Hadrian nodded, giving in again. He shifted his short sword’s belt just off the hip, where it rubbed him. The hand-and-a-half sword always hung low, but he wore the short sword higher when he rode to keep it clear of his thigh. “You know, I wasn’t asking for your hand in marriage. I was just curious about how a woman from Colnora ended up here. Seemed a bit strange to me, that’s all.”
They continued on in silence. The two split, going separate ways around a hawthorn tree that Hadrian was surprised he remembered from the trip up. Same thing had happened with a boulder earlier. Why is it I remember some things but not others? Why the tree and the boulder, but not that fallen log or that curve?
This was the sort of internal conversation he often expressed verbally with Royce, the kind that drove his partner nuts. But it wasn’t polite to travel with someone and not acknowledge them, so a little pointless conversation seemed reasonable. Rather than be irritated by the silence, Hadrian chose to— “I ran into some trouble in Colnora,” Scarlett said.
Hadrian didn’t dare look over. He didn’t show any sign that he knew she was there.
“Royce was telling the truth about me being in the Black Diamond.” She paused.
Hadrian didn’t respond, didn’t want to sidetrack her into a discussion about Royce.
After a moment, she went on. “I grew up a farmer’s daughter and ran away to the big city because I had talent and wanted to act in the theater there. I was only fourteen—didn’t know women weren’t allowed to be actors. They laughed at me, told me to go home. I couldn’t do that. I’d watched my mother kill herself in silent misery. She’d cried herself to sleep at night. I wouldn’t do that—wouldn’t be that.
“I danced and sang on street corners for money. People liked me and dropped coppers in my hat. I thought I’d found a future, and I was so happy. Didn’t know about the Minstrel Guild and how ruthless people could be. Like I said, I was only fourteen.”
Hadrian risked a glance and discovered Scarlett wasn’t looking at him. Her sight was fixed on the shadows, a hard, pained expression on her face. “I was just a stupid little girl,” she said with a sneer of contempt, as if seeing herself and hating what she saw.
“The guild didn’t care that I was young and na?ve. All they cared about was me cutting into their profits. Beat me bloody and split my lip. My eyes were so swollen I couldn’t see out of them for days. My left arm was broken, as well as the third finger on this hand.” She held it up as if she were showing off a ring. “Still a little crooked.” She grimaced and made a fist with that hand. “But that was all they did—could have been worse. If the Black Diamond found you cutting in on their territory, you’d be dead, not just broken, beaten, and left vomiting in a ditch. You see, the members of the Minstrel Guild pride themselves on being professional men, not predators and thugs. This was business, not pleasure. Nearly killing a stupid girl was just part of their job.
“Don’t know what I would’ve done after that if it hadn’t been for Chase. I wouldn’t have gone home, so I probably woulda died, I guess.”
“Who’s Chase?”
“Chase was an entertainer—a magician and actor.”
“Was he one of the men who—was he part of the guild?”
“No—which at the time surprised me, too, because Chase put on shows wherever he liked in the city. No one ever bothered him. Turned out they didn’t dare. He was part of a different guild—the Black Diamond.” She looked at him with a bitter smile Hadrian didn’t understand. “His shows drew in crowds, big crowds. Everyone was fascinated and intent on watching his hands to see how he did the magic. Meanwhile sweepers—pickpockets—worked their own magic. Misdirection is the key, he’d always said. He pulled me out of that ditch and cleaned me up. Gave me food and a place to sleep. Had me sing and dance at his shows and taught me how to pick pockets and do magic. To him they were the same thing. He added me to his act and renamed me Dodge—Scarlett Dodge, the red-haired enchantress. He also sponsored my membership to the Diamond. Chase was a good man. Saved my life.”
“Was?”
“They killed him—Malachite and Jasper. This was five years ago. Hoyte was running things in the Diamond and fortifying his position as First Officer—which is sort of like a duke, the second most powerful member short of the Jewel himself, who’s essentially the king. And like any good duke, he was preoccupied with weeding out those not loyal to him. Most of us in the bottom ranks hated Hoyte. Chase was no different. He threw his loyalty to a new guy, a bucketman and rising star in the guild, who looked like he could replace Hoyte, but then everything changed.
“Hoyte cleaned house. The rising star went to Manzant, and Chase and a lot of others were found floating facedown in the Bernum River. I didn’t want to be next, so I ran. Went south.
“In Ratibor, I joined, of all things, a traveling minstrel show. I performed magic, and we fleeced our audiences just like in Colnora. Kept moving to avoid problems. In Swanwick, trouble caught us. I was arrested. Kept my hands because they had decided to send me to Manzant Prison. The salt mine always needs workers, and workers need hands. On the road south, I pulled one more magic act and got my chains off. Chase taught me that, too. One more way in which he saved my life. I ran west into the mountains.”
She slowed, then stopped. Scarlett stared at the shadowy path and then back at the black of the forest. “People here say a spirit haunts these woods and has protected the people in this valley for centuries.”
“Augustine’s reformed demon?”
“I guess.” She seemed embarrassed. “I’m not saying I believe everything, but everyone believes something. They insist in the existence of the gods, or demons, or tree spirits, or they believe that such things don’t exist. One person might profess that people are basically good, while another might think the opposite. But everyone believes in something, you know? And what we choose to believe in says a lot—not only about the kind of people we are, but about the kind of people we want to be, and the kind of world we want to live in.”
“Augustine tell you that?”
She stopped and gave him an angry face. “What? You think a reformed thief can’t conceive of such things? Or do you think a woman couldn’t possibly ponder such ideas?”
She was opening up to him, saying things he imagined she didn’t say to many people. Maybe she thought he would understand, that he might feel the same—and he did—but instead of agreeing, he’d accused her of being stupid. “Sorry,” he said, and meant it.
“You should be.”
“I am.”
The scowl on her face lost its strength and slowly drained away as they walked.
Hadrian waited. He didn’t dare say another word until she did.
“Anyway,” she said, finally breaking the silence and erasing the slate of past awkwardness with a word, “I honestly feel that something guided me here.”
“Here, here? Up this trail?”
She nodded. “I stumbled on this path and followed it to the monastery. It really was as if Maribor—or something—led me.”
“And Abbot Augustine took you in.”
“Like Chase before him, he saved me. Didn’t rebuke, judge, or ask questions. He just told me I needed to change my life, as if he knew everything. He introduced me to the people of the dale, who, with his endorsement, welcomed me as one of their own.”
She began walking again, moving faster and lighter, as if a weight had been lifted.
“And now?”
She gave a carefree roll of her shoulders. “I dance. I sing. I do magic tricks. Three times a week I entertain people at Caldwell House. The rest of the time, I try to master the spinning wheel or make clay pots. Haven’t succeeded at a single pot, but I’m better at it than spinning wool. Spinning is a torment. I’m also trying to learn to bake.”