Chapter Text
Fisk had August fetch Darrin’s breakfast the next morning, and the valet did not hesitate to hunt down the best offerings the inn had available in an admirably short time. Even so the girl already had fabrics spread by the time he got in. His lordship glanced up as soon as he entered, then made room at his desk for the tray that August brought.
“Excellent,” he murmured, then stopped August before he could make a full retreat. “Join me, would you?”
“My lord?” The valet asked, put more than a little on guard by the unusual question.
“Sit and try some.” The young lord seemed almost amused by August’s discomfort. Was he that kind of master, then, the one to set traps where there is no right answer just to punish the victim of his choice?
“Sit,” Fisk rumbled from somewhere on the other side of the room, and August thumped his behind down into the chair that would have gone with the desk if Lord Giltenmuir hadn’t had his rolling chair instead.
“Did you know that the king has an official servant for testing his food? Everything that he eats has had a bit cut out of it for a servant to taste and ensure there is no poison.” The young lord sounded conversational, but August relaxed just a little as he understood where he was going. Still, he said nothing. That was not his place.
“I would like you to provide this service for me. Shouldn’t be too unpleasant, I should think.”
August nodded deeply since he couldn’t bow in this position. “As you wish, my lord.” It was a strange request, to be sure, but he supposed he understood the reason. Lord Darrin probably suspected August had split loyalties.
He was right. August had been charged with spying upon the upstart lord and reporting back to Lord Vovlan. He supposed there might come a time that Lord Vovlan would desire him to add something to the upstart’s food, but that wasn’t his current mission, so eating noble food would be an enjoyable side effect of the upstart’s suspicion. And if Lord Vovlan ever did want the man killed, August had no doubt the method would be far more public than poison.
“Have you been in Lord Vovlan’s service for a long time, August?” The young lord’s eyes glanced his way, but seemed to carefully focus more on his papers than the servant. From this angle it would be difficult to read Darrin’s correspondence, sadly, especially with his fancy handwriting, but it was similar enough to Lady Aurelia’s hand that he might learn to do it in time.
“Yes, my lord.” He had thought he was a food taster not a dining companion. The young man was odd in every way August could think of.
“And you’ve never known freedom,” this was spoken softer, more thoughtfully and August wasn’t at all sure that he was meant to respond.
“No.” Odder and odder. Why would the upstart care if his new valet were free? August wasn’t sure freedom would change much for him. He would be a gentleman’s gentleman by choice if not by force.
Those mismatched eyes glanced up once again, and there was something in there that August wasn’t used to seeing from his masters. He wasn’t even quite sure how to interpret it.
Lord Darrin nodded once, then began to eat from the dishes August had already proven free of poison. “If you should find yourself in your former master’s presence, do not fear to answer any question he may have. He is not a man whose full displeasure either of us would like to experience, I should think.”
August felt the corners of his lips begin to turn down before he caught himself and smoothed his features. He wanted August to take tales to Lord Vovlan? The question nearly seared his tongue, but he was a slave not a table companion. Still, the oddity of this situation grew by the moment.
The young lord seemed to turn his attention away from August, much to his relief. “You may go. I approve of the engineer you brought me yesterday - send him to me here. We have a little more to settle before the new construction begins.”
“Yes, my lord.” August rose, bowed, and left as quickly as his training would allow. How much of this oddity should he tell Lord Vovlan? Would his real master even find any of it useful?
All of it, he knew somewhere in his gut. The older lord was crafty and would likely read more into it than he did, and August would not be able to hide his unease from him.
He winced considering Lord Vovlan’s reaction to his admission that he couldn’t read the papers that had been within his reach. For a moment, he wondered what punishment the older lord would devise that the upstart wouldn’t see and question. And there would be punishment. August knew that as well as he knew that the sky was blue and the bouts were ugly. He didn’t think Lord Vovlan intended to tip his hand to the oddity, yet. So the punishment would be quiet, hidden. August bit the tip of his tongue. The cunning old lord would think of something, and August was beyond certain he wouldn’t like