CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX
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Jameson Wicket
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28th of Decepter, 935 PC
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They were a mile down the river when Wicket said, “Ya got any family?”
“I did before I joined the Lotus Army,” Kit said. “I don’t know anymore. Haven’t seen or talked to them in a long time.”
Wicket had planned on using Kit as a way to piss off Lace but once he finally settled down he thought better of using a man as some kind of piece in a game. The truth of it was, Wicket might have held Lace off for a day or two but he knew men like Lace and he would have found a way to kill Kit and probably Wicket too eventually. So, he had Yormir help him load Kit up on Whiskey after Lace had gone to sleep and took him as far enough away that the asshole couldn’t find him.
“No messages then?” Wicket asked. Odds were low he’d ever actually relay them but it seemed like something to offer a man you were about to let die in the woods.
“Nah. I said everything I wanted them to know when they saw me off at the Cloudcruiser.”
“Everything, ay? Never been able to get all my words out,” Wicket said.
“Eh. Not so hard when there’s only three.” Frustrating decision to leave it at that, but Wicket didn’t ask. He had a guess, but the way Kit had sounded bitter sure made it seem like it might be the opposite.
The only sounds for a few minutes were those of the forest; birds chirping, squirrels and deer darting around like wildlife does when it’s startled, the river flowing around a bend on the other side of the trees.
The woods had always made Wicket nervous at night, so much so that Kit’s voice scared him when he finally talked again.
“There is one thing, I guess.”
“Just name it.”
“There’s a girl. A Lotus. Her name is Alana Hurd. She’s not long for this world either but if you ever come across her will you tell her thank you for me.”
“That it?”
“Aye. She’ll know what she did for me. Even if it ended up being a disaster. She has a way of doing that. Good intentions, bad outcomes.”
“Alana Hurd, reckon I can remember that.”
Wicket tugged on Whiskey’s reins as the trail curled around a group of hills and came to an end at the mouth of a clearing.
“Well, lookie there.”
What used to be a hell of an inn spread across the back of the clearing. It was long, tall, and clearly abandoned. Vines were growing everywhere, the door was hanging open, and all but one of the windows were broken. The forest owned the place now but he reckoned it might just let Kit borrow it for a few days.
He probably should have tossed the boy on the ground and went to get the others. A night’s rest in the warmth of some decent walls sounded nice. But, there’d be more walls for them. More nice beds. More good food. Not so true for Kit. The rest of them could do without for now.
Getting Kit off without hurting one of his two dozen wounds and injuries was impossible. He groaned all the way down, then put too much weight on his shattered ankle and toppled to the ground. He groaned some more down there too as he held his ribs and breathed funny.
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“Ah, shit. That had t’hurt. Sorry fella.” Wicket bent down and put his arms under the boy’s pits as he did all he could to get him on his feet without breaking him anymore than he was already broken. “There ya go. Lean on me. Don’t look like much anymore but I should be able to handle it.”
They hobbled down the path together, slower than snails, until they got to a red door that couldn’t keep a whisper out. Couldn’t keep the stench in either. Wicket didn’t need to see it to know they’d found some unlucky bastard that had chosen the inn for his last nights too.
“Ugh. Ya gonna be able to deal with that?” Wicket asked.
“Maybe we could get whatever it is out? If it’s not too much to ask.”
Wicket chuckled. “Ya mean, maybe I could get it out. You can’t stand on your own two feet. But aye, I reckon I can at least check it out.”
The door fell off its last hinge when he laid his hand on it. He tried to be gentle but sometimes gentle’s not enough.
It didn’t take long to spot what was stinking. Three bodies lay on the floor, face up, hands tied behind their back, chests ripped open. Wicket cringed, covering his mouth in disgust. Iris’ work. Had to be. She never let anyone but Rellin see how she took the magic out of a Purist’s soul. The scene didn’t make sense though, everything he and Alaric had ever learned about her pointed to the fact that she’d started doing this kind of stuff out in DuVale once she got her Cloudcruisers in the sky. A bring the work to her sort of thing.
He helped the boy into a rickety chair in the middle of the room and turned to the corpses. Three men. Each of them with a different expression on his face. The one in the middle was tough by the looks of it, probably went out cursing Iris up one side of the fence and down the other. The other two had been scared. Showed it in their own ways, but scared all the same.
“Is this… a harvesthouse?” Kit asked. “I thought the Lotus Queen did this kind of stuff in her castle now?”
Wicket ran his hand through his hair, leaving it on top as he stared at the gruesome sight. “I thought so too.”
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Once Wicket got the bodies outside the stench wasn’t so bad. Still though, Kit had asked if he could sleep upstairs. Wicket couldn’t blame him. He wouldn’t have been able to sleep knowing what was right outside the door either. If that’s what you’d call something leaned up against a door frame.
Seeing Kit laying down in the bed made him feel like he was tucking Cora in and getting ready to tell her a story. The ones about his time in White Hall were her favorite. He liked them too, couldn’t wait to get out there and make some more for her. He doubted Kit cared too much for a story though. The boy had a long walk ahead of him, probably just wanted to get on the road.
“Here, take my water,” Wicket said, knowing thirst would get him well before hunger.
Kit shook his head. “You need it more than I do.” True as true could be but still felt wrong leaving him with nothing but three dead bodies and a good chance of being the fourth. He pushed the waterskin at the boy again but Kit pushed it back. So be it then.
“For what it’s worth, Kit Spader, ya seem like a mighty fine fella. Would have liked having ya around but I can’t risk letting Lace get his hands on ya.”
“I understand,” Kit said.
“If I run into somebody I can trust I’ll send ‘em your way.”
“Thanks.”
Words kept falling out of his mouth even though it was clear Kit didn’t want to talk anymore. “And if I run into that Hurd gal, I’ll let her know you was thinkin’ of her. She had a good friend in you. I’ll tell ya that.” An awkward silence filled the room as they stared at each other. “Well…” He fiddled with the waterskin by his stomach.
“Thanks,” Kit said.
Kit breaking the silence made it a lot easier to speak some more. “Wish I could do more but Lace won’t have it and whether I like it or not I need that prick’s help. A shame we’re on different sides of the fence.”
“Well, you did plenty for having to reach over it.”
“Good luck, Kit Spader.”
“You too, Jameson…”
“Wicket.”
Kit’s eyes widened when he heard the name. “You’re…”
Wicket smiled. “The one and only. Not so bad after all, am I?”
“I got something else you can do for me then,” Kit said. “Fidera le’fi kulieres.” Wicket stared. “It means feed her to the wolves.”
Wicket nodded. ‘I’m workin’ on it.”