The Maid's War (Kingfountain 0.5)

She stared at him keenly. “Did he tell you?”

The duke smiled. “He did. He was shaking like a leaf, but he started gushing words after that. He told me the Fountain had whispered to him that a man was coming with a sword. He had seen the sword and the raven scabbard in a vision. He was afraid of me, because I was a stranger to him, but he knew from the Fountain he could trust me. I told him that the Fountain had sent me to help the Maid. That she had told me about him, had even described him to me. You should have seen his face, Ankarette. The Maid knew about him. He would have done anything to help her. And he did. I asked if he could get me into the palace, but he said no. I asked if he could get into the palace, and he said he often ran messages from the deconeus to the king’s men. He knew the palace very well. He even knew some of the secret places within its walls.” Alensson closed his eyes and massaged his forehead. “I told him that he needed to bring the scabbard into the palace and give it to the Maid when she arrived. No one ever thinks a young boy is a threat. He could pass unnoticed through the halls. He was scared to death of being caught, but he was also courageous and determined. And so the boy Tunmore promised to fetch me another scabbard to trade for the one I held. He showed me to my cell and said he would come for me later.” He paused, parting the curtain of the wagon to look outside.

Ankarette heard it shortly after. The sound of riders coming up from behind the wagon.

“I think we may shortly have some visitors,” he said warily, glancing back. “They’re wearing the Spider King’s badge.”

The poisoner frowned with displeasure. Getting Alensson back into the secret compartment of the double chests would be difficult and noisy. She glanced out the window on her side of the carriage and spied eight riders, their stallions lathered and obviously trying to keep a punishing pace. She had to decide quickly.

“What shall we do, lass?” he asked her with his wry smile.

“Fight them,” she answered confidently. “There are only eight, and then we won’t need to get horses at Ranz.”

His smile turned into a grin. “I was hoping you’d say that.”





CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

Trial of Innocence





The news of the Maid’s arrival at Kingfountain days later spread through the sanctuary like wildfire. A crowd was already starting to gather by the time Alensson rushed to the gates. Within the hour, the courtyard within the gate and the street without it had swollen into a crushing river of human bodies, all jostling with one another for a better position. Some of the city urchins had even climbed atop the gates and dangled their legs from above. Every window from every shop was open, and the streets were jammed with those eager to catch a glimpse of Deford’s prisoner. Alensson was uncomfortable in the crushing throng, but he simply kept one hand on his sword hilt and the other gripping the bar of the gate. The commotion of talking and gossip nearly overwhelmed the noise of the falls rushing past on both sides of the sanctuary island. The prodding of strangers and jostling of the crowd disturbed him, while the sickly reek of unwashed bodies choked his senses.

After an interminable wait, a cry arose from down the bridgehead, and suddenly the street was a writhing mass of onlookers, each craning to get a view. A phalanx of soldiers bearing royal tunics and banners rode on horseback and cleared an opening so that the cart bearing the Maid could lumber past. Alensson’s pulse raced and he squeezed up to the pocked iron bar, smelling its rusty scent as he pressed his face slightly through the gap.

The citizenry of Kingfountain took up howling against the Maid, jeering obscenities at her and flinging spoiled fruit at her cart. There were at least fifty soldiers in front and fifty behind, but they would be useless against the swelling mob if a riot started. The indignities hurled at the Maid burned in the duke’s ears, making him bare his teeth at the willful humiliation. The street vendors had even stopped hawking their wares to join in the abuse of the young woman. He watched the advancing phalanx plow through the crowd as if trudging through a snow-packed landscape.

As the first ranks of soldiers passed, Alensson saw the wary looks they were giving the tumultuous panoply. A fearful dread began pounding in his heart. What if they rushed the cart and seized her and threw her into the mouth of the falls? In the days since Alensson had been at Kingfountain, he had witnessed only one such outrage, a man caught thieving at one of the fountains. He’d been unceremoniously accosted and rushed to the ledge, and his corpse had later been found on the river shore below. The duke was terrified by the mass of life, the frenzied rabble who had been taught to hate Genette. What if she was murdered before his very eyes and she wasn’t even granted a trial?

The pandemonium on the bridge outside the sanctuary was so great he could not hear the clacking of the wagon wheels as the cart followed the ranks of royal guardsmen. Smashed fruit and sludge dripped from the bars of the cart as it passed, making Alensson squeeze the bars of the gate in impotent fury. He saw Genette within, seated on the wooden floor, her hands bracing her body as the cart bumped and jostled. She was thinner than when he’d last seen her, her dark hair speckled with tomato seeds and other stains. But as the cart lumbered past Our Lady, she lifted her head and stared up at the sanctuary beyond the gate, taking in its vast architecture and sky-piercing spire. If she heard the taunts and deprecations of the crowd, there was no sign of it in her expression. A rotten cabbage exploded against the bars, and Alensson wanted to throttle the villain who had hurled it, but Genette still did not flinch. A slight smile brightened her face as she stared up at the shrine dedicated to the Fountain. She made a quick sign of obeisance with her hand, a prayer, and then her eyes fell to the gate of the sanctuary.

Their eyes met.

He was relieved she’d seen him, for he’d worried the cart would bear her away before he could alert her to his presence.

Her shoulders slumped in a grateful sigh, and this time her smile was so bright it pierced his heart and brought tears to his eyes. She crawled to the edge of the cart, fastening her hands on the bars, and she looked at him with tenderness. With his gaze fixed on hers, he nodded once and inclined his head respectfully, as if she were the duchess and he a mere village boy. She took his meaning. He had done as she had bidden him.