For three days, Galen spent his free time teaching Mally how to go “unnoticed.”
“Always have your gaze downcast,” he urged her. “And stay close to the walls. Servants don’t walk down the center of a corridor. Your main goal is to blend in.”
He wasn’t sure what exactly she would be doing in the castle, but he had a feeling that it would be some of everything so his lessons were broad. He told her the proper way to serve a table and where the silverware should go. He showed her the proper way to carry giant trays with heavy teapots full of hot water and delicate teacups. They rattled loudly in their saucers whenever Mally took a step.
“Roll your feet,” he advised.
When Galen had to help in the inn during serving hours, Mally would visit Sam. Once Galen had a break from the customers, he would join her at Bob’s stable to continue their lessons. It was in the fenced meadow that he taught her how to curtsey, while Bob and his stable hands roared with laughter at Mally’s clumsy attempts.
The nervous tension that had been knotting Mally’s shoulders was loosening somewhat. She was pleased with the things she could do—at least now she didn’t feel so much like a fish out of water.
Mally had seen little of Ivan over these three days. He usually popped in at the Lone Candle in the afternoon or for dinner, but often his stays were short. Apparently, his mother had been furious that he had not gone to Halspeare and it was becoming increasingly difficult for him to leave his house without her trying to follow him.
She missed Ivan and often felt abandoned. This had been his idea, after all. She hadn’t expected to be flung to one side.
Since her encounter with Bayard, she had not had any trouble with knights. But on her fourth evening in Bosc, while she was eating her dinner alone at the Lone Candle (Ivan had been unable to join her and Galen was busy at the bar), she overheard two excited older women a few tables from her.
“Fell in the mud! Yes, Doris, mud.”
Mally knew immediately what they were talking about and tried to eavesdrop tactfully. She tried to hide her smile as she listened to Doris’s laughter. She was just relieved that she hadn’t seen Sir Adrian Bayard since that day. Perhaps, in the castle, her luck would continue.
And when was that going to be? Mally frowned at her roasted potatoes. Ivan had told her yesterday, while she fed Sam a carrot she had bought at the market, that he was still trying to get her in—that it wouldn’t be much longer and to be prepared to leave. Mally looked around the inn. It was fuller tonight than she had yet seen it. Mally suspected that was because of the lack of knights tonight. People didn’t like to eat in the same room with someone who might, for reasons unknown, throw a mug at them. There were even two shabby fiddlers in the corner and some people had begun clapping their hands to the rhythm. It also hadn’t passed Mally’s notice that Olive Dunker’s eyes seemed brighter than usual.
Even though Galen never talked about it and Mally never brought up the subject, Mally had a feeling that the Lone Candle was not doing well. She had heard some customers talking in reminiscent tones of the cheerful, crowded inn that had been the most popular in Bosc. The knights had destroyed that.
The knights had destroyed so much, Mally fumed. She had witnessed herself the terrible power they held over the people just the day before. While Mally had been heading for Bob’s stable, she had witnessed a horrible scene. Three knights were forcibly dragging an older man from his home while what looked like his wife and daughter begged them to let him go. Mally had been transfixed by the screaming and wailing of the women as the knights took the man away. When Galen had joined her at the stable shortly after and had asked why she was so quiet, she had detailed what she had seen.
“Why did they take him?” she had asked Galen.
“Could have been anything,” he had answered. “He might not have paid his taxes, or he could have insulted them.” Then he’d added as an afterthought, “Or they might have suspected him of rebel activity.”
“Do you think he’s alright?” Mally had asked.
Something had shone in Galen’s eyes that had made his face look much older.
“Most likely? No … most likely he’s not.”
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Mally pushed her potatoes around her plate, lost in the memory. The knights had so easily destroyed Bosc and soon the rest of Lenzar would be no different. Blighten was a little town that had never seen much splendor, but the other cities couldn’t be much better off than Bosc. There was something horrifyingly simple about how they could drag you away with little or no explanation. A knight could walk through the Lone Candle’s door right now and demand everyone leave. They had all the control. All the power. They could do anything they wanted with no threat of anyone saying otherwise.
The door of the Lone Candle opened and Mally tensed, then she relaxed as she saw Ivan walk through the door. She lifted her arm and waved at him. He spotted her and raised his hand as well. Then he got a drink at the bar, whispered something to Galen and made his way to her table.
“How are you?” Ivan asked the moment he had sat.
“Fine. Do you want to order?”
“No, I can’t stay long—visitors.”
Mally nodded and speared a potato. When Ivan didn’t say anything else, she glanced up. Ivan sat slightly hunched over the table, his eyes swiveling around the room. His gaze landed on her and she raised her eyebrows.
