J. Tomlin - The Intelligencer

He hoped Cormac stayed safe, but for now there was nothing he could do about it. Damnation-for now there was nothing he could do for himself. There had been a time when he could have. He muzzily recalled days when his life had had purpose, if a poor one. What use had been the blood he'd shed for his master? But what use was he now? He limped through life at the mercy of his betters, no more able to protect his friends than that poor beggar at the gate.

There had been days in the priory where he'd hidden after he'd taken the wound in his leg when he'd thought of falling on his sword. Pride had kept him from it. Empty pride, perhaps, but he still would struggle on.

"Devil take them, I will not give up."

Footsteps. The clank of keys. The rasp of the lock.

The door squeaked open, and a figure blocked the light from the hall.

"Och, Law." The harsh voice of power.

Sir William Ruthven of Balkernoch planted his fists on his hips. Law scanned behind him, but he was alone.

"You worthless git. If you did nae drive me to anger, this would nae happen."

Law opened his mouth but couldn't think of any response to such a charge. He shook his head. "Would nae happen?"

"You raised your hand to me. Defied me. What was I to do but have you beaten?"

For a moment, Law wondered whether he was dreaming. But he ached all over, his head throbbing, so he must be awake. He started to point out that the lord sheriff had struck him first, but this was an argument he could not win.

Sir William strode to stand before Law, almost nose to nose. "You ken that I want to be just with you."

He knew no such thing, but he shrugged. He wondered what game the sheriff was playing. With Law bloodied, his doublet ripped, and no doubt his face a bruised mess, he could hardly be an impressive sight. Was this a mere taunt before he brought in the thumbscrews-or worse? Or did he want something?

The sheriff's eyes narrowed threateningly. "I can make use of you, even a cripple as you are. And you'll serve me, or you'll stay here until you rot." He crossed his arms over his broad chest. "The Black Douglas tossed you out in the midden like a dog, but even dogs have their uses."

Law lifted his chin. The sheriff wanted something, and groveling would win Law nothing. "Dogs have been known to bite when they're kicked."

Sir William grabbed Law by the front of his doublet and jerked him within an inch of his face. "What was in Blacader's kist?" He tossed Law back hard enough that his head bounced against the wall.

His stomach pitched at the blow, and the room tilted. He blinked his vision clear and said, "You ken I was at the assize when it was broken into." He blinked again. It hadn't been broken into, though, had it? "I dinnae ken what was in it, but I admit I am mightily curious what a carter would have had that someone wanted that badly. It was nae his siller."

"Whatever it was, you'll find it for me. There is trouble coming, and if it is something so valuable, then it may be worth turning you loose."

"There is always trouble. Of some sort."

Sir William snorted through his nose like a bull sighting an enemy. "Aye. Troubles come and go, but I mean to see that they dinnae take me with them. I shall stay in the king's favor. So you find me what they did murder and theft for."

Cocking his head, Law considered the sheriff. "You have some idea what it was."

The sheriff opened his mouth but then closed it. He paced around the small cell, head down, arms crossed. Finally, he turned to Law. "A carter travels freely. Blacader had just been to Glasgow, conveniently near the border. Did someone steal across the border with it? Or was it from Dumbarton where goods and people are always on the move. What did he bring back? It was something a thief would search his papers for. That had to have been a message. From whom? For whom?" Sir William squinted as he considered possible answers to his own questions. "Whatever it is, if it is worth murdering for, it is worth finding."

Law pinched the bridge of his nose hard. The last blow to his head had been one too many, and he feared he would spew any moment. And as much as he did not want to admit it, the sheriff was right. That the lock on the kist had been not broken but opened meant the key what the thief had taken from Blacader after he was killed. Why it had been taken was something he would consider when he wasn't about to lose what little was in his stomach.

He opened his eyes and managed a small nod that made his vision spin. "What is it worth to you for me to find this message, whatever it is?"

Sir William laughed, a hearty booming sound that rolled through the cell and filled the whole dungeon. "Och, if you were nae such a useless cripple, I might admire your gall. What good is siller to you if I let you rot in here?"

"None. But who finds that message for you if you do let me rot here?"

"I could set Meldrum to it. I could set all of the guard to it."

Law chuckled, even though it hurt his face. "Aye. You do that then." He leaned a shoulder against the wall to wait. Leaning his head against it as well felt even better.

The laughter drained from the sheriff's face. He huffed out a heavy breath and looked past the window for a few moments. "Aye, well. If you find what was stolen, I shall pay you-a small amount, mind. But I must be certain it is worth the price. Dinnae think you can fool me with something you fake."

"Whatever I bring you, it will be the truth."

When Law stepped out the door of the tolhouse, the rain had turned to a soft mist. The sun was a golden smudge in the clouds just a hand's breadth above the tops of the houses. Law took a deep breath. The sweet, earthy scent overlay an undercurrent of fish from the river and peat smoke from hearth fires. It smelled of freedom.

" A mhic Ifrinn !" a familiar voice said. "What did they do to you?" Cormac grasped him by the shoulder and peered into his face.

"Only beat me a bit. I've had worse."

"Are you all right to walk to the tavern?"

Law gave a pained chuckle. "And if I am not, what would be the choice? But nae, I think I shall go to the bath house instead. This day has earned me a hot soak."

"Och, aye, you will nae go alone. You look as though you might topple halfway thon, if you make it even half way."

Letting out a weary sigh, Law said, "I would be right glad of the company. But I think I can walk so far. Still, let us go before vespers rings and they close their doors for curfew."

They walked north toward the bath house, passing a few children splashing in puddles. A well-dressed knight with a sword at his belt slipped on a slick cobble and fell on his ass with a splash. He rose, cursing the rain and shaking mud from his cloak. Cormac snorted. "He thinks because he's a knight the rain should nae fall on him." Then he glanced sideways at Law. "I was worried that they might…"

Law shrugged. "It was mere spite. There were more than enough witnesses where I was when Blacader's house was robbed. He could nae hold me long."

"Aye, I suppose." Cormac sounded none too sure, for good reason. The sheriff had taken his spite out on the minstrel in the past.

They reached the well-made timber building with its sign of a huge steaming kettle. They entered, shook the water from their cloaks, and looked around the warm, comfortable hall. At a small table, three men were throwing dice, and a small fire burned in the central hearth. Law motioned to a serving girl to bring them cups of ale, and he drank his down in one long draft. If his head still hammered and every muscle still ached, it helped him not mind so much.

With his cup refilled, he followed a servant through a rear door and to the back room of the house where the baths were: ten round tubs, five on each side. They were separated by unbleached wool curtains that hung from the low ceiling. The servant led them past the drawn curtains to two tubs at the very end and drew the curtains closed.