Elbright growled and cuffed him on the ear. “Talk like that will get you dead.” Turning back to Royce and Hadrian, he said, “Mince has a bit of a crush on the empress. He’s not too pleased with the old king, on account of him marrying her and all.”
“She’s like a goddess, she is,” Mince declared, misty-eyed. “I seen her once. I climbed to that roof for a better view when she gave a speech last summer. She shimmered like a star, she did. By Mar, she’s beautiful. Ya can tell she’s the daughter of Novron. I’ve never seen anyone so pretty.”
“See what I mean? Mince is a bit crazy when it comes to the empress,” Elbright apologized. “He’s got to get used to Regent Ethelred running things again. Not that he ever really stopped, on account of the empress being sick and all.”
“She was hurt by the beast she killed up north,” Mince explained. “Empress Modina was dying from the poison, and healers came from all over, but no one could help. Then Regent Saldur prayed for seven days and nights without food or water. Maribor showed him that the pure heart of a servant girl named Amilia from Tarin Vale had the power to heal the empress. And she did. Lady Amilia has been nursing the empress back to health and doing a fine job.” He took a breath, his eyes brightened, and a smile grew across his face.
“Mince, enough,” Elbright said.
“What’s all this about?” Royce asked, pointing at bleachers that were being built in the center of the square. “They aren’t holding the wedding out here, are they?”
“No, the wedding will be at the cathedral. Those are for folks to watch the execution. They’re gonna kill the rebel leader.”
“Yeah, that piece of news we heard about,” Hadrian said softly.
“Oh, so you came for the execution?”
“More or less.”
“I’ve got our spots all picked out,” Elbright said. “I’m gonna have Mince go up the night before and save us a good seat.”
“Hey, why do I have to go?” Mince asked.
“Brand and I have to carry all the stuff. You’re too small to help and Kine’s still sick, so you need to—”
“But you have the cloak and it’s gonna be cold just sitting up there.”
The two boys went on arguing, but Royce could tell Hadrian was no longer listening. His friend’s eyes scanned the palace gates, walls, and front entrance. Hadrian was counting guards.
Rooms at the Bailey were the same as at every inn—small and drab, with worn wooden floors and musty odors. A small pile of firewood was stacked next to the hearth in each room but never enough for the whole night. Patrons were forced to buy more at exorbitant prices if they wanted to stay warm. Royce made his usual rounds, circling the block, watching for faces that appeared too many times. He returned to their room confident that no one had noticed their arrival—at least, no one who mattered.
“Room eight. Been here almost a week,” Royce said.
“A week? Why so early?” Hadrian asked.
“If you were living in a monastery for ten months a year, wouldn’t you show up early for Wintertide?”
Hadrian grabbed his swords and the two moved down the hall. Royce picked the lock of a weathered door and slid it open. On the far side of the room, two candles burned on a small table set with plates, glasses, and a bottle of wine. A man, dressed in velvet and silk, stood before a wall mirror, checking the tie that held back his blond hair and adjusting the high collar of his coat.
“Looks like he was expecting us,” Hadrian said.
“Looks like he was expecting someone,” Royce clarified.
“What the—” Startled, Albert Winslow spun around. “Would it hurt to knock?”
“What can I say?” Royce flopped on the bed. “We’re scoundrels and thieves.”
“Scoundrels certainly,” Albert said, “but thieves? When was the last time you two stole anything?”
“Do I detect dissatisfaction?”
“I’m a viscount. I have a reputation to uphold, which takes a certain amount of income—money that I don’t receive when you two are idle.”
Hadrian took a seat at the table. “He’s not dissatisfied. He’s outright scolding us.”
“Is that why you’re here so early?” Royce asked. “Scouting for work?”
“Partially. I also needed to get away from the Winds Abbey. I’m becoming a laughingstock. When I contacted Lord Daref, he couldn’t lay off the Viscount Monk jokes. On the other hand, Lady Mae does find my pious reclusion appealing.”
“And is she the one who…” Hadrian swirled a finger at the neatly arranged table.
“Yes. I was about to fetch her. I’m going to have to cancel, aren’t I?” He looked from one to the other and sighed.
“Sorry.”
“I hope this job pays well. This is a new doublet and I still owe the tailor.” Blowing out the candles, he took a seat across from Hadrian.
“How are things up north?” Royce asked.
Albert pursed his lips, thinking. “I’m guessing you know about Medford being taken? Imperial troops hold it and most of the provincial castles except for Drondil Fields.”
Royce sat up. “No, we didn’t know. How’s Gwen?”
“I have no idea. I was here when I heard.”
“So Alric and Arista are at Drondil Fields?” Hadrian asked.
“King Alric is but I don’t think the princess was in Medford. I believe she’s running Ratibor. They appointed her mayor, or so I’ve heard.”
“No,” Hadrian said. “We just came through there. She was governing after the battle but left months ago in the middle of the night. No one knows why. I just assumed she went home.”
Albert shrugged. “Maybe, but I never heard anything about her going back. Probably better for her if she didn’t. The Imps have Drondil Fields surrounded. Nothing is going in or out. It’s only a matter of time before Alric will have to surrender.”
“What about the abbey? Has the empire come knocking?” Royce asked.
Albert shook his head. “Not that I know of. But like I said, I was already here when the Imperialists crossed the Galewyr.”
Royce got up and began to pace.
“Anything else?” Hadrian asked.
“Rumor has it that Tur Del Fur was invaded by goblins. But that’s only a rumor, as far as I can tell.”
“Not a rumor,” Hadrian said.
“Oh?”
“We were there. Actually, we were responsible.”
“Sounds… interesting,” Albert said.
Royce stopped his pacing. “Don’t get him started.”
“Okay, so what brings you to Aquesta?” Albert asked. “I’m guessing it’s not to celebrate Wintertide.”
“We’re going to break Degan Gaunt out of the palace dungeon, and we’ll need you for the usual inside work,” Royce said.
“Really? You do know he’s going to be executed on Wintertide, don’t you?”
“Yeah, that’s why we need to get moving. It would be bad if we were late,” Hadrian added.
“Are you crazy? The palace? At Wintertide? You’ve heard about this little wedding that’s going on? Security might be a tad tighter than usual. Every day I see a line of men in the courtyard, signing up to join the guard.”
“Your point?” Hadrian asked.
“We should be able to use the wedding to our advantage,” Royce said. “Anyone we know in town yet?”