Trigger Warning! So as not to be all spoilery, there is character death and other stuffs in this post. Proceed with caution.

Ververe 29th, 1513 – Riding grounds, outside River Sulis, Lothianshire, Albion

It seemed strangely quiet this morning. She couldn’t remember the last time that she had been riding all by herself. As it was officially Hybel break as of yesterday afternoon–despite it not yet being Hybel–there were no lessons, including riding lessons. Then Vivi had something that she was doing with her father and brothers, Elizabet had known that for a good couple of weeks. Then this morning her father told her that the FitzChivalries had sent over a servant, Marianne had sent her regrets but she wasn’t going to make it either. Still, Elizabet would be damned if she was going to spend the first day of her break sitting around the estate doing nothing.

It was, in fact, a perfect day for finding some of those trails that Marianne was too chicken to ride and Vivi preferred to avoid as well, she said she always felt like she was going to tip off. Well, of course she felt that way, that’s why Elizabet rode astride rather than side saddle when she was going on trails like that.

But what should have been a good day of riding, just her and Honey and practically the whole riding park was actually setting up to be a not so good day after all. It felt like someone was taking a pin and pricking her up and down her spine. Every branch that creaked in the faint breeze, every dry leaf that crackled seemed like an executioner’s drum. Like something horrible was ahead.

Once Honey had picked her way down out of the trees into a meadow, Elizabet climbed out of the saddle, her nervousness was obviously translating itself to the horse because it felt like she was about to bolt. And Elizabet was nowhere near big enough and strong enough to wrench the horse’s head if the mare spooked.

If she had taken half a dozen steps before she realized that she had made a mistake, she’d have been surprised, that single pin was suddenly dozens, every instinct telling her to get out of that clearing and do it yesterday.

She’d just started to move toward the stirrup when the rustling of grass and something internal told her it might already be too late. She looked up at the easiest way out of the meadow.

“Lord Rance.” Elizabet’s heart sunk. Her father had many acquaintances who were just fine, but Rance–he gave off the same vibe that Cox did, one that said that he was not… safe?

Outwardly, he was just another man, a counsel member, one that her father had been trying to court around to an alliance for a while now. So far as Elizabet knew though, he’d never found anything that Rance had wanted. Rance had a son who would be starting at the Academy at the start of the next year–so it wasn’t entirely–weird that he would be in River Sulis, or even that he’d be riding in the park.

But she knew, in that way that she could never say how, that this was not right.

He slid out of his saddle and Elizabet bit her lip, hard.

“Ah, Lady Elizabet, just the lass I was hoping to see.” Elizabet’s throat went dry. Why would he want to see her?

“I guess the luck is more with you than me, Lord Rance.” Elizabet said.

“Oh, I don’t know about that.” Rance stalked toward her at a ground eating lope that was as intimidating in it’s purposefulness as having Rance suddenly looming over her was. “Some people would count this as their lucky day.” He swept up one of the plaits hanging over her shoulders, twining the blonde strands around his fingers for a moment.

“Somehow, I seriously doubt that I’m going to be one of them.” Elizabet said, grabbing her plait and pulling it out of his hands, repressing an urge to shudder.

“Well, what you think is hardly relevant.” Rance told her with a matter of fact tone that Elizabet didn’t like at all. “I’m just taking what I am owed.”

“Owed? What are you going on about.”

“Your father has tried for years to find something that could sway me ’round to an alliance with him. He’s got a block, you know, on this edge of the country. Only Firth and Rance don’t vote en block with your father. The Earl of Firth hates your father’s guts and I truly think he’s given up on it as the earl’s heir feels much the same way. He’s figured out ways to work around Firth.” Lord Rance smiled, it wasn’t a pleasant thing. “However, I have been on occasion both a help and a hindrance. I’ve never found any reason to make it easy for him. He’s never had anything I’ve wanted–until recently.”

“However, one evening–at a quaint little tavern that I sometimes frequent–your father’s steward, Masen, happened to catch up with me–and it so happened that your father had come into something I was interested in.” Rance was moving closer to Elizabet with the same purposefulness that he had crossed the meadow with. She had a sneaking suspicion that she knew what he was interested in.

“You see, Lady Elizabet, it is so hard to find such things–They’re very easily broken.” He said in a musing tone.

“Well, I’m not that easily broken.” Elizabet snarled, refusing to be cowed by this jackass.

“All the better.” Rance almost purred in a thoroughly disturbing tone.

“I don’t care what you think you’re owed–or what my father agreed to, you’ve got about two seconds to stop touching me or you’re going to regret it.” She slapped his hand away from her hair. Rance just laughed. He caught her shoulders and forced her back toward Honey’s side, pinning her more or less against the horse. Honey whuffled in surprise, but otherwise stood firm, trapping Elizabet.

She shoved at his chest when he let go of her arms enough that she could. Rance’s chuckle was just fuel for the fire that was suddenly racing up Elizabet’s spine. She was not going to be another one of Rance’s “broken toys”. He was just enough off balance from her shoving that when she kicked him in the knee, he took a step back. She used the newly won space to get one good gut punch in.

He gasped a moment for breath, but when he caught it–and her–he was smiling. He liked this.

Catching her hands up in his left, he belted her across the face. A few moments of struggle later–his nose slightly crooked and bleeding profusely from her elbow slamming repeatedly into it. Her cheeks on fire from where his slaps had split them. Her nose was dripping blood too, but she didn’t think her nose was broken as his surely was. He hit her hard enough to send her reeling.

She didn’t think she passed out–exactly, but everything had gone all fuzzy and when it cleared, her riding habit was tossed off into the grass on one side and he was drooling against her neck–actually drooling–like a dog. The feeling of that sliding down her neck forced a reaction out of her. She lashed out with a foot and caught him hard in the gut. He made a surprised wumph and crossed his arms across his torso.

Elizabet squirmed up into something of a sitting position, the two of them staring at each other for a long moment, then he leaned forward, his lips stirring her hair as he spoke. “I love it when you fight. So many of them just cry and squall. It’s so much better when you fight, bitch.”

As if something in the core of her had been embers that were suddenly fed paper and stirred, fire raced along every nerve ending in her body. She snarled something–some words that didn’t make any sense–except they did. Rance had about enough time to look uncertain and back up a few feet before a bolt of lightning screamed through the tortured air and wrapped around him.

Two more bolts, in quick succession, hit him square, the third knocked her to the side and she collapsed, face down, into the meadow’s soft green grass as rain began to fall as if the very sky were crying for her.

—

Darin and Brandon had about enough time to scramble after Josh who took off as if he knew exactly where he was going–but nowhere near enough time to ask if he by any chance knew were he was going. He cut through some of the thickest trees seeming like a shadow except his bright flag of hair.

A few minutes, enough time for a couple other rumbles of thunder to crash down somewhere ahead, they broke through the trees into a meadow. Two horses, one a butterscotch colored mare, the other a very ordinary seeming chestnut gelding were grazing on the ground, seemingly unconcerned about what had happened in the meadow.

Given what Darin knew about horses, they should have been bolted for the four winds by now, not grazing calmly.

On the other side of the butterscotch horse who whuffled at Josh as he passed and he patted the mare’s nose absently–it sorta seemed like all hell had broken loose. A blonde girl was flung to one side, a scarlet riding habit balled up and tossed off to the other. It was obviously the girl’s because she was only wearing underwear.

“Bet.” Josh sobbed, kneeling by her side and reaching out to stroke her hair. Feeling very much the outsider as Brandon knelt by the girl as well. He had little sisters–he probably had a better idea than Darin did what to do with–all this.

But if he wasn’t going to look at Elizabet, his eyes were drawn to the–other person in the meadow. Electricity crackled over the man’s skin still. Sparking and shooting little miniature bolts of lighting out into the muggy air.

He was groaning–the occasional tortured sounding breath escaping from his mouth which was twisted and split. He was obviously dying and even had that best doctor been on sight, nothing they did would have changed that. A gasp behind him dropped his stomach as even seeing Elizabet’s crumpled riding habit and the dying man hadn’t.

Stupid, Darin! Stupid! He maybe had remembered to tell the kids to stay with the horses–but of course they weren’t going to. They were kids–curious enough for six cats. He should have been smart enough to stay with them. To wait where he was. Now he was going to die, probably painfully, when his sister and Raven realized that the kids had seen someone die because he was an idiot.

And that fate would be reserved for if the kids didn’t figure out what had happened to Elizabet. If they had any inclination of what Elizabet in her unmentionables meant, Sara-Beth would go hunt up the bonephone itself and bring him back so she could keep killing him.

