Betrayal in the Highlands (23 page)

Abby whistled. “Wow! I didn’t realize adventuring was so lucrative!”

“It isn’t,” Edmund said, deciding what he wanted to do with the tome and the remaining treasure.

He finished his soup.

“Okay. This is what I want you to do tomorrow morning: Find a moneylender who has a safe to rent. We need a place to store the book, and I also want to deposit most of the money. We’ll take a few hundred gold pieces with us, I think, but leave the rest here.”

Becky crawled out from underneath Abby’s bed, waddled over next to Edmund’s chair, and flopped to the floor. Stomach distended, she licked the gravy from around her muzzle and sighed.

“Okay,” Pond said, “but you’ll need to come out with us and sign the papers.”

“No.” Edmund pushed his empty soup bowl away. “Put the money in your and Abby’s names. Pretend you’re married.”

He regretted these words as soon as they left his mouth. He regretted them even more when Abby wrapped her arm playfully around Pond’s elbow. They giggled. Edmund forced himself to look away.

“Anyhow,” he went on, “see if you can trade in one of the swords for something Abby could use. Something short and light: a long knife or a dirk. Anything.”

Still clinging to Pond’s arm, Abby sighed theatrically.

They’re just pretending. Don’t get angry.

But Edmund was getting angry.

“We’ll also need the things we left behind in our original room,” he said, trying to keep his voice even and calm.

“I can go get them,” Pond said, clearly enjoying having the beautiful young woman resting her head on his shoulder.

Abby fluttered her eyelashes and peered up at him adoringly.

“Good,” Edmund replied, more forcefully than he’d intended. “Why don’t you go get them now.”

Still laughing, Pond stood and squeezed Abby’s hand. Through mock sobs, she begged him not to leave.

They’re just playing. Pond would never—

You would have said the same thing about Norb.

Norb is an ass. Shame on you for comparing the two!

Guilt poured into Edmund, cooling his anger like icy water.

Pond opened the door and blew Abby a kiss. She caught it and held it to her heart.

“Hey, Pond,” Edmund called as Pond stepped out into the hallway. “I’m … I’m sorry about before, about abandoning you and everything. It won’t happen again. We’re family.”

Pond winked. “Until the very end.”

He closed the door behind him.

Chapter Twenty-Five

After Pond left, Edmund turned his attention to Abby and tried to have the same carefree conversations that she and Pond often had, chatting about everything under the sun. Yet he found it difficult to say things that didn’t sound stupid or contrived. He also couldn’t make her smile or laugh like Pond could. In the end, Edmund resigned himself to merely answering her endless stream of questions about goblins and ogres and the places he’d been while Fatty slunk off with the uneaten portion of Pond’s dinner.

“So they aren’t just stupid, boorish animals?” Abby asked, enthralled.

Edmund had just finished the story about killing the troll by the River Celerin, leaving out the part about the enlargement spell.

“What?” he asked, trying to estimate how long Pond had been gone. At least twenty minutes, he thought. But he couldn’t tell. He kept getting lost in Abby’s dark eyes.

Their original room was maybe fifteen doors down at the far end of the hall; it shouldn’t have taken Pond more than a few minutes to walk there, gather up their clothes and remaining supplies, and walk back.

“So trolls aren’t stupid?” Abby asked again, leaning forward. Her flawless apple-shaped face almost glowed with excitement.

Sitting on the now-soiled sofa, Fatty belched. Edmund could smell the acrid odor from across the room.

“No … no,” he said, compelling himself to concentrate on Abby’s words. “Actually, trolls can be very clever in their own way. And immensely persistent. Single-minded to a fault. Have you ever heard the tale of Sir Henry and the troll?”

Abby leaned in even closer. “No, I haven’t! Please tell me it. I love those old tales with knights and swords and …”

Edmund glanced at the door again. He thought he’d heard noise out in the hallway but decided it was only someone entering a neighboring room. Abby prattled on about how she absolutely adored everything to do with adventuring while the tightening sensation in Edmund’s stomach worsened. He stood, even as Abby talked. Becky, lying next to his chair and gorged from eating nearly an entire roasted chicken, begrudgingly got to her feet.

“What’s wrong?” Abby asked.