“Why the dark demeanor?” Mally asked. She hoped her voice sounded light.
Ivan smiled slightly and said, “You’ll see.”
Mally was about to press for further information, but she was distracted as Galen appeared carrying his own mug of beer. He sat with them.
“Let’s hear it,” said Galen tersely. He also sat bent over the table as if he wanted his words to travel the shortest distance possible.
Ivan leaned forward slightly, looked directly at Mally and said, “You’re in.”
Mally’s heart rate increased substantially and she clutched her fork.
“When do I go?” she whispered.
“Tomorrow. We’ll eat an early breakfast and I’ll take you.”
Mally nodded and stared at the bit of roast still on her plate.
A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.
“Do Adam and Cian know she’s in?” Galen asked.
Mally looked up in time to see Ivan nod. She had heard these names before, mentioned by Galen during their lessons. They were the two leaders of the rebel group. Mally had never met them.
“I told Adam and Cian about Mally, but they want to keep her quiet from the rest.”
“Why?” asked Mally, startled.
“The more people who know about you, the more likely there might be a slip,” Ivan answered. “The knights cannot learn of your connection to us.”
“Do you think someone would give me away?” she asked, deeply troubled.
“I doubt any of the members would give you away of his own free will, but we can never be too careful.”
“How will I get in touch with you?” Mally was starting to feel more nervous by the second.
“I’ll find you—or Galen will,” said Ivan, shooting a glance at Galen. “You don’t need to worry about that. If we need to find you, we will.”
“But what if I need to find you?” Mally felt that this was highly important.
“If there is an emergency you can come here, but otherwise our meetings will be set up beforehand. You won’t be giving us information every day—I doubt you’ll learn anything for a few weeks—and anyway, we don’t want anyone to get suspicious of you leaving the castle too frequently.”
Mally nodded, then she caught something he had just said.
“Leave the castle too frequently?” she repeated, looking from Ivan to Galen. “What do you mean by that? What about Sam? I need to see him every day.”
Galen and Ivan glanced at each other.
“Sam can’t stay in the royal stables,” Ivan explained. “He has to stay with Bob.”
“Yes, yes, I know that,” said Mally tersely. “But I still must see him.”
“You’ll probably be able to make some arrangement, “ said Ivan. “Meriyal Boyd is the head servant. You’ll be taking your orders from her. She’s the one to go to about Sam.”
Mally nodded with difficulty. She didn’t like the idea of not seeing Sam.
“While we’re on the subject of Madam Boyd,” Ivan continued, with an uneasy shifting in his chair. “She thinks you are a servant, though not a highly trained one. She’ll keep an eye out for you. But do not tell her or anyone else why you are really there”—Mally nodded, understanding the importance of secrecy—“and I told her you were an orphan.”
At first Mally thought she hadn’t heard him correctly. But Galen’s groan told her that she had.
“Excuse me?” she sputtered.
“Now hear me out! Meriyal has a soft spot for young people in serious trouble. She can’t turn them away, but she also can’t give every single one who knocks on the castle door room and board. I’ve known Meriyal a long time … she’ll never turn away an orphan.”
“So now I have to pretend my mother is dead?” Mally demanded.
“If you want to help us, yes,” Ivan answered.
Mally stared at him, her jaws locked in place, before jerking her head in a nod.
“Good,” said Ivan. “I told her you came from Corral and Chestnut’s Orphanage in Halspeare.”
From that point on, Mally had difficulty concentrating on the conversation. All of Ivan’s information had been told. She was in the castle. He had pulled Meriyal Boyd’s heartstrings. Ivan and Galen kept up a constant stream of encouragement, until Ivan couldn’t stay any longer (he muttered something about visitors and his mother having his head) and Galen had to return to the bar. Then Mally was alone at her table. Swallowing with difficulty, she tried to keep eating. She tried to listen to the song the fiddlers were playing. She tried to lose herself in the conversation around her. She tried and failed.
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Mally wasn’t sure how she fell asleep. She was proud that she had kept the emotions writhing around in her stomach in check during dinner, but once she had closed her bedroom door, they flooded her senses. What had she agreed to? Live in the castle? Alone? Where Bayard and Molick and countless others enjoyed tormenting and terrorizing people? All for what? A princess? A dead princess?! she fumed to herself. What a fool she was! She could die! Bayard could slit her throat while she slept. Uncontrollably, her hand flew to her throat. Her eyes searched the room like a trapped mouse seeking a hole to escape through, while her hand massaged her throat. What was she doing?
