The stalks of wheat, pale in the moonlight, bowed and bent aside as Malden hurtled through them. He would run a dozen yards and no more into the field then double back, he figured, and race for the door of the milehouse. Hopefully the shire reeve would get lost in the wheat while trying to stop him. Hopefully A sharp pain exploded across Maldens buttocks. He was lucky hed been doubled over, trying to keep his head down below the level of the wheat. If the hammer had taken him in the back it might have broken his spine. It was one of the worst blows hed ever taken, and it sent him sprawling in the mud. His breath burst out of him and his hands grabbed at the yielding wheat as he tried to scrabble back up to his feet.
A boot pushed down on his back and ground him into the dirt.
That, the shire reeve said, was a fools gambit. You think I never chased down some farmhand in a field before?
Malden could think of several witty quips to come back with, but he lacked the breath to form them.
I can see youre a lively one, the shire reeve said. Well, I got a cure for that. Tell me, boy. Which knee you want to keep? Left or right?
Malden fought and struggled and just managed to roll over onto his back. He looked up at the stars and the great shadow of the shire reeve above him, and the silhouette of the hammer in the mans hand. His heart beat so fast in his chest he thought it might burst. Please, he begged. Hed spent much of his life as a thief waiting to be measured for a hangmans noose. Hed thought often of what he would say to his executioner, what final words he would impart on the world. All that came out of his mouth now was, Please.
Even vain hopes are answered, sometimes.
There was a sound very much like the noise a scythe makes when it cuts through a sheaf of grain. A few drops of dark rain pattered on Maldens cheek. And then the shire reeves head fell from his neck to land right in Maldens lap. The mans body stayed standing a moment longer, then slid to one side and crushed the wheat down flat.
Another shape was revealed behind it. A much larger shape, that of a man holding a massive bearded axe.
The fool woke me up, Morget said, when he rapped on the wall with that little stick of his. I was enjoying my rest.
The blood started flowing once more in Maldens veins. It still ran cold, though.
No. Oh, no. It couldnt be.
Not a shire reeve.
Among the criminal fraternity of Ness there was a certain understanding. Thieves occasionally fought one another. Sometimes footpads had to hurt someone to make their nightly wages. Every thief owned at least a knife, and often far more serious weapons, and they knew how to use them. But not even the most hardened thug in the Free City would think of attacking a watchman.
The agents of the law had their own fraternity, and they punished those who killed their own without mercy or question. If you slew a watchman, you were signing your own death warrant. They would never stop until they caught the killer.
And that was just for average everyday watchmen. The shire reeve was-had been-one of the most important officials of law in the entire kingdom.
If you killed a man like that, you might as well slit your own throat next. And Malden knew to a certainty that after the law dealt with Morget, they would come after him as an accomplice. The facts didnt matter. The law would have its due.
That might have been a foolish blow, he said. Though I do thank you for it.
Morget squatted down a little and picked the head up from Maldens lap. No, it was a clean cut. Look.
Malden shook his head. Morget, that man was an official of the crown, and when he turns up missing theyll hunt high and low for his killer. Nor will they think that disturbing your rest justified your crime.
Ha! Let them come. Im afraid of no watchman.
Malden shook his head. Please, listen to me, friend. You know how to chop off mens heads-I know about the law. We have to hide the body. Just to make sure it isnt found until were long gone from here. Once were across the Strow, away from civilization, maybe we can breathe easy again.
Justice! Law! Morget mocked. Just words, little man.
Oh, this was bad. Very, very bad. Malden could hear his heart pounding in his ears. He could feel sweat pooling in the small of his back. What if someone in the milehouse heard the shire reeve shouting? What if they were coming even now with torches and swords, looking to see what was the matter?
What if the shire reeve had told someone, anyone, about the peasant named Malden he was hunting? What if Prestwicke came in the morning and No. He couldnt think about that. He couldnt think at all, there was no time for it. He needed to act.
Malden got to his feet, then reached down to grab the shire reeves ankles. The shire reeve was bigger than he was, and Malden didnt think he could drag the man very far on his own, but if Morget would just help Catch, the barbarian said.
Malden got to his feet, then reached down to grab the shire reeves ankles. The shire reeve was bigger than he was, and Malden didnt think he could drag the man very far on his own, but if Morget would just help Catch, the barbarian said.
