Chương 25: The Bogge-Rider: Chapter Sixteen

When they arrived at the White Queen inn, things were much quieter than usual. At this hour of night, shortly after supper, usually the common room would be bustling, full of loud conversation, and those with the coin to spend frittering it away on drink. Now, though, the room was not nearly so full as it usually was, and what guests there were crowded in around each other, muttering to the few they trusted.

The maids themselves tiptoed, abashed and hesitant to speak, as they served the guests, Madame Ro glaring at them from behind the counter. The flamboyant inkeep had been apoplectic when she had learned that one of her maids had led a guest into a trap - her most favored guests, at that. Martimeos felt sorry for the girl.

After he and Elyse had been confronted by the rider in the alley, they had dashed across town, trying to find Kells and Roark to warn them - only to find they were too late, Kells having already been dragged off to the dungeons for Roark's murder.

Upon returning to the inn, they had looked for the maid who had led them into the alley, only to find her still in the kitchen, sitting curled in a corner, white skirts stained by the dirty floor, hands tugging fretfully at her dark brown hair, wide-eyed, staring at nothing. She had barely seemed to recognize Martimeos and Elyse when they approached her; indeed, she had seemed not entirely there.

She had moments of serene, eery calm, but when questioned about the rider, her teeth chattered in fear - in a way that reminded Elyse uncomfortably of the rider himself - and she would shake uncontrollably, weeping and drawing ragged breaths. In between these fits, they managed to learn, in bits and pieces, that the maid had been alone in the kitchen, and had opened up the back door into the alley to throw out some dirty dishwater when she found the rider waiting for her there, watching from a doorway.

It had made Martimeos shiver, to think of that. The rider seized your heart with fear and dread even when you were with others; he did not like to imagine what it must have been like to talk to it alone. The maid refused to repeat what the rider had said to her, other than to say it had used the head to bid her to bring him 'The wizard and the witch.' He had gotten the impression that it must have said more, but whatever threat it had made to her the maid refused to say.

She had not gone home that night, spending her time instead sitting in the common room, slumped over one of the tables, staring down at the floor and shivering. Martimeos and Elyse had spent much of their time with her, unable to sleep themselves. And when Madame Ro had awoken the next morning, and heard what had happened, she had been furious. She had fired the maid on the spot - though the maid had barely seemed to acknowledge or recognize this - and had been taking out her ire on the others since.

And Martimeos was certain that dark rumors swirled among the guests now, though he did not think the other maids knew exactly what had happened. They received a few hard stares from the folk gathered in the common room as they walked in; some eyes widened at the sight of Kells trailing in after them. Madame Ro, though, brightened as soon as she saw them.

Martimeos had to give the innkeep credit: others might have kicked them out just to save themselves the trouble after hearing that the rider had appeared to talk to them, but she refused to be intimidated - though he thought she might have changed her tune if she had witnessed the rider herself. She swept out from behind the counter to greet them, purple ribbons in her hair fluttering behind her as she approached.

"Martimeos, Elyse, how good to see you well," she cooed, but she quickly shifted her attention.

"Kells, my poor darling," she murmured, dark eyes full of genuine sympathy.

"How are you?"

"Hello, Madame Ro," Kells said softly.

"I suppose I ought to apologize to you, as well, for the fight I started here." But Madame Ro hushed him; to his surprise, instead, she wrapped him in a tight embrace, the flowery smell of her perfume washing over him. When she drew back, her eyes were wet with tears.

"I'm sorry," she murmured, "I know what Roark meant to you. The moment I heard you had been arrested, I knew it was nonsense." She gave Martimeos and Elyse an appreciative look.

"Our witch and wizard were helpful in your meeting with Bartuk, I see. I am glad to see the mayor had the sense to release you. I knew you would have never done something like that. Roark always spoke highly of you, you know. He was very proud of you." Kells found himself blinking back tears once more; he cleared his throat, trying to get rid of the knot in it, before he spoke again.

"I, ah. Hmm. I did not know that you and Roark talked."

"We kept in touch, from time to time. He was a very good man." Madame Ro wiped tears of her own from the corners of her eyes with the ornately decorated, purple sleeve of her dress, giving a small, sad smile.

