Chapter 4

“I hate this. Where’s mom?”

“I’m sure he’ll let us out once we get where we’re going. I’m sure she’s fine.”

“You don’t know that.”

“No, I don’t know that. Mom’s tough though. Help me with this fire, dammit. I can't believe we're actually in a bag.”

“I know, right? What is this? Broken up furniture? Dad’s too lazy to chop some wood?”

“It’s a rocker and a crib.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“How do you know?”

“See this part? It looks just like yours did. He patterned it after yours.”

“Mine? My crib?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Chloe, I want my dad.”

“He’s here, Jaz. Right outside.”

“I know, but—.”

“Yeah, me too.”

“Wait, how’d you know it was my crib?”

“You slept in it until you were six.”

“Oh yeah. Well, it was comfy!”

Ned wobbled on his feet so he sat down abruptly on the floor of the red bag. The relief of his escape warred with his revulsion and disgust at the lives lost and the horror of what the duke had been prepared to do. But the duke was dead. He’d done it.

There was no joy in him.

It was quiet in the dim light inside, the illumination provided by a series of wall-mounted, glass-encased candles. There was sniffling and some quiet sobbing, but most stood around staring at nothing.

He felt a hand on his shoulder.

Ned looked up to see Jerome there with a strained smile.

Jerome patted him on the shoulder and offered him his other hand.

Ned took it and allowed the former cop from Philly to help him up.

“Thanks,” he said.

“No, man,” said Jerome. “Thank you. I should’ve bounced a year ago. I’m not sure why I stayed as long as I did.”

“Dude, you’re a black cop,” Ned said, rolling his eyes. “Working within the system to improve it sounds alien to you?”

Jerome laughed. “I suppose not.”

“You’re okay?” asked Ned.

Jerome nodded. “I’m okay.”

Ned said to the room, “Everybody okay? Anybody hurt?”

“Some bumps and bruises so far as I can see, you delightful boy,” said a familiar voice, and Dara Furlong shuffled herself through the crowd. “Though I’m glad I wore my brown panties today.”

Ned laughed and pulled the old woman into a hug. “It’s good to see you, Dara.”

Dara patted his cheek. “Had an escape wagon all ready to go, we did. We knew you’d put paid to the old duke at his party. We planned to help extract you.”

“We?”

Dara smiled and shook her head. “Me and some friends,” she said, gesturing behind her where a few people Ned had never met waved at him. “Business partners and associates. The guilds are a bit upset with royalty right now though our involvement isn’t exactly official, if you get my meaning.”

“Enough said,” said Ned.

“Mr. Cartwright?” said another familiar voice.

Ned looked down at Bossi Greenfeet. He squatted down and the halfling embraced him warmly. “Call me Ned. I’m not your teacher anymore.”

Bossi smiled and held up one of his pamphlets. “Yes,” she said. “You are.”

Ned didn’t know what to say to that but was saved from having to do so when Gritta Stone, his brawny dwarven blacksmith, cracked his back with a hug. Myca was right behind her, also wanting a hug, and behind him was Ola Needlebottom. She looked like she was on the verge of tears.

Ola had blonde curly hair the color of sawdust. She cut it short, just below her ears. Like the duke’s other prisoners, she wore colorless rags. The squirrels had her pegged as a spy for the duke before she’d even arrived at the Namastery all those months ago. Ola’s parents were heavily in debt to Duke Leonart and he controlled their whole clan utterly.

They’d kept an eye on her as Ned did his best to teach her carpentry and fed her information they didn’t mind the duke knowing. As far as any of them knew, Ola had no idea they knew about her and what she was doing.

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Ned squatted down onto his heels so he could look her in the eye. “Are you okay?” he asked.

Ola nodded, her big eyes overflowing.

“I’m glad they got you out of there,” he said. “Do you know the woman with the hammer?”

Ola shook her head.

“Ola,” said Ned. “I need you to know something, okay? I know you worked for the duke. I know you had no choice. I taught you and you were really one of my students anyway. Really. I just kept you out of certain classes. I know you didn’t have a choice and I know you’re a good person.”

Ola crashed into him, sobbing.

He held her close. “The duke was going to kill you anyway to get to me.”

Ola nodded into his chest.

“Sounds like him,” Ned said. “If he knew we’d uncovered you as a spy, he was showing us how ruthless he could be. If we didn’t know, well, you were still one of my students.”

“Sounds about right,” said Jerome.

Bossi patted Ola’s back and murmured in her ear and after a while, when Ola was calmer, Bossi led the other girl away to sit and have something to eat.

Ned and Jerome went around getting people to sit, giving them something to eat. Some of them asked what was happening outside and where they might be going.

At first, Ned wasn’t sure what to tell them. He and Hughie hadn’t discussed it. Originally, they thought Ned would just hop in the bag afterward and Hughie would fly them out of town. Maybe back to Fort Smith. Ned didn’t think he was going to live through the assassination attempt so it hadn’t mattered to him.

Still, Hughie had to be going somewhere and, now that Ned thought about it, it would have to be a place that could absorb several brand-new rebels with some degree of safety. That could only mean one place.

“We’re going to Thornwall?” asked Jerome.

Ned nodded. “Gotta be,” he said. “Probably. Almost certainly. I can’t think of any other place Hughie could take us.”

“You don’t know?”

“How could I know we’d be taking so many? Did you get your Rebel notification yet?”

