Betrayal in the Highlands (4 page)

As the bitter winter snows began to pile up in the frozen far north, Edmund and Pond arrived in the temperate climes of Dardenello, a small coastal city as far away from the goblins’ mountains as possible. Tired and wearing little more than grubby rags, they trudged up the long cobblestone walkway leading to a magnificent manor house perched upon windswept bluffs overlooking the green sea.

“Are you sure she’ll give us lodging?” Edmund asked, taking in the colorful gardens around them. “Maybe we should continue on to the town. There’s bound to be an inn there.”

“The merchant we passed told us that the Baroness has a guesthouse,” Pond replied. “And you said you want to stay out of sight, right? Well, what better place to stay out of sight than here? Nobody will notice us on this estate, not like at a crowded inn.”

Edmund tried to smooth his unkempt hair and ratty clothes. “I don’t know.”

“It’ll be fine. Trust me.”

Pond banged the gold knocker against the manor’s richly carved double doors.

The doors opened to reveal a tall man in fine black attire, spine straight, shoulders back, expression emotionless as he noted Pond, and then Edmund, and then the assortment of weapons they had strapped across the top of what remained of their backpacks.

“May I be of service?” he asked, raising an eyebrow at Becky, now appearing every bit like a young grey wolf, rooting under one of the sculpted bushes lining the walkway.

“Yes,” Pond said in a noble tone. “We are looking for lodging for the wint—”

“Then perhaps,” the doorman interrupted, “you may wish to travel into Dardenello. There are several boarding houses that may suit you.”

Becky started digging, dirt flying into the air behind her.

The doorman scowled.

“Yes, my good sir,” Pond replied. “However, we were informed that Baroness Melody provides lodging to travelers.”

“Indeed. The Baroness has a guesthouse. However, it is reserved for individuals of a … certain means.”

Smiling politely, Pond bowed. “I understand that our appearance maybe a bit off-putting.” He gestured to the soiled remains of their clothes. “We met with some misfortune on the road. But I can assure you, Master Edmund and I—”

At the mention of his name, Edmund coughed. He stood a pace behind Pond and kept his face out of the doorman’s sight.

“We,” Pond went on, “are more than capable of paying for food and lodging at such an exclusive and beautiful estate.”

The doorman’s doubtful expression changed to surprise as Pond opened his hand, revealing a fistful of glittering sapphires as blue as the evening sky.

“We require lodging and privacy throughout the winter,” Pond said, stressing the word
privacy
. “A mutual acquaintance of ours and the Baroness’s indicated that she could provide us with both. Or were we misinformed?”

Closing his mouth, the doorman regained his composure. “And may I ask the name of your mutual acquaintance with the Baroness?”

Uh-oh!

Damn. I knew Pond couldn’t pull this off!

“No, you may not,” Pond said without missing a beat.

The doorman stood blinking at him.

“May I at least have your names, sirs?”

Pond’s smile shifted as though his precious time was being wasted. “You may call me Mister Pond.” He bowed again and then motioned behind him. “This is Master Edmund.”

Edmund inclined his head, still trying to keep his missing eye out of view.

“Perhaps we should talk to the Baroness directly,” Pond suggested.

“The Baroness is not present at the moment,” the doorman replied.

Pond’s expression turned hard. “It is not our place to know the business of the Baroness. Nor should a servant announce it to every stranger who knocks upon her door.”

Color drained further from the doorman’s already white face. “Yes … yes, sir,” he stammered. “You are quite correct. My pardon. My pardon, indeed.”

Pond rolled his eyes and turned to Edmund.

“Perhaps, sir, we should try elsewhere. The Prince must have been ill-informed.”

The Prince! Oh, brilliant! Very subtle.

You don’t give Pond enough credit. He plays the role of a nobleman better than King Lionel himself.

Before Edmund could answer, the doorman stepped over the threshold toward them. “Please, sirs. Forgive me. It is just, you see, your … your appearances …”

“We understand,” Pond replied. “As I said, we met with some misfortune along the road. Still, our appearances have had some unexpected benefits. We were not bothered by highwaymen more than twice. Further, as I indicated, privacy is our primary concern. Nobody pays much heed to wandering beggars.”

Becky’s head popped out of a bush, her nose covered in dirt. She barked, startling the doorman.