"He... did me a great service, before you were born, when I first came to Twin Lamps." Seeing Kells' curious look, she shook her head.

"I asked him to keep it a secret, and he kept his word. I will just say I owe my life to him, and leave it at that."

"I... thank you," Kells replied, his voice hoarse, somewhat choked, as he tamped down his grief.

"I am glad to hear you did not think that I had been the one to... kill him. Though I understand that not all feel as such."

"Very few who knew you or Roark well thought you actually guilty," Madame Ro assured him. She glanced at Martimeos and Elyse, her face turning to a dark scowl.

"It is this damned rider, I know. The walls cannot keep us safe from him. Well, if he thinks he can terrorise me, he is sorely mistaken. He can take my head before I let him make me live in fear." Martimeos and Elyse glanced at each other, surprised by the conviction in Madame Ro's voice.

"Few they may be," Kells replied, "But I wonder if some of those few might be among your guests. I was hoping to stay here, with Martimeos and Elyse, for a time, but I would not want to bring more trouble beneath your roof." Madame Ro stepped back, looking at around the common room of her inn. Many of the folk gathered there were watching them with curiousity, peering over their tankards at her as they drank her ale.

But she also noticed the harder stares, the folk who glanced at Kells with bitter scowls or anger written on their faces, amongst the townfolk. Not so many, but...." No, Kells," she said quietly.

"You can stay here. It is the least I could do for Roark." Stepping forward, dress swirling around her, her eyes flashing, her voice rang out clear across the common room, all eyes turning to her as she spoke.

"My beloved patrons," she cried, gesturing behind her, to where Kells stood, watching with wide, astonished eyes.

"This fine young man behind me is Kells. I have known him since he first came to Twin Lamps,; I watched him grow from a troublesome child to a fine and brave member of our town guard. Many of you know him, as well. Some of my maids probably know him a bit more well than I would like." She cast an eye across the maids who had paused in their scurrying to stop and listen to her; a few of them blushed.

"You have also undoubtedly heard that he was arrested on suspicion of the death of captain Roark. For those of you who know him well, I know you immediately doubted this as much as I did. Roark was dear to Kells, and I knew right away that the arrest was nonsense, a mistake. Well, that mistake has been resolved; Kells has been released under the authority of mayor Bartuk. But perhaps some of you, like fools, have hardened your hearts against dear Kells, merely because suspicion first fell on him.

"I owe everything to Roark. There are few who would like to see his killer brought to justice more than I. But I know with certainty that Kells was innocent; that none grieve more for the captain's death than he. And he will be staying beneath my roof. And should any of you have a problem with that..." Madame Ro blinked, pausing, then stamped her foot.

"Should any of you harass him, or lift a finger against him - you can take your chances on the streets! Have we an understanding?" Silence settled across the common room, the only sound the crackling fire in the fireplace. And then a voice cried out, "Hear, hear!" It came from an old, wizened farmer, sitting in a corner of the room, all knobbly elbows and gnarled joints, clear blue eyes shining out brightly from a darkly tanned face.

"I've seen Kells patrolling the farms," he shouted, his voice ringing out clear across the room.

"Often by Roark's side, as the rider howled in the distance. I never thought the lad did it; 'sides, we all know who did. The damned rider, of course, the same who's been the terror of the farmfolk. Damn the black rider!"

"I'll drink to that," a strangely accented voice called. This came from a merchant, a rotund man with three rings in his nose and a long, drooping mustache, his dress exotic and colorful, billowing shirts and pants that were striped vertically in red and green.

"I don't know your boy," he said, laying a finger against his nose in an odd gesture, "But it seems obvious to me; you are haunted by this creature who takes heads, your captain had his head taken - is it not a simpler explanation that the rider is responsible, rather than this young man? I've traveled far enough to know 'tis no simple man who troubles you; something fouler is responsible. Damn the black rider!"

"I never believed it myself." This was one of the maids, tall and thin and freckled, dirty blonde hair cascading down her shoulders, crossing her arms as she glanced around the room.

"Only a fool would; Kells may have his tricksome ways, but he is kind. Besides, he kisses too well to be so black-hearted."" Anne," Kells snapped, blushing.