He heard some stirring behind him and took his attention off Anna-Marie and the other kids for just a second to see Elizabet climbing disorientedly to her feet. Josh caught her when she stumbled and her breath hissed between her teeth half in pain, half in reaction before she buried her face in her brother’s coat.

The man on the ground flopped for a moment like a fish, flipping onto his back, before blood spewed out of his mouth in a miniature fountain, eyes half-open.

“Is he–?” Brandon asked. Darin, much as he didn’t want to, but feeling probably the most qualified to make the call, went over to where the man lay, now still a hand under his nose indicated no breath, a touch to the neck, wrist, and chest indicated no flutter of heartbeat. He was dead.

“Aye.” Darin said. “My sister’s a nurse, she taught me–y’know?” Brandon looked puzzled, but seemingly more by the idea that Darin would think that he’d question him than by the pronouncement.

“He’s, he’s, he’s…?” Bronx gasped. Shit!

“We’ve got more trouble than that.” Josh said finally. “That’s Rance. And Rance doesn’t go to the pot without at least a couple of guards around. He wouldn’t want them that close, if–well.” Josh trailed off. “And they probably don’t know exactly where he is–was?” Josh looked at the body like he wished it would stir again so he could tear it to bits as he pulled his sister a little closer to his shoulder.

“But they’ll be coming.” Brandon agreed. “I’m not sure why that’s more trouble, though. He got struck by lightning.”

“He just happened to get struck by lightning while attacking my sister? You really think anyone will buy that was a coincidence given our family history?” Josh asked.

“But can’t your father do something about it? I mean no offense, Josh, but nothing goes in or out of River Sulis without your father’s saying it can.” Brandon pointed out.

“Father told him he could.” Elizabet’s voice shook and sounded more like an echo than like the vivacious girl that Darin was coming to know. “He wanted an alliance with Rance–and I was–the payment they…” Josh drew in his breath and muttered something into Elizabet’s hair.

“Like I said. We’ve got trouble.” Josh closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. “Okay, Brandon–get Bet out of here. We can force father’s publicity machine to cover our asses, but only if those guards can’t connect Bet being attacked with Rance’s death. Darin–will the kids talk?”

“Only to their parents, probably–and then more about,” He jerked his head toward the body. They didn’t even seem aware–as of yet–of Elizabet. Maybe that was because between the horse and the fact that she was clinging to Josh like ivy to an old stone wall, they just couldn’t see that she was more naked than dressed. Maybe. “I’ll–um–see what I can do.” Darin said. Not certain what he would do, but needing–somehow–to make some sort of promise given the look in the other boy’s eyes.

“Okay, get the kids out of here too.” Josh said. “I’ll bullshit the guards, I’m good at that, and can pull rank if worse comes to worse.”

“Anna-Marie.” Darin called the girl over. She and her friends came to where Darin stood, giving wide birth to the dead man in the grass. “I need you to go back to the pond, go back to the horses, we’ll get you there. And take care of Bronx for me–and Starla, okay? Can you do that for me?” Anna-Marie’s hands shook but she nodded. Her head had barely completed one full nod before the other kids were taking off for the pond at a run. He voiced a silent prayer to the Lord Wright that he would keep those kids at least sort of sane.

“I should–I should go with them, shouldn’t I?” Darin asked as Anna-Marie’s yellow dress disappeared at last into the ring of trees.

“No–please–I–please?” Josh asked. Darin had about enough time to nod before the sound of horses making their way up the incline hit his ears.

Josh squared his shoulders, pulling around him an aura of Lord Joshua, son of the baron of River Sulis as thick as Darin had ever seen it and he strode over to where Rance’s horse stood at the mouth of the path. He heard the jingle and thump of two men dismounting and braced himself.

“What’s going on here?” One of the two guardsmen in the emerald green of the Gwynedd family demanded.

“I could ask you the same thing.” Josh’s voice was haughty. “Shouldn’t you have been here attending to your lord rather than leaving him to die alone like some common rabble in the grass?”

“Die?” The other one asked.

“Who are you to ask me anything?” The first sneered.

“Lord Joshua, son of the Baron,” his eyes flickered over the man’s plain surcote. “Unless your father has very messed up priorities, guardsman, I would say that alone gives me every right to question your actions.” The guardsman flushed.

“Begging your pardon, my lord.” He said dropping his eyes.

“I’ll consider it.” Joshua shook his hair back from his face, how he managed to do it, given the water that was currently dragging Darin’s hair into his eyes, Darin would never know. “As to what happened here, Lord Rance was struck by lightning.”

“Just his lordship?” The guardsman asked shrewdly.

“We heard a lass scream.” The second guardsman added.

“My sister, the lady Elizabet was nearby, I believe she was thrown when her horse was spooked by the lightning striking so near. I had one of my companions accompany her back to our estate.” Josh said calmly.

“But.” The first guardsman’s eyes narrowed.

“But? Is there something else that I should know, guardsman?” Josh demanded. The guardsman obviously knew that Rance was going to be with Elizabet, it was clear on his face–but the only people who would be able to back up that version of events were either dead or damned unlikely to admit he set his own daughter up to be raped, which is the only way the baron would have foreknowledge.

“No, no, sir, m’lord. Haynes.” He obviously knew he was trapped, instead turning to the second guardsman. “Go see to his lordship.”

“Yes, sir!” When the first guardsman had his back to Josh to go back toward the horses and the second had his back to Josh walking toward the dead nobleman, Josh turned and met Darin’s eyes. He mimed wiping sweat off his forehead and Darin shot him a grin.

Ververe 29th, 1513 – Outskirts of River Sulis, Lothianshire, Albion

Eric stood up as he heard the unfamiliar clatter of horse hooves stopping outside. He was used to hearing them continue on down the street toward Sara-Beth’s by now, but he wasn’t used to hearing the sound of a horse being tied up to his post box. His mouth was a little dry. Johnny might have been a bit more troublesome at home, but Anna-Marie was all spit and spark like her mother without her mother’s natural sense of when to cut it back.

She was absolutely fearless when she thought she was on the right track–and he worried for her so much. His heart leapt a bit higher into his throat when he heard the familiar clatter of slippers running across the front enterway, followed by a slower yet equally familiar gait–Darin’s–following.

About half a heartbeat later, he was sure it was a half, he was paying very close attention, Anna-Marie burst through the door and without even acknowledging him, tore off in the direction of her bedroom, the door shutting with a slam he hadn’t expected to hear for another five years yet.

Darin paused for a moment to shut the front door, but then turned toward Anna-Marie’s room. He glanced down at his hands, obviously avoiding Eric’s eyes, and muttered something that sounded like “Sorry, Mr. Osmont.”

Eric took a moment to remind himself to breath and hurried immediately to Anna-Marie’s door. He hesitated for a moment before knocking. Anna-Marie didn’t say anything, he looked over his shoulder at Darin who shrugged. Eric had always wanted to be a parent who could allow his children as much privacy as he could. But sometimes it was more important to be papa than to be polite.

If his baby-girl was in there crying, then obviously Papa was needed more than the manners his gram had beat into him one ruler across the knuckles at a time. He opened the door. Anna-Marie had flung herself across the bed, her hair like a black waterfall trickling over the edges and falling down toward the floor.

“Little bear?” Eric asked softly. It took about as much time as two blinks for her to push up off the bed and launch herself into his midsection with a thud that knocked the wind out of him. She clung for about an exhale before leaning her head against his torso. His daughter was shivering with reaction and if he was any judge just about to–

She covered her face with hands that shook like dry leaves in a windstorm and sobbed.

“Oh, baby. My little bear, my poor little bear.” He murmured into her soft hair as he squatted down to hold her. “Papa’s here.” He told her. “Whatever it is, it’s okay.”

“He’s dead, Papa! He’s dead!” Anna-Marie sobbed out.

—

Earlier that day.

“Anna-Marie, we can’t just ask!” Elias said tugging on her sleeve, pulling her around to face him. It was the first morning of Hybel break at school and it had dawned hot, muggy, sticky, and a general slice of something that just lacked a few cow demons to make it Hell. And everyone knew that the best way to spend hot, muggy, sticky summer days was fishin’–and everyone equally knew that the best fishin’ was at the pond in the big park that the nobles rode their horse ’round.

Only problem was they weren’t actually supposed to go fish there. It was the nobles park and that was just like the nobles, they didn’t even fish at that pond, but it was theirs and so nobody else was supposed to use it. But she knew–mostly because Sara-Beth had been griping to her mother as they’d done their washing–that Darry was supposed to be going riding at that very park with his friends today.

