strolled casually across it.
There were no street lamps in this narrower lane, between two high-walled estates. The only light came from the small tan Creature Moon, rising now without its larger companion.
If not for the livid glow of the magica horse, I wouldn’t have been certain the cart was still ahead of me. But thanks to Lady Ceciel I was sure, and set off after it.
There was enough light, as my eyes adjusted, to make out the occasional gate set into high stone walls, an alley to my left, a lamp post looming…a lamp post? But it was, its glass case barely visible against the dark sky.
Magica phosphor lamps don’t ‘go out’ unless the moss dries out and dies—or someone removes it. These streetlights had been put out, probably to obscure the presence of Master Roseman’s money wagons. One of which was getting ahead of me. I picked up my pace, confident that my soft footfalls would be lost in the creak of cart wheels and the clop of horseshoes on stone.
Hurrying, ’twas harder to avoid pot holes in the street, but I still noticed when the shadowy form of a man stepped out of a recessed gate in front of me. Moonlight gleamed on the blade of a drawn sword.
Grooms on errands in peaceful towns don’t wear swords. The largest knife that wouldn’t attract attention hung on my belt, but ’twould be no match for a longer weapon. Particularly in the dark, where he could swing for my dim shape and doubtless hit something important to me, while a knife needs more precision to strike effectively.
So I did the sensible thing and turned to run…only to find two more ominous shadows, with swords, behind me.
I knew I was trapped, even before the sword point pricked my back and a calm voice said, “Drop the knife.”
I didn’t think ’twould work, but Fisk would expect me to try.
“I got a message t’ deliver,” I said. “I don’t want no trouble. Any of you know where twenty-four Seaview Street is?”
I thought my Tallowsport accent was quite passable, but the sword point in my back only pricked harder. “The knife.”
Moving slowly, I pulled it from the sheath and cast it aside. Only then did the two men in front of me close in, one to bind my hands behind me, the other to search my person for any other weapons.
“Please, I don’t got but a few coins, and you can have ’em. But Mistress is going t’ be furious if I don’t get her message delivered.”
“Don’t bother,” one of them said. “Or you can go on, if you want, but it won’t do any good. The boss has had us out here almost a week, waiting for you. I’d begun to think he was finally going to be wrong about something.”
One of the others snickered, perhaps at the thought of the boss being wrong.
But how could he have posted guards to await me a week ago, when I’d only come up with this scheme about four days past? Mayhap they were looking for someone else?
“I think you’ve mistaken me for someone else.” I dropped the accent, since ’twas clearly useless. “What were your orders, exactly?”
“To bring in anyone trying to follow the tax cart,” the first speaker told me. “And that’s what we’re going to do.”
And so they did, leading me onward for several blocks before they turned down another dark lane, and then another. I thought about shouting for help, but having seen this town’s lack of reaction to a neighbor being beaten in front his own shop, I knew ’twould do no good. I’d lost all sense of direction, but the tall stone wall whose back gate we passed through looked very like the one that surrounded Atherton Roseman’s townhouse.
They took me in through the kitchen, and neither the cooks who were kneading dough to rise overnight, nor the scullery maids washing the dishes, seemed surprised to see a prisoner at sword point go past their workplace.
“Where’s the boss?” one of the men with me asked.
“Study,” a cook replied.
As we entered a well-lit hall, I noted that my captors moved in the
There were no street lamps in this narrower lane, between two high-walled estates. The only light came from the small tan Creature Moon, rising now without its larger companion.
If not for the livid glow of the magica horse, I wouldn’t have been certain the cart was still ahead of me. But thanks to Lady Ceciel I was sure, and set off after it.
There was enough light, as my eyes adjusted, to make out the occasional gate set into high stone walls, an alley to my left, a lamp post looming…a lamp post? But it was, its glass case barely visible against the dark sky.
Magica phosphor lamps don’t ‘go out’ unless the moss dries out and dies—or someone removes it. These streetlights had been put out, probably to obscure the presence of Master Roseman’s money wagons. One of which was getting ahead of me. I picked up my pace, confident that my soft footfalls would be lost in the creak of cart wheels and the clop of horseshoes on stone.
Hurrying, ’twas harder to avoid pot holes in the street, but I still noticed when the shadowy form of a man stepped out of a recessed gate in front of me. Moonlight gleamed on the blade of a drawn sword.
Grooms on errands in peaceful towns don’t wear swords. The largest knife that wouldn’t attract attention hung on my belt, but ’twould be no match for a longer weapon. Particularly in the dark, where he could swing for my dim shape and doubtless hit something important to me, while a knife needs more precision to strike effectively.
So I did the sensible thing and turned to run…only to find two more ominous shadows, with swords, behind me.
I knew I was trapped, even before the sword point pricked my back and a calm voice said, “Drop the knife.”
I didn’t think ’twould work, but Fisk would expect me to try.
“I got a message t’ deliver,” I said. “I don’t want no trouble. Any of you know where twenty-four Seaview Street is?”
I thought my Tallowsport accent was quite passable, but the sword point in my back only pricked harder. “The knife.”
Moving slowly, I pulled it from the sheath and cast it aside. Only then did the two men in front of me close in, one to bind my hands behind me, the other to search my person for any other weapons.
“Please, I don’t got but a few coins, and you can have ’em. But Mistress is going t’ be furious if I don’t get her message delivered.”
“Don’t bother,” one of them said. “Or you can go on, if you want, but it won’t do any good. The boss has had us out here almost a week, waiting for you. I’d begun to think he was finally going to be wrong about something.”
One of the others snickered, perhaps at the thought of the boss being wrong.
But how could he have posted guards to await me a week ago, when I’d only come up with this scheme about four days past? Mayhap they were looking for someone else?
“I think you’ve mistaken me for someone else.” I dropped the accent, since ’twas clearly useless. “What were your orders, exactly?”
“To bring in anyone trying to follow the tax cart,” the first speaker told me. “And that’s what we’re going to do.”
And so they did, leading me onward for several blocks before they turned down another dark lane, and then another. I thought about shouting for help, but having seen this town’s lack of reaction to a neighbor being beaten in front his own shop, I knew ’twould do no good. I’d lost all sense of direction, but the tall stone wall whose back gate we passed through looked very like the one that surrounded Atherton Roseman’s townhouse.
They took me in through the kitchen, and neither the cooks who were kneading dough to rise overnight, nor the scullery maids washing the dishes, seemed surprised to see a prisoner at sword point go past their workplace.
“Where’s the boss?” one of the men with me asked.
“Study,” a cook replied.
As we entered a well-lit hall, I noted that my captors moved in the
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