“Explain something to me, Royce,” Hadrian said as the two struggled up the slope. “Why did Maribor create picker bushes?”

“Did he?” Royce asked, fighting through a thicket of fallen deadwood, high grass, and a wicked snarl of the thorny bush Hadrian was taking issue with. “Thought he was just the god of men, not flora.”

“Oh, you might be right. Bet Evelyn would know.”

“With any luck, she’s long gone. I don’t think we’re going to find this place.” Royce paused to wipe his face with his sleeve.

That was when Hadrian knew it was hot. He, of course, was soaked with sweat. His shirt stuck unpleasantly to the center of his back. Worse, the material of his pants clung to his thighs, making it hard to move. Royce rarely perspired, but that day his hood was back, his forehead slick and shiny, his hair sticking. Two days before, it had felt like it might snow, but now summer appeared to have leapfrogged spring. Trudging uphill across sodden grass and through brambles as formidable as castle walls didn’t help.

“I get the strong feeling we’re wasting our time,” Royce said, waving a hand before his face to clear away the mini-storm-cloud of tiny black bugs. He turned and looked behind them to where the city of Rochelle spread out below. “It wouldn’t be this far out, would it?”

Hadrian shrugged. “We’re coming into a forest now.” He nodded at the staggered line of pine and spruce that grew just up the slope. The trees were gathered in small groups as if chatting about their neighbors, but farther on, they marshaled en masse, forming a dense forest that covered the base of a coastal mountain. “Was there a forest on the map? Do you remember?”

Royce shook his head. “No, but these trees are, what, thirty, forty years old? Probably been cut for firewood for generations. That map goes back hundreds of years. No telling what this place might have looked like then. The only positive thing is that it does make sense for Villar to be out here. The seclusion is ideal. I can’t imagine too many people coming up this way if they didn’t have to.”

Hadrian took advantage of Royce’s pause, and plopped down in the grass. At least the puddles left by the previous days of rain were cool. He scooped up a handful and wetted the back of his neck. Then he lay back and stared up at the blue sky and white clouds. “Beautiful day. Doesn’t seem right.”

“What doesn’t?” Royce asked, scanning the way ahead and not looking pleased.

“That such awful things should happen on such nice days.”

“You’d rather be up here in the rain?”

“I was thinking more about the people down there. You saw them this morning, all dressed up in their finest clothes. Been a long, dark winter. They just want a little happiness. And on the first good day in months what happens? It’s not fair.”

Royce gave Hadrian a puzzled look. “That’s so odd.”

“What?”

“Here we are, fighting brambles and slick, muddy slopes while trying to find a madman before he massacres hundreds, and your thoughts are focused on how unfair it is for the people having a grand time at a festival?”

“Why is that odd?”

“Why wouldn’t you think about us struggling in this heat against these thorny vines while breathing in these tiny black flies? Isn’t that unfair? Why can’t we be eating pork and dancing with ladies on such a fine day?”

Hadrian chuckled.

“What? Why is that funny?”

“It isn’t. It’s just I have this image in my head of you dancing. Can’t get past it.”

Royce frowned. “I’m just saying it’s strange that you feel sorry for them rather than us.”

“Well, I do feel sorry for you, if that makes it better.”

Royce clapped his hands together before his face, trying to kill some of the swarm that plagued him. “Why?”

“Because you can’t understand why it is I would feel sorry for them. Makes me think your world is very small.”

“Oh,” Royce said, sounding disappointed. “I thought you were going to say something else.”

“Really, what?”

Royce made a pfft sound, spitting as if the flies had invaded his mouth. He stepped back from the brambles, waving his hands before his face as he retreated. “Miserable little horrors. Why do they do that? Fly right into our mouth, eyes, and nose. It makes no sense. They can’t like it; I certainly don’t. There’s no benefit to be had, and yet into my mouth they go.”

“What was it you thought I was going to say?”

“Oh.” Royce washed a hand over his face. “I thought you might be on the verge of apologizing for volunteering to be a martyr last night.”

