The Rogue Knight (7 page)

“Oh, no,” Cole said.

“Renford showed up one day with five knights, all dressed in mismatched, secondhand armor. He challenged Brinkus, our alderman, to single combat. None of us really thought of Brinkus as a champion, though technically that was his job. He was an older man with a bad wing, forgetful and funny. His son asked him to step down and let him fight in his behalf, but Brinkus faced the challenge himself. And he died.”

“Making Renford your champion,” Cole said.

Twitch nodded. “Borus, the son of Brinkus, went to a neighboring village and asked to replace their champion. Their champion was no warrior, so he agreed to step down. You're not supposed to challenge a new champion for six months, so Borus waited the correct amount of time, issued his challenge, and died as well. Renford went on to challenge and defeat the champions of the other two grinaldi villages in the area. He really is a skilled fighter. His knights, mostly brothers and cousins, are capable as well.”

“So an outsider took control of your villages,” Cole summarized.

“Not just any outsider,” Twitch said. “A lazy bully. Many of the swamp folk came to live on our land. My family was thrown out of our home. Soon his knights exceeded the limit of twelve. They didn't take care of the land and property they confiscated. Tame fields grew wild. Livestock was wasted. Renford not only raised the taxes, but he increased them beyond what anyone could pay. No Ellowine champion is permitted to tax above fifty percent, but his fees came closer to eighty. The best of our workers could barely scrape by. When a group of our people protested, they were slaughtered.”

“What a mess,” Cole said, horrified.

“My people gave up,” Twitch said. “There weren't a lot of us. Many of our bravest were killed. I had to do something, but attacking the swamp folk myself would have been pointless. I was a kid, and not much of a fighter. I snuck out of Kasori and traveled to Wenachi, the last of the grinaldi villages, too small and too far away to interest Renford. I told them our problem, and they agreed that if I could find a champion, he could represent their village. So I left in search of a hero.”

“And then you got captured as a slave,” Cole said.

Wings trembling, Twitch bowed his head. “The grinaldi live in isolation. We never bothered with freemarks or bondmarks. We had no needle masters. In my desperation to find a hero, I forgot how dangerous the rest of the world could be. I was caught, marked, and enslaved.”

“You still need a hero,” Cole said.

“Finding one won't be easy,” Twitch replied. “I've tried. The few outsiders who even know about the grinaldi don't care about us. Our villages seem rich to the swamp people, but not to the champions of prosperous towns. I wasn't having much luck, so I went beyond Elloweer, hoping to bring back a great warrior from abroad.”

“What about Joe?” Cole asked.

Twitch shook his head. “Mira needs Joe. Besides, he doesn't strike me as a professional swordsman. The duels are structured to allow no enchanting. Only traditional weapons and armor can be used. Renford may not be good for much, but the guy can fight.”

“Then what's your plan?”

Twitch shifted uncomfortably. “I'm hoping Mira will let me have a share of the money Declan gave us. It might be enough to bribe a professional mercenary to serve as our champion. I need somebody with the skill to win, who also has enough of a life elsewhere that he won't want to stay on and replace Renford. A person could live well enough off the spoils of the grinaldi that it would be tempting to some.”

“A good enough life that the swamp people wanted it,” Cole said.

“But too lonely and modest for somebody accustomed to city living,” Twitch replied. He folded his wings neatly. “Now you understand my quest.”

“You have to succeed,” Cole said. “The others will feel the same way. You should tell them. I'm sure they can help you find the right champion. Joe knows his way around. He can make sure you don't get ripped off.”

Twitch paused. When he spoke, it was with thoughtful conviction. “You might be right. I've carried this secret for so long. I've always planned to keep my burden private until I found the right warrior. It feels surprisingly good to explain my mission to somebody.”

“We all need help sometimes,” Cole said. “You don't have to tackle this alone.”

Twitch smiled. “Thanks, Cole. Your lost friends are lucky to have you. I feel more hopeful than I have in a long time.”

“And I feel more sleepy,” Cole said around a yawn. “Not because of your story,” he added hastily.

“I'm with you,” Twitch said. “I'm worn out. It would be a shame to waste these beds.”

“First things first,” Cole said. “It's been too long since I had a bath.”

C
HAPTER

 7 

CONFIDENCE LOUNGE

T
he next day, Cole stood by the window, peeking out through the blinds at the street below, feeling sluggish after too much sleep. A knock at the door startled him. Twitch went to answer. “Who is it?”

“A friend,” came the reply.

“Joe,” Twitch muttered, opening the door.

Joe entered the room looking cleaner than Cole had ever seen him. His gray leather jacket and jeans had been replaced by dark trousers, a maroon shirt, and a gentleman's coat with a stylish cut. His face was shaved, his hair neat.

After peering out into the hall, Twitch closed the door.

“We were worried about you,” Cole said. “We didn't know who you were going up against. Looks like you won the fight. Nice outfit.”