“Yeah.”

“Sorry.”

Jerome snorted. “It was overdue.”

“Monarchy sucks.”

Jerome nodded. “Monarchy sucks,” he said.

“Have you seen the woman with that hammer?” Ned asked.

“Not since she got in the bag.”

“She’s in here, right?”

“Could your bird have taken her out without you knowing?” asked Jerome.

Ned shrugged. “I have no idea. I’ve never been in a bag with anybody else before. Heh. I'm kinda in my own inventory. Sorta. No, I guess I'm in Hughie's.”

Jerome nodded up at the trapdoor above. “That’d have to open, right?”

“Yeah. He’ll knock…. Oh, shit.” Ned stood up. “Hey everybody!” Ned said to the room. “Hughie will knock on the trapdoor before he opens it to let us out and, no, I have no idea when that will be. It shouldn’t be too much longer. An hour or two at the most. When he knocks, close your eyes. Don’t look at the trapdoor, okay? It’s probably not like it would be if this was a normal bag of holding. I don’t think you’ll go insane. I think I fixed that but I can’t be sure, okay? So, don’t look. Just to be sure.”

There were nods.

Jerome leaned over to Ned and said, “Why don’t you just ask everybody for the lady with the hammer? I mean, announce it. That was some badass shit she did. By herself! I’d like to meet her too.”

“I dunno,” said Ned. “If she doesn’t want to talk to me, I’m not about to force her or force everybody else to do it. That’s not quite a thank you, is it?”

“I guess not,” said Jerome.

They were quiet for a few moments. Long enough for Ned to snort out a laugh.

“What?” said Jerome.

“It's like we’re all stuck in an elevator,” said Ned.

“Yeah, kinda, only with no muzak and more trauma.”

“Yeah.”

“What the fuck am I gonna do in Thornwall? Isn’t that still controlled by the crown and we’re all rebels?”

Ned shrugged. “It’s complicated,” he said. “King Kax killed Lord Thornwall for betraying his duty and letting monsters through to attack Wyere. Well, okay, to attack the Namastery and Treetop City mainly, but that’s still part of Wyere, dammit, and the monsters rampaged well outside of all that. Anyway. When I left, Colonel Manard was in charge with Lord Kax as his second. Technically, Manard’s loyal to the king, and the truce between the wardens and the squirrels is temporary, but I have no idea how His Royal Majesty, King of Wyere will see it. Maybe they’re all rebels by now too.”

“Holy shit.”

“You hadn’t heard?”

“Nope.”

“Well, there are openings in the Wardens for fighting types and there’s the town at the northern end for the peaceful types. Hell, maybe the orcs will adopt some of these folks too. They could use some bodies.”

“Orcs?”

“Yep. Good people. Quite an eclectic bunch in Thornwall. I hope they’ve made progress against the goblins.”

“Goblins?”

“Yeah. Some matrons got through the wall and began a siege from both sides. We think we got all the warrens cleared on this side, but couldn’t be sure.” Ned lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “I really should’ve stayed longer maybe but I had counts and dukes and a king to kill.”

“Yeah,” said Jerome. “So you have no idea what we’re getting into when we get there, do you?”

“Not a clue. Welcome to the rebellion.”

Ned made his rounds, offering food, drink, and some blankets from his bags to those who seemed to need it. He helped a few into hammocks with some nervous hilarity.

Everywhere he looked for a woman with a hammer. There were just shy of twenty people in the room, so it shouldn’t have been difficult to find her.

Eventually, he found the big maul tucked behind a man dressed in black.

“She asked me to look after it for her,” said the man.

It was a gorgeous weapon with a long, thick haft, and a broad rectangular head about the size of a classic mailbox. It was a kind of marbled green and gold metal, carved in runes, with the striking pad shaped into a pyramid to give it some penetrating power. It was heavy enough that even though Ned could lift it readily enough, there was no way he could swing it effectively in a fight.

“Who did?”

“I don’t know her, Mr. Cartwright.”

“Call me Ned.” Then Ned looked at the man again. “Wait a second. Aren’t you the fucking hangman?”

The man nodded. “Samwell,” he said. “I didn’t have a choice, Mr. Cartwright.”

Ned rubbed his forehead and sighed. “It’s Ned, Samwell. Though I don’t want to hear that excuse again.”

Samwell held up a pamphlet. It was one of Ned’s older ones and it had been opened and closed so many times, the paper was tearing along the folds. “I know,” he said.

Ned nodded. He almost asked the former hangman about the woman but checked himself. He started looking for her thinking she might be amenable to a private meeting. She was a hero and people wanted to meet her. If the woman was going to the trouble of hiding from him and everybody else for some reason, well it was like he'd told Jerome, who was he to drag her out into the light? Was that something he should do because he was curious? Violate her privacy and her wishes because he felt like it?

It smacked of hypocrisy. What was he doing this for if not for everybody's freedom and the right to a private conscience?

If the woman with the hammer wanted to speak with him sometime, well, he’d welcome her and thank her for his friends’ lives. And his own, for that matter. If she hadn’t rescued Bossi, Dara, and the others, Ned had no doubt he’d be dead or in the duke’s dungeons. He owed that woman quite a bit and chasing her down seemed unfair and unwarranted.

She would come to him, or not, in her own time. He had to be content with that.

Ned sighed and continued to circulate among his guests.