Chương 27: The Bogge-Rider: Chapter Eighteen

By the time they had returned to the White Queen inn, the last rays of sunlight had all but disappeared behind the horizon, settling the snow-blanketed streets of Twin Lamps into a deep blue dusk, the chill steadily growing more biting as night came on. They had debated amongst themselves, on the way back, what the next course of action should be. In Kells' opinion, they ought to go straight to the guard, and urge them to do a search of The Middens.

Martimeos managed to talk him out of it; besides from stirring up trouble, he said, it was more likely that whoever they searched for would simply find a way to hide and flee, perhaps leaving The Middens altogether, if they brought that much attention there - if their quarry had not decided to move already. Elyse suggested that the next day, thei return to The Middens 'more sneakily', hidden by disguise or glamour, and simply wait in the back alleys to see if they could spot any who passed by with red hair.

Flit wanted to simply fly through the windows of the shacks, to spy quickly on those dwelling inside, but Martimeos wasn't sure that was safe for his familiar - who know if folk so hungry might resort to eating a cardinal, if they could catch it. Rather, he was of the opinion that they should return and find Vincent tomorrow - whoever was hiding there, they still certainly had to eat, and it seemed that Vincent was the one who was passing out food.

If they could watch the distribution of bread, they could see who came to get some while having their hair covered, and follow them. From a hidden place, of course - he ran a hand across the fresh cut in his face, healed somewhat by Elyse but still open. Whoever they were pursuing, they were not happy about it. Madame Ro was there to greet them when they entered the common room, this time wearing a dark blue dress sewn through with a golden thread in the pattern of stars in the night sky.

As they sat down to eat their dinner, Martimeos noted with some amusement that the maids still doted on Kells, one in particular - the tall, thin girl named Anne - continuously piling potatoes and slabs of cooked meat on his plate until the soldier asked her if she was trying to kill him. Martimeos knew that Kells had been going to bed with this maid for the past few nights. He had originally planned on sharing a room with Kells, instead of with Elyse, but he supposed it was good for the man to have some privacy.

Squeezing the maids seemed to be helping him in his grief over Roark. They retired to their rooms, still not having settled on a plan for how to approach The Middens tomorrow - something they would have to decide over breakfast. Whatever they did, Martimeos thought, they ought to do it as quickly as possible. The rider had not given them any indication when he would come back to try to take one of their heads again. It made Martimeos reluctant to stay anywhere where there were not many other people in sight.

He thought that if the rider were to attack them again, it would appear at a time when they were isolated and vulnerable; Vincent was right about that. Flit fluttered from Martimeos' shoulder up into his favorite nexting spot in the rafters as Martimeos entered his room. Cecil greeted him with a chirruping meow from the cot Madame Ro had told the maids to bring up so that he might share it with Elyse - a small wooden frame piled up with wool-stuffed pillows serving as a mattress.

He and Elyse had drawn straws to see who had to take the cot and who would get the larger, softer, goose-down stuffed bed, and he was glad that he had won - while the cot was small, it could still fit Elyse comfortably, while he thought he would have been very cramped in it. He sat on the edge of his bed, concentrating with the Art to light a candle on the room's desk, while Elyse trailed in behind him, unfastening her cloak and tossing it on her cot, and beginning the process of untying the ribbons from her hair.

"I have to say," she said idly, swaying gently by her cot as her fingers worked in her hair, "I had no idea people lived like they do in The Middens. It seems a sorry lot life."

"It's a disgrace, is what it is," Martim growled, as the candle on the desk slowly flickered to life, casting a dim, flickering light across the room. He bent over and began to struggle to remove his boots.

"While they freeze on the bare ground, there is a man halfway 'cross town who sleeps in a gigantic house with thirty empty rooms."

"Hm," Elyse replied, as Cecil pawed at the ribbons as they fluttered down from her hair and descended onto her bed.

"I had always read that was the way of the world, though. There were no nobles in my swamp, but that was how it was in the stories. They lived in stately manors and held power by right of blood." Martimeos snorted.

"At least the merchants of Twin Lamps do not pretend to have gold flowing in their veins," he scoffed, as he finally removed his boot with a tug, "But give them time and they'll try to buy rights to noble blood with coin. But it seems to me a funny sort of noble who lives comfortably in his mansion while his subjects freeze and starve. I ask you, what do you think ought to be done with a man like that?" Elyse looked back at Martimeos.