It was all Malden could do to drop the dead mans ankles and bring his hands up. He neatly caught the shire reeves severed head, then almost dropped it again when he realized what Morget had thrown to him.
The barbarian bent down and lifted the body easily, slinging it over his shoulder. Where do you want it? he asked.
Deeper in the field is our best bet, Malden said. He wont be discovered until this place is harvested.
Together they covered up all evidence of what had happened. The hardest part was washing the blood from his tunic. Malden was convinced the keeper of the milehouse would come out and demand to know what they were doing in his horse trough, but somehow they avoided detection.
When it was done, Morget returned to the stables, while Malden slipped inside and headed for the room he was supposed to share with Slag. He stopped outside the door and waited until hed stopped shaking.
Inside, Slag was propped up on the mattress, reading by the light of a single candle. Didnt have the liver for it, eh? the dwarf asked.
It took Malden a moment to realize what Slag meant. Ah. No. I wont be going to to Helstrow, not now. Not until he was sure the shire reeves death went unnoticed. Not while Prestwicke was out there somewhere, riding hard to catch up with him. All the horrors of an elfin crypt couldnt match what his misbegotten fate came up with on its own. Im coming with you.
I thought as much, Slag said.
You did?
Youll never leave Cythera behind. Not if it means losing her to Croy, the dwarf told him, and tapped the side of his nose.
Malden knew he couldnt tell anyone-not even Slag-what had happened, so he just said, Youve got me there, old man. Youve got me dead to rights.
Chapter Twenty-one
The horses screamed as water jumped over the side of the raft and licked at their feet, but Croy didnt have time to soothe them. He was too busy pushing against a rock as big as a house that stuck up from the middle of the river Strow. Malden dipped his own pole in the water and added his strength, and between the two of them they managed to get the raft moving away from the boulder.
Slag, are you sure this thing will hold together? Cythera asked, fear pitching her voice high.
Yes, I am fucking sure, the dwarf shouted back. Slag grabbed at one of the taut ropes attached to the mast as they were all swung about by the current.
Croy had planned on building a traditional raft, a square platform of logs lashed together, but the dwarf insisted he knew a better way. The thing hed constructed looked more like a spiders web, with logs radiating out from a central upright mast. Ropes hanging down from the mast braced each log, allowing them to move back and forth and even up and down as the water surged beneath them.
Another rock! Cythera cried.
Croy shoved his pole down into the stony bed of the river and heaved once more. On the far side of the raft Morget howled some barbarian war cry and leaned across the water, pushing them clear with his arms. The raft spun around on the axis of its mast like a wagon wheel, and the sky and the land flashed around Croy until his head felt light, but suddenly Cythera was laughing and the dwarf was jumping up and down, pointing at the far bank. It was only a few yards away. Croy jumped down into the water with a rope and tied off to a boulder there, his blood singing in his veins. He heaved against his line, and the raft beached on a bank of pebbles and sparse grass. Cythera untied the horses and they bolted gratefully for dry land.
Once everyone was safely ashore, Croy dragged their supplies off the raft and then fell back into a patch of grass and just stared up at the sky for a while, glad to be alive. I didnt think wed make it, he said when he had the strength to sit up again.
The knight rubbed at his wet face and looked around. He found himself on a grassy verge shaded by tall trees. The sun had just come up-for some reason, Malden and Morget both wanted to get an early start, and they crossed the river in the first blue light of dawn. Under the canopy of leaves it might still have been night.
Im soaked to the skin, Cythera said, reaching for a horse blanket. We should get a fire going and dry our clothes. Croy. If you please.
Hmm?
Im going to disrobe, she said, shaking out the blanket.
Oh, yes? He tried to look innocent.
You could at least turn your back, she said.
I thought, perhaps, as we are betrothed, you might allow me to
He couldnt bring himself to say the rest. Especially with the way she stared at him.
Stop thinking of me as your wife, she said. At least until we return to Ness. I wont give you any excuse to send me home, not now. If you start thinking youre my master, youll think you can order me around. Now. Turn your back.
Croy did as he was told. What choice did he have? It was clear Cythera intended to see this adventure through, regardless of how it made him feel. His back burned as if he felt her eyes on him. When she was finished and told him he could turn around again, he saw she was wrapped completely in the blanket, with only her feet exposed.