‘I didn’t. But since you’re here now, let’s get this out of the way. So what have you got to say?’ Good to see his father still had that inimitable charm.
Merrick had plenty to say. Years of pent-up frustration just boiling up, waiting to explode, but he couldn’t find the words. He had to say something. Had to grasp the moment. He couldn’t just stand there getting piss wet through.
‘How have you been?’
That was a bit more pathetic than he’d been going for.
‘The question is: how have you been?’ said Tannick. ‘But you don’t need to tell me, I’ve already been informed. You’re a drunkard and a gambler and a whoremonger. You left your mother to die while you spent her fortune and ended up on the streets. Is that about right?’
You fucking left her to die, you bastard! You were the one that abandoned us! You were the one who rode off into the night like a bloody thief!
‘I’m not like that anymore,’ Merrick said. The voice that came out of him was hardly his own. It was the voice of a child. A lonely child with no father and a sick mother. A child that simply wanted to be loved, accepted, reassured.
‘No? You’re not like that anymore? I suppose you wear the armour of a knight well enough. It’s a step in the right direction.’
‘I protect the queen.’
‘Really? You stand beside her as she carries out her duties. You’re as much a proven bodyguard as the tapestries on her wall. Whether you’re capable of protecting anything remains to be seen.’
I rescued a warehouse full of slaves! Hundreds of people would be in bondage if not for me. All right, I put them there in the first place, but I did end up saving them from a fate worse than death, and at particular risk to my physical well being.
But he could never explain that to Lord Marshal Tannick Ryder.
‘What do I have to do to prove I’ve made a man of myself?’
Tannick considered that. ‘There’ll be time aplenty to prove yourself when the Khurtas come. Maybe even before that if I hear right. The queen is in constant danger. Assassins, they say. And I believe there’s a few in her own court wouldn’t mourn her death. She might even have to rely on you to save her. You up to that, boy?’
‘I’ll do my duty,’ Merrick replied.
It wasn’t a lie. Was it? Either way he hoped his father believed him.
‘We’ll see,’ said Tannick. ‘We’ll just see.’ Without another word he turned and walked back into the barracks.
Merrick watched him go as the rain beat down.
EIGHTEEN
It took Rag until nightfall to make up her mind. She had sat on the steps of the Sepulchre of Crowns, looking down the Promenade of Kings for hours before the rain started. Then she made the long walk back as the dark set in, still thinking.
That woman, Kaira, had been all right. She’d seemed straight up enough, given Rag no reason to question if she was telling the truth. When she said she would protect Rag it was like she meant it.
Thing was — you couldn’t be kept safe from the Guild. Not even the Sentinels could protect Rag. The Guild had eyes and ears everywhere. There was no place she could hide where they wouldn’t find her. And if they thought she’d betrayed them it would mean the end of her — and it wouldn’t be quick.
As she walked back to Friedrik’s alehouse, soaked through to the skin, Rag decided that all the wishing in the world would never change anything. She had only wanted a normal life, but it was never going to happen. Best to just make of this one what she could.
Once inside the tavern she saw Friedrik was waiting for her by the hearth. They were all stood around — Harkas, Shirl, Yarrick, Essen. Even Palien was lurking there by the fire. He was eating off a metal plate, his knife scraped along it all shrill and nasty, setting Rag’s teeth on edge.
‘Well?’ said Friedrik eagerly as she entered. ‘Is he there? Did you find him?’
She nodded, and a big fat smile opened up on his face.
‘Can I get dry?’ Rag asked, and Friedrik looked at her all apologetic like.
‘Of course.’ He looked around at the lads standing idly by, his expression changing from glee to annoyance. ‘Shirl, you useless bastard, get her a towel.’
Shirl scurried off and Friedrik ushered Rag nearer the fire. Part of her was grateful of the warmth. The other part didn’t really want to be so close to Palien and his knife, but she reckoned she was safe enough with Friedrik there.
‘Did you see him?’ asked Friedrik when they’d sat down. ‘Did you lay eyes on him?’
‘Yeah, course I did,’ she replied. ‘Good looking fella, never shuts up.’
Of course that was the description she’d been given in the first place; she wouldn’t have known Merrick if she fell over him in the street, but her answer was enough to make Friedrik smile and nod.
‘That’s the bastard! Good girl, Rag. I knew you wouldn’t let me down.’
And Rag was pretty sure what would have happened if she had.
Shirl came back with a towel and Rag dried her hair. When she’d finished she saw Palien glaring over at her.
‘How do we know she’s telling the truth?’ he said.
‘What do you mean?’ said Friedrik.
‘How do we know she’s not just making things up? That she didn’t just sit there in the Crown District stuffing her face full of that food your cook made and now she’s stringing us along to cover her tracks?’
Friedrik looked at her questioningly, but didn’t say anything.
Rag looked away and into the fire. ‘Suppose I’ll need to prove it then,’ she said, and just left that in the air. From the corner of her eye she could see Palien looking frustrated, waiting for her to carry on.
‘Well?’ he said when he couldn’t stand the silence no more.
Rag reached into the top of her shirt and pulled out the medallion. She took it from around her head and handed it to Friedrik. He looked it over for a while, then smiled before handing it to Palien.
‘Think you owe someone an apology,’ Friedrik said.
‘She’s a fucking street thief,’ said Palien. ‘She could have got this anywhere. It’s no proof.’
Rag was ready to argue, but Friedrik took the medallion from Palien’s fist and handed it back to her.
‘What do you want her to do, bring Ryder’s head back on a stick? This’ll do as proof enough because I fucking say so.’
Palien didn’t look happy but knew when to keep his mouth shut.
‘I didn’t steal it from him, neither,’ Rag said. ‘He gave it me.’
This made both the men stare at her. She let it hang there, enjoying the moment.
‘He what?’ asked Friedrik.
‘He gave it me,’ she said suddenly shivering. ‘We had a good chat. I think he liked me.’
Friedrik turned and shouted over one shoulder, ‘Get some more fucking wood on this fire.’ Then he looked back at Rag.
What was she supposed to say now? That she could lure Merrick out? Get him into the open?
And then what?
This woman Kaira would do her thing but even if she managed to kill Friedrik, the Guild would still know it was Rag who’d betrayed them. There was no way she could ever be safe if she went along with that woman, no matter what she’d promised.
‘Weren’t nothing much,’ she continued, unsure of what to say next.
Before she could go on, Shirl came back with a bundle of wood. He wasn’t three yards from the fire when his foot caught on the rug and he went tumbling forward, spilling the pile on the floor close to Friedrik’s feet.
‘Clumsy bastard,’ said Palien, like Shirl had done it on purpose.
Friedrik didn’t say nothing. He just bent down and picked up one of those logs. At first Rag thought he was going to throw it on the fire, but he didn’t. That little man with the curly hair and the amiable expression turned on Shirl as he picked himself up. Friedrik brought the log down on his back with a dull thump. Shirl squealed, falling back down as Friedrik raised the log once more. Rag watched Friedrik hit him viciously again and again. Each time Shirl gave a squeal of pain. It was like watching a piglet get beaten to death.