17
Domenic was fretting with restlessness. After they had entered the inn, Herm
found one of the Renunciates and told her to find Vancof and keep an eye on him.
Then he had ordered Nico to change into his new clothes and stay out of sight.
This had not pleased the boy, but he was so accustomed to doing what he was told
that it took a while for his feelings of resentment to manifest. Herm himself
had settled into the common room of the Crowing Cock with a mug of beer,
relaxing before the wide hearth, and somehow managing to appear unremarkable.
Nico had been able to observe him before he went up the stairs, and had wondered
how the man did it. He just seemed to melt into the woodwork.
Nico felt let down, the way he often did after a celebration in Comyn Castle.
The excitement of the previous evening and the ride along the Old North Road had
sustained him, but now he once more felt like a child, sent off to his room and
told to be quiet. There was even, he decided, hard logic in Herm's instructions.
Vancof had seen him the previous day, and might recognize him if they met in the
halls of the inn, but he had never seen the Aldaran man.
Still, there was the evening's performance to look forward to-unless Herm
decided to keep him away from that as well. Nico tried to marshal a few good
arguments as to why he should be allowed to attend, and decided that the Alton
Gift was probably the best. He scanned the inn again, as he had done several
times since he came upstairs, and noticed the Terranan who had ridden in earlier
sitting in the taproom, looking uneasy and fidgety. He was probably waiting for
Vancof.
Time passed, and he wished he had something to read. He closed his eyes and
slipped into a light doze. After a while, he sat up, refreshed but also somewhat
unnerved by his nap-had he slept too long? Domenic peered out the narrow window,
facing west, and saw that the sun was sinking behind heavy clouds. Soon it would
set, and twilight would creep over the town. He could not stand it a second
longer! He ran a comb roughly through his hair, and then opened the door of the
room.
He was just coming down the stairs from his room when he heard a familiar voice
in the entry. Domenic stepped into the shadowed door of the dining room and
peeked around the jamb. Yes, it was one of the older, retired Guardsmen,
Fredrich MacDunald, dressed in worn and ordinary clothing. Nico had never seen
him without his uniform before, and he was rather surprised by how different he
appeared.
Nico hesitated. Should he expose himself and speak to his friend, or stay out of
sight, as Herm had instructed him? When Aran MacIvan followed Fredrich into the
inn a moment later, he decided that he had better tell Herm of this new
development before he did anything else. This spying stuff was more complicated
than he had imagined.
Uncle Herm!
Yes, Nico.
I think some reinforcements have arrived. A couple of retired Guardsmen from
Thendara have just come into the inn, dressed lake common folk, and I cannot
imagine any reason for them to be here-unless they have come to drag me back to
Comyn Castle. Should I speak to them or not?
Have they seen you?
Not yet. I am sort of lurking an the shadows.
Then let them alone, for the present. We don't want to call too much attention
to ourselves, or to them. Has Vancof come back yet?
I haven't seen him, but I was upstairs, like you told me. He could tell that
even in telepathic communication his sense of ill-usage came through.
Poor Nico. I am not letting you have any fun at all, am I? Why don't you venture
into the kitchens.
Why would I want to do that?
Because growing lads are always hungry, and your being in there will not cause
any comment. Then, if Vancof comes in through the back door of the inn, you will
certainly see him.
What if the cook chases me out? And what if Vancof notices me?
Be creative. You've already shown you can be.
It was better than sitting on his hands in the room, and he was a bit hungry. At
least Uncle Herm had not sent him back there! Domenic followed the smell of
fresh bread into the back portion of the Crowing Cock, and found himself in a
large, very clean kitchen. Two girls sat on one side of a long table, cutting
vegetables and chatting quietly. On the far side of the hot room, a boy was
pulling loaves from a great beehive oven, using a long wooden paddle to keep
from burning his hands. The cook, a very skinny man, was standing before the
stove, stirring a pot, and the wonderful smell of chervine stew with dumplings
wafted out from it. His mouth watered.
One of the girls looked up from her work and gave him a friendly smile. She
appeared to be a year or so younger than himself, and by her features, must be
related to the innkeeper. At least she had the same small, turned-up nose as
Evan MacHaworth. She gestured him toward the table with the knife in her hand.
"Can't wait for supper, huh?"
"I am a little bit hungry," he admitted, as he sat down on the bench across from
her. "Can I do something to help?" The cook turned around at the sound of his
voice, gave him a look, then returned to his stirring.
She giggled, as if she had never heard anything so funny in her life. Then she
got up, grabbed a loaf of bread that was already sitting at the end of the
table, cut it into two pieces, and put both in a basket. She took the basket in
one hand, and another with something green in it in the other, and came back.