"Damn the black rider!" the maid cried, and as other cries went up across the room in agreement, the few who had hard or angry stares softened, or muttered into their tankards. The cries grew more vicious, farnfolk and townfolk and merchant alike cursing the rider, snarling their spite, the bravery of company turning their terror into loathing. Madame Ro watched this, pleased.

"You see, Kells?" she said, turning back to him.

"People in this town have good sense, for the most part. Now, for your accomodations, we will have to make a little room. I do not have any free rooms."

"Kells can take my room," Elyse piped up.

"I'll share Martim's."

"Excellent, simple enough," Madame Ro beamed, clasping her hands togehter.

"I don't suppose you'll need an extra cot."

"I don't see why that's necessarry," Elyse replied, at the same time Martim said "Yes, please, actually." Kells followed quietly behind Martimeos and Elyse as they led up the stairs to their rooms, as Madame Ro ordered a maid to bring up an extra cot for them. The wizard and the witch were muttering back and forth to each other about who would get the use of the bed, but their conversation faded away.

It had been heartening, Kells thought, to see how many were willing to defend him in the White Queen, but the cheer it brought him was short-lived. This novel's true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there. Kells was tired; tired after spending two nights in the dungeons, barely able to sleep. Truth be told, he still felt as if he was in a waking dream. It still felt unreal that Roark was dead.

It seemed as if any moment he might snap awake, and find the old soldier stomping through the barracks, telling him he was late for a patrol. But when he closed his eyes, the image burned into his mind, the one he couldn't shake out of his skull, was that of the rider, holding Roark's head, staring at him. Simply staring, black cloak hanging dead and heavy, blurring into the shadow that surrounded it.

While his grief sometimes felt like a dim echo, something unreal, the anger and dread he felt seized him very strongly. He didn't like it. Balance and peace was something that had taken him years to cultivate after the death of his father. He had prided himself on how he had overcome the thick, black anger in his heart. How he had learned to approach the world and its dangers with cheerfulness and lightheartedness. But now, all that old anger seemed to come roaring back.

But then, maybe it had never been as buried as he thought it was. Elyse's room held very few possessions, but her familiar, Cecil, still lounged on her bed, a rear leg still in a cast. He gave a chirping mewl in protest as the witch hoisted him up, staggering as she carried the large cat to Martim's room. As she left, Kells looked at the large patch of shed fur Cecil had left behind on the blankets dubiously.

He realized, as she closed the door behind her, that this was the first time since Roark's death that he had been alone. Ever since he had been under constant guard. He looked around the room, quietly. It was nice - much nicer than his room in the barracks, in fact. Soft bed, a wooden desk and chair, large carved and polished dresser, all lit by the soft glow of candlelight, from large white candles dripping wax onto black iron candleholders nailed into the walls.

He pulled out the chair from the desk and tried to calm his thoughts as the cattle-skull helm of the rider loomed large in his mind and his blood boiled with rage. He tried to remember some of Roark's wisdom.

"Things could always be worse," he muttered to himself, something Roark had been fond of saying, as he tugged off his knee-length boots in preparation for sleep. It was true, he supposed. He could still be in the dungeons. People really could believe that he had killed Roark. He could be facing execution. Things could always be worse. He had not been alone for long, though, when there came a knock on the door.

When he opened it, Martimeos stood there, fiddling with his pipe, frowning at it as if it was puzzling him. Kells still felt himself wince internally whenever he saw those dark bruises beneath Martim's eyes. It really could have been worse, he thought. Martim might not have forgiven him. It had made him glad that the wizard had been so ready to leave the beating in the past, even if Elyse had given him a scolding. Martimeos really wasn't as callous as all that. Another thing Roark had been right about.

"Ah, Kells," Martimeos said.

"I hope I do not interrupt your sleep."

"No. I hadn't drifted off yet." Kells stepped aside as Martim entered his room. The wizard reached into his pocket to cram a pinch of tobacco into his pipe.

"What is it?"

"Elyse is insisting on taking her nightly bath," Martim muttered, focusing on the end of his pipe until it glowed orange. He puffed on it a moment, then gave Kells a cautious look.