He sat on his bed, hidden in shadow, but there was something fierce and strange in his dark green eyes, something wild that she did not think she had seen there before, his face wearing a small funny smile, the cut in his cheek a dark black line in the dim light. Suddenly, as she looked, she saw something strange. It seemed as if, for a moment, Martimeos was not in the room.

Rather, he stood in an autumn forest of tall oaks, dark shadows moving among the trunks, bright red roses on vines of cruel black thorns covering the ground and climbing the trees, and while leaves in a brillaint blaze of red and orange drifted down around him, his eyes blazed like dark green fire, intense and fearsome and alien- Just a moment, and it was gone. Martimeos was simply sitting on his bed once more, looking at her. She put a hand to her head, feeling a bit dizzy, as the world snapped back into place.

She wondered if she were briefly dreaming on her feet. When she did not answer him, the wildness eventually left his eyes, and he laughed, kicking his legs up on the bed, leaning back against the pillows.

"Ah well," he said, "I am just a wizard. What do I know of how men choose to rule themselves? The Art is my lot. I cannot help but be angry about it, though, sometimes." Elyse gathered up the ribbons that had fallen from her hair off her cot, tugging one from Cecil's mouth as he gnawed upon the end of it, storing them within the room's dresser in a disorganized ball. She liked the way the ribbons looked, she thought, but they could be a burden to tie and untie every day.

Perhaps one day, when she was better with glamour, she could simply use that to create the sight of ribbons. She sat upon her cot, drawing her knees to her chest, petting Cecil until he purred, running her hand over the cast that still covered his rear leg. He still needed some time to heal. In truth, though, her mind dwelt on something other than her familiar.

"Martim," she murmured, her voice soft, "Do we really plan to fight the rider?"

"Not necessarily," Martimeos replied, not looking at her, still lying back and staring up at the ceiling.

"I would rather leave that to the guard. But as he does have a particular interest in us, it seems, perhaps we can be useful in drawing him out." Elyse was silent for a moment. And then, quietly, she asked, "Are you not terrified?" Martimeos turned his head to look at her, his frown just barely visible in the flickering candlelight.

"Something is not right," she continued, as she drew her knees to her chest, hugging them.

"All that we have learned - none of it explains why we have forrgotten that we have seen him before."

"I am still not certain that I have," Martimeos muttered, but Elyse shook her head.

"No. I have thought long on this - I am certain now. He was there, in my mother's swamp. Perhaps something called from the Outside by her, though I have forgotten when... but he was there, watching me, and..." She wrapped her arms around herself to stop the shivering.

"The more I cast my mind back over my memory, the more I see him. And you, and Kells... Martim, perhaps he is not here for his kin. Perhaps he is here for us."" That would not make sense," Martimeos said softly.

"Remember what Bartuk said - the actions of Outsiders do not have to make sense. Has he watched the three of us from youth...?"

"No." Martim's voice was stronger, more firm now.

"I still do not believe that. More on my village would have remarked upon him. I do not know why he is in my memory now, but too little of it makes sense-""Perhaps not you, then. But I know now I've seen him before. I just do not know why I had forgotten him." Elyse closed her eyes. She could remember it so clearly, now. Those chattering teeth, those burning yellow eyes. She had found herself reluctant to tread through a memory in recent days, for fear she would find the rider there stalking her thoughts.

She had tried to tell herself it was nonsense - that it could not be real - after all, it did not seem to bother Martim as much - but now even the thought of seeing the rider again froze her blood. She hated it, hated feeling like such a coward, but her mind raced through explanations for what the rider could be - was it something her mother had cursed her with, something meant to watch her, but which now acted on its own since her mother's death? Was it something that served her father...?

There were too many possibilities... and when she spent the day in the company of others, she could take her mind off it, but lately, at night, those burning eyes filled her mind, the sound of chattering teeth filled her skull, and she wondered when the rider would come to drag her off-"Elyse!" Martim's voice snapped her back to reality. She was curled on her cot, arms wrapped tight around her legs, head buried in her knees. She raised her head to see Martim now sitting up in his bed, looking at her with concern.

She felt heat rise in her cheeks from embarrassment. She did not want Martim thinking she was a coward.

"I... ah... nodded off," she replied. She felt irritation replacing some of her fear as Martimeos gave her a skeptical look.

"What? I did."

"This seems to be taking a heavy toll on you," the wizard replied frankly. Elyse felt her cheeks burning even more.

