Michael Sullivan - The Crown Tower

“So what is it you do, Sebastian?” Hadrian asked before sitting down with his wooden plate. He wasn’t actually interested, but he wanted to steer the conversation away from any plans for the hooded traveler.

“Are you familiar with Vernes, Hadrian?”

“Me? No. I pretty much came straight from the ship to the barge. Why? Are you famous?”

“In a way. I run the most prestigious jewelry shop in all of Vernes.”

Vivian had resumed the same place from earlier in the day but now balanced a plate on her lap. Her portions were small, the kind of meal a mother might serve to a child. She nodded in agreement. “Sebastian’s is the oldest jewelry store in the city.”

“Are all of you jewelry merchants?” Hadrian asked.

“Samuel is my cousin and Eugene is the son of my sister. They learned the business from me, and I loaned Samuel the money to start his own place.” Sebastian gave a wicked smile. “Customers who are angry with my prices or poor service or who just don’t like the cut of my clothing will stomp out of my shop declaring I’ve just lost an important sale. Out of spite they will walk down the street and pay more for a similar item at Samuel’s shop. They think they’re enacting their revenge, but as I am part owner in both, they still pay me after all.”

“And Eugene?” Hadrian asked.

“That’s why we’re traveling to Colnora, to get him a shop,” Samuel said.

Sebastian added, “It’s time the boy went out on his own.”

“I’m not a boy,” Eugene said.

“Until you’ve paid back the loan, you’re whatever I say you are.”

Eugene scowled, but when he opened his mouth, it was merely to fill it with chicken.

“And you, dear lady?” Hadrian turned to Vivian, who was biting most delicately into a slice of apple. “What puts you here with us?”

The woman’s smile vanished, her gaze fixated on her plate of food.

“Did I say something wrong?”

She shook her head but did not speak. Sebastian placed a hand on her shoulder and patted gently.

“Excuse me, please.” She stood and moved to the bow of the barge, left empty because the hooded man was stretching his legs on the towpath.

“I didn’t mean anything,” Hadrian told the rest, feeling terrible.

Sebastian said in a supportive tone, “It’s not your fault. I suspect that lady has been through something terrible.”

“What do you mean?”

“Few women travel unescorted. And did you see how little food she took? She is clearly distressed.”

“Maybe she just doesn’t eat much, and she could be on her way to meet, you know, someone.”

“Perhaps, but I think it’s likely she’s terrified, and the rumors, of course, have us all on edge.”

Vivian had abandoned her plate and sat on one of the crates staring at the river. Raising a hand, she wiped away tears.

Hadrian sighed. He had always been a bit awkward around women and often found himself saying the wrong things. He wanted to go to her and lend comfort, but he was sure to just make matters worse. Hadrian didn’t think he could feel lonelier than he already did, but then again, he hadn’t been correct about a lot of things lately.

After the meal they set off again. Farlan went below to sleep as the relief steersman took his shift. Hadrian failed to catch his name. He was younger and, despite his beard and brooding eyebrows, appeared baby-faced in contrast to Farlan. Taking his post without saying a word, he lacked the older steersman’s friendliness.

Vivian vanished into her cabin as soon as they set out. Perhaps she worried the hooded man would resume his station at the bow. But the front of the riverboat remained vacant.

Hadrian spent the day watching the landscape slip by and sharpening his short sword. Maintaining his weapons was as much a habit for him as biting nails might be for someone else. Doing so helped him think, relax, and work out troubles. And he had a need for all three.

Vivian reappeared shortly after sunset. She didn’t settle in with the merchants this time. Finding the bow empty, she returned there and sat near the swaying light of the lantern as the stars came out. The loss of the sun invited back the autumn chill, and after seeing her shiver, Hadrian walked to the bow.

“Here,” he said, pulling off his cloak and draping it over her shoulders. “It’s not much, but it ought to help a little.”

“Thank you.”

“I should have given it to you earlier. I’m an idiot. I’d like to apologize.”

Vivian looked up, surprised. “For not lending me your cloak?”

“For upsetting you earlier.”

She appeared puzzled, then realization dawned. “Has that been bothering you all this time?” She touched his hand. “Sit, won’t you?”

“Are you sure? I haven’t been particularly courteous.”

“Were I to guess, I would think you a gentleman-a knight in disguise.”

Hadrian chuckled. “Everyone wants me to be a knight.”

“Pardon?”

“Nothing. I’m not a knight. I’m just not experienced speaking in refined company.”

“Is that how you see me?”

“Compared to the folks I’m used to? Yes.”

Vivian looked down for a moment. “I’m not cultured or sophisticated. I was born poor. Any change in status came through marriage, but now…”

She let the statement hang for a moment while she stared at the deck.

“What is it?” Hadrian asked.

“The reason I’m here … the reason I’m alone … is that my husband is dead. He was killed two days ago, one of those murdered in Vernes. I was afraid for my life and I … and I … fled. Now I think I made a terrible mistake.”

“Why would anyone want to kill you or your husband?”

“Daniel was a wealthy man, and a rich man has many enemies. Our home was ransacked. Even the tapestries were pulled down. I was so terrified that I ran with nothing but the clothes on my back. I didn’t even take a cloak. I traded my wedding ring for fare, but I fear I brought my troubles with me. I don’t think the killer found whatever he was looking for, and he has followed me on board to obtain it.”

“What do you think he’s after?”

“I don’t know. It doesn’t matter. I don’t have it, but he won’t believe me-won’t even ask. He’ll just kill me like he did my husband, then ransack my cabin.”

She made a slight motion with her head, and Hadrian noticed Vivian was looking over his shoulder. He turned and saw that the hooded man was also back on deck, standing at the rail near the stern. Hadrian prided himself on never judging a person by appearance, but he couldn’t deny the malevolence wrapping that man. His silence and the dark hood, which he hadn’t lowered since they had set out, were disconcerting. He was unsociable and hostile.

If Hadrian believed in such things, he might suspect him to be an evil spirit, a phantom, or a dark warlock of some sort. This, he was certain, was how such stories started. After the passengers disembarked in Colnora, they would tell their tales of the mysterious, faceless man, and the story would grow with each recitation. Before long, people would gather around hearths to hear about how Death himself haunted the Bernum River, wrapped in a dark hooded cloak.

“I don’t know what I will do when we reach Colnora.”

“Do you have relatives there? Do you know anyone who can help?”

She shook her head and Hadrian thought he saw her lip tremble. “This isn’t your problem, is it? I’m sure I’ll get by somehow.”

“Listen, Farlan is going to alert the sheriff in Colnora when we arrive and there will be an investigation. If the hooded man is guilty, he’ll be tried and convicted. Then you can go back home to Vernes. The thieves couldn’t have taken everything. Your house is still there and you can rent rooms out or something like that.”