“Apologize? Are you kidding? I saved us.”

“Is that how you see it?”

“Is there another way?”

“You put me in a very unpleasant position.”

Hadrian sat up to face him. “Oh, I’m sorry. Were you the one tied up all night while a dwarf played with a knife, reminding you about his intention to slit your throat? ’Cuz I thought that was me.”

Royce was struggling, trying to extract something from his tongue with two fingers, a fly no doubt. He got something, peered at it in disgust, and gave it a flick. “You’re supposed to be learning from me. You can’t do that if you don’t listen.”

“Learn from you?” Hadrian said. “I think you’ve got that backward, pal. Arcadius teamed us up so I could teach you.”

Royce, who had moved on to cleaning his eyes, paused. “Did you just call me pal?”

“Yeah. It means friend—literally brother.”

“I know what it means.”

“So it’s just your hearing that’s going? If you want to talk about odd, that would certainly qualify. You have the most disturbingly acute ears of anyone I’ve ever met. Seriously, I don’t know how you sleep at night. The crickets must drive you insane.”

“It’s not the crickets . . . it’s definitely not the crickets.”

Hadrian smirked. “I would think that this job would have convinced you of the virtues of being a decent human being. Look at Roland. My friendship with him has helped us, not just once but twice. Being respectful to Evelyn has reaped huge rewards. And we lived last night because a long time ago I acted honorably.”

“Was that the same night you helped slaughter a town?” Royce asked. “And it wasn’t that long ago, was it? You’re not that old.”

“Because of nights like that, I feel old.”

“So, which was it?” Royce asked. “Were you saved because of a kindness extended to a girl? Or were you in jeopardy in the first place because you and your compatriots killed most, but not all, of the people during that battle?”

“It’s because I protected Seton.”

“Are you sure? What would you have protected her from if the town hadn’t been sacked? And if you hadn’t been so proficient with your sword, the other soldiers might not have granted her to you. Which makes me wonder, what actually made the difference, your kindness or your cruelty?”

“Why is it you choose to see the darkness in everything?”

“Because it’s there, and ignoring that fact invites peril.”

“But light is also there, and recognizing it allows happiness.”

“What good is being happy if you’re dead?”

Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

“What good is being alive if you’re miserable?”

Royce paused, and for a moment Hadrian was certain he had won. Royce was stumped, but then he tilted his head.

“What’s up, boy?” Hadrian asked. “You hear something?”

“Wasn’t funny the first time,” Royce said.

A moment later a woman’s scream came from up the hill.

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I’m not just going to kill her. Villar realized this with the perfect clarity that accompanied every mistake he had made while the noble cow hid to the side of the door. She had plotted to lock him in. He imagined her literally as a bovine with black and white spots. In his mind’s eye, he saw her standing on her back legs; a massive tongue licking the broad pink nostrils of her nose, waiting with hooves up and together, like a begging dog, hoping he would fall for the bait. The moment he opened the door, the second he rushed in so blindly, focused on her decoy of blankets and straw, was the same second she slipped out.

He almost fell for it.

The hair and the chain.

His mind had registered those two things as incontrovertible evidence that she lay on the floor near the back wall. How could he conclude anything else? If her neck wore a collar attached to a chain secured to a wall, the odds were strong the rest of her was there as well. His eyes and his mind had joined together in a conspiracy to betray him. If the room was bigger or the cow smaller, the ruse might have worked. The realization of how close he’d come to a fatal mistake was frightening.

As she lay on the floor screaming, Villar felt his heart pound from the near miss. He took a second to breathe, to calm down. Then he adjusted the grip on his knife.

She scuttled away, kicking out with her legs like a crab. When she rolled to her knees and started to stand, he grabbed her.

The duchess was no dainty woman, no slender flower. She equaled his height and outweighed him by twenty pounds. With a sharp lurch, she slammed her body against his, knocking him back against the wall, nearly throwing him to the floor. The assault also knocked the duchess off balance, and she went down to one knee.

