true.”
The lord tore Harric’s shirt to expose a dozen additional charms on strings against his skin.
As if to confirm Rudy’s claim, a gust of laughter burst from the revelers.
Harric twisted his face from under Rudy’s hand. “These charms are of inferior quality—” he began, but Rudy bear-hugged the breath from him and left him mouthing the air like a fish.
The lord lifted
“But he has so many!” Her lips went thin and pale as lines of chalk. When her chin began to quiver, the fight seemed to leave him. His shoulders sank, and he sighed as if realizing that if he did not buy them he would face this fight at every gallows they passed.
Blushing, he leaned out the door. “I’ll give you twenty-five silvers for them,” he muttered.
“Your Grace? I’m very sorry, as I said, I do not wish to sell—”
“Fifty, then.” He made a wry smile. “You said your friend had only one of these, which proves you need only one to protect you. Keep one, and I’ll take the rest.”
Harric stammered, as if cornered by the logic, and Rudy bellowed something, but this time the revelers shouted him down, and sounds of a scuffle broke out on the porch behind.
“Here’s fifty silvers,” said the lord, handing Harric a purse and snatching six of the charms from Harric’s neck. Harric acted almost too bewildered to take the coins with one hand and close the other around one remaining charm for himself.
The lord beamed in satisfaction as he withdrew with the charms into the carriage. The driver secured the door and clambered back to his seat at the reins. “A pleasure reasoning with you, Sir Bastard,” said the lord from his window. “Gods leave you. And I wish you the best of luck in regaining your sense of smell.”
Harric hid his jubilation in a bow of humble acceptance. He glanced at the cliff above and saw a tiny sliver of sunlight on the highest outcrop.
The sun had yet to set. He had twenty cons.
He’d done it. And the moment he realized it, something cold and hard uncoiled from around his heart and left him. A darkness left him that he’d known so long he’d forgotten it was there. His mother’s curse, evaporating like morning fog. Gone. He’d done it. He was free.
Sweaty arms bear-hugged Harric from behind, pinning his arms and crushing the air from his lungs. “Wait, Your Worship!” Rudy yelled, as the carriage began to roll away.
Harric struggled in the embrace, twisting and kicking, but Rudy knew his tricks. It wasn’t the first time they’d struggled. A blow to the back of Harric’s head sent spots across his vision. Head butt. Rudy’s specialty.
“Leave him be, ye fat guts!” a reveler called. “Ye’ll spoil the party!”
“He shamed His Worship!” Rudy shouted. “Your Worship, see for yourself!”
The carriage halted before it had gone a pace. As Harric refocused his eyes, the lord appeared in the open window. Laughter from his recent triumph still lit his face. “What is this noise?”
“Your Grace,” said Harric, “this man’s a notorious drunk—”
Another head butt sent Harric’s ears ringing. A sticky hand clapped over his mouth.
“Worship, he’s been having you on. You look and see. He gots twenty of them charms under his shirt and they’re as cheap as dog teeth in these parts. When you leave he’ll bring ’em out and the whole porch will have a laugh.”
“That’s how he served my master,” said one of the saffron grooms. “Cheated at cards and stole away a prime slave.”
The lord’s smile faltered. His eyes flicked from Harric to the faces on the porch, and whatever he saw among the revelers made him flush with color. He rapped on the door and the driver descended to open it. The lord stepped across the gap to Harric’s cart, where he stood eye to eye with Harric, smoldering.
The porch fell silent.
“Is this true, bastard?” said the lord.
Rudy squeezed the voice from Harric. “Open his shirt, Your Worship, and you’ll see it’s true.”
The lord tore Harric’s shirt to expose a dozen additional charms on strings against his skin.
As if to confirm Rudy’s claim, a gust of laughter burst from the revelers.
Harric twisted his face from under Rudy’s hand. “These charms are of inferior quality—” he began, but Rudy bear-hugged the breath from him and left him mouthing the air like a fish.
The lord lifted
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