"You ever strung snap-beans before?"
"No, but if you show me how, I can probably do it."
"You must be really bored if you want to string beans. Here, this is how." She
demonstrated with a few quick gestures. "I hate to do it, but the way our cook
fixes them makes it worth the work. He fries them with bacon and it is
delicious!" She turned and grinned at the back of the skinny cook, and Nico had
the impression it was some sort of joke between them.
"That sounds good." He pulled a chunk of bread off, bit into it, and started to
string the beans. It wasn't very challenging, but it was much better than
sitting in his room, waiting for something to happen. He could see how the
nameless girl would grow weary of it.
The other girl glanced up from the growing pile of carrots in front of her, gave
him a nod and then looked at the first girl with a calculating eye. He sensed
her watchfulness, her slight unease, and sensed without the least probing that
she was keeping an eye on him with her younger sister. "We will get a big crowd
in here tonight, what with the Travelers being here, and all the folks in the
town coming around to see the show," she informed him.
"I saw some men come in just before I came back," he offered, "and I think they
might be wanting dinner, too."
"Really?" She did not seem surprised or very interested in new guests. "I'm
Hannah, and this is my sister Dorcas," the older girl announced. "This time of
year we are always busy, and never busier than when the Travelers stop by. There
won't be an empty room in the place, what with you and
your uncle, and those
women." She gave a big sigh. "Father has gone off to the market, so I'd better
go find out if the men you saw will be wanting a place to sleep."
He watched Hannah get up and go out. Then Dorcas said, "She doesn't think much
of Renunciates, but I think they are interesting. And a while ago, one of them
marched right through the kitchen and out the back. I wonder what she was
about?"
So much for not drawing attention, he thought glumly. "Who knows," he replied.
"They go where they like, don't they?"
Dorcas giggled again, a titter that was going to get on his nerves if he heard
it very much longer. "You woulda thought the kitchen was a lane this afternoon,
because one of the Travelers came through, too. I've seen him before, but I
woulda known he was one of them by his clothes anywhere. Came through town just
before Midsummer and got roaring drunk. Dad had to send him out before he was
sick on the hearth. A real nasty piece," she went on, giggling at the same time,
for no reason he could discern. She probably did it in her sleep.
Then he sensed that she was just nervous, and knew that she wanted to impress
him and make him like her. She was so different from his sister, or his cousins,
that he did not really know what to make of her. But he felt a little ashamed of
comparing her to Alanna, or even that Illona Rider, who was probably still
sewing in the confines of the wagon. "It must be interesting living in an inn."
Dorcas shrugged. "I don't know. I've never lived anywheres else, or gone beyond
the town even. Ma says it was good enough for her, and has to be good enough for
me, but I would like to go to Thendara and see the sights."
Domenic bit off another mouthful of bread and did not answer until he had chewed
and swallowed it. Even without butter or honey, it was very good, and the smell
of the stew was tempting. "What sights do you mean?"
"There's Comyn Castle, and the spaceport, and Terranan, to be sure. I heard the
Big Ships make a fearful noise when they land, and I would like to see if it is
so. And they say there's a new hall built by the Musicians Guild, as big as a
barn, but with seats in it insteada stalls and hay."
"I heard that, too, but I have never seen it."
"Have you ever seen a Terranan?"
Before he could answer, Domenic saw Vancof slip into the open door at the back
of the kitchen, looking very furtive. He bent his head over the beans so his
unbound hair concealed his features, and felt a burst of success as the man
passed by him without a glance. He could hear the topmost thoughts in the man's
mind, but they were disorganized, full of anger and fear, and not particularly
informative. Vancof was so lost in thought, he realized, that he could have been
naked and dancing on the table, and the man might not have noticed him.
A moment later he sensed another presence nearby, saw Samantha, one of the
Renunciates, come to the door of the kitchen, peer inside at Vancof's shoulders,
and then fade away into the growing twilight. If he had not been expecting her,
he would have missed her completely, and he wondered if he could learn to do
that. He thought she was going to circle around the Crowing Cock and come in
from the front door.
Domenic spent a minute trying to make some sense of the troubled thoughts of the
driver, to glean any useful information from them at all. There was something
about orders that was bothering him. Then he used the Alton Gift to speak to his
uncle again.
Herm, the driver is back, and so is Samantha.
I know. Vancof just came into the taproom and ordered a brew. Now he has noticed
the man you recognized, and he does not look very pleased. I think he resents
our friend here-there-he's sitting down at the table across from him and trying
to look casual. Hmm . . . maybe resentment i's the wrong feeling-Vancof looks
very uncomfortable.
Good! From the little I know about him, he deserves to be! What about the
Guardsmen I noticed?