Smirking, Joe glanced down at himself. “This new persona is part of my plan. When possible, I dress for my roles.” He tossed a couple of packages onto the bed. “I got the two of you new getups as well.”

“Did you catch up to the Enforcer?” Twitch asked.

“It took some time. We were both on foot, but he moved well. In the end, I put an arrow through his back. I tried to question him but he was already gone. I swiped a horse and made my way here as quickly as I could. I got in last night and spent the day running errands. At midday I met up with Jace by the fountain. He mentioned that you ran into some trouble, Cole.”

“Horrible luck,” Cole said. “In West Carthage, I bumped into the slaver who brought my friends here and had me marked. I used my Jumping Sword to get away, but he swore he'd track me down.”

“Name?” Joe asked.

“Ansel,” Cole said.

Joe frowned. “Carries a sickle?”

Cole nodded. “How'd you know?”

Joe gave an impressed whistle. “You don't do it halfway when you pick your enemies. Ansel Pratt is one of the most ruthless slavers in the five kingdoms.”

“You know him?” Cole asked.

“Only by reputation. He's a man to avoid unless you have a lot of money and you need his services. If clients default on an agreement, his retribution is swift and brutal. Other slavers have learned to stay out of his way. Only a few traders can compete with the volume of slaves he moves. He and his people are trouble.”

“He promised to chop off my hand with the freemark and haul me back to the Sky Raiders,” Cole said. “I believe he'll try.”

“So do I,” Joe said. “That settles it. You have to come with Mira and me to the confidence lounge.”

“Where?” Cole asked.

“Most of the cities in Elloweer have one. East Carthage has three. They serve as meeting places where information can be exchanged with a degree of anonymity. Everyone who enters a confidence lounge has a seeming placed on them, so they don't look like themselves. Clients range from criminals to government leaders. I secured a reservation at the most exclusive lounge in town.”

“To get information?” Cole asked.

“That's part of it. Connections happen at confidence lounges. Deals get struck. Most seemings fade after a short while. I want to find somebody who can put a lasting seeming on you and Mira to render you unrecognizable—today, if possible. Too many people are hunting you.”

For the first time since Ansel spotted him, Cole realized there might be an alternative to hiding indoors for the rest of his life. “They can do that?”

“The right enchanter can,” Joe assured him. “I belong to a resistance movement called the Unseen. The movement wasn't strong in the parts of Sambria we traveled together, but there seems to be a decent presence here. I'm not supposed to tell any new people about our group without permission from two other senior members, but I don't see any way around letting you kids in on our secret. Permission will have to come later. I can't imagine I'll take too much heat for it. After all, we're on the run with Princess Miracle.”

“Have you met up with them yet?” Cole asked.

“We have secret ways of contacting one another,” Joe said. “I've seen some subtle signs of activity in the area. Last night and this morning I left marks around town for any of the Unseen to visit the Shady Lane Confidence Lounge this afternoon. If some members respond, there's a chance we can get the aid we're looking for.”

“When do we go?” Cole asked.

“I have a coach waiting,” Joe said. “I had initially planned to just bring Mira, since her face was the one I most worried about, but I expect they can accommodate an extra guest. Admittance is three gold ringers per person.”

“Three gold ringers!” Twitch exclaimed. “I could live for months off that much!”

“Good information doesn't come cheap,” Joe said. “We should go.”

“Do I need ringers?” Cole asked.

“I'll pay our entry fee,” Joe said. “You may want to carry some extra ringers, just in case, but leave your main stash here. Get changed and meet me downstairs. Don't bring the sword.”

Cole had restrung most of his ringers to a cord around his chest. He took off his shirt, and Twitch untied the cord. Opening the packages on the bed, Cole found a blue button-down shirt and black trousers. He put them on, then pocketed a few gold, silver, and copper ringers.

“Wish me luck,” Cole said.

“Hopefully, the next time we see each other, I won't recognize you,” Twitch replied.

Cole nodded, though the idea of looking like someone else was definitely weird. “See you later.”

Downstairs, Cole found Mira and Joe waiting for him. Joe carried a brown leather satchel. Mira wore a simple black dress with a red sash. Cole hadn't seen her decked out so girlie before.

“You look clean,” Mira said. “Our clothes have taken a beating since Cloudvale.”

Cole smiled, wanting to pay her a compliment, but unable to work up the courage. She looked a little too pretty. “This will be a new adventure.”

“We'll talk in the coach,” Joe said, leading the way to the door. They exited onto a small side street. “This way.”

Joe led them around a corner and down a couple of blocks. They reached a street bustling with people, and Joe turned again.

“Keep your head up,” Mira murmured. “Don't act like you're hiding.”

Cole hadn't deliberately bowed his head, but he realized she was right. He felt exposed. It would be just his luck to bump into a member of Ansel's slave caravan.