He was after her an instant later, but the old cow threw everything she could find at him, including two of the heavy urns. One hit his hand, knocking the knife free. He grabbed it up just in time to see the duchess making for the door.

He was on her then, catching her in the middle of the room. One hand latched on to her butchered hair, pulling her head back, while the other brought up the knife. She continued to twist and kick until the knife reached her neck.

“Stop!”

Villar looked up as the two foreigners burst into the temple.

The smaller one had that white knife, the one that had stabbed the golem and somehow cut his chest. The other—the big one Seton had called the rasa—held two blades, one in each hand.

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“Kill her and you die,” Royce shouted.

A portly woman whom Hadrian assumed to be the Duchess of Rochelle was on her knees, panting, sweating, her head pulled back. Villar stood behind her, his left hand holding a fist of the woman’s hair, his right holding a dagger near her throat.

“Help me,” Genny Winter cried.

Irritated by the outburst, Villar pulled her head further back, causing the duchess to cry out once more.

“Drop your weapons,” Villar said.

Royce made a sound like he was clearing his nose. “Why?”

“Do it or I’ll kill her!”

Royce glanced at Hadrian. “Didn’t I already explain that if he kills her, I’ll kill him?”

“You did.”

“So, what is this idiot doing? Threatening us with suicide?” Royce asked.

“He’s under the impression you care about her life.”

“Really?” Royce chuckled.

“It’s an easy mistake. You did order him not to kill her, and, besides, he doesn’t know you.”

“Okay, sure, but even if I were someone else—I mean, why would anyone surrender? Would you? Even if that person cared if she lives, Villar is still at a disadvantage. It’s like trading pieces in chess. Sure, we would lose her, but then he loses the entire game. On the other hand, if we surrender, he’ll kill all of us and we get nothing. No one would take that deal. It’s stupid. Not to mention I’m going to get paid whether she’s dead or not.”

Hadrian focused on Villar. “That’s his way of saying we aren’t going to put our weapons down, but if you kill her . . . well, I’m sure you got the rest.”

Villar hesitated, the knife unsteady at the woman’s throat.

“You need to make a deal, boys,” Genny said, her voice steady. “Villar made you an offer, so now you counter. That’s how haggling works. So, now it’s your turn. What do you propose?”

Royce shook his head. “Don’t have to counter.”

“Yes, you do!” the duchess cried. “You want me to live, or we wouldn’t be having this conversation, right? Of course, right. But we’re at an impasse. So, you need to deal. Got it?”

“Whose side are you on?” Royce asked.

Her eyes widened in surprise. “My own, obviously. I want to live. Now listen.” She allowed herself to swallow; in the small room it made a sound they all heard. “I don’t want to die, but that’s beside the point because bizarrely this has nothing to do with me. It’s between the three of you. You don’t want him to kill me, and Villar doesn’t want you to kill him. That’s good because you both have something the other wants. Everyone can win here—even me.”

No one said anything as all three waited.

“Okay, good. How about this. Villar lets me go, and you let him go? How does that sound?”

Royce smiled. “Fine with me. Go ahead. Let her go.”

“There, you see?” Genny said.

Villar shook his head. “You think I’m an idiot? The moment I let you go, they’ll rush me. This won’t work! It’s stupid. We can’t make a deal. And if I’m going to die then I’m taking—”

“It’s not stupid!” Genny shouted as the blade pressed against her skin. “I can make any deal work. It’s what I do. Now shut up and listen to me.”

“I’m not letting you go so long as they can chase after me the moment I do.”

“Fine, fine. No problem. This will be easy.”

“It will?” Hadrian asked.

“Absolutely,” the duchess replied. “Villar? How would it be if these nice gentlemen and I got into the cell and you locked us in. That way, you’re free and no one can harm you.”

“What’s to stop him from—” Royce started.

“Shut up!” Genny shouted. “Whoever you are, please just be quiet.”

“His name’s Royce, and I’m Hadrian Blackwater.”