"What, and it is not on you? I hear you muttering, and tossing and turning in your sleep," she snapped, feeling a small sense of satisfaction as Martim's eyes widened and he rubbed the back of his head. Though truth be told, even the sounds of his restless sleep were a bit of a comfort. She had leapt at the opportunity to share a room with him in large part because she had hoped that having someone nearby would have given her an easier time sleeping than she had alone in her room with Cecil.

Though she had really wanted to share his bed, but the damned wizard had insisted on the cot. She almost felt joy at the annoyance rising in her; it really did burn away some of the terror she felt. Martimeos really was a fool wizard. This was how he was, wasn't it. He had not taken the time to heal properly from his wound in Silverfish. he had refused to admit how much of a strain carrying her through the streets of Twin Lamps had been, and now he would not admit how afraid he himself was.

She rose from the cot, crossing the room, savoring Martimeos' look of confusion as she did so.

"What are you-" he said as she approached, before she leapt at him. He was driven back by Elyse's tackle, back into a lying position.

"What do you think you're doing?" he snapped, as she quickly made herself comfortable in his bed, curling up against him. Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

"Helping you sleep," she replied.

"Perhaps having someone to hold will quiet your nightmares, you brave, brave wizard." She frowned as she shifted against him.

"Take your leathers off, the studs are uncomfortable."

"Having you in my bed does not help me sleep," he replied, as he struggled to tug his leather tunic above his head.

"Why not?" she asked, as he tossed his tunic aside and settled back, settling her head upon the itchy wool undershirt he wore. He should take that off too, she thought. He was a better pillow naked.

"I am warm against the chill, aren't I?" Martimeos snorted.

"Why not, she asks. A pretty girl who is not shy about undressing in front of me sharing my bed. You're right, why would that ever make it difficult to sleep?" Elyse was quiet for a moment. She could hear the beat of Martim's heart as she rested her head against his chest; she was intently aware of the feel of his hand resting on her hip. She felt an entirely different heat rise to her cheeks now, and her black ring grew warm against her finger.

She thought back to Silverfish, when she had lain with him to drive away the Mirrit's poison. She had been curious, then, but it would be a lie to say she had not thought of it since. The night he had come to her room after singing, it had been particularly hard to avoid thinking about it. What it would feel like to meet his lips with hers again, to not only press her skin to his, but to feel him pressing back, to- With some alarm, she felt her ring growing hotter, felt a dark fire burning within her.

She did her best to stifle these. Greedy fool, a voice within her said. F or his sake, you know you cannot. You play a dangerous game lying with him. She became aware that she had been silent for some time after what Martimeos had just said. She ought to say something to play it off, some joke, she knew, but as she shifted her head on his chest to stare up at him and saw those dark green eyes staring back, she felt her mouth go dry. She had no idea what to say. Fortunately, Martimeos spoke.

"I should not be saying that," he muttered, a look of shame coming to his face. Elyse was confused by this; what did he have to be ashamed about? But with a wave of his hand, he put out the candle, casting the room into darkness.

"Goodnight, Elyse," was the only thing he said further. Puzzled, relieved, and more disappointed than she liked to admit, Elyse drifted off to the sound of his steady breathing. She had been right, she thought, the moment before she slumbered. With someone to hold, thoughts of the rider did not torment her nearly as much. ~+~+~+~+~+~ Martimeos snapped awake. He did not know how long he had been asleep; it must have been some time. Moonlight poured through the window, bathing the room in a dim glow.

Elyse still slumbered on his chest, snoring softly, her long dark hair covering her face, a lock of it fluttering as she breathed. A small creaking sound reminded him why he must have awoken. Glancing towards the foot of his bed, he saw two of the White Queen's maids, faces hidden in the shadows of their large bonnets, one of them silently shutting the door to his room behind them, their white skirts catching the moon's glow. He cursed inwardly.

Apparently, Elyse's warning had not been enough to dissuade the inn's maids from trying to sneak into his room. Wouldn't these two be surprised when they found she was actually in his bed. What did they think was going to happen? What- And that was when he noticed. Sharply gleaming in the moonlight. Each of the maids held a long, shining dagger in their hands. Panic and fear flooding his blood, he reacted almost without thinking.

Grabbing the blanket that covered him, he launched himself from the bed towards the maids, tackling one around the midriff. He fell to the floor with her, hearing a yelp from behind him as Elyse was knocked off the bed.

