offense had earned him a stint in the guardhouse. The second offense had earned him ten lashes. Growing wiser, he had taken his games from the Guard quarters to the taverns, where his luck had finally run out. Caught cheating, his fellow gamesters had been for summary justice, but before they could carry out their sentence, Captain Drakken had intervened, dismissing him from the Guard and banning him from the city.
As an alias, it was a good choice, but he itched to find out why Oluva had felt such a deception necessary.
“That bitch Drakken may not want me, but there’s plenty of work for a man who can handle a sword,” Didrik declared.
“And who’s this?” Oluva asked, jerking her thumb toward Stephen.
“My cousin Jesper. My aunt asked me to ride herd over him, to keep him out of trouble in the city.” Didrik smirked.
“Setting a wolf to guard the lamb. Well, it’s none of my concern. Stay out of trouble and stay away from the palace.” Her eyes caught his and held his gaze. “You have no friends there, understand?”
Oluva made the handing for betrayal.
Didrik swallowed hard, not needing to feign his sudden fear. “I understand.”
“Enough chatter,” the unknown guard said. “Ride on, then, you’re holding up these honest citizens.”
Didrik nodded, not trusting himself to speak. He forced himself to ride off slowly, still slouched in the saddle, as if he was indeed the rogue he had claimed to be.
“What was that all about?” Stephen asked.
“Not now,” he growled. Not here. Not until he could find somewhere safe. And then he had to figure out what to do next.
His thoughts whirled around and around, but they kept coming back to Oluva’s grim face as she flashed that last sign. Betrayal.
It was his worst fear, come to life.
He could feel Stephen’s gaze boring holes into his back as he turned down the street that led toward the old quarter of the city.
Oluva had warned him away from the palace, and for now he would trust her judgment. But what had she meant by betrayal? Drakken was still Captain; her words had made that clear. If the palace was no longer safe, then why not? If there were traitors in the Guard, surely Drakken could set that to rights. More puzzling still, who was the target? Didrik? Stephen? Both of them? What possible threat could there be?
And where was Devlin in all this? A part of him longed to go back to the gate and shake Oluva until she gave him the answers he needed, flames take the consequences. If the new guard took objection to his tactics, Didrik could defend himself. But he knew that such was foolishness. He was not a raw guard, still flushed with the impetuousness of youth. He was a sober lieutenant of nearly thirty winters. Personal aide to the Chosen One. Oluva had warned him to caution, and cautious he would be, until he knew more of the situation in Kingsholm. Then, and only then, would he act.
Stephen suggested they lodge at the Singing Fish, but Didrik rejected that immediately. Stephen was too well known there. If someone was looking for them, it would be one of the first places they checked. Nor could Didrik turn to his own parents, who were bound to be watched as well. Neither of them could afford to go anywhere their faces were likely to be known.
A short distance from the gate, they left their horses at a livery stable. The owner, a woman of enormous girth called Selma the Fat, took one look at the shabby travelers and offered to sell the horses for them and split the proceeds. Didrik, his cloak drawn close to conceal his uniform, agreed.
He fully expected to be cheated by Selma, but that was all to the good. Selma would have no reason to mention just which two travelers had left the horses with her.
From there they made their way to a tavern along the river, though tavern was perhaps too fine a name for a place that could hold a mere dozen drunken sailors. But he knew there was an old storeroom, where the owner sometimes let folks down
As an alias, it was a good choice, but he itched to find out why Oluva had felt such a deception necessary.
“That bitch Drakken may not want me, but there’s plenty of work for a man who can handle a sword,” Didrik declared.
“And who’s this?” Oluva asked, jerking her thumb toward Stephen.
“My cousin Jesper. My aunt asked me to ride herd over him, to keep him out of trouble in the city.” Didrik smirked.
“Setting a wolf to guard the lamb. Well, it’s none of my concern. Stay out of trouble and stay away from the palace.” Her eyes caught his and held his gaze. “You have no friends there, understand?”
Oluva made the handing for betrayal.
Didrik swallowed hard, not needing to feign his sudden fear. “I understand.”
“Enough chatter,” the unknown guard said. “Ride on, then, you’re holding up these honest citizens.”
Didrik nodded, not trusting himself to speak. He forced himself to ride off slowly, still slouched in the saddle, as if he was indeed the rogue he had claimed to be.
“What was that all about?” Stephen asked.
“Not now,” he growled. Not here. Not until he could find somewhere safe. And then he had to figure out what to do next.
His thoughts whirled around and around, but they kept coming back to Oluva’s grim face as she flashed that last sign. Betrayal.
It was his worst fear, come to life.
He could feel Stephen’s gaze boring holes into his back as he turned down the street that led toward the old quarter of the city.
Oluva had warned him away from the palace, and for now he would trust her judgment. But what had she meant by betrayal? Drakken was still Captain; her words had made that clear. If the palace was no longer safe, then why not? If there were traitors in the Guard, surely Drakken could set that to rights. More puzzling still, who was the target? Didrik? Stephen? Both of them? What possible threat could there be?
And where was Devlin in all this? A part of him longed to go back to the gate and shake Oluva until she gave him the answers he needed, flames take the consequences. If the new guard took objection to his tactics, Didrik could defend himself. But he knew that such was foolishness. He was not a raw guard, still flushed with the impetuousness of youth. He was a sober lieutenant of nearly thirty winters. Personal aide to the Chosen One. Oluva had warned him to caution, and cautious he would be, until he knew more of the situation in Kingsholm. Then, and only then, would he act.
Stephen suggested they lodge at the Singing Fish, but Didrik rejected that immediately. Stephen was too well known there. If someone was looking for them, it would be one of the first places they checked. Nor could Didrik turn to his own parents, who were bound to be watched as well. Neither of them could afford to go anywhere their faces were likely to be known.
A short distance from the gate, they left their horses at a livery stable. The owner, a woman of enormous girth called Selma the Fat, took one look at the shabby travelers and offered to sell the horses for them and split the proceeds. Didrik, his cloak drawn close to conceal his uniform, agreed.
He fully expected to be cheated by Selma, but that was all to the good. Selma would have no reason to mention just which two travelers had left the horses with her.
From there they made their way to a tavern along the river, though tavern was perhaps too fine a name for a place that could hold a mere dozen drunken sailors. But he knew there was an old storeroom, where the owner sometimes let folks down
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