Fatty stopped gnawing on Pond’s steak. Shoulders hunched, he peered nervously over at them.

“I’m not sure,” Edmund said, eyeing the door. “Pond should have been back by now.”

“He probably just went downstairs to get another bottle of wine. We drank the last one last night. He was so funny!”

“You wanted me to teach you about being an adventurer.” He buckled on his sword belt. “First lesson is always trust your instincts.”

Edmund drew out an ivory-handled dagger from his boot.

Fatty dropped Pond’s steak to the floor and hefted himself to his feet, the sofa’s frame creaking in relief. He raised his hands to show Edmund he didn’t have anything in them.

“Keep this.” Edmund offered Abby the dagger. “Just in case.”

Abby took it as if receiving a glorious family heirloom. She appeared ready to stab someone right then and there.

“And d-don’t, don’t open the door unless you’re sure it’s either Pond or me on the other side. You’ll know it’s me because I’ll call myself Mr. Cooper.”

Abby’s fingers tightened around the dagger’s hilt. “Let me go with you! I can help!”

With Becky by his side, Edmund listened at the door and then opened it.

The hallway was deserted.

He glanced back at Abby.

She held the dagger with grim determination. The weapon seemed to suit her, like it was just another piece of jewelry the youngest daughter of the chief judicial officer for the Havenar providence would wear to a ball.

“Stay here with Fatty. If I don’t come back in ten minutes, both of you go to the common room and tell somebody you heard a commotion in our old room. Tell them to investigate. Do you understand?”

Finally comprehending what was going on, Fatty stepped in front of Abby, a gigantic mass between her and the open door. A dramatic scowl appeared on his pig-like face.

Abby stepped out from behind Fatty. “But I could—”

“Just do it, okay?” Edmund drew his sword. “Just do what I tell you.”

Fatty repositioned himself before Abby, arms out wide so nothing could get past him.

“And lock the door behind me.”

“Is that really necessary?” Abby said from under one of Fatty’s arms.

“Do it, or you’re not coming with us.”

“Fine!”

Edmund closed the door. A few seconds later, the lock clattered behind him.

He took a deep breath.

“All right, Becky,” he whispered. “Let’s go find Pond.”

Becky scurried about, sniffing, the sounds echoing through the empty hallway. For a moment she seemed preoccupied with some smell outside of Abby’s door. Then, lifting her head, she glared toward their old room. She snarled.

“Shhh.” Edmund stroked her neck. “Stick close.”

Together they stalked down the hallway, through patches of flickering lantern light and past the grand stairwell leading to the common room on the first level. Edmund briefly thought about running for help, but the thought of Pond sprawled on the floor, possibly bleeding to death only a few rooms away, drove him onward.

Their former room’s door came into view. It was closed.

“Okay, girl,” Edmund whispered, short sword at the ready. “Stay quiet, all right?”

They crept up beside the door.

Edmund listened.

Other than the distant rumble of the River Neven thundering its way along the bottom of the gorge, all was silent.

Sounds like the window’s open.

Why would Pond open the window?

He wouldn’t. Whoever’s in there is probably trying to cover any noise they make.

They …

He wondered how many people were in Edith’s “we” and whether they’d have crossbows. Again he considered racing down to the first floor for help but pushed the thought out of his mind.

Edmund nodded to Becky as he reached for the doorknob, a warped image of his hand appearing in its shiny brass.

Easy. Go nice and slow. Don’t make a sound.

The doorknob became slippery with sweat under Edmund’s tightening palm.

He turned it ever so slightly.

It wasn’t locked.

He pictured the layout of the room: three beds along the wall to the left, a large rosewood armoire to the right, a sofa in the center facing the door, and a small wooden table with two chairs by the window against the far wall.

Throw the door open. Make sure nobody’s waiting behind it. Remember, you aren’t alone. You have Becky with you.

Although little more than a year old, Becky was getting to be a big dog; Edmund could pet her head without bending over. Plus, she had a wolfish look about her; but it was the possessed glint in her manic grey eyes that made people uneasy.

Becky sniffed under the door then withdrew a step, lips twitching back to reveal her canines. Snarling silently, she stared with anticipation at the knob in Edmund’s clammy hand.

