Page 10 of The Warrior Priest
“I had the order. Master Tomaj was my father’s good friend and took me in without question. The brothers became like real brothers to me. We’re a family. Thanks to them, I’ve never felt alone.”
I wondered if that was why he’d joined their ranks when he turned eighteen, because he wanted to stay close to the men who’d become his family. But that wasn’t a question I felt comfortable asking, even if he was my best friend.
He rested his hand on the door handle. “I’m glad I found you, Jac. Now you have brothers, too.” He slipped out and closed the door softly.
My vision blurred as tears welled. He was right. His friends had become my friends over the last three years, and I was extremely grateful for them. But mostly the tears welled because an ache had settled into my chest. I didn’t want Rhys to feel like he was my brother. I wanted him in an entirely different way. One that his religious order forbade.
Chapter3
Iwaited in the room awhile after Rhys left. I usually did, to ensure we weren’t seen leaving together. Sometimes I left via the main door, too, and other times I exited through the balcony doors and climbed down the thick vine that grew up the external wall of the building. But for once, I stayed. I slept in the armchair until I awoke just before dawn. The secret room was closer to the governor’s office than my home and I was feeling lazy enough that I didn’t want to walk the extra distance.
Before I left, I smudged my face with soot from the fire and ran my fingers through my hair. I rubbed more soot over my clothes with a sigh. It would be hard to remove later. Borrowing a brush and hand shovel kept in the cupboard, I crept downstairs on my toes, past the tenants’ room on level one, and Mistress Blundle’s on the ground floor. I drew in a deep breath as I passed her closed door. It always smelled of herbs outside her room, day or night.
The rain had stopped but everything was damp. The clouds had kept the night from freezing, but it still felt icy. I made my way through the quiet city where only the lowest of the low stirred—vagrants in search of warmth, night soil men taking away cartfuls of stinking excrement dug out of the pits of noblemen’s houses before they awoke, and the cleaners.
I waited in the shadows of a building on the square, then when the cleaners arrived, I simply joined their train. A yawning guard asked for identification while another watched on, holding a torch. When it was my turn, I showed my identification card that proved I was a Tilting resident, given to me long ago by Rhys who’d obtained it from Merdu knew where. I’d left mine behind at my uncle’s house when I escaped. The guard barely glanced at it before waving me through.
None of the cleaners raised the alarm. Either they didn’t care or they presumed I was one of the regular youths employed to clean out the chimneys. With sooty faces, it was hard to tell them apart.
Getting into the building was the easy part, however. There were guards roaming the halls, these ones more alert as they patrolled in pairs. We split into groups and dispersed into the rooms across the two floors. I quickly swept out the fireplaces, moving from room to room until I found the one that must be the governor’s office. It was the largest, but it also smelled faintly of woodsmoke, a sure sign someone had worked there until late. I cleaned the ash from the fireplace while assessing my surroundings, noting the bookshelf packed with books, some of which I recognized from my father’s library. My uncle had assimilated them into his collection.
The most likely place to store important documents seemed to be the wooden casket on the desk. It was the right size and the scratches around the lock meant it was often used.
Outside in the corridor, I could hear the guards on duty exchanging quiet words. One asked the other if his child was feeling better, and the second responded that she was improving although his wife was exhausted from taking care of her, and that made her stroppy. The first man joked that his wife was always stroppy. They both chuckled.
A short while later I heard extra sets of footsteps along the corridor then the two guards greeted their colleagues arriving for the morning shift. They exchanged pleasantries and reported that the evening had been typically uneventful. They didn’t mention how many cleaners were in each room. Moments later, retreating footsteps signaled the departure of the first set of guards. The two other cleaners with me soon left the office, but I remained behind. I slipped under the desk and waited for the door to close before peeking out from my hiding place. I was alone. The new guards didn’t suspect one of the cleaners was still inside.
