“Obviously.”
“So how’d you survive?”
“Lord Marbury, and the others at the tavern-the people you wanted to kill-they protected me, lied for me. He even lied for you, but that wasn’t necessary because, being a coward, you were already gone.”
“I wouldn’t call it cowardice.”
“What would you call it?”
“Necessary. I needed to get rid of you. Normally that’s not a problem, but”-he tilted his head at Arcadius, who was still reading-“my first choice wasn’t an option.”
“Is that it?” Hadrian pointed at the small battered notebook the professor was reading.
“Yes, yes,” Arcadius said. “Edmund Hall’s Journal.”
“My freedom was riding on the success of this job,” Royce said. “I couldn’t take the chance of you messing up.”
“And yet you managed to do that all by yourself,” Arcadius said.
Royce’s head turned sharply. “What? You said it was the right book.”
“The deal wasn’t just to retrieve the book. It was for both of you to get it.”
“What possible difference does that make? The book was the prize. You have it. We’re done. He was only along in case of trouble, which there wasn’t any.”
“I was very explicit … Once again you failed to follow my instructions. You needed to take Hadrian up the tower.”
“That wasn’t going to happen.” Royce took another loud bite of his apple and talked with his mouth full. “We didn’t practice with the harness, and doing it that way was…” He waved the apple in the air, looking at the ceiling for the answer, then gave up. “It was just stupid to begin with. As you can see, I do very well on my own.”
Arcadius closed the book and, taking the spectacles from his nose, looked at Royce. “I’m pleased you got the book. It is fascinating, by the way. But I was very clear on the conditions. The fact that you ignored them doesn’t change that you cheated. The debt remains.”
Royce stood up with a wicked look on his face and took a step toward the professor.
Hadrian put his hands to his swords and advanced a step of his own.
“It’s easily fixed,” Arcadius spoke quickly. “You can still free yourself of the obligation. You merely need to put the book back.”
“What?”
“You need to put it back-but this time you have to do as instructed and take Hadrian with you.”
“You can’t be serious.” Royce glared at him. “Now you’re just-Wait. You only wanted to borrow the book, you said. You planned to have me put it back all along.”
“It was possible you might have surprised me and actually taken Hadrian with you the first time.”
Surprise stole over Royce’s face and Hadrian watched as a reluctant smile slowly appeared.
“Yes, dear boy,” Arcadius said. “I’m not as foolish as I look, and you’re not that hard to predict. Now, in order to meet the terms of our agreement, you must replace the book-after I’ve finished reading it, of course. This time, however, you must take Hadrian to the top with you. I will insist he carry the notebook and be the one to deposit it.”
“Why?” The thief stared, bewildered.
“Royce, you of all people should understand the problems associated with failing to follow clearly presented directions.” Arcadius turned to Hadrian. “Just minutes ago he was lamenting on how problematic it was when you refused to slaughter the other patrons in a tavern in Iberton.” He looked back at Royce. “Can’t even follow the simplest of directions, you said. Fact is, Hadrian isn’t your servant.”
“No, he’s baggage.”
“No, he’s your partner. His opinion is equal to your own. The two of you need to work together.”
“But he’s not needed. The proof is on your desk. And I managed it in less time than it took him to just ride back here.”
“It’s up to you, Royce, but if you want to be rid of me, this is the price. Help Hadrian put the book back where you found it, and no cheating this time.”
Royce threw his apple across the room, where it bounced off the wall and was swallowed in a pile of parchments. Then with that same eerie speed, he got up and advanced on Hadrian, who instinctively drew his swords.
Royce ignored the weapons. “You better not screw this up. Be at the base of the Glen Hall’s wall in five minutes. If we’re really going to do this, we practice at night.” He looked at the blades that Hadrian held crossed before him and sneered. “When I kill you, I won’t let you see me coming.”
Hadrian pulled himself up and stood on the roof of Glen Hall. A cold wind clawed at his cloak and whipped his hair. Below him, trees swayed and the statue in the common appeared but a toy.
“Well?” he asked, looking at Royce as the two stood there, wearing the leather harnesses, still joined by coils of rope.
“Better than I expected.”
The disappointment in his words made Hadrian grin.
“Don’t assume too much. You have no idea what I expected.”
It didn’t matter. Hadrian knew he had done well. There wasn’t much to it really. Royce did all the work of scaling and punching in anchors. Hadrian merely pulled himself up, drawing the rope between two metal rings at his waist, which when they were taut held him in place with little effort. The trick, he quickly learned, was to keep the rope from getting tangled. The hard part was removing the anchors, which he had to do to continue pulling the rope through the rings. Royce needed them for the actual climb, so Hadrian had to slip each one into a pouch at his side. If he had three hands, this would have been easy. As it was, he had to hold both the weight-bearing line and the tail with one hand while he dangled a life-threatening distance above the ground, fumbling to stuff an iron wedge into a bag. Holding his life in one fist was enough to keep his stomach in his throat most of the way up. After he broke a sweat, he discovered at some unknown point he stopped thinking about where he was, his mind focused only on the task. Reaching the top came as an exhilarating surprise. He had done it and his reward was to stand on the windswept roof of Glen Hall next to the ledge where a hawk had built a nest, taking in a view he suspected few, except the builders and the hawk, had ever seen.
“Still got the book?” Royce asked.
Royce required Hadrian to carry a book he had chosen at random off the floor of Arcadius’s office that was roughly the same size as Edmund Hall’s Journal. Hadrian had Fieldstone Economics: Rise of the Cottage Industry stuffed in his shirt, trapped in place by his belt and the harness. He tapped his chest. “Still there.”
Royce walked around him with an unhappy expression. “There’s no need to carry those swords. They’re just added weight and might tangle the lines. Besides, you’re going to make noise.”
“The scabbards are leather. There’s no metal to ring. Trust me, I’ve fought against the Ba Ran Ghazel in the Gur Em. I know how to be quiet.”
“I doubt that. I haven’t been in a jungle, but I suspect it’s louder there than a closed room in the middle of the night.”
“Well, if you are worried about noise, these harnesses jingle like sleigh bells.”
“Sound isn’t a problem on the climb, and we’ll take them off at the top before we go anywhere. I designed them to slip on and off easily. I just don’t see why you can’t get by with only that little sword. At least leave the big one on your horse.”
“I might need it.”
“You might need a piss pot, but you’re not bringing one of those up. And why three swords, anyway? You got a third arm I can’t see? ’Cause I’ll admit that would be impressive.” As he spoke, Royce began adjusting Hadrian’s harness, tugging on the buckles, pulling it tighter.
“I use it for a different style of fighting.”
“What’s the difference?”
“You don’t want to be the one fighting me when I pull that blade off my back.”
“Really?” He didn’t seem convinced. “Why don’t you always use that one, then? Prefer to give your enemy a sporting chance of killing you?”