Higher Power (Prophecy Of The Cataclysm Book One), page 10
Brandon cried out and Jesse spun around in his saddle in time to see the elf woman hit the ground on her back. She bounced to her feet before he could blink.
The wiry assassin launched off his horse and crashed into her. They rolled across the ground for several feet, and then stopped with Brandon on top. His knee was planted in the middle of the woman’s chest as he pressed the blade of a dagger to her throat.
“Hi, my name’s Brandon. What’s yours?”
She spit in his face and said something in elvish which Jesse did not take to be a friendly greeting. Brandon only grinned harder. “That was rude.”
With a sigh, Jesse slid out of the saddle and limped over to them. The woman’s pale gray eyes shifted in his direction. She bared her teeth and hissed at him. Jesse planted his hands on his hips. “Did we carry her all this way so you could wait until she was awake to kill her?” The question was asked only half in jest. Who knew what went on in the mind of a man like Brandon?
“I have no intention of killing her,” Brandon said, his gaze never wavering from the woman’s face. “Unless she insists on it. So what say you, lady elf? Shall I wet the road with your blood or do we call a truce?”
Her gaze shifted back to his. She stared at him a moment, her eyes narrowed, then she clenched her teeth and growled. “Truce.”
“Excellent.” Brandon got up and held out his free hand to her. “It isn’t every day I get the opportunity to meet someone whose skills match my own.”
The woman ignored the offered hand as she got to her feet. She took a step back, eyeing Brandon warily as she pressed a hand to her shoulder. “You threw the dagger?”
“Sure did.”
“Your aim was poor.”
“Oh, no, I hit exactly where I meant to. I didn’t want to kill you, otherwise, you know, you would be dead now.”
“Then why am I alive?”
“Killing without reason is murder,” Brandon said. “I’m not a murderer, I’m an assassin. What are you?”
“Depends upon what the situation calls for.”
Brandon laughed. “I like that. What’s your name?”
“Nephima.” Her gaze shifted to Jesse. “The others are dead?”
“Yes,” Jesse replied. “I’m sorry if they were your friends.” He had no problem with elves. Not even this elf, despite the fact that she had been intent on killing him only a few hours ago. But he did have a problem with Brandon looking at her like a little boy who had found a stray dog.
“Not friends. Just the people I happened to be with at the moment. Their deaths are no great loss to the world.”
“Why don’t you come along with us?” Brandon asked, as Jesse had feared he would. “Right now were in the middle of a job, but when it’s over we could take you back to Marigold. You
could join the Mercenary Guild there. A roof over your head, good food in your stomach, and much better pay.”
Nephima’s gaze again went to Jesse. “What say you?”
“Why ask me?”
“I know a leader when I see one.”
Jesse wasn’t expecting such words. He’d never considered himself a leader, although Manny treated him as one. And now Brandon was looking at him as if any moment he might start bouncing on his heels saying something akin to ‘Oh, please let me keep her. I promise to walk her and feed her and clean up her messes,’ so maybe he thought the same. It was a little unsettling.
He had no real desire to add the elf to his little group, but she was a woman and what little honor he had protested the idea of leaving her even though she could probably take care of herself as well as, if not better than, any man. He sighed.
“You can travel with us, if you want,” Jesse said. “But I can’t speak to you joining the Guild. That’ll be up to the Master.”
“Fair enough.” She glared at Brandon. “Where is my talisman?”
“You mean this?” He pulled a pale blue stone on a silver chain from his pocket. “Is it magical?”
“Not your business.” She held out her hand. “Give it to me.” He dropped it into her palm. She slid the chain over her head and tucked the stone beneath the collar of her shirt. “My weapons?”
“In my bedroll.” He went to retrieve it from the side of his saddle, then spread it out across the ground. “It’s an impressive array.”
“You searched me?” Nephima asked as she squatted beside the bedroll.
“Yes. But I was polite about it.” He watched as she began slipping weapons back into their respective places. “I’m nothing if not a gentleman.”