Joe ushered them up marble steps to the pillared entrance of a grand hotel. The lobby floor was a checkerboard of gold and platinum. Bright rainbows crisscrossed the cavernous space overhead. A sapphire-blue waterfall dominated one corner, the vivid water tumbling in slow motion. Cole realized that much of what he saw must be illusion.

They crossed the lobby and exited through doors on the far side. A uniformed attendant held the door open. Joe flipped him a copper ringer. “I'm Dale Winters,” Joe said. “I ordered a coach.”

“Right this way,” the doorman said, leading them to one of the horse-drawn coaches parked at the curb. The attendant opened the door to the coach, and Joe gave the man another copper ringer as he climbed inside. Cole got settled beside Mira, across from Joe. The door closed, and the coach started rolling.

Joe's preparation impressed Cole. Having a coach waiting at a different hotel from where they were staying felt like the sort of clever precaution a secret agent would take. “The driver knows where we're going?” Cole asked.

“He does,” Joe said. “Just as he knows we would prefer him not to observe us. He kept his eyes forward as we approached and boarded the coach.” Opening his satchel, Joe revealed three party masks. He gave the glittery silver one to Mira, the blue one to Cole, and claimed the black one for himself. “Put them on.”

Lifting the mask to his face, Cole pulled the slender blue chain around his head and slid one of the links into a hook on the other side. Looking out through the eyeholes limited his visibility a little. The mask covered all of his face besides his mouth and chin.

“Let's talk strategy,” Joe said. “In a confidence lounge, information is currency. We all need to play the game, or we'll stand out. Fortunately, we're from out of town and have juicy rumors that should be of interest. We don't want to mention anything about who we are, and we should avoid topics surrounding the High King or his daughters.”

“What about Honor?” Mira asked.

“Leave it to me to ask after Honor,” Joe said. “I'll also secure an enchanter who can manage long-lasting seemings.”

“Can I ask about my friends?” Cole wondered.

Joe paused. “I know finding them is important to you.”

“It's important to me too,” Mira said.

Joe gave a reluctant nod. “Keep it general. If the right opportunity comes up, mention that you heard the High King was sending new slaves with shaping talent abroad.”

“What rumors can we share?” Cole asked.

“Present nothing as personal knowledge,” Joe stressed. “Mention that you heard it from a reliable source, that sort of thing. You can talk about Carnag having fallen, and four hundred legionnaires visiting Skyport. You might vaguely mention shapecrafters. I'm interested to see if anyone knows about them. If somebody seems useful, share that Declan was flushed out from behind the Eastern Cloudwall. The information is good enough to work as currency, and it won't hurt Declan—the High King already knows he was there. Besides, it might help our cause to remind people that the Grand Shapers are still around.”

“Should we spread the word that the High King imprisoned his daughters?” Cole asked. “We could tell everyone he faked their deaths. Won't people be outraged?”

“Most will ignore it as a dusty old theory,” Joe said. “If our real enemies hear the rumor, they will move swiftly to crush it. The timing is wrong to reveal Mira's true predicament.”

“What else should we ask about?” Mira inquired.

“Keep it hazy,” Joe said. “Check for news. Claim to be from elsewhere. It will ring true because most of your info is from Sambria. Try to get a sense for what is going on in Elloweer.”

“Do you think Honor's power is running wild?” Mira asked. “Does Elloweer have a Carnag?”

“I imagine Honor's shaping ability is taking form much as yours did,” Joe said. “Quima certainly hinted that would be the case. This is the place to find out about anomalies in the kingdom. Keep your ears open and your comments guarded. You will be among expert gossipmongers. They will read into everything you share. Try not to lie. These are difficult people to deceive.”

Before long, the coach turned down a bare alleyway and slowed to a stop. Joe barely had room to open the door and step down. Mira and Cole followed.

They had halted beside an unmarked door set in an otherwise blank wall. Joe knocked, and the door swung inward to reveal a hulking brute with a bad haircut. “Do you have an invitation?” the bouncer asked.

Joe produced a card and handed it over along with a platinum ringer. “I had to add another guest at the last minute. I hope that's all right.”

Furrowing his brow, the goliath studied the invitation and the ringer. “One moment.” The door closed.

“I can stay with the coach if it's a problem,” Cole said, feeling like a party crasher.

“No,” Joe said. “I want to get you inside and permanently disguised. If it requires a bigger bribe, we can afford it.”

The door opened. “Request granted,” the big guy announced, stepping aside. “Welcome to Shady Lane.”

Joe, Mira, and Cole entered. Behind him, Cole heard their coach continue down the alleyway. The door closed.

They stood in a small, stone room with an iron door on the far side. Two of the walls had rows of dark slits in them. Cole thought the narrow gaps looked sinister. People might spy through them, or shoot arrows, or leak poison gas. How had he ended up in a place like this? It seemed like a mission for a trained spy.

An efficient-looking man, neatly groomed and well-dressed, patted down Joe, then Cole, and finally Mira. He backed away and murmured into a small grate beside the iron door.