“What does it hurt to ask?” Anna-Marie asked, looking at Starla and Bronx for confirmation. Starla shrugged. She would, she was terribly wishy-washy, whatever way the tide goes, that was what her mama said. Bronx just looked sad–and scared–and like he was about to cry. She’d mostly invited him along because he looked like was going to cry. And Starla’s bleeding heart started bleeding all over the place as Anna-Marie’s mama liked to put it and she had insisted that they had to make him feel better.

Well, given that he wouldn’t talk about what was wrong–beyond the fact that he was Romeo’s brother–she’d probably be pretty sad if she were related to Romeo too.

“Who is that?” Starla whispered, pointing toward the blonde man who had his back toward them at the moment.

“I think that’s Darin’s friend, Joshua.”

“The baron’s son?” Elias squeaked.

“Don’t. Be. A. Chicken.” Anna-Marie said. “Nothing ventured, nothing gained.”

“Huh?” All three of the others looked at her in puzzlement.

“I think it means if you don’t try, you won’t get anything.” Anna-Marie said after a long moment.

“Where did you hear it said that way though?” Bronx asked. Anna-Marie thought for a moment. Where did she hear that said? She just remembered hearing it somewhere and she thought some lady had said it.

“Dunno. Look, they’re done talking, now let’s ask before they leave. The worst that can happen is they say no. And ‘sides, Elias, the only way to get permission to go fish in the nobles’ pond is to ask a noble, and I dunno about you, but I don’t know that many nobles.” Elias didn’t look convinced, then again he usually didn’t look convinced by Anna-Marie’s logic, but they moved up toward where Darry and the blonde man that Anna-Marie thought was Lord Joshua stood.

“Hey, guys.” Darry said with a smile.

“So, um, are you gonna go ride horses?” Anna-Marie asked looking over at the two saddled horses picketed by the street.

“I believe that was the plan.” Darry told her. “Why?” Darry was probably one of those people that her mama would say knew her too well–whatever that meant.

“Cause I was wonderin’–we wanna go fishin’.” Anna-Marie offered.

“Uh-huh.” The corner of Darry’s lips was poking up as if he were starting to smile a little.

“An’ you know that the best fishin’ is at that pond on the riding grounds.” She added in a hurry.

“It is?” Lord Joshua asked, his voice bewildered. Darry nodded with a smirk. “And you know this how?”

“A holdover of a misspent youth.” Darry shrugged with a grin. “Anyway, your point?”

“Mama says we’re not ‘posed to go without permission of a noble–and Mister Lord Joshua is a nobleman, right?” Anna-Marie shot a look at Lord Joshua who–rather like Darry–looked like he was trying to keep from laughing.

“So what you want is permission to go fish there?” Darry asked, his eyebrow arched upward. Anna-Marie nodded so fast her hair bounced and made weird little noises when it hit the back of her dress.

“I don’t see why not.” Lord Joshua drawled. “Seems like you are the only people fishing that pond anyway.” He winked at Anna-Marie who blushed for some silly reason. “I’ll let the caretaker know that you and your friends have permission and not to run you off if they see you there.”

A whole summer of the best fishing in the whole town and even Anna-Marie’s mama couldn’t argue with it. Anna-Marie threw her arms around Lord Joshua’s middle and gave him a tight hug. It sorta felt like he had several rocks shoved into the front of his shirt, it was that firm.

“Anna-Marie!” Elias hissed. “You’re hugging the baron’s son!” Anna-Marie blushed again and quickly withdrew. Lord Joshua just laughed.

“Seeing as we’re all going the same direction.” Lord Joshua said after ruffling Anna-Marie’s hair. “Why don’t we all just go together.”

“I can’t walk as fast as a horse.” Elias muttered toward his shoes.

“We’ll walk the horses and you guys can ride.” Lord Joshua said as their eyes all lit up.

—

Anna-Marie grinned as she grabbed a worm and skewered the squirmy thing on her hook. Darry’s friend, Brandon shook his head. “What?” Lord Joshua asked from where he letting his horse drink out of the pond by where Anna-Marie stood.

“Just I have a little sister about Miss Anna-Marie’s age and I could never imagine her–ever–under any circumstances touching a worm, let alone skimming it onto a hook.”

“How does she fish?” Bronx asked.

“She’s a lady, I think my mother would have apoplexy and die if her daughters–any of them–ever fished.” Brandon said as Darry and Josh laughed.

“Well then, tell Marianne she needs to take up fishing, maybe between the poker and the fishing your mother will have that fit. Not that I wish her dead–but Sara-Beth says that sometimes apoplexy can cause people to be struck dumb–which I might wish on your mother–it would keep her from constantly calling me “the scholarship boy” like it’s my name.” Darin leaned against the black horse that Starla and Bronx had ridden up on.

“Somehow I don’t see it.” Brandon said. “But speaking of Marianne. She wanted me to tell you that she hoped Elizabet was feeling better.” Lord Joshua blinked and stared at Brandon.

“Feeling better?” Lord Joshua asked, sounding bewildered.

“Aye, your father sent over a servant that said that Elizabet was feeling under the weather and so they’d have to cancel their ride this morning.” Brandon told him.

“Bet was feeling fine, in fact she left at the same time I did.” Lord Joshua said.

“I saw the boy myself and heard the message. It was the little dark-haired boy your mother usually uses as a page.” Brandon said.

Obviously paying more attention to the conversation behind him than his fishing pole, Elias managed to hook his shirt collar with the hook and yank himself over. “Do not tell your brother about this.” He said, brushing off his butt and glaring at Bronx, who dropped his eyes to his shoes, looking about like he was going to cry again.

“I don’t tell my brother nothin’.” He muttered. “And I certainly wouldn’t tell him nothin’ that’d let him make fun of me or nobody else.” Elias glanced down at his own shoes and muttered something like “sorry” to them.

Starla, who actually was making the best accounting of herself–even if Anna-Marie would almost have pegged her the kind of lady that Brandon said his sister was–reached out and patted Bronx’s shoulder.

“Why would my father send a servant over to your house that Bet was sick, though, if she’s not?” Lord Joshua had about enough time to wonder before he heard it–they all heard it. The sound of a girl’s terrified scream and just the time to take a breath later, a sharp crack of thunder close, very, very close.

“Elizabet!” Lord Joshua screamed, a look of horror shot across his face as rain seemed to be ripped from the sky.

—

Later

“Who is dead?” Eric asked, stroking Anna-Marie’s hair and rubbing her shaking shoulders. One of her friends? Someone Darin knew? Who?

“The–the man from church.” Anna-Marie said. “On Sunday. The man who was with the Baron at church.”

Seryl 23rd, 1513 – Dead Man’s Alley, River Sulis, Lothianshire, Albion

A much younger Reggie would have thought by the time that he was this age, this level of success, he would have been finished having to drink in disreputable taverns in bad parts of town. That Reggie had thought that when you got old enough and successful enough, you could pay people to do it for you. And he could’ve, but if he wanted it done right, he’d have to do it himself.

Besides as his old mentor, a bent old man who could out run, out drink, out swear, out fight and out duel any man of any age, used to say “The first rule ye gotta know, Reggie me lad, ye ain’t never gonna be finished doin’ thin’s ye don’t wanna. If ye’re breathin’, ye’re gonna have something ye’re doin’ that ye don’t wanna.” And as always, the old man was right.

He shook his head and picked at the bread on the plate in front of him. It was good bread, actually every thing about the tavern was pretty good, except the location. Mistress Ollerton kept the place clean, the food was good, the ale was excellent. And if–or hopefully when–he didn’t need to spend certain long afternoons sitting in Dead Man’s Alley watching things, he’d definitely be helping her find a better locale.

It was probably a good thing that the bread was so good, as was the ale. Otherwise he’d never be able to keep it down.

As any plantsim would tell you, the earth remembered. Sometimes there was too much horror in any one place for it to forget. It called out–sometimes–to anyone with the power to hear it. Reggie could hear it. He just couldn’t help it. How did you ease the pain of all of the things that had happened here?

And the horror wasn’t helped by the reason that Reggie was here, though she certainly wasn’t the cause. Blood-soaked land tended to call to people whose stock in trade was blood in some form. Dark wizards were often drawn to make their homes in places where bad things had happened. If something was already corrupted, you didn’t have to go through all of the effort to corrupt it.

Places like this tended to be just that much more receptive to dark magic. In the case of this “Madame Bones” he was watching, she would have been drawn to the place because the easy store of magic found there would add to her power. She wasn’t that strong of a witch.