“Are you willing to assist us?” Pond asked.

“Of course, sirs. Please, let me show you to our guest quarters. I am sure they will be more than sufficient. You may speak with the Baroness when her schedule allows.”

“Splendid.”

Following a path of crushed red stone, the doorman escorted Pond, Edmund, and Becky across a well-manicured courtyard, past bubbling marble fountains and through an orchard of well-tended orange trees. Soon they came to a stately three-story building of white granite set apart from the Baroness’s opulent manor. Gargoyles glared from perches on the slate roof. The gilded front door was reinforced with iron straps.

“Your suite is on the top floor,” the doorman said, leading them into a grand foyer and up a wide, sweeping stairwell. At each landing, he unlocked and passed through another solid oak door.

This is a regular fortress!

Don’t fool yourself. You won’t be safe if Kravel and Gurding learn where you are.

The doorman led them to the third floor.

“Will you be joining us for meals, sirs?” He unlocked another door. “Or shall I have them brought to you?”

Inside was a lavish parlor, complete with parquet floors, sculpted pillars, and a huge fireplace in which a tall man could easily lie. A bowl of lemons on the mantle made the air smell sweet and refreshing.

Becky bolted into the room and leapt onto one of the chairs made of black walnut. The doorman’s expression became strained as mud from her paws covered the red satin cushions.

Pond set his weather-worn pack against a wood-paneled wall and strolled around the chamber, the slow thump of his dirty boots echoing in the frescoed ceilings that vaulted thirty feet overhead. He opened a door to the far right and peered in. He did the same to one on the left. He studied a bust of a dignified figure on a pedestal with evident disinterest; then he examined the heavy crimson drapes flanking a wall of stained glass windows overlooking the gardens. Turning to the doorman, he nodded.

“It is very pretty. The Baroness has superb taste.”

“Thank you, sir. I am quite sure she will like to meet you when her time allows.”

“We are at her beck and call,” Pond said, bowing. “But please, make sure we are not disturbed by anybody but the Baroness herself.”

“Of course, sirs. A chambermaid will be assigned to you shortly. If she fails to suit your needs—”

Pond waved a dismissive hand in a way that made Edmund want to laugh. “I am quite sure she will be extraordinary.”

“Yes, sir.” The doorman bowed. “I shall leave you and Master Edmund to your repose.”

He closed the door behind him.

When his steady strides had melted into silence, Pond and Edmund slumped into high-backed chairs resembling thrones.

“Have I told you how incredible you are?” Edmund asked, tossing his hands up in amazement.

“Not today.” Pond sighed as he kicked off his boots. Clumps of dirt fell to the elegant rug.

“Well, you are. Men-men-mentioning … mentioning a prince was a stroke of genius! And when you told him that he couldn’t ask for the names of our mutual acquaintances—brilliant!”

“It wasn’t difficult.” Pond stretched his legs. “My shop used to cater to noblemen. They all acted like that—snooty and self-righteous. The more you mistreat them, the higher the station they assume you are.”

Becky leapt from her chair and into Edmund’s lap. He grunted under her weight.

Ugh! She stinks. Bathing her is going to be another ordeal.

A bath! We should have asked where the bathhouse was!

We’ll find it tomorrow. Tonight, just relax …

“But you shouldn’t have used our real names,” Edmund continued.

“Sorry about that. It just came out, heat of the moment and all. Do you think it’ll matter?”

Despite finally having a roof over his head and being able to sit in an actual chair, Edmund’s heart sank.

“No,” he said with an effort, not sure if he actually believed it. “We’ll be fine.”

Hopefully …

Edmund looked around. Never before had he been in such luxurious quarters.

“I could get used to this,” he said.

“Oh, I don’t know.” Pond put his hands behind his head and leaned back. “All somebody ever really needs is four walls and a solid roof to keep the rain out. The rest is just gilding the lily, don’t you think? Still, it is nice, and we deserve to be waited on for a bit.”

Edmund followed Pond’s example and kicked off his mud-caked boots. It felt odd just sitting there without having to strain his ears for the snap of a twig or the crunch of a leaf. Now that they were safe, it was difficult to sit still; out of habit, he kept scanning his surroundings, waiting for something to leap out at him.