Using the slender tools I’d ironically picked from the pocket of a known thief a long time ago, I set to work on the casket lock. It was a complicated mechanism I’d not encountered before, and it took me longer than expected to open. But I managed it. I removed the governor’s seal and lifted out the thick sheets of parchment underneath. The one I wanted was on top. A quick scan confirmed Rhys’s concerns—the document declared that Tilting’s governor had the power to make decisions concerning the city without the agreement of his council. It was signed with King Alain’s flourishing signature. The imprint of the key and prancing deer, symbols of the royal family of Lockhart, were clearly visible in the wax seal.
Second only to the Glancian king himself, the governor was the ultimate authority in Tilting. Since King Alain was aging, he would be easy to manipulate by my ruthless, conniving uncle. The signature and seal on the document were proof of that.
I looked over the other documents before returning them to the casket, then relocked it. I slipped the lockpicking tools into the folds of cloth at my middle then considered my escape. The only exits from the office were the door to the corridor where fresh guards roamed, or the window. Although I’d climbed into and out of windows on higher levels several times, I decided to take the door. I didn’t want to raise suspicions by having fewer cleaners leave the building than enter it.
I listened at the door but couldn’t hear voices or footsteps. With my brush and shovel in hand, I opened it and exited. The nearest guard, leaning against the wall, straightened.
I froze.
“You there! Halt!” He approached, hand on his sword hilt, but his fingers were relaxed so it was unlikely he intended to draw the weapon.
I started to breathe again and focused on maintaining my disguise.
“I didn’t know you were in there,” he said.
I blinked up at him and shrugged.
“I have to pat you down, make sure you didn’t take anything.”
I lifted my arms, confident the cloth wrapped around my torso kept my breasts flattened and thickened my waist enough that it diminished the appearance of my hips. Not for the first time, I was grateful I wasn’t large-breasted. The guard didn’t touch my chest anyway. He simply checked my pockets and found nothing but a smooth piece of flint and a broken tortoiseshell shoe buckle. They were the sorts of things boys collected when they came across them in the street. I kept them as part of my disguise.
The guard handed the items back to me. “Stay with the others, lad.”
“Aye, sir.” Dipping my head, I entered the next room where the cleaners were almost finished.
I didn’t wantto wait for nightfall to report what I’d discovered to Rhys, but I couldn’t call on him looking like a chimney sweep so I returned home. My room was tucked away in a dead-end court in a part of Tilting that was far enough from the filthy slum known as Merdu’s Pit to make it attractive to working-class residents. Houses were small and often crammed with large families, but at least most residents were gainfully employed. There were few beggars in the streets and the prostitutes were discreet. My single room was only large enough for a bed, table and two chairs, but at least it had a fireplace.
I washed off the soot and changed clothes, then gave my laundry to my neighbor, Mistress Lowey, who also baked and sold delicious pies made from a blend of spices, the types and quantities of which she refused to share. When I’d guessed them all, she’d sworn me to secrecy and promised me a free pie once a week. I thought it an excellent bargain considering I had no interest in sharing the recipe anyway. With the taste of the buttery pastry still on my tongue, I made my way to the temple of Merdu’s Guards. I passed through the center of Tilting, keeping one eye on the municipal buildings fronting the square. The day was overcast, the air chilly as it swept across the square. I crossed my arms over my chest and tucked my hands under my armpits as a boy would do to warm them. The sound of a carriage speeding over cobblestones had me turning toward it just in time to see it drive through a puddle and splash a group chatting beside the bronze statue of King Alain’s ancestor.
One of the men shook his fist at the carriage and shouted abuse at the coachman as well as the occupant. A hand emerged through the window aperture and thumped the carriage door. The coachman pulled on the reins. Before the vehicle came to a complete stop, the guards dressed in the governor’s livery of yellow, red and black jumped down from the footboard at the rear. One drew his sword and ordered the group to disperse while the other pushed the troublemaker to his knees.