His eyes flicked over the tavern patrons. Mistress Ollerton’s teenage daughter waited for the drink order from the two people sat on the “drinking benches” by the fireplace. They were arguing about something, when the woman’s eyes flickered to Reggie, he nodded as if in agreement with her and her attention went back to her drinking companion with the smug knowledge that she was right.

Behind him were two couples sharing either a late luncheon or an early supper. Mistress Ollerton herself at the bar taking stock of the contents of the shelf. Probably preparing to send someone to the bakery to pick up more of whatever was needed for the dinner rush.

Then his eyes turned back toward the window. Now, if Reggie had been just an ordinary man, he’d have seen nothing more than the opaque window glass. But Reggie had never been what one might have termed ordinary.

With just a little bit of applied power–used very sparingly–he could see the street as if nothing, not even the walls, were in the way. He could have seen all the way into the shop he was watching if he had put a little more power into it, however the witch probably would have sensed it and Reggie had no intention of tipping his hand this early.

On his way to the tavern he had stopped and sensed where her wards covered and his probing ended about half a foot from where her protections began. However it did mean that he saw little more than a small courtyard with a well. On one side sat an herbalist’s shop, sharing the building with it was a pawnshop. Sharing with building with the bookseller was a shop that specialized in imported cheese and seemed to be doing pretty brisk business.

He’d been there for a while already and no one had gone in or out of the witch’s bookshop. She might have been open more in the evening, he supposed. And he might have been wasting his time. But it was a tiny hint of something–nothing so strong as a glimpse of the future, just the vaguest feeling, that told him that he was not wasting time, that if he stayed, he’d find something out. He trusted those feelings.

And if it seemed silly, sitting here in this tavern, making himself queasy and watching people come in and out of the courtyard carrying cheese, well–as the old man had told him “If ye ain’t asking yerself on a daily basis ‘why the fuck am I doin’ this’–ye’re probably not doin’ it right.”

Still, there was no one at home, Eve was still at school, Colby at work, and he would know if anything went so massively wrong that it wouldn’t do without him for a couple of hours.

The couple behind him had left, the man heading toward the front exit, the woman, he was too well trained to sit up and look attentive, especially as he shouldn’t have been able to see anything. But she was headed straight toward the courtyard he was watching. Then she turned and headed into the cheese shop–seriously–how good could the cheese be?

Reggie kept from sighing and shaking his head mostly by will. It was ridiculous, he was being ridiculous. There were three other shops in that square and at least two of them would probably be doing decent business for most of the afternoon.

And even if someone did come out of the bookstore that didn’t–Reggie froze in the middle of reaching for his mug of ale. Then realizing how it must look, he continued to reach for the glass and picked it up. Hoping that no one would have noticed the stop motion jerkiness of the movement.

Because someone had just come out of the bookshop–and it was someone that Reggie knew. Even across the square, blurred slightly by being at the edge of his spell, he knew them.

It was only the presence of others in the tavern that kept Reggie from snarling aloud and had nothing to do with the absolutely ridiculous outfit that his nephew was wearing–seriously–those shoes and trousers would have looked more at home on Goldie than on any little boy.

Mentally snarling and flailing, Reggie watched as Romi made her way through the sudden throng of people in the streets. He saw the faint aura of dark magic clinging to his niece and nephew.

Her attention seemed to be more on the people around her than on little Ruben toddling along as fast as his not-quite three year old legs would take him. Once out of the courtyard, Goldie seemed to shake herself and began wailing. He couldn’t quite make out what she was crying about, she wasn’t old enough to really be talking, mostly it seemed to be “No!” and “Bad!” but he had a feeling it had something to do with that magic that wreathed around her.

Ruben didn’t seem to even notice it was there–though he had his suspicions about Ruben–and about Bronx, even if he’d never have said to his brother that he doubted the boys were his.

Goldie was the most sensitive of the kids to magic–noticing when he had been working it, even if the boys didn’t. And at Goldie’s age, almost no one reacted well to black magic, even those who would go on to practice it.

Reggie tossed a few coppers on the table and headed out into the street. The smell of dark magic–coppery and blood-like seemed to linger in the air even above the smells of sim and sweat and old that his nose detected. Romi was walking faster now, probably wanting to get Goldie out of the alley before someone noticed who she was.

In her haste, however, she had forgotten something. In a practiced motion he swept his nephew up into his arms, the little boy looked startled for about half a minute, then grinned at his uncle. Reggie had to restrain a shudder at the thought of how easily someone else could have picked up the little boy. How easily he could have disappeared and no one would know what had happened to him.

Reggie wondered how long it would be, where it would be, that Romi would notice that Ruben wasn’t behind her, every step she took Reggie’s disdain grew more. He might not have had children of his own–other than with Sara-Beth he couldn’t have imagined having them with any of the women he’d been with–but he had taken care of his sister for most of her life and had been old enough to watch his brother when his brother had been no older than little Ruben.

He could not have ever imagined leaving either of them to walk after him in a busy street–especially not one as dubious as Dead Man’s Alley.

Yes, think about the leaving Ruben behind and not about the black magic that was crawling against the edge of Reggie’s protections. He’d have to figure out some way to get the kids away from Romi–to find out just what the magic was and what it was doing–and if it were something that were actually trying to hurt the kids or just something lingering from being in the witch’s shop.

He caught up to his sister in law when they were back on the sunny riverside main street. Her eyes flew wide as she saw Ruben–then even wider when she saw who was carrying him.

“R-Reggie–w-what are you doing here?” If he had the smallest hope that Romi had just been buying a book in the witch’s shop, her guilt at seeing him killed it.

“I was just getting a bite to eat in the tavern. Mistress Ollerton has a great stew on Mondays.”

“Oh–I never stop in there.” Romi told him with a faint sneer.

“Yeah, well.” Reggie shrugged. “I was just coming out of the tavern when I noticed this little guy trailing behind. I thought you might miss him.”

“Are you trying to imply I don’t pay attention to my kids?” Romi’s sneer went up several notches.

“Considering I picked him up just outside the tavern and we were all the way here before you even noticed he wasn’t still behind you, do you have any reason why I shouldn’t imply that?” Reggie asked quietly. Romi started to say something then humphed and tossed her head.

“It–it was only because Goldie was fussing. If she had been being quiet then I would have paid more attention to Ruben.” Of course shift the blame off onto the baby because Wright forbid you ever own up to doing something wrong yourself. Reggie thought at his sister in law.

“Well, as I’m headed your way anyway. There’s someone I need to talk to, why don’t I carry Ruben back to your house for you. Just in case Goldie starts fussing again.”

“Thank you, Reggie.” What could possibly have been so important that Romi, who granted has about as much brains as a dog in heat, would have come out–during the day–with her kids to go to a bookstore–when I’m not even sure she can read–owned by a dark witch?

Part of him wished he could just wash his hands of the whole thing. But they were his nieces and nephews–despite what blood they might or might not have–and there was also the words of the old man ringing in his head. “If yer gonna be a wizard, Reggie me lad, ye got three choices. Ye’ll either be cleaning up shit, walking through shit, or causing shit. And the more ye want to be able to look at yerself in the mirror when shaving, the more likely ye’ll be the one cleaning it up.” What else could he really do?

Tyves 16th, 1513 – River Sulis, Lothianshire, Albion

The big iron gate squealed as Anna-Marie pushed against it, sending up a tortured sounding shriek. And of course with the dusk had come a summer storm, which was building up fog like some giant blowing smoke rings. She bit her lip and tried to orient herself. She didn’t come here very often. She didn’t have any reason to.

She knew–at least in daylight–how to get to where Cookie and Ayla were, Darry had brought her a couple of times. And once, just once, Elias had brought her to see his mama. Anna-Marie shivered as a cool breeze made it’s way up her back, or maybe it was the way that same breeze stirred the fog.

There was a lantern at every crossroads. And there was a statue of some sort, with lanterns by Elias’ mama, so, hopefully she wouldn’t lose her way. Oh, why couldn’t she have just told Mama or Papa where she thought Elias was and let them go try and find him. Because this was her fault and it was too like what Romeo’d do to just drop fixing it into someone else’s lap.

She sucked in a deep breath, her head twisting around. She wasn’t scared–or at least until an owl hooted, somewhere out there in the dark, and she jumped. Maybe a little scared. And grass rattled behind her and she was lost.