"I thought it might be a good time to speak with you. I... hope it does not trouble you to talk of it, but there has been something bothering me about the night of the murder." Kells felt a chill go through him. In truth, he did not want to speak of it. But he did not let it show.

"Not at all," he replied softly. He sat on the edge of the bed as Martim took the desk chair, watching as the wizard puffed up clouds of blue smoke that drifted lazily in the candlelight. Martimeos was quiet for some time, looking down, brow furrowed as if gathering his thoughts.

"Let's think about this carefully," he began.

"That night, Elyse and I were visited by the rider, who told us that he planned to take a head. We figured out quickly that this might mean that either you or Roark were threatened. We ran across town to the barracks to find you, but you were not there - but we did ask the guard there where you might be, and told them that you or Roark were in danger. They were skeptical when we told them we had seen the rider, but it did not take much convincing to get them to merely send out patrols to check.

While we went to check some taverns to see if we could find you, they immediately sent men to Roark's home. By the time they arrived there, the deed had already been done. And in fact, you had already been arrested by another patrol." Kells mulled this over as Martimeos watched him, dark green eyes thoughtful.

"Aye," Kells said finally.

"What of it?"

"Just that... we flew across town," Martim replied quietly.

"When we saw the rider, he did not have his horse with him. We know he can move unseen, but... to make his way across town, strike, and escape, before you were found. How did he do that unless he knew precisely where to find you, right at that moment?" Kells was silent. He thought of the hoofprints in the puddle they had seen, on their return from the mayor's manor.

"... Perhaps he has been watching us, unseen, for longer than we thought," he said quietly.

"Perhaps he knows our habits." Then he shook his head.

"But... Roark is not home every night. He spends... spent.... many nights in his office in the barracks, or visitsed taverns sometimes. I just dropped by, I did not know whether he would be there myself when I visited."

"So how did he know?" Martimeos asked. He fiddled with his pipe fitfully.

"I had thought about trying to find another inn to stay in - or somewhere more hidden - since the rider apparently knows we stay here. But I know of nowhere else that might have room, and I wonder whether we can hide. Does the rider know where we are? Is he aware of us? Perhaps we are safer remaining among crowded spaces than trying to find somewhere hidden. The only other possibility I can think of is that there is more than one rider." Kells did not answer this.

He and Martimeos sat in silence for a while, quietly considering, pipesmoke filling the room. Nobody had ever reported seeing more than one rider at once, Kells knew. But this did not mean that more than one could not exist.

"And I have other questions as well," Martimeos continued after a while.

"If he can move unseen, why does he not strike unseen? He searches for his kin - if 'tis true that he knows where we are, why can he not tell where they are? And... why do I remember seeing him, now?" The wizard shook his head.

"Elyse is less certain, but... I still think, there could be no way I had seen him before. So why do I now have memories of him?" He looked at Kells. The wizard seemed concerned, but whatever fear he had was for the moment overwhelmed by curiousity.

"And you, too. Your find him in your memory as well, don't you?"

"There is only one memory of the rider I find my mind being drawn back to at the moment," Kells replied, darkly. Martimeos looked abashed.

"Right," he muttered, blushing. Then he sighed, running a hand through his shaggy brown hair.

"I know the mayor expects a wizard to be helpful, and 'tis true I would not feel safe leaving the town 'til the rider was gone. But I have only unanswered questions, and very little to go on. I can only suspect who his kin are. But if there are Crosscraw in Twin Lamps, I do not know where they would hide."

"Actually, I had some thoughts about that," Kells replied, his stormy grey eyes thoughtful. It actually felt good to have something else occupy his mind.

"If anyone were to hide in town, there would be no better place than The Middens." At Martimeos' look of reluctance, he chuckled softly.

"Do not worry. It is not actually a midden. Well, not all of it. It is an... unkind nickname for a poorer part of town, with plenty of places to hide. When a thief wants to avoid the guard, he heads to The Middens."

"I suppose it is as good a place to search as any," Martimeos muttered.

"Who knows when the rider may show his face again." The wizard rose, stretching, still puffing at his pipe.