“You should worry less about being a gentleman and more about finding a dagger stuck between your ribs.” She removed the string from her bow, then folded the bow in half and stuck it into the quiver along with her arrows.
Brandon cocked his head to the side, eyeing her with a twinkle of amusement in his eyes. “I took all your bladed weapons.”
Nephima slipped a small pouch into the inside pocket of her shirt. “No, you didn’t.” She strode past him toward his horse. “I need a new shirt.”
Behind her, Brandon’s grin was so wide it seemed about to split his skin. Jesse rubbed the spot over his left eye. “I would imagine all the shops are closed by now.”
“Not to me.” Despite her small stature, Nephima easily pulled herself up into the mare’s saddle. She then scooted back far enough to allow Brandon to climb up in front of her. Once he was in position, she rested her hands on his shoulders.
Jesse limped back to his own horse and, with a little help from Manny, remounted. He had a feeling it was going to be a long night.
Havenessy was equal in size to Marigold, but here the sky was clear and sparkling with stars. This was a city of cobbled streets and cultivated parks. Of culture and class. Many Lords and Ladies resided within the Duchy of Monroe and Havenessy was their city. Thus it reflected a certain air of highborn gentility, for the most part.
Jesse’s little group rode down a street between shops which were closing up for the night. A few high bred faces eyed the newcomers disdainfully from the sidewalk. Nobles. Useless
creatures, the lot of them. Living their lives only for their own pleasure with no thought for anyone else. How he hated them.
A dark haired town guardsman in a gray uniform approached them. The man stopped while still several feet away, his gaze fixed on Manny. This reaction to his appearance never seemed to bother the wildling in the least, but it never failed to agitate Jesse. And he was not in the best of moods as it was.
“Can we help you?” Jesse asked loudly, drawing the guardsman’s attention to himself.
“I was about to ask you the same question.” He glanced at Brandon and Nephima before returning his gaze to Jesse. “Are you lost?”
“No,” Jesse said. “We know exactly where we’re going, but thanks for your concern.” He started his horse forward, but the man refused to give ground.
“The reason I assume you must be lost,” the man continued as if Jesse hadn’t spoken, “is because you’ve ridden horses onto Tradesmen’s Street. Horses are not allowed on Tradesmen’s Street. Normally the penalty for riding a horse here is a night in jail plus a hefty fine. However, you gentlemen don’t seem to be from around here so I’m willing to be a little lenient. After all, I’d hate to be forced to confiscate your horses in the event you were unable to pay the fine. So, I assume you’re simply passing through, right? In which case, I’d be happy to let you go on your way.”
Jesse’s fingers tightened around the reins. “You assume an awful lot, don’t you? Well, let me assume something. I assume the reason you don’t want our horses here is because you’re afraid they might take a crap on your pretty little street. And the smell of horse crap would offend delicate noble nostrils, wouldn’t it? As the sight of me and my companions offends their eyes. Right? Maybe we aren’t passing through. Maybe we have business here.”
The man frowned. “I can’t imagine what sort of business you might have in Havenessy, but I can assure you it won’t take place on Tradesmen’s Street. We have no taverns or brothels here. I think you’d feel more at home in Eastside. I’d be happy to accompany you...” His voice trailed off as his frown deepened. “Where did the elf go?”
Jesse turned in his saddle. The assassin was now alone on his mare.
Brandon looked over his shoulder, then gave them an innocently bewildered look. “What elf?”
“The one who was riding double on your horse,” the guardsman said.
“On my horse?” Brandon pressed a hand to his chest, his eyes wide. “I beg your pardon, sir, but your eyes must be playing tricks on you. Nobody is riding my horse but me.”
A muscle beneath the man’s right eye twitched. “But I saw her. Right there. Behind you. ”
Brandon sat up a little straighter. “My good man, I assure you there is no one sitting behind me. Unless elves can become invisible.” He paused as if startled by the idea. A comical expression of alarm crossed his face. He twisted around and probed the empty air with his fingers. Then he settled forward again, regarding the guardsmen with a curious expression. “Do you often see imaginary elves?”