“Yer alright, sweetie.” A voice seemed to say from somewhere out there in the mist. But she didn’t see anything. “Just head up th’ rise there an ye’ll see the lanterns.” It was a strange voice, sorta like someone whispering in her ear, sorta like someone speaking in her head.

It couldn’t be anything too bad. This was a churchyard and the Lord Wright wouldn’t let anything bad happen to anyone in a churchyard. So, maybe–well, if the lady was right, there’d be light ahead and she could see, and if she wasn’t then Anna-Marie could just turn right around and walk back down the rise and find the path again.

Easy, right? Again there was a feeling of something out there in the mist, like an arm settling around her shoulder, a smell like warm baking bread and cinnamon and–floor wax? But she still couldn’t see anything. But she squared her shoulders and marched up the rise that voice had wanted her to climb and yes, right there, ahead was some sort of statue. A big crescent moon with lanterns hanging off it under a big old weeping willow tree. And just off in the mist she could see the statue of St. Vivian.

Anna-Marie thought she knew where she was now and the feeling, the smell started to float away into the mist, with one last ghostly sensation of someone smoothing her hair back. “Thank you.” She whispered to whatever it had been with her.

She walked a little closer to the moon-statue-thing. “Who’s there?” A suspicious voice called out, sharp and much more sim than what had been with her in the dark and the mist. And it was a familiar one.

“Elias?” She asked, peering around the moon statue.

“What do y’want?” He sounded near as sullen as Romeo. To make this right. She thought. Because nobody should be out here in the mist. Not when they could be home with their family snug in their house.

“I wanted to ‘pologize.” She told him, though he didn’t move.

“How’d you know I’d be here.” He asked, staring up at the sky.

“Cause your mama’s here?” Anna-Marie bit her lip. “I wanted my mama and papa tonight too an’ Romeo was a lot meaner to you.”

“My papa doesn’t care.” Elias said.

“Elias Butcher, don’t be a stupid-head. I knewed you were missin’ cause your papa came to our house looking for you, an’ your step-mama too.” Anna-Marie planted her hands on her hips and glared at him.

“My papa came to your house?” Elias said, his voice cracking a little. “I don’t believe you!” He added a moment later, loud, it seemed to bounce off the mist and the trees. Anna-Marie took a deep breath, getting ready to shout him down. Maybe she was dumb and this was her fault, but Elias was being dumb too.

“Anna-Marie!” Her mama called from somewhere in the mist behind us.

“Elias, oh, Wright you scared me.” Elias’ papa said, pounding up out of the fog, Mrs. Butcher hard on his heels. “What were you thinking?” If he still thought that his papa didn’t care about him, Anna-Marie would give him such a piece of her mind.

“‘M sorry, papa.” He said, face crumpling. “I didn’t mean to make you worry. Y’shouldn’t haveta worry ’bout me.”

“‘Course I’m gonna worry about ye, Elias.” Mr. Butcher knelt next to Elias who buried his face in his hands. Maybe this was what Romeo didn’t understand, maybe the Lord Wright had made it so people could cry for a reason. Because sometimes you were hurt and the hurt needed to get out somehow. “Ye’re my son.”

“But you have Kian now.” Elias whimpered.

“That doesn’t change what I have with ye, Elias. You will always be my son, even when I’m old and totterin’ around on a cane and ye are too.” Mr. Butcher pulled Elias against him as the sky started to cry too. “Ye’re stuck with me worrin’ ’bout you.”

“Papa,” He shook his head and started to try and pull away from his papa, but Elias’ papa was smarter than that, or maybe he’d just figured out he’d forgotten one too many hugs because he just pulled Elias closer.

“Why would you run off, Elias?” Mr. Butcher asked as Elias sniffled and sobbed into his hands.

“Cause Romeo said you don’t love me no more cause you’ve got the twins.” Elias sobbed out and that seemed all he could sob out because he became incoherent after that. Anna-Marie swallowed hard.

“Romeo? Romeo Rose from next door? Why would he tell you that?” Mr. Butcher asked.

“Cause I told his papa that he’d been teasing Elias an’ callin’ him a crybaby.” Anna-Marie said, dinner and guilt swirling together and trying to climb up her throat from her tummy. “An’ Guardsman Rose told Romeo he had to do double chores til Hybel cause he’d been being a bully an’ so Romeo come out and told us that of course we’d tattle cause you don’t love Elias no more with Kian and Violet ’round.”

“And he didn’t say anything to you?” Mr. Butcher asked.

“He didn’t get the chance, Anna-Marie punched him in the face ‘fore he could.” Elias muttered to his hands. Elias’ papa stared hard at Anna-Marie for a moment, before stroking Elias’ hair.

“Well, Romeo is wrong, Elias. I love ye so much and I wouldn’t never fergive m’self if anything happened to ye. Never.” Mr. Butcher said. “An’ I suppose I deserve ye thinkin’ ye couldn’t tell me ’bout Romeo.” He shook his head “But why didn’t ye tell Star. I thought–,” He trailed off looking at his wife.

“She isn’t my mama.” Elias reminded him.

“Well, no, she’s not. But.” Mr. Butcher sighed.

“An’ if I start thinkin’ about her like a mama, won’t I forget my mama?” Elias asked.

“Oh, Elias. No, ye won’t forget yer mama. She’s in here.” He put his hand over Elias’ heart. “An’ she’ll always be there. She’s there in ye an’ in Marina an’ she’ll be there whenever you need her. But sometimes…” He trailed off again.

“Sometimes you need a friend, eh?” Mrs. Butcher said, speaking for the first time. “An’ if you need a friend, you can come to me anytime, okay?” Elias nodded. Mrs. Butcher leaned down and gave him a quick hug. “Now, at the risk of sounding like a mama, it’s raining and this mist is getting mistier by the moment an’ we should all get home before we’re soaked to the bone.”

Mr. Butcher put an arm around Elias’ shoulder and lead him off into the gloom, Mrs. Butcher close by the other side. “Papa Bear is right.” Anna-Marie’s mama said. “We can’t fault your heart. But sometimes, me lass, I wonder ’bout your brains.” She ruffled Anna-Marie’s hair before they too walked off into the mist.

—

Tyves 18th, 1513

“Colby!” Eve gave him an enthusiastic, just shy of bone crushing hug. “I was beginning to think you were a figment of my imagination. Reggie says you come by, but it’s always when I’m at lessons.”

“Sorry, Eve. When you’re at lessons is when I can get away.” Colby told his baby sister.

“You could bring the kids with you. I can play with them while you talk with Reggie.” Eve told him with a light poke in the torso. While Eve was a ball of energy, a comet of laughter and warmth that could light up any room, attention pretty much always settled on the man on the other side of the desk.

Even just sitting casually, white shirt stretched taut over broad cafe au lait shoulders, energy seemed to pulse and swirl around him. There really was no question as to how Reggie could hold an empire the size he did, five minutes in his company would tell you that even if Miguel, Captain of the idiots as well as the Guard of River Sulis always wondered it.

Colby could have told him, of course, but he chose to not remind people that he and Reggie were related. Miguel would either question Colby’s loyalty–or he’d come up with some moronic plan for how to use Colby against his brother.

“So what does bring you here?” Eve flounced into one of the ornate chairs on this side of the desk.

“Well… I need advice.” Colby admitted to his hands. And he might be a man grown with four children, but he still came to his elder brother when he needed it.

“Divorce your wife and set your eldest son up as a cabin boy under a captain with a hard reputation, I know a few, if you’d like some recommendations.” Reggie said with a smirk.

“Ha. Ha. Ha.” Colby snorted sarcastically.

“Well, I think it’s good advice.” Reggie sending a wink to Eve.

“Romi would never forgive me if I sent Romeo away.” Colby said.

“He’d come back–hopefully with some sort of better perspective and a work ethic. And maybe not be such a little brat.” Reggie told him, thoughtfully. “But what did you need advice on?”

“Well, Romeo–actually. The Osmonts little girl, Anna?” Colby frowned that didn’t sound quite right.

“Anna-Marie.” He should have known that Reggie would know. He probably knew the name of every chicken in River Sulis, let alone ever child.

“Aye. Anna-Marie dragged the Butcher boy over to my house on Saturday. Romeo’s apparently been bullying the kid something fierce. And don’t say you told me so. I know you did.”

“When do I ever say I told you so?” Reggie asked with a quirked eyebrow. Okay, well, he didn’t say he told you so, even when he had. With Colby he didn’t have to. Colby was so used to hearing it from his wife that even if no one else said it, he still knew it.