"I don't suppose you, ah, would want a drink," he offered. He tapped his boot awkwardly on the floor, not looking at Kells, crossing his arms.

"I..." he sighed, chewing at the stem of his pipe.

"I hope you know my apology was sincere. I did not say it merely because others were around. I let my mouth run away from me, that night.

'Twas poorly done." Kells gave a small smile. He really did like Martimeos; it was a relief that he had not lost a companion on top of everything.

"'Tis nothing. I gave you far more than you deserved for it. But perhaps another time. I think tonight I would like to sleep most of all." Martimeos nodded, still seeming a bit awkward, and bid him a good night, shuffling out the door, leaving nothing but the lingering scent of pipesmoke. Once the wizard was gone, Kells rose, frowning again at Cecil's fur covering the blankets and sheets, and gathered them up, clutching them to his chest.

Stepping out into the hallway, he heard the splash of water coming from behind the door to Martim's room across the hall. Then to his surprise, he heard Elyse say something, though he could not hear what it was, and Martim answer her in low, muttering tones. He blinked, then shrugged. Something must certainly be going on between those two, he thought, for Elyse to bathe in front of Martim. He wondered why Martimeos had bothered to deny it, when they first made their way into Twin Lamps.

He found a maid, a demure young girl with blonde twintails, to hand the sheets off to, asking her to bring him a fresh set before returning to his room. He had not been there long before a knock came at the door, and it creaked open without waiting for an answer. Standing there was Anne, the tall, thin maid with freckles and dirty blonde hair, carrying a fresh set of sheets.

"Hello, Kells," she said softly, as she made her way into the room, white skirts brushing against the floorboards, and began to make his bed.

"Anne," Kells replied. He had kissed a few of Madame Ro's girls, in his time - though he had never gone beyond flirting and kissing. Well, a little further, maybe. He knew Anne as the daughter of a farmer who had changed professions to a candle-maker some years back, and come to live in town. She was a sharp girl, quick to laugh, usually nearly as loud as the guests she served. But now she was quiet as she finished making his bed, brushing down her skirts as she rose.

"Thank you," he said quietly.

"And thank you for defending me-" Before he had finished, though, Anne had rushed to him and wrapped him up in a tight embrace. He staggered back a bit, surprised, as she hugged him tightly.

"My poor Kells," she whispered in his ear, and he could feel hot tears on his neck as she nestled her head there.

"My poor Kells." She smelled nice, Kells thought, like violets. Stepping back from him, she untied her bonnet, and then to Kells' alarm, began undoing the ties of her dress.

"Anne," he said quickly, as she continued untying, "I am not... that is, I don't think I am much in the mood for kisses tonight."

"We do not have to kiss. Or do anything you do not want." Anne replied quietly, her fingers pausing in their unknotting.

"I will leave, if you want me to. But I would stay with you, tonight." She looked at him, biting her lip, blue eyes wet in her freckled face.

"I think you could use the warmth of company. You do not have to hide your grief from me." Kells was surprised to find his vision blurring; he blinked rapidly to clear his eyes of tears. He suddenly felt as if he had a knot in his throat, clearing it in order to find his voice.

"But," he said hoarsely, "Madame Ro..."

"Madame Ro can be harsh, but she is not a tyrant," Anne replied, as she finished untying her dress. She shrugged it from her shoulders, revealing a thin white shift that clung to her alluringly as it dropped to the floor.

"She does not mind in this case." Kells felt silent tears coursing down his face as Anne stepped out of her dress, taking him by the hand and leading him to the bed. He settled down onto it, raising a hand to his face to hide his weeping, his face burning. He felt like such a fool, in truth. His grief was such a small knot in his mind compared to the anger and the fear and the concern for how the rider might be found and stopped. Why was he weeping over this, like some child? He was supposed to be a soldier.

He had never seen Roark weep. You will never see Roark do anything ever again, some part of his mind whispered to him at that last thought, and Kells gave up on trying to contain his tears. Anne blew out the candles in the room, casting it into darkness. And then she joined Kells, wrapping her arms around him as she simply lay with him, murmuring words of comfort, until he fell almost unwittingly into a foggy and fitful sleep.