I assume they are here, too, but since I do not know them, I can't say for
certain. The room is getting very crowded, since half the village seems to have
stopped in for a drink. This entire thing is becoming more amusing by the
second. What are you doing?
I'm sitting across from a very giggly girl, cleaning up snap-beans and listening
to her life story.
Well, finish your task, and then come out an front. It will be dark soon, and I
want to keep an eye on our friends here, and see what they do. I'll need your
help.
Domenic had almost emptied the basket by now, and there was a large pile of
cleaned and broken beans on the table in front of him. He was needed-how
gratifying! It occurred to him briefly that he had never felt particularly
needed before, and then he wondered what they were going to do about supper. He
chided himself for letting his belly get in the way of his good sense. Eating
was not that important, was it?
"I'd better go see if my uncle is looking for me," he told Dorcas.
"Take the rest of that piece of bread with you. It should hold you until we
start serving."
"Thanks. It was fun."
"You wouldn't say that if you have to clean beans six days out of ten during the
season. I am always glad when they are done, all put up in crocks for winter."
Dorcas seemed a little disappointed at his departure. "Will I see you at the
show?"
"Probably," he replied vaguely. The last thing he needed was some girl hanging
around. Now, if it were Alanna, it would be different. She might be high-strung,
but she was not silly, and she never giggled!
He went through the rather dark corridor from the kitchen to the front of the
inn, and was so intent on his movements that he nearly ran into the broad chest
of Duncan Lindir, standing in the shadows. The old Guardsman gave him a startled
look, a quick nod, and a slight grin.
"What's going on? Has my father sent the entire barracks up here?" he hissed to
the man.
Duncan shook his head. "There's ten of us, that Dom Danilo ordered to come here.
We started out right after midday, and rode much too hard for these old bones,"
he grumbled. "I don't know what is going on. All Dom Danilo said was that Dom
Aldaran would tell us what to do-never thought I'd find myself answering to an
Aldaran. And what are you doing here?"
"It's too complicated to explain now. Just keep your eyes and ears open."
"For what?"
Domenic hesitated for a moment. If Uncle Danilo had not informed the man of a
plot to try to assassinate Mikhail Hastur, then he should not say anything,
should he? Still, he could sense both curiosity and some bewilderment from
Duncan, and it needed to be satisfied. "There are some Terranan here, and we
believe they are going to cause trouble. Keep an eye on a big man with very new
boots and short brown hair. He's in the taproom just now. I think, sitting with
a ratty-faced man. There may be more-I don't know yet."
"Dom Domenic . . ."
"Don't call me that! I'm Tomas MacAnndra, and Hermes is Ian MacAnndra-and you
never saw me before in your life! I am
going into the taproom now, and I'll sit
down with Herm, so then you will know who he is."
"Then I guess I don't know your name," Duncan replied, forgetting his aching
bones and grumbling. His eyes startled to twinkle with great good humor. "Good
thought-since I never set eyes on the man. What have you gotten yourself into,
lad?"
Nico did not reply, but just left the corridor and walked toward the front of
the inn. The noise from the taproom was tremendous, many male voices discussing
the weather, the corn crop, the news of the death of Regis Hastur, and other
matters. There were a few female voices as well, and he recognized Rafaella's
before he came to the doorway.
Herm saw him and waved him over. Then he gestured to the serving boy and
signaled for a short mug for Domenic. By the time Nico reached the table, the
boy had brought the beer, and he settled down on the bench beside Herm and
picked it up.
I bumped into Duncan Lindir in the hall, and he told me that Danilo Ardais has
sent ten men up here, without any instructions except to obey your orders. He
was not exactly pleased at having to answer to an Aldaran, so do not be
surprised of you are greeted with some coolness, Uncle. I don't know why he did
not tell them more, or why they were sent.
I don't know either, but I am not sorry that they have come. Hmm. If they were
not told about the plot against your father, it was likely so that they would
not inadvertently reveal it to anyone else. "What have you been up to, nephew?"
Duncan was not expecting to find me here, and was surprised, so I think you are
probably right. "I went to the kitchens and got something to eat," Nico
answered, holding up the remnants of the bread. "And I helped with the
preparations, too."
"Your mother would be proud of you, lending a hand." Is there any reason for
Danilo to play things close to his chest?
Umm. Well, Cisco Ridenow, the Commandant of the Barracks, is not exactly one of
Father's friends. He would have preferred it if Uncle Rafael had taken the job,
when it came vacant three years ago, but Regis decided against it, because of
Gisela and all. Uncle Rafael isn't entirely trusted, which I think must hurt him
dreadfully. I wasn't really paying attention, since I was at Arilinn then, and
by the time I came back, Cisco was already in charge.