“I made him apologize to the boy and gave him extra chores for a couple months in hopes that that might straighten him out–just a little.” Colby sighed. “But right after I gave him the punishment, he went outside and picked another fight with Elias.” Reggie shook his head. “But he might have bit off more than he could chew, because he did come back in the house with a bloody nose.”

“Elias Butcher gave Romeo a bloody nose?” Eve asked, sounding startled. How would–oh, yeah, Marina, Elias’s older sister was old enough to run in the same crowd that Eve did. She probably knew the kid enough to know that it was highly unlikely. Colby couldn’t claim to know either kid well, he didn’t have any children Marina’s age and quite obviously Elias wasn’t one of Romeo’s regular cronies.

“No. I’m pretty sure the bloody nose probably came from Anna-Marie.” Reggie said with a wry chuckle. “The Osmont girl is a spit-fire if nothing else.”

“Oh.” Eve said with a nod.

“So obviously taking the trash out every night isn’t going to solve the problem.” Colby sighed. “But hell if I know what to do with him that might make him see the error of his ways.”

“You could send him over here.” Reggie told him.

“Even if Romi wouldn’t flip, I’m not sure that Romeo would see that as a punishment.” Colby told him. Thinking back to all the times he had heard Romeo lording it over other children that his uncle was Reginald Rose.

“He’d probably get it soon enough if I have him helping old Ed spread manure in the flowerbeds and he gets stuck polishing the marble.” Reggie said.

“I dunno, Reg. Romeo seems to think that he’s gonna grow up to be just like you some day. Not me, slaving away at the city guard with nothing to show for it.”

“Because your wife doesn’t understand the concept of a budget.” It was Eve who said that, but still Colby winced.

“Still, he thinks being–what you are is–flashy.” Colby said with a sigh.

“He’ll never be what I am, unless he changes his personality entirely. And quite honestly I wouldn’t hire him, even as a grunt, with any personality I see him growing. But you’re right that we need to do something because I can think of a few people who would love to put one in your eye and mine by hiring him on.” Reggie folded his hands before standing up and heading over to pour himself some wine.

“I know what we do.” Eve said with a grin. “We do like Reggie suggested and have him come over to sweep floors and polish the marble and spread the manure and what not. And then we don’t bother hiding all the disreputable characters that Reggie has to deal with on a day to day basis from him like usual.”

“It’s partially our fault that he thinks it’s so glamorous to be–whatever Reggie is.” Eve sighed. “We have tried our best to hide the bad parts from the kids, you just still try and hide the worst parts from me when you can.” Colby and Reggie shared a shrug. “But if he sees some of the absolutely creepy guys who waltz in and out of this office, maybe he’ll see it’s not all sunshine and roses.”

“Maybe.” Colby said dubiously. “Romi won’t like it though.”

“Well, tell her if she’d discipline your kid then you wouldn’t have to send him to me.” Reggie told Colby flatly. Colby sighed. “It’s part of being a parent–or at least acting in a parental capacity.”

“Speaking of things parents have to do that aren’t fun, Reggie, you still haven’t told me if I can go to Lady Elizabet’s birthday party with Darin yet.”

“Darin–Sara-Beth’s Darin?”

“Aye.” Reggie and Eve nodded. “Darin seems to have gotten some sort of in with the baron’s son.” Reggie shrugged.

“Aye, I figured as much when Darin got caught on a pub crawl with Lord Joshua. But–still–Darin?”

“What’s wrong with Darin?” Eve asked planting her hands on her hips.

“Well, you’ve gotta admit, Eve, this family hasn’t had the best of luck, romantically speaking, with that family.  And Darin is Sara-Beth’s brother through and through.” Colby sighed.

“It’s an invitation to a fancy dress party not a marriage proposal.” Eve tossed her head.

“I don’t know why you’re waiting for me to say yes, even if I said no, you’d just poke me til I said yes, so aye, you can go with Darin to the party.”

“Goody. Tell Romeo to be over after school tomorrow.” Eve said skipping toward the painting that hid a door between Reggie’s office and the private family portion of the house.

“That girl.” Colby sighed.

“Meh, she keeps me on my toes.” Reggie said. “And she’s a good kid.” Colby nodded and wished, just for a moment, whatever magic Reggie possessed, that it would be enough to make his son into what anyone would call a good kid.

Tyves 16th, 1513 – Outskirts of River Sulis, Lothianshire, Albion

This is all my fault. Anna-Marie thought as she shoved the door open and spilled herself out into the dying summer sunlight. What if something happened to him? She thought she knew where Elias was, but what if he wasn’t there? She picked up her skirts to run just a little faster. She had to find him!

—

Earlier that morning…

“Climb up my apple tree. Slide down my rainbow into my cellar door.” Elias was better at clapping games than Gretchen was, but not quite as good as Starla. Of course there were all sorts of boys who would give him all sorts of hell if he ever played clapping games at school, so usually Anna-Marie had to make due with Gretchen. Boys were supposed to play boys games. And girls were supposed to play girl games. And the less they had to do with each other the better.

Which was dumb to Anna-Marie, all you had to do was look at the older kids, holding hands in the schoolyard or trying to sneak off to go snog in the woods to know that while apparently boys and girls were supposed to find each other icky, it would only be a few years before you went from supposedly gross boys trying to scare you with frogs (was it weird that Anna-Marie sorta liked frogs?) to no longer gross boys trying to stick their tongues in your mouth. That sounded a lot more icky than the frogs to Anna-Marie.

But the older girls didn’t mind, so as weird as the whole tongue thing seemed to be, apparently you got over it.

Anna-Marie was glad that Elias had come over to play today. Something was going on, she could see him at the edge of the boys’ area of the playground, by the “castle” and the monkey bars–which the Reman kids sometimes called the Albion bridge for whatever reason–hands clenched into fists, or slumped against a tree staring at his shoes.

But she couldn’t go over to the boy’s section and pester whatever it was out of him, even if Elias had been her friend since they were both in nappies. Even Anna-Marie had some basic idea of the playground rules, even if she didn’t like most of them.

Still, now they weren’t on the playground and she could pester him as much as she she wanted to. Now she just needed an opening.

Anna-Marie realized someone one was coming up behind her right before she heard shoes hitting the paving stones. Elias’ sorta cringed and took his eyes away from the game.

“Are you playing a clapping game?” Like a girl?” A sneering voice that made Anna-Marie’s teeth grit. “Like a baby?”

“I am a girl, Romeo.” Anna-Marie got to her feet and dusted back of her dress off.

“He ain’t.” Romeo Rose, the bane of the classroom and playground, was still sneering when he walked around Anna-Marie  and pushed Elias in the chest. “Unless you’re still in nappies under that.” He pushed Elias again.

“I’m not in nappies!” Elias protested.

“Of course you ain’t.” Anna-Marie agreed. What kinda butthead was Romeo anyway? How did it make you flashy to do something as stupid as accuse someone of still wearing diapers? “But Romeo might be.”

The two boys looked at Anna-Marie in near identical confusion. “He might?”

“Well, he probably hasn’t got the brains to hit the pot.” Anna-Marie crossed her arms over her chest. “My mama says some of the really addle-pated people at the hospitals wear nappies.”

“What do you know about brains, you’re a girl?” Romeo’s sneer returned.

“I know lotsa girls with brains, Romeo Rose. Enough to know if you got any, they’re drowning in stupid an’ mean.” Anna-Marie told the other boy.

“Leave Anna-Marie alone.” Elias said as Romeo reared back like he was about to hit her. “Nobody wants you here, Romeo.”

“Yeah, cause I’m a boy an’ all that’s ‘llowed around is girls an’ babies.” Romeo said, giving Elias another shove before putting moose ears above his head and wagging his butt back and forth like a dog. Anna-Marie was half tempted to tell him that–or to give him another Sminese burn–and still deciding which it was when he shoved Elias a third time. “Cry-crybaby-cry cry.” He sing-songed before running off the way he came.

“I ain’t a crybaby!” Elias called after him, though his voice was cracking all over the place and he sounded like he might cry any minute. Stupid Romeo. Anna-Marie scowled for a moment. She gave him a hug. Even if that was kinda a girl thing to do.

“Romeo’s got pigeon poop in his head.” Elias didn’t even smile at that. “Didja see it, last rainstorm, he was on the castle playin’ and he went and tried to run across the playground and slid on the mud under the monkey bars.”

“Yeah. I saw. But doesn’t matter how many times he shows he’s a big dummy, people still laugh at him.” Elias muttered toward his shoes.