Jesse had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing out loud as the guardsman’s face reddened.
“Move on,” the man said through clenched teeth. “And if your beasts befoul this road I’ll have you down on your knees licking the cobbles.”
It was all Jesse could do to keep himself under control as he walked his mare away from the guard. He could feel the man’s hot glare lingering on their backs as Brandon drew Blue Bell up
beside Lily. The assassin was once again wearing his trademark grin.
Jesse shook his head and chuckled. “Where is Nephima?”
Brandon shrugged. “I guess she went to get a new shirt.”
“I hope she’s discreet about it,” Jesse said.
“Did you see or hear her go?”
“No, I didn’t.” And Jesse found the idea a little unsettling.
“What about you Manny?” Brandon looked to the wildling. “You’re senses are almost as finely tuned as mine, did you notice her leaving?”
Manny gazed thoughtfully up at the stars. “She does move like a summer breeze. Unheard. Unseen. The wind spirit is strong within her.”
“That means no,” Jesse said. “But what about you, Brandon? She was on your horse, surely you knew she’d left.”
Brandon grinned. “If I didn’t know any better I would have sworn she was a figment of my imagination. I sure wouldn’t want to find myself on her bad side.”
That Nephima should have managed to slip away from Brandon unnoticed didn’t do anything to help Jesse’s feeling of unease. He found himself watching the shadows as they continued on toward the center of town.
Havenessy was built in a circular pattern, like a wagon wheel with each street a spoke connected to the central hub. The hub itself was a wide expanse of rich, green grass dotted with pale yellow flowers and surrounded by buildings which housed the city’s official offices and businesses.
In the center of the grass stood a statue of Sir Michael Havenessy, the courageous knight after whom the city had been named, sitting astride a rearing stallion. Jesse stared up at the statue of his great-grandfather and felt no sense of awe or reverence, only a deeply rooted desire to be anywhere else.
It was highly unlikely he would run into Count Dyson Havenessy on the street in the middle of the night. No doubt the Count was at this moment settling down to dinner with his family, snug and secure in their manor house. And even if, by some wild chance, the two should meet, they would pass each other as strangers anyway, having never seen each other. And yet, the idea he was so close to his father twisted Jesse’s stomach up into knots.
Nephima was sitting on the base of the statue with her legs dangling. She hopped down and strode toward them. She wore not only a new shirt, but a whole new outfit complete with leather boots and a lightweight cloak. Clothes which, judging by the fineness of the material, had likely been made for some Lord’s son. Boy’s clothes though they were, they fit her frame in such way it left little doubt as to whether or not she was a woman.
She caught Jesse staring and raised a brow. He looked away with a cough and rubbed the back of his neck to hide his embarrassment. He’d always had an eye for a pretty woman and, all cleaned up and better dressed, it was impossible not to see Nephima was just that. But seeing as how Brandon was clearly taken with her, Jesse had no intention of making a pass. No woman was pretty enough to warrant the risk of a knife in the back.
Brandon held out his hand to offer Nephima assistance into the saddle. She hesitated, then took his hand and allowed him to pull her up behind him. Once she was settled in, Jesse urged his mare forward. He was not eager to meet with Duke Victor, but the sooner he got out of this town the better he would feel.
On the other side of Havenessy the road turned to hard packed dirt. Towering oak trees lined
the way, their branches overhanging the road and turning it into a tunnel of shifting shadows. The sweet voices of the night birds mixed with the chirrup of insects accompanied the steady clump of the horse’s hooves. A hint of honeysuckle danced on the light evening breeze.
After a short time a stone wall, frosted in the silver moonlight, could be glimpsed through the tree line. The road branched off to the left, rising up a slight incline to a double gate emblazoned with rearing stallions. The estate of Duke Victor Lassard.