“Months of running,” Pond muttered. “My entire body hurts, you know? I feel like it’s about to crumble to pieces. Thank goodness we arrived here when we did. I honestly don’t know if I could have kept going.”

Edmund’s gaze came to rest on the cabinets next to the massive fireplace. Through their beveled glass doors he could see wine racks with bottles lying on their sides. He shoved Becky off his lap and got up with a grunt, his tired muscles reluctant to move. Becky jumped into the now-vacated chair and curled up into a dirty grey ball.

“Would you like a glass of wine?” Edmund asked Pond, opening one of the cabinets.

“After what we’ve been through?” Pond laughed. “Forget the glass. Just bring a bottle!”

Chapter Four

By the time the third empty bottle fell rattling to the floor, the southern stars were twinkling in the indigo sky. Warm breezes carried the salty fragrance of the sea and the thunderous crash of waves through the open windows. On a settee in the middle of their extravagant parlor, Edmund and Pond sat snickering like schoolboys.

Before them, on a low table, they had piled their treasure from the troll’s lair; a small mountain of various gems and jewels shimmered in the flickering candlelight. Pond put the child’s tiara on his head and batted his eyes at Edmund.

“Well, hellooo!” he said in an exaggerated feminine voice. “I’m Princess Horgenswagle! It’s a pleasure to meet you!”

Giggling, Edmund tossed a matching diamond necklace into Pond’s lap. “You’d look better in this.”

Pond laughed.

“Do you know how rich we are?” he asked, alcohol slurring his speech. Hundreds of rubies trickled through his fingers. “We’re set for the rest of our lives!”

Drinking directly from the fourth wine bottle, Edmund polished an ancient wedding ring from one of the troll’s chests. Then, squinting, he read the words inscribed around its silver band:
True love never dies
.

So true.

“M-M-Molly … Molly is going to … to love this,” he said, trying to focus his clouding mind. “She’ll … she’ll leave that shoveler of horseshit … that mouth-breather, Norb, for sure.”

Pond flapped a hand at Edmund.

“Oh, forget about her. She doesn’t love you, not the … not the way you deserve … not the way you love her. Forget about her. You deserve better.”

“But I love her.” Edmund turned the ring every which way, examining the flawless white diamond in the firelight.

Pond made a scoffing chortle.

“You, you were married,” Edmund said. “Didn’t you like it? Being married, I mean.”

“Oh, I loved being married. Especially … especially at first. There’s nothing like being in love,” Pond said. “To woo a woman is one of the greatest feats a man can accomplish. That, and to raise children who aren’t brats.”

“So what about your, your wife?” Edmund asked. “Your kids? You … you love them. You must understand what I feel.”

Pond scoffed again. He leaned closer.

“I’ll … I’ll tell you something.” The tiara slipped from his teetering head and bounced across the floor. It came to a ringing clatter against Becky as she slept underneath the table. “I love my kids, love them! But I hate my wife.”

Red wine dribbled down Edmund’s unshaven chin.

“Why?” He handed the bottle to Pond. “Wh-wh-why do, do you hate your wife?”

Pond took a drink, and then another.

“Because.” He put his finger to his lips, urging Edmund to secrecy. “She … she cheated on me. Found her with another man. The witch. Do you know how embarrassing that is? Do you know what it feels like to be … to be treated that way? Ripped the heart right out of me. After all that I did for her … Witch.”

He took a third drink and handed the bottle back to Edmund, its remains sloshing around inside.

“You’re kidding.” But even inebriated, Edmund could see that Pond wasn’t; the pain on his face was too real. “What, what did you do?”

Pond’s head wavered for a moment.

“I killed him.”

The bottle stopped halfway to Edmund’s open mouth. Again he could see that Pond wasn’t joking. He blinked.

“Killed … killed him? How?”

Tears welling, Pond took the bottle from Edmund.

“Where I’m from, dueling is legal. In … in some cases, it’s expected. We have to act manly and all that crap.”

“Like infidelity? You have to duel when somebody is unfaithful?”

Pond stared at the candle on the table in front of them. The sweet smell of beeswax mingled with the black smoke swirling up from its bobbing flame. He nodded.

“That’s why I left. I just had to leave, you know? I was miserable. Absolutely miserable. I didn’t want to live anymore. Not like that, at any rate.”