"They've got knives!" he shouted, as he tried to wrap the maid he had tackled around with the blanket. She was strong, he realized, as she shouted and squirmed against him, her arms pinned to her sides by his. Her dagger tore a hole in the blanket, but she could not find purchase to strike at him with it. He could hear Flit tweeting furiously from the rafters; heard Cecil hissing and growling from his bed on the cot, as the cat tried to rise to defend his witch against the pain in his leg.

The other maid stood above him, dagger raised high in the air above her head, trying to find an opportunity to strike him. Flit dove toward her head to try to distract her, but she swatted him away with one hand as she kept her eyes focused on Martimeos. He did his best to keep her companion between him and her dagger as he wrestled on the floor. Suddenly, a flickering light filled the room. The maid who stood above him stopped, looking down at her skirts - it seemed as if the hem of them had caught fire.

Elyse's glamour, Martim realized, as he watched the witch standing to her feet. He snapped his fingers, to feed the flame with the Art and give it real heat. The maid above him shrieked, dropping her dagger, beating at her skirts as the illusory flame gained the strength to cause her pain. She flapped her hands at them frantically, trying to tear them off her.

Martimeos could hear guests in other rooms awakening, now, hearing them leaping from their beds; it seemed to him he could hear further muffled shouts and sounds of struggle somewhere else, as well. The maid he wrestled with brought up a knee, trying to strike him in the groin. Narrowly avoiding this, he growled, grabbing her hand and twisting it back until she grimaced with pain and dropped the dagger. She still struggled, though, knocking her bonnet askew, and that was when he noticed it. She had flame-red hair.

The maid who still stood had succeeded in tearing off her skirts, revealing legs wrapped in furred hides, only to find that Elyse now held a dagger to her throat. Elyse scowled up at the woman, who stood a full head taller than her, as she pressed the point of the blade against the woman's neck.

"Move a muscle," she snapped, "And this blade is going straight through." The maid froze, eyes widening. Then she grimaced, and slumped.

"Do et," she said, in a strange, thick accent.

"Ye little half-wit, ye might as well. Ye've kilt me whether ye spare me or nae." The maid in Martim's arms was still struggling against his grip when the door slammed open, revealing Kells, wearing only his pants, while behind him peeked a tall, thin maid with freckles and dirty blond hair, wearing just a thin shift. His eyes widened as he took in the scene in the room.

"What is going on here?" he asked, eyes darting between the maids, Elyse and Martimeos.

"These two tried to kill us," Martimeos grunted, as the maid wrapped up in blankets in his arms still squirmed, kicked and struggled.

"Go - grab that one before Elyse sticks her like a pig." Kells moved into the room, pinning the arms of the maid that Elyse threatened behind her back. The thin blonde girl that had followed behind him stood in the doorway of the room, her eyes wide, apparently unashamed that she stood there in just her shift.

"Those two don't work here," she said, her voice confused.

"Who are they?" Martimeos didn't answer her. He scowled as he tried to rise to his feet with the red-haired woman he held, but she still struggled and squirmed, trying to escape from his grip. He didn't want to hit a woman if he didn't have to, but she was making this difficult. Elyse, fortunately, had no such compunction. With Kells holding the other maid, she strode across the room to Martimeos, and delivered a swift kick to the head of the woman fighting against him.

Martimeos winced as the woman's eyes widened and her lips split open. She stopped struggling, but she still spit blood and glared up at Elyse.

"Och, ye scabby bint, ye kick soft as a wee mouse," she snarled. Elyse frowned, and drew back her foot to kick again, but Martimeos stopped her, shaking his head as he rose to his feet with the woman's arms pinned behind her back.

"Who are you two?" he demanded. The woman in his grip simply huffed, and said nothing. But the one Kells had pinned glared at him with fierce green, more red hair spilling down from beneath her bonnet.

"We ent sayin nawt to ye."

"You're Crosscraw, aren't you," Martimeos said quietly. The maid simply glared and kept her mouth shut.

"Should I get Madame Ro?" the girl in the doorway asked. She seemed to have finally become aware that she was wearing only her shift, crossing her arms across her chest to cover her bosom and blushing slightly through her freckles.

"I think you should go back to my room, Anne," Kells called, "And bar the door." He looked at Martimeos, grey eyes narrowing.

"I heard noises coming from downstairs, too." Elyse comforted Cecil, still hissing and spitting at the two maids, as Flit hopped back and forth among the rafters burbling about what an outrage this all was. He futtered down to Martim's shoulder, irritated at being awoken, as they frogmarched their captives ahead of them through the halls of the inn, Elyse prodding them along when they became reluctant to move with threats of setting their heads on fire.