Now Jesse was here, he found himself at a loss. How was he supposed to get inside the gates, let alone arrange for an audience with the Duke? Ethan would likely be able to talk his way in, but Ethan wasn’t there and not one of Jesse’s current companions was apt to be helpful in this instance.
Before he could come up with a plan, a man in dark green approached from the other side of the fence. “Good evening. Can I help you?”
Jesse opened his mouth, hesitated, and found no decent lie forthcoming. “We need to see the Duke. It’s important.” He could have smacked himself in the head for saying something so stupid. As if such words would convince this man to let them inside.
The man motioned to someone off to the side whom Jesse couldn’t see. A moment later, the gates swung open. “Come in,” the man said. “I can certainly give you a place to rest yourself and your mounts, if nothing else. Whether or not the Duke will see you is his prerogative. Follow me.” He turned and started up the path toward the manor house.
“Well, now,” Brandon said cheerily, “wasn’t that easy?”
Jesse frowned at the man’s retreating back. “Yes it was.” He glanced down at Manny. “Keep your eyes open.”
Manny nodded.
The manor was all brown and white stone spread out across five acres of lush green lawn. Heavy curtains drawn across its numerous windows gave it a sleepy look. Like a fat toad dozing on a lily pad.
Lampposts lit the way as the man in green led Jesse and his companions around behind the house and down a gentle slope to the stables. Seven stables, to be exact, six of which housed the Duke's prized racing and breeding horses. Off in the distance, a sizable lake glittered under the moonlight.
A boy of about twelve sat in the stable’s open doorway, munching on an apple. A black mastiff lay on either side of him. Boy and dogs rose to their feet at the approach of the man in green.
“We have guests, Edward,” the man said. “See to their horses and then put them up in the loft.”
“Yes, sir.” The boy, who had a thick head of black hair and deep brown eyes, hurried to gather the horse’s reins.
Something about the boy was familiar, though Jesse was certain he couldn’t have ever seen him before. The man in green caught him staring curiously and spoke up. “He resembles the Duke, does he not?”
Jesse blinked. He’d seen the Duke a few times, standing on the victor’s platform after winning a joust or a sword fight, so he was vaguely familiar with the man’s face. No surprise he should have a bastard running around, it seemed most nobles did.
“Edward isn’t his,” the man said as if reading his mind. “He belongs to the Marquis. If you stay here for any length of time, you’ll see a few others with similar features. The Duke has been
cleaning up after his little brother’s messes for a long time. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll inform the Duke of your arrival.”
Jesse followed Edward into the stable. He leaned against the stall door while the boy unsaddled his mare. “Do you know who your father is?”
“Yes, sir,” the boy said. “Marquis Lassard.”
“And it doesn’t bother you to be mucking out stalls when by all rights you ought to be living in luxury like your brothers?”
“No, sir.” Edward slid the saddle off and hefted it over the side of the stall. “I like horses. Besides, Duke Victor treats me real good. Except for making me take schooling,” the boy wrinkled his nose. “I’d as soon pass on that, but Duke Victor says a man needs reading and writing and figures in order to make a place for himself in the world.”
“All that learning isn’t of much use to a stable hand,” Jesse said.
“Maybe not,” Edward pulled a curry comb from his back pocket and proceeded to brush the mare, “but then I don’t mean to be a stable hand forever. I got my eye on being head breeder some day. Duke Victor says I have an eye for good horseflesh. And then I’ll have myself a fine house. Not like a Lord’s manor, but good enough for me.”
“You really believe it will happen?”
“Yes, sir.” Edward nodded enthusiastically. “No reason to doubt. See, my brother, Philip, he’s all set to take over for the old account manager in a couple of years. So if Duke Victor would trust my brother to take care of his paper and such, I don’t see no reason he wouldn’t let me see after his horses. Duke Victor, he says so long as we learn and do right, we can be anything we want.”
Jesse was surprised not only by the words Edward claimed the Duke had spoken to him, but also by the reverent way he spoke of the man. It was obviously not put on for show, Edward clearly thought the world of the Duke.
