was what I suspected, the drink also contained the same powder I’d used to put Mott to sleep, or worse. I turned around. “Where’s the room?”
He nodded to a flight of stairs. “First door on the right. Sleep as long as you want and maybe you’ll work for me later on.”
No, I wouldn’t.
Room eleven was unmarked as such, and the furnishings inside were simple, with nothing but a mattress stuffed with pine needles and moss. It was flat on the floor and had a thin blanket for a covering. I didn’t care. I sank onto the mattress, ignored the ends of the needles that pricked through the fabric, and fell asleep immediately.
Some time later, something creaked in the hallway and my eyes flipped open. The room was very dark, but I remembered seeing a candle in the corner. I started to roll toward it, then froze, certain I heard footsteps on the stairs.
My initial thought was that the tavern owner was finally going to bed, which signaled the time for me to have a good look around before deciding whether to stay, as Fink had suggested. But as I listened, it clearly wasn’t the owner, who was a large man and would have heavier, less cautious footsteps.
And more than one was out there. I lay still on the floor. My hand was inches away from my knife, but I didn’t reach for it.
In the hallway, I heard the hiss of the tavern owner, saying, “Yeah, that room. But be quiet. He didn’t take the drink.”
Everything fell silent. Waiting there, knowing what was coming, was torturous. But it had to happen.
The door creaked open, letting in only a sliver of light from the hallway. I could feel them around me, like snakes slithering into a room. One was near my head, and I wasn’t sure how many were behind me, maybe four or five.
I’m not sure what the signal was, but they moved on me in unison. I grunted as one stuffed a gag in my mouth. As soon as it was tied, a canvas bag went over my head, then a drawstring pulled tight at the end of it. Another bound my wrists behind me, and it took two of them to clamp down my legs to tie them. Someone took the knife at my waist and placed it at my neck.
“Give me a reason to use this and I will,” a man growled, his face near mine.
I nodded, very slowly, then a large man picked me up and threw me over his shoulder to haul me out of the tavern.
Wherever Fink thought I belonged, that was where we were going.
T hey laid me across the back of a horse and we rode out of Dichell. Once the roads became more pitted and uneven, I knew we’d left the city limits. And I doubted we were on a main trail because I felt tree branches occasionally brush against either side of me.
Other than that, I had no idea where we were going.
There was little conversation, and when someone spoke, it was almost always the man who had threatened me inside the tavern, so it was impossible to tell how many men were in our group. At least a half dozen, I guessed, but maybe a couple more. It didn’t really matter.
The knots around my wrists wouldn’t have been too difficult to untie, but this time, escape wasn’t in my plans. All I could hope was that they gave me a chance to speak before they killed me. Although as I thought about it, it was usually only after I began speaking that most people felt like murdering me.
I did manage to work the gag out of my mouth. I wasn’t going to yell and there wouldn’t have been much point in attempting it anyway, but the gag made it hard to breathe, especially because I was being carried facedown on the horse so my lungs were already compressed.
There were campfires wherever we stopped some time later. I heard the fires pop when they hit moist wood and I could dimly see their light from behind the canvas bag. Whoever rode with me did the disservice of pushing me off the horse with his hand. I landed on my feet, but since they were tied up I crumpled straight to the ground.
“What’ve we got here?” someone asked.
“That boy who was asking about
He nodded to a flight of stairs. “First door on the right. Sleep as long as you want and maybe you’ll work for me later on.”
No, I wouldn’t.
Room eleven was unmarked as such, and the furnishings inside were simple, with nothing but a mattress stuffed with pine needles and moss. It was flat on the floor and had a thin blanket for a covering. I didn’t care. I sank onto the mattress, ignored the ends of the needles that pricked through the fabric, and fell asleep immediately.
Some time later, something creaked in the hallway and my eyes flipped open. The room was very dark, but I remembered seeing a candle in the corner. I started to roll toward it, then froze, certain I heard footsteps on the stairs.
My initial thought was that the tavern owner was finally going to bed, which signaled the time for me to have a good look around before deciding whether to stay, as Fink had suggested. But as I listened, it clearly wasn’t the owner, who was a large man and would have heavier, less cautious footsteps.
And more than one was out there. I lay still on the floor. My hand was inches away from my knife, but I didn’t reach for it.
In the hallway, I heard the hiss of the tavern owner, saying, “Yeah, that room. But be quiet. He didn’t take the drink.”
Everything fell silent. Waiting there, knowing what was coming, was torturous. But it had to happen.
The door creaked open, letting in only a sliver of light from the hallway. I could feel them around me, like snakes slithering into a room. One was near my head, and I wasn’t sure how many were behind me, maybe four or five.
I’m not sure what the signal was, but they moved on me in unison. I grunted as one stuffed a gag in my mouth. As soon as it was tied, a canvas bag went over my head, then a drawstring pulled tight at the end of it. Another bound my wrists behind me, and it took two of them to clamp down my legs to tie them. Someone took the knife at my waist and placed it at my neck.
“Give me a reason to use this and I will,” a man growled, his face near mine.
I nodded, very slowly, then a large man picked me up and threw me over his shoulder to haul me out of the tavern.
Wherever Fink thought I belonged, that was where we were going.
T hey laid me across the back of a horse and we rode out of Dichell. Once the roads became more pitted and uneven, I knew we’d left the city limits. And I doubted we were on a main trail because I felt tree branches occasionally brush against either side of me.
Other than that, I had no idea where we were going.
There was little conversation, and when someone spoke, it was almost always the man who had threatened me inside the tavern, so it was impossible to tell how many men were in our group. At least a half dozen, I guessed, but maybe a couple more. It didn’t really matter.
The knots around my wrists wouldn’t have been too difficult to untie, but this time, escape wasn’t in my plans. All I could hope was that they gave me a chance to speak before they killed me. Although as I thought about it, it was usually only after I began speaking that most people felt like murdering me.
I did manage to work the gag out of my mouth. I wasn’t going to yell and there wouldn’t have been much point in attempting it anyway, but the gag made it hard to breathe, especially because I was being carried facedown on the horse so my lungs were already compressed.
There were campfires wherever we stopped some time later. I heard the fires pop when they hit moist wood and I could dimly see their light from behind the canvas bag. Whoever rode with me did the disservice of pushing me off the horse with his hand. I landed on my feet, but since they were tied up I crumpled straight to the ground.
“What’ve we got here?” someone asked.
“That boy who was asking about
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