Brian McClellan - Forsworn

“I’m serious,” the man said.

“So am I. Help me push this door open the rest of the way. We’ll need some light to search this place.”

There was a wooden thud, and another, then boots thumped on the hard-packed floor of the stables. “By Kresimir, I hate the cold,” the woman said.

“Picked the wrong place to winter, then,” the man responded with a chuckle.

“Don’t be an ass. You think I chose this assignment? If I had, it would have been with someone better lookin’ than you. The duke has us chasing ghosts. We’re only here because he wants to pin something on that Forsworn Leora girl. You see the look on his face when he got out of his carriage? The way he talks about her, I can’t tell whether he wants to kill her or bugger her. Now open that window so we can see something.”

One of the barn windows thumped open, and Norrine heard the sound of the two moving about below her. Rusted metal creaked as something heavy was lifted to one side, and the woman cursed loudly.

“What?”

“Smashed my toe under that plow, you bloody ingrate.”

“Quit your whining. Does that look like someone slept there?”

The woman took a sharp breath. “Oh my pit, it does.” Boots scrambled across the floor. “Someone small. Lookat here, the straw is all crushed. And feel this. Still warm!”

There was silence for a few moments, and then the man answered. “You’re making fun of me.”

“Of course I am, you idiot. There’s deer droppings all over the place down here. A blind man could see they sleep here all the time. The butler said no one’s been in this stable for months.”

“The door was closed, though. Explain how the deer got in, if you’re so damned smart.”

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe that hole in the wall there. Kresimir, you’re dumb. Go check upstairs and let’s get back with the others. There’s no one here.”

Norrine forced herself to take shallow breaths as the ladder creaked under the weight of someone large. Footsteps sounded on the floor of the loft as he stepped off the ladder, and she could hear him muttering softly to himself.

“Stupid. I’ll show you stupid. I’ll drop a bloody axe on your head.”

“What are you saying?” the woman called up.

“Nothing!”

“Anyone up there?”

Norrine smothered a squeal as the pile of hay bales suddenly shifted. The hay rustled, and she could see a hand grasping into the space she had tunneled out for herself. The hand patted around for a moment and then withdrew. The bales were kicked several times, and Norrine waited for the whole stack to fall over on her. Mercifully, it stayed together. More muttering, and then, “Nothing up here.”

“All right, let’s go get some breakfast. I’m bloody starving.”

The man descended the ladder and the two made their way out of the stables. Norrine waited for nearly a minute, when the pair’s voices could barely be heard, before she allowed herself to exhale a ragged breath. She slumped down in her hiding spot, trying to forget about the groping hand and the fear that had kept her frozen in place.

She’d dropped her penknife somewhere in the straw. What would Da have said about that? There was no powder here, nothing she could use to defend herself. If the man had grabbed her she would have been helpless.

Norrine dared not leave her hiding spot. The two searchers had left, but surely more would come? Only their loud bickering had saved her before. She might not be so lucky next time.

Hay poked through her clothes, causing her skin to itch. Her hiding spot was warm, but not comfortable, and fear kept her in place.

She heard voices once more some time later, but they were further off and she could not make out what they said. The stables remained silent but for the sound of crows on the roof and the scratch of rats down below her. She remained curled up like a fox cub in its burrow, counting her own heartbeats, trying not to be afraid.

A sound in one of the stalls below brought her out of her daydream. Her body stiffened, and she prayed that it had only been the building settling. Surely she would have heard the door open if someone was downstairs? Had the two Longdogs closed the door behind them? She couldn’t remember.

A throat cleared.

Norrine’s hands began to shake.

The ladder creaked, and then a voice said, “It’s me, girl. You can come out now.”

Norrine crawled out from beneath the hay bales and brushed the straw from her hair and clothes. Santiole stood on the ladder, her head and shoulders sticking up into the loft. “You were supposed to hide behind the false wall on the first floor.”

Norrine paused to search through the hay until she found her penknife. “I forgot how to open it,” she said, following Santiole down to the floor of the stable.

The old woman went to the wall and pushed up on the beam that Norrine had pushed down on. Norrine heard a soft click, and Santiole shoved. The beam pushed several inches into the wall. The boards creaked open on a hinge, revealing a space that would have been just big enough for her to hide, completely concealed. “You’re damn lucky that they were too bloody lazy to search the hay.”

“They did.”

“Not well enough.” Santiole seemed unimpressed. “You should have paid better attention last night. If you cause trouble for my mistress, I’ll-”

“You’ll what?” Norrine clutched her fists at her sides. “They’re going to kill me if they find me. I’m not stupid. You can’t do any worse than that.”

Santiole fingered her knife for a moment. Norrine wondered what kind of threats were working their way through her mind, but the woman just said in a soft tone, “No, I suppose I can’t. Be more careful next time.”

Duke Nikslaus met Erika and Lord Leora in the manor drive that afternoon as they prepared to leave for Norport.

Erika needed a distraction, an excuse. Anything to keep them behind while Nikslaus left so that they could be sure he was gone before they started their own journey.

Grandfather would have none of it. He was right, of course. They couldn’t alter their plans lest they attract Nikslaus’ suspicion. It was miracle enough that Norrine hadn’t been found by the duke’s Longdogs. Unless she had, and the duke was on his way to arrest them.

Erika was conscious of her own fidgeting as Nikslaus approached the carriage window.

“I do hope you’re none the worse for Duglas’ little game,” Nikslaus said. Erika’s hand went to her throat involuntarily. The welt would be there for a week or more. Nikslaus continued, “He’s a fantastic swordsman but he does come from lesser stock. A peasant, you see. He has no sense of propriety.”

“It’s all right,” Erika said, praying Nikslaus would turn around and leave.

“I thought you were rather fetching with a sword,” Nikslaus said.

“Thank you, my lord.” ‘Fetching.’ Not skillful or quick or anything else. Just fetching. What an ass .

Nikslaus rapped on the door as if to say goodbye, and gave her and grandfather each a nod. He stepped away.

Erika let herself sink against the upholstered seats of grandfather’s carriage and sigh in relief. Grandfather rolled his eyes at her, and she stuck out her tongue at him, suddenly giddy that they would finally be away.

“My lord,” Nikslaus said, stepping back to the window and addressing grandfather.

Erika leapt half way out of her seat, but Nikslaus didn’t seem to notice.

“Yes?”

“Two of my men were killed on the road not more than six miles from here,” Nikslaus said. “We found the bodies just this morning.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Lord Leora said. “Very unfortunate.”

“Indeed.” Nikslaus looked toward Erika. “I can’t imagine what could have happened.”