“Aye, they laugh at him. My grampa says people do two kindsa laughin’ at people. They laugh with ‘em, cause they’re funny or clever or whatevernot, or they laugh at ‘em. Which is cause they think they’re all flashy an’ clever.” Anna-Marie told him. “I’m pretty sure that they’re mostly laughin’ at Romeo.” That got her no response other than a slight shrug of the shoulders. Okay, different tactic. She thought.

“Hey, Elias?”

“What?”

“You ever heard the Reman kids callin’ the monkey bars an Albion bridge?” He nodded. “You know why they call it that?” She bit her lip.

“No.”

“Phooey.” Anna-Marie said.

“They’re saying people from Albion aren’t smart enough to walk on their feet.” Anna-Marie’s mother said from behind her. “What was going on out here?” Anna Marie looked at Elias who ducked his head.

“It was jist big dumb Romeo, being a dummy.” Anna-Marie said.

“Elias?” Mama asked the boy. “Is something wrong?” He shook his head fast. “Would you like to stay for lunch?” He shook his head again. “My papa’ll expect me home for lunch.” He said. “I’ll see you later, Anna-Marie.” He said before he ran off toward his house.

—

“You should tell somebody.” Anna-Marie told Elias looking up at him from the front porch at the Butcher’s home.

“That’s tattling.” Elias kicked the base of one of the stone columns. “Besides, who would I tell?”

“What about your papa?” Anna-Marie asked. He shook his head.

“He’s too busy at the shop to bother with something as dumb as this.” Elias told her. “An–” he stopped with a shrug.

“Well, then what about your…” It occurred to her after it was half out of her mouth and too late to shove it back inside that it was the wrong thing to say. That that was what his eyes had been begging her not to bring up. He took off into the house. Her manners warred for a moment with her desire to fix what her mouth had gotten her into. She hadn’t, strictly speaking, been invited in, but she wasn’t gonna let that stop her as she clambered up onto the porch and tore off toward Elias’ room after him.

Elias was standing by the quilt that his mother had made him his head bowed and face buried in his hands.

“Elias?” Anna-Marie asked.

“She’s not my mama, Anna-Marie! I don’t got a mama no more!” He sobbed into his hands. “An’ Romeo’s right. I am a crybaby.”

“You ain’t. I’d cry to if my mama were gone.”

“You’re a girl.” 

“Y’think?” Anna-Marie growled at little tired of everyone pointing that out. Her being a girl had about as much relevance in this situation as the price of tea in Smina did. “Are you really gonna listen to a dummy like Romeo? An’ even if your step-mama ain’t your mama, she likes you. She’d help.”

“She’s too busy with the twins to care about me.” Elias told her. That didn’t sound right. His half brother and sister were about the same age as Johnny and as far as Anna-Marie could tell, about a quarter of the trouble. Not one in all the times she’d come and visited the Butchers had she seen either Kian or Violet running around naked as a jaybird swinging their braises over their head.

Mrs. Butcher always had time to offer Anna-Marie a shortbread and some tea and ask how things were going. But sometimes things looked different than they were. Darry and Sara-Beth were always happy when they’d come for dinner, but she knew that her mama was worried about Sara-Beth and that Darry and Sara-Beth fought a lot. Maybe this was kinda sorta the same thing.

Okay, if telling somebody wasn’t gonna help, she needed another plan.

“Well, if we can’t tell your mama and papa–” She leaned over and whispered her plan in Elias’ ear.

—

“I got a bad feeling about this,” Elias said.

“I don’t care if you’re a girl or a cry baby, but if you’re gonna be a chicken, we’re gonna have words.” Anna-Marie pushed open the heavy metal gate her slippers seeming to echo back at her from the walls of the little hallway that lead to a second metal gate.

“Anna-Marie.”

“Come! on!” Anna-Marie told him as they stepped into the courtyard of the house. Still, she did sort of wonder at her own daring as they approached the wooden door. “It is this one, isn’t it?”

“I dunno. Maybe we shouldn’t…”

“Unless some sort of wicked witch lives in the wrong side of the house an’ is gonna eat us if we knock on the wrong door, they’ll just tell us to go next door.” Anna Marie told him, squaring up her shoulders and rapping on the door. Her papa had told her that Romeo’s papa was a guardsman, that should’ve made him a good person. Hopefully he’d give them the chance to explain.

A moment later, a man in a dark suit opened the door and stepped out into the courtyard. “Mister–er–are you Guardsman Rose?”

“Aye.” Guardsman Rose looked puzzled for a short moment, then his face cleared. “You’d be Elias Butcher–and you’d be… Raven and Eric’s little girl, wouldn’t you?”

“Aye, sir.” Anna-Marie said. Elias didn’t say anything.

“Well, Miss Osmont, what can I do for you?” If that wasn’t an opening, she’d eat her best sunhat. And she told him. Told him about how Romeo had been bullying Elias–how he’d come over seemingly only to tease them–about how he was being a general jerk. And if her voice shook, just a little, as she told it. Well, she was a fairly newly minted eight.

“Please, come inside and sit. I’m going to go get Romeo.” Guardsman Rose said at the end of Anna-Marie’s recitation. Was that good or bad? Anna Marie bit her lip but headed into the cool interior of the house with Elias trailing reluctantly after her as Guardsman Rose headed up the stairs.

She moved over to the whitewashed wood sofa with the orange cushion and sat down with an experimental bounce. Elias, she noticed, was sitting on one of the chairs by the door.

“I’m pretty sure–cause we were invited in–that we can come in a bit further than that.” Anna-Marie told him. He hadn’t said a word since she’d opened the courtyard gate. That–wasn’t good was it?

He slid off the chair and–slunk–more than walked to the sofa before sitting down next to her with obvious reluctance.

“What do you think is gonna happen?” Elias whispered.

“Um, dunno.” Anna-Marie said, then a moment later, the door opened. Guardsman Rose walked in with Romeo trailing behind him rather as Elias had trailed behind Anna-Marie.

“These two children have just been telling me about your behavior at school, Romeo.”

“They’re lyin’.”

“I bet they’re not.” Romeo’s papa said with a shake of his head.

“Why would you believe them rather th’n me?” Romeo asked sullenly.

“Because I didn’t say what they’d been telling me. It could have been good. But if you’d been being good, you wouldn’t have immediately told me they were lying.” The guardsman told his son.

“Ma says you’re not ‘posed to use that trickery guardsman stuff on us.” Romeo said.

“Well, then I guess your mother will just yell at me.” Guardsman Rose said flatly. “Have you been bullying kids and teasing them, Romeo.”

“No! It ain’t bein’ a bully to tell a crybaby he’s bein’ one. That’s what ma calls speakin’ plain.”

“That may be what your mother calls speaking plain, but I call it being a bully and as long as you live under my roof you’ll abide my rules as well as your mother’s.”

“Ma says…” Romeo trailed off as he looked at his father’s face. “What do I haveta do?”

“Apologize to Elias and stop doing it for a start.” The guardsman said.

“‘M sorry.” Romeo said to Elias. “I won’t do that no more. G’me a shake on it?” Elias looked at Anna-Marie who nodded and slid off the couch. The two boys shook.

“Anna-Marie! Elias!” Romeo called as they were walking away from the house. He ran up the corridor after them. “Thanks, you stupid tattling crybabies! Now ‘m gonna have to do double chores until Hybel all cause you had to tell my pa cause you can’t take a joke.”

She probably should’ve guessed. As her gramama liked to say “a tabby cat can’t change it’s stripes.” A bully like Romeo would probably always be a bully.

“A course you’d come tell my pa, y’ain’t got no ma, no more an’ yer pa prob’ly don’t love you no more cause he gots yer sibs to love.” Romeo sneered at Elias. “An’ you–” he started to turn to Anna-Marie but got no further.

His eyes were huge as he touched under his nose where Anna-Marie had hit him and he stared at the blood on his finger tips.

“You hit me.” He whispered as if amazed that she would have done any such thing. “I’m gonna tell my ma.”

“Then you’ll be the tattler.” Anna-Marie did her best to match Romeo’s sneer, even though it sort of made her feel slimy on the inside. “Just go put a cold wet rag on it and you’ll be fine.”

He ran back in the house and Anna-Marie turned to see if Elias was alright. He’d run to the end of the house already, head and shoulders slumped.

“I’m sorry, Elias.” Anna-Marie said.

“I have to go.” Elias told her trudging away toward his house. Anna-Marie kicked herself and headed toward her house, this whole thing had gone bad.