“How nice. Now Royce, Hadrian, please shut up and let me handle this, will you?” She forced a smile. “The two of you will keep your weapons—that way, you won’t be at Villar’s mercy. Locked in a room, sure, but safely locked in a room.”

“That’s not a very—” Royce began.

“Shush, I don’t want to hear arguments or counterproposals. We have a deal on the table. Will you agree?”

Royce looked at the door, huffed, then said, “Fine.”

“Hadrian?”

“Yeah, sure, why not.”

“Villar? You want to live, and so do I. This is a fair trade, a better-than-equitable exchange. My life for yours. Will you take it?”

Villar didn’t reply.

“Lower the knife and let me move back while these two enter the cell. Then I’ll get in. You can lock the door and just walk out.”

He still didn’t answer, but slowly, the knife moved away from Genny’s throat. She waved for Royce and Hadrian to enter the cell. “Gentlemen, if you please?”

Royce looked disgusted but stepped in. Hadrian went so far as to sheath his swords before entering. Then Genny Winter followed the two of them. Villar shoved her forward into the room, slammed the door shut, and turned the key that he’d left in the lock.

The moment the door sealed, Genny threw her arms around Hadrian and kissed him. “I love you!”

After the embrace, she started toward Royce, whose dagger was still out.

Hadrian pulled her back. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you. Royce isn’t much of a hugger.”

“Well, gentlemen, you have my eternal gratitude, but who in Maribor’s name are you? And what are you doing here?”

“Your father sent us to rescue you,” Hadrian said.

“He hired us to discover what happened to you,” Royce corrected as he moved to the door. He knelt before the latch.

“And you did both! You’re my heroes. I’ll knight you, or make you earls or something.”

Hadrian smiled at her. “I think only kings can do that.”

“Kings!” the woman burst out. “Leo! I need to find my husband. I need to show the bishop I’m still alive so Leo can be crowned king.”

“Should have thought of that before locking us in a stone room,” Hadrian said.

“I did,” Genny replied. She pointed at Royce, who had just managed to pop the lock and open the door.

Royce immediately raced out like a dog released from a cage after being teased by an arrogant squirrel.

“You knew he could pick locks?” Hadrian asked the duchess.

“I knew he wasn’t the type to allow himself to be confined in a cell unless he was positive he could get out. Business is like a card game: You have to judge people quickly and play the odds.”

Hadrian looked out the open door. Royce was already so far away they could no longer hear him. At that moment, the only sound came from the breeze and birds.

“Look, I have to help Royce find Villar,” Hadrian said. “You need to stay here. Safest place, really. I know you want to go down to the feast, but right now that’s not such a good idea. We’ll be back after we find Villar. Then we’ll escort you back to town.”

“And if you don’t return, shall I stay here and starve? Or should I wander through the wilderness until I die of exposure?”

“Look, we will be back, I promise. But if it makes you feel better, town is straight that way.” He pointed at the door. “Just keep heading down the hill, and you’ll run right into Rochelle. Just don’t go until we get back.”

“Why not?”

“It could be dangerous.”

The duchess scoffed. “I’m not some fragile debutante. I’m sure I can manage a hike downhill to town.”

Hadrian glanced outside. I’m never going to catch up with Royce now. I didn’t even see which way he went. “Look, I’m wasting valuable time. You just have to trust me on this. If we can’t find Villar, if he gets away, there’s a chance he might create a monster and attack the feast.”

Genny Winter blinked.

Hadrian saw the confusion on her face. “It’s called a golem, a monster made of stone.” The explanation sounded absurd even to him. “Villar made one before. If he does it again, he’ll slaughter everyone at the feast. So you don’t want to go there, understand?”

Her hand went to her mouth. “Leo!” she whispered, and her eyes darted toward the door.

“Look, I know you’re worried, but there’s nothing you can do. Truly, you need to stay here. Don’t leave. Keep yourself safe.”

With that, he ran out in pursuit of Villar and Royce.