Ready?

Edmund threw open the door, ducked, and darted inside the room, keeping his back to the wall. Becky raced in, making a beeline for the sofa before skidding to a stop.

The room was dark.

Beyond the drapes drawn across the open window came the sounds of the bustling city and the roaring river. Dim lantern light trickled in from the hallway and fell across the feet of two people sitting calmly on the sofa. Growling lowly, Becky bristled at one of them.

“Where the hell have you been?” Edith said, snarling as much as Becky. “This isn’t a game, Edmund!”

Next to her sat an ashen-faced Pond, slumped over. Edmund took a step toward them, but deep shadows prevented him from seeing if Pond was still breathing.

“Let him go,” he demanded. “He hasn’t done anything to you!”

“Come in and close the door. We need to talk.”

“I can hear you j-just, just fine from here,” Edmund replied from the other side of the room.

Edith produced a curved knife from her sleeve and placed its tip against Pond’s throat. Pond didn’t move.

“Close the door or he dies,” she said.

“If you harm him”—Edmund tried to control his quaking voice—“I won’t help you. Ever. You need me. You, you said so yourself!”

Edith gnashed her teeth.

Not wanting to be trapped or struck from behind, Edmund inched backward and listened at the hallway, but all he heard were city sounds and the unceasing river from outside.

“Let him go—now!”

“Have you deciphered the runes I gave you?” Edith asked, the tip of her knife still poised at Pond’s neck.

Don’t lie, but don’t tell her the truth.

“To b-be … to be honest,” Edmund said, scanning the rest of the room, “I haven’t looked at them much. I’ve been preoccupied with the situation in Rood. I need to deal with that first.”

Edith shook with ill-disguised anger. “I need that document deciphered!”

“Then do it yourself!”

Raucous laughter from the patio outside floated up through the open window. Somebody applauded.

“If I could do it,” she said though clenched jaws, “we wouldn’t need you, now would we?”

Make her need you more.

“I’ll do it,” he said. An eagerness ignited behind her narrowing eyes. “But I’ll n-n-need … I’ll need time. I’ll get to it as soon as I return from Rood.”

“Fine. Until then, your friend will be our guest.”

Crumpled on the sofa, Pond still wasn’t moving.

“Release him now or I’ll never help you decipher your stupid document. You have my word on that!”

Good. Make her think you don’t know what this is all about.

Edith sneered at Edmund through the darkness, her breath coming in a hiss. “Never is a long time, Edmund. If you aren’t careful, you’ll find out what an eternity of misery feels like.”

The fingers of her free hand moved slightly. The still air around them glittered blue.

“You have no idea who you’re dealing with,” she said.

With a twist of her glowing fingers, the door behind Edmund slammed shut, plunging the room into impenetrable blackness. The lock clicked, barring his escape.

Somewhere out in front of him, Becky’s snarling intensified.

Quick! Get that door open! You can’t see a blasted thing! Get it open!

Fumbling for it, he cast his enlargement spell.

“Forstørre nå!”

The door shivered then burst outward as it enlarged, showering the hallway with a deluge of stone dust and wooden slivers.

Streams of dim yellow light returned.

Edith and Pond still sat on the sofa, unmoved.

“Very impressive,” she said in disgust. “But we know that’s all you can do. That, and make food and a little fire.” Edith laughed. Then a mutually beneficial notion seemed to occur to her. “You know, we could change that, Edmund. We could teach you spells you’ve never imagined. Real spells. Spells of power! You could be a magic user to be feared!”

“Let him go.” Edmund pointed his sword at her. “Let him go or, or I’ll never help you. I’d rather die!”

“Die?” she repeated, perplexed. “Death doesn’t have to come—not for you, or me, or for any of us magic users. Death is for the lesser humans, not us.”

Edith’s expression lightened at his puzzlement.

“You don’t know what’s happening, do you?” she said, savoring some sort of delicious irony. “You don’t know what this is all about.”

Edmund leaned forward, trying to check behind the sofa for any of Edith’s friends, but he couldn’t see much without entering the room farther.

“For some, an eternity can be a blessing,” she went on. “Pursuing all of life’s mysteries and splendors! It could be that way for you if you help us.”