She’d confessed her crimes to her father upon getting home. About dragging Elias to the Roses–about talking with Romeo–even about punching him in the nose. Papa had told her that her heart had been in the right place, but that she really needed to learn that not all problems could be solved with a Sminese burn or a punch in the nose and had forgiven her, just this once, for trying to solve it that way.

“You can’t fault her heart.” Papa had told her mama when her mama got home after work.

But then things went from bad to worse, because they hadn’t hardly gotten finished with supper when the Butchers knocked on the door asking if Anna-Marie knew where Elias was. And she betted she did. But the question was–was she right?

Clatan 18th, 1513 – Outskirts of River Sulis, Lothianshire, Albion

Of all of the things that Darin had expected to be doing on St. Skip’s day, introducing the son and heir of the local baron to a crime lord was not one of them. However, as Darin watched Reggie and Joshua shake hands, that seemed to be exactly what he was doing. Of course if you’d asked him six weeks ago what he planned on doing on St. Skip’s day, he would have had to pause for a second to remember what day it even was, and told you that he expected to spend it either at home studying or at one of his friends’ with maybe a jaunt over to the Boar.

What he wouldn’t have told you was that he was going to be going out for a night on town with several of the wealthiest, most influential boys under the age of eighteen in the entire town.

When he’d seen Joshua off that morning just a month ago, confused, bewildered, and–just generally wondering if maybe someone had gone a few rounds on him, he had expected to see Joshua in class on Monday morning. Then he hadn’t, he didn’t see him again until the following Saturday. And it involved another rescue, though from nothing more serious than Darin’s friends and the catcalls that they gave the “pretty boy” who had rode down their street on a white horse. And that rescue was admittedly safe enough for Darin, all he had to do was point out that the young man on the white horse was the son and heir of the local baron and even Neal’s trap had slammed shut.

After he’d gotten Joshua away from Neal and them, Joshua had offered Darin the most peculiar not-an-explanation explanation that Darin had ever gotten for what had happened the previous weekend. From that had come an inquiry about tutoring and if Darin would be willing to take on another student for tutoring.

And as if some sort of magical portal had opened up with that conversation, Darin had gone from being an outsider on the outside looking in to being an outsider on the inside looking forlornly out. Instead of going from his tutoring sessions home to the empty cottage where he would spend his evening studying, he was now fielding invitations to go out drinking in some of the best taverns in the city, to go riding or hawking or hunting or attend entertainment.

Except, of course, that Darin didn’t have a horse or a hawk, he didn’t know how to hunt, he could barely afford a cup of the cheapest beer in those taverns and the masques and entertainment was all high brow, classical stuff. And whenever Darin offered one of those protests, Joshua just shrugged it off. Darin could ride his other horse. That one didn’t actually need a hawk to go out hawking. That they weren’t really “hunting” anything, it was the wrong season for it, mostly it was just an excuse to get out of the city and out from under the eyes of their parents. Joshua always picked up Darin’s drink at the tavern.

As for the masques–well, all Joshua would say on that subject was that it was culture and good for him. (That one rather sounded like Raven trying to coax peas into Johnny, in all honesty.)

Darin sort of wondered why Joshua was bothering, he could spend the next two years being Joshua’s shadow and what would it prove? But you couldn’t say that to Joshua, he was incredibly good at somehow not hearing any protest that Darin could offer.

“So that’s Reginald Rose?” Joshua asked after they had shaken hands and politely mouthed formulas of things they didn’t really mean at each other. “I thought he’d be–um.”

“Oh, he can be. That’s Reggie on his day off.” Darin smiled.

“And he makes my father cry himself to sleep.” Joshua said wonderingly but with a laugh. Darin shot him a look. “Joke. It’s a joke.” A strange one. But then again, Darin had never met the baron and if he had his way, he wouldn’t, ever. Maybe it was one of those jokes that made more sense if you knew the person involved.

“Are you ready to go?” Joshua asked. Darin shrugged but followed as Joshua lead the way back up the street.

—

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but this is the sixth tavern we’ve been kicked out of tonight.” Darin pointed out to Josh after the disgruntled tavern keeper took his broom and turned to head back inside.

“And the night is still young.” Someone from the front of the group declared drunkenly.

“What’s wrong, Princess,” Constantin slurred. “You turn into a turnip or somethin’ at midnight?”

“You moron, it was a cabbage.” Edouard protested.

“I’m pretty sure it was a pum’kin.” Charlie countered.

“If you think it was a pum’kin, you need another drink.” Edouard told him.

“Now all we need is a tavern that lessus in.” Constantin thrust his fist into the air and pointed vaguely forward. “For-red marsh!”

“So when’s this end?” Darin asked, glancing up at the narrow sliver of moon in the sky.

“It’s a pub crawl. It ends when we pass out, run out of taverns, or the guard gets called.” Joshua told him cheerfully. What in Wright’s name have I gotten myself into.

“And it looks like it’s the third option.” A completely sober voice that caused Darin’s stomach to sink somewhere down in the vicinity of his shoes. He didn’t even have to turn to see the black and red guard uniform to know who it was walking out of the shadows behind the tavern.

Of all the bad stinkin’ luck…

“Let’s go, you two. Looks like your friends will have to catch up.” Colby told them gesturing toward the front gate of the square.

—

Joshua slumped in the wooden chair in a nicely appointed office in the guard’s station. A frozen expression of vague pleasantness was plastered on his face. He hadn’t said anything since the guardsman had opened the door to the building, any genuine good humor long since vanished.

“What’s the matter?” Darin asked.

“We know most of the guards, there are ones that you can negotiate with–there are ones you can’t. He’s firmly in the ones you can’t.” Joshua told him. “We’ll have to stay here until our parents come get us.”

“That may be a while.” Darin muttered. Joshua looked up at him. “My parents are dead. I hope Sara-Beth’ll work as substitute.”

“I wish my sister would work.” Joshua crossed his arms over his chest. “Unfortunately I don’t think they let eleven year olds come bail you out of gaol.” Darin looked at him for a moment before Joshua sighed and slumped further. “You–don’t know my father.”

Darin flashed back to what Josh had said in the alley behind the Boar. “They’ll tell my father.” memory whispered.

“Well, isn’t there anyone else you can ask? A servant, your father’s steward?” Darin asked.

“Cox would be worse.” Joshua whispered, before Darin could ask why, the door to the office opened and a man not dressed in a uniform came through and made his way around the desk. Passing close enough to Darin for him to easily smell the miasma of wine lingering around him.

“M’lord,” He bowed his head to Joshua. The captain ignored Darin entirely. “I understand the urge to get rowdy sometimes but must you boys leave a swath of destruction behind you every time you do?”

Joshua said nothing.  “What would your lord grandfather think?”

“The same Lord-grandfather who helped burn down a tavern at Camford?” Joshua sneered coldly. The guard captain blinked slowly, apparently being saved from wringing another soggy thought from his obviously underused brain, by a tap on the door.

“Captain, sir, the boys’ sisters are here.” Colby told him.

“I asked for parents, Guardsman Rose!” He thundered, the wine smell around him seeming to billow out with the word.

“Mr. Capshaw is an orphan, sir, if you insist upon making him wait until his parents arrive, you may never use your office again. As for Lord Joshua, well, perhaps you should talk to her yourself.” The captain grumbled and got to his feet.

“Not you!” He exclaimed from the doorway.

“Why not me?” A strange female voice inquired cheerfully. “Whoa, boy, what’d you do, drink a wineshop outta business, Miguel?”

“You are not Lord Joshua’s parents.”

“Obviously.” Though Darin couldn’t see the speaker’s face, a smirk was obvious in her voice.

“Cousin Miguel, mother and father are at the Finessas for their Saint Skip’s day dinner, I thought it would be just as easy, when the boy arrived, just bring Madame Cox and come myself.” A younger female voice interjected. “And I know that father has on record his permission for my brother and I to be released into the custody of any of our upper servants.” That must be Elizabet, Joshua’s sister, Darin decided.

“But she isn’t a servant.” The captain said triumphantly.

“Please don’t lean toward me when you yell, Miguel, I’m getting tipsy off the fumes.” The woman, Madame Cox? said.

“This evening, Madame Cox is serving as my companion, that makes her technically a servant.” Elizabet told him sunnily.

“She’s got you, old boy. You couldn’t think your way outta this one sober, and it’s painfully obvious you’re not that. Just release the kid, then you can go back to drinking yourself flat.” Madame Cox told him.

“Fine! Rose! Get the Wright-be-damned papers and get these–women–out of my guard station.”

“See you on Sunday for brunch, Miguel.” Madame Cox called after him as he stormed off.