She swallowed with difficulty and let her hand fall from her neck. This would never do. She had to control herself. There was no reason for anyone to think she was a spy for the rebels. Neither Galen nor Ivan were suspected of being members of the group, and this was her first time in Bosc. No one could connect her to the rebels. If she acted normally and didn’t do or say anything stupid, she would be fine. The knights may not even spend a lot of time in the castle, she told herself. They might find the servants dull and predictable and enjoy terrorizing the citizens much more.
Once Mally’s brain had finally stopped its whirling, she slept dreamlessly, but it only seemed an hour since her head had touched the pillow when she was aroused by a loud knocking on her door.
“Mally? Are you awake?” Galen asked, knocking again.
“I am now,” she groaned crossly.
There was no reply, but Mally heard his feet walking down the hall.
Mally sat up and rubbed her eyes. It was raining. She could hear the heavy plop-plop of raindrops, and the sky through the smeared window was a dreary black.
Shivering, Mally dressed quickly and headed downstairs. There was hardly anyone in the inn. In fact, Mally thought, the inside looked just as dreary as the outside. The only other person in the room was a wizened old woman who sat hunched over a mug of steaming tea. As Mally walked toward a table, the woman glanced up at her and Mally smiled hesitantly. But the woman didn’t return her smile and by the time Mally had sat down, the woman’s gaze had returned to her mug.
The door behind the bar opened and Galen trotted out, carrying a plate of eggs, toast, and bacon in one hand and a jug of juice in the other. But before he reached Mally, he stopped at the table where the old woman sat and asked her something. Mally saw the woman shake her head and Galen continued on to Mally.
“How are you?” he asked immediately and Mally felt a wave of annoyance. She was getting tired of being asked how she was. But Galen’s brow was furrowed and he was staring at Mally with such intensity that she couldn’t bring herself to be rude to him—not when they were both wound so tightly with nervous anticipation.
“I’m fine,” she said quietly. She glanced at the woman five tables away, but she had returned to gazing into her tea mug, almost as if she were reading a story.
“Is Ivan here yet?” Mally asked as Galen sat down opposite her.
“No.”
Mally’s hands shook as she lowered her glass. She ate in silence with Galen watching out the window. But she was glad for his company. For some reason, the woman five tables away made her nervous. Mally kept shooting furtive glances at her. The woman hardly moved except for raising the mug to sip from it. Her face was hard and chiseled. Deeply set wrinkles ran across her face and a large hooked nose stood out prominently. Steely grey hair flowed from her head past her hunched shoulders. Her movements were stiff, and Mally thought her hands more closely resembled claws. At her side was a twisted, gnarled walking stick.
Suddenly, the inn’s door swung open letting a burst of cold air whistle through. Ivan closed the door and shook raindrops from his red cloak as he hurried to Mally’s table. Mally noticed that the woman’s eyes followed his progress.
“You’ve eaten? Good.” There was a breathlessness about Ivan. Nervous energy radiated from him. “We should get going.”
Mally stood up too quickly, making her chair wobble.
“You’ll tell me how it goes?” asked Galen as Mally caught her chair.
Ivan nodded. Galen smiled at her in what Mally thought was a ‘you’ll be fine’ sort of way, but the tenseness around his mouth gave his anxiety away. She nodded jerkily and was steered to the door. The next thing she knew, the Lone Candle’s door had shut and she stood shivering in the rain.
“How far away is the castle?” she asked, pulling up her hood and slinging her satchel over her shoulder. She was only taking a few things with her to the castle. Galen would keep the rest in the inn. It wouldn’t make sense for a poor orphan to have so many belongings.
“Not far. Fifteen minutes or so.”
They set off at a brisk pace, their breath rising in vapor from their mouths. Mally clutched her cloak closer about her and bowed her head against the stinging rain. After a short walk—though Mally’s fingers were numb with cold—they stopped, and looking up, Mally realized why.
They stood before a large iron gate, nearly twenty feet tall. On either side of the gate ran a stone wall similar to the one bordering the city. The gate was open and on the other side of it stood a small stone house. Mally was sure it could only contain one room. Sitting on a wooden bench under the shelter of the roof sat a knight. The moment Ivan and Mally stepped through the gate, the knight rose and addressed them in a loud voice.
“Name?”
“Ivan Finley, escorting Miss Mallory Biddle into the castle,” answered Ivan with a clear ringing voice.
“Business?” the knight grunted through the rain.
“Miss Biddle is a new servant.”
“Servant?” snorted the knight, peering at Mally with bleary eyes. “Don’t we have enough o’ them?”
Ivan didn’t reply, but his lips tightened into a thin line.
“A’ right,” said the knight, waving them through. “Go in.”