Page 80 of Arrows and Gems
Cap wanted to know the soldiers’ purpose, but he couldn’t ask. Nor should he linger when his friends’ status was uncertain. Cheval would have to deal with it on his own.
As Jean-haut gently prodded Cap forward, the guards’ horses jumped into a trot. Cap locked his ankles and stumbled a few steps as the column passed.
“Brilliant,” Jean-haut chuckled once they were clear. “None of those men suspected a thing. What was it you said in your beloved Old Amitian?”
“I threatened to—” he broke off in a cough when more ash tickled his throat— “put an arrow in them if they didn’t let us pass.” He brought an arm up to cover another cough. “Thisdisguise will be the death of me.”
“But just think, Cap!” Jean-haut grinned. “If we can find the right method, you’ll be able to walk right past the General without drawing a second glance.”
The idea had merit. Especially as he recalled the General’s recent actions and what he wanted to do about them.
“As long as your magic works like you say it will,” he grouched, hiding his smile.
“Whether I did it right this time or not, it can be done,” Jean-haut easily replied. “If you decide you want to repeat this adventure, I can make it happen.”
~
The road was lined with trees and empty in both directions, but Cap bent low over his staff and looked as decrepit as possible while ascending the slope.
Something didn’t feel right, so he planned to maintain his disguise until they were safely off the road. A little delay was worth it if they avoided the bigger delay of a fight.
His concern for Margit itched to have Jean-haut check the tokens again, but he refrained. He needed the forester’s focus on their surroundings right now.
A massive rock sat to one side of the path. Cap gripped his staff more tightly as they rounded it, sending his eyes rapidly from one side to the other. This would be a decent place for—
“Good morning, gentlemen. No sudden moves, if you please.”
The smooth voice came from above. Leaning on his staff with both hands, Cap twisted his head so he could see the masked man standing on the boulder. He had short dark hair, a neatly trimmed goatee, and a debonair smile.
He also held a longbow, but it rested on the stone, adding to the bandit’s cavalier appearance. Cap could see how the casualconfidence might intimidate normal passersby.
“Good day, sir,” Adrien greeted. “We are humble church folk collecting money for the orphans in Arles and villages like it. Can you find it in your heart to contribute to our cause?”
If they ever restored the prince to his throne, Adrien should give up his violin and take to the stage as an actor.
“Collecting for the orphans?” the masked man replied, pressing his free hand to his chest. “How fortuitous; so am I.”
He jumped off the boulder. Two more men drifted out of the shadows behind it, one with a drawn sword, the other with an arrow nocked on a lowered bow.
Holding out a hand, he continued, “To make things more efficient, you can give your donations to me, and I’ll pass them along to the orphans.”
“And who might you be, good sir?” Adrien politely inquired.
“You don’t know?” The man tipped his head back in a loud laugh. “I am the infamous Le Capuchon, scourge of Amitié!”
Fortuitous, indeed. Cap couldn’t attack eleven guards in an open field, but he could stop three posers who were sullying his name.
“Idiote,” he said pleasantly.“Le Capuchon porte uncapuchon.”Idiot. The Hood wears ahood.Then he slammed his staff into the ground.
The bandit and his friends gave him quizzical looks, twisting their mouths as if tempted to laugh.
“Whoops.” Jean-haut reached over and tapped it. “I’ll have to work on that.”
Little sparks of magic jumped up Cap’s hand as the staff sprang back into a bow. Straightening, he whisked an arrow from his quiver and sent it into the shoulder of the ready archer.
Shock flitted across the fake Capuchon’s face as he whipped his bow into position, but another arrow was alreadyflying his way. The swordsman lunged forward with a snarl.
While Cap jumped back, Jean-haut swung his staff into position, catching the blade with a solid block. The strength of the man’s blow would have cracked an ordinary piece of wood, but Jean-haut’s staff was as dense and solid as his plant magic could make it.