Guests peering through cracks in slightly opened doors slammed them shut as they passed, not wanting to involve themselves in whatever fresh danger was happening; though some remained open, curious eyes peering at them as they walked by. They strained their ears to see if they could hear sounds of further struggle, but whatever had happened downstairs seemed to be over now. Martim sent Flit on ahead to spy for any danger.

His familiar returned, telling him through chirping song that whatever happened seemed to be over, but to prepare himself for a strange sight. And it was strange.

In the inn's common room, they found the source of the commotion they had heard earlier - Madame Ro was there, her dark hair done up in a neat bun, wearing long, flowing silken pyjamas of purple and blue that were nearly as fanciful as the dresses she wore during the day, tending to Harald, her large brutish guard, who was sat at one of the tables, blinking groggily, as if he had just woken up.

And Vincent, as well, the golden-haired young farmer leaning lazily on a quarterstaff, standing over a third Crosscraw woman - this one dressed not as a maid, but as one of the townfolk, in a green jacket and billowing black skirts, her large black bonnet torn from her head, revealing a messy bun of bright red hair. She sat on the floor, rubbing an ugly purple bruiise on her forehead, green eyes lighting up as Martimeos and Kells entered the common room with their two captives.

"Oh, bravo," she cried sarcastically.

"Ah see ye lassies have gone an' done well fer yerselves. Didnae want tah lissen, and now see where it's got ye."

"Vincent?" Kells asked, as the Crosscraw woman in his arms blushed and looked down.

"What are you doing here?" The golden-haired farmer nodded towards the Crosscraw woman sitting on the floor before him.

"Well. I remembered you three coming by earlier today, asking around if I'd seen any Crosscraw." He grinned, tapping his quarterstaff on the floor.

"Was on my mind, I s'pose, when I see this lass making her way out of The Middens. I think to myself, strange - she's definitely made sure that she has all her hair covered. And where's she going at this time of night? So I decide to follow her. She comes all the way here, where I know you're staying - poor Harald stops her at the door, but she just waves her hands at him and he slumps over, dead asleep.

Well I rush in after her, and once I'm in here I hear shouts coming from upstairs, and she's got a knife out herself, and so, well - I decide it's best if I give her a thump and figure out what's going on later."

"A thump, he says," muttered the Crosscraw woman. She glared up at Vincent.

"Ye damn near skelped ma noggin in two. Ah dinnae ken how a big braw one like ye escaped ma notice."

"This farmboy's got more than a few tricks up his sleeve," he winked at her.

"Those - what are they doing wearing my maid's clothes? They don't work for me," Madame Ro snapped, as she rose from Harald's side. She glared at the Crosscraw women that Martimeos and Kells held.

"What is going on here? Who are these women?"

"Madame Ro," Kells replied, as the girl he held gave fresh struggle, "First, I think we could use some rope." Madame Ro did not have suitable rope lying around, but she did have extra sheets that they could twist and tie to bind the women's hands and feet. It was not long before the three Crosscraw women sat side by side by a table, all three glaring up at their captors, all of their bonnets removed to reveal messy buns of wild, red hair beneath.

The two dressed as maids seemed a bit younger, but the more talkative one Vincent had captured seemed at least several years older than them, her face more worn and tired, dark bags beneath her eyes, though still beautiful in a strange, wild way. Madame Ro was aghast when she heard that Martimeos and Elyse had been assaulted in their room, and wanted to call the guard right away, but Martimeos held up a hand to stop her.

"I think we ought to talk to them, first," he said, staring down at the three women.

"First off - why did you try to kill us?" The two Crosscraw dressed as maids merely glared at him, lips pressed firmly shut. But the older one sighed, shifting her shoulders against her binds.

"I dinnae want to kill ye," she muttered, scowling at her two companions.

"Ah came here to stop these eejits."

"Alright, well," Elyse snapped, eyes flashing as she crossed her arms, "Why did they want to kill us?" The older Crosscraw woman stared at Elyse. Her face softened; she looked almost pitying.

"Because ye're marked by him, ye ken," she said softly, shaking her head. Martimeos and Elyse glanced at each other.

"Marked by who...?" Martim asked.

"Who else?" The Crosscraw woman's gaze lingered on the three of them; Kells, Martimeos and Elyse, taking in each of them in turn. She bit her lip as she looked at them, and there was no mistaking it, there was pity in that stare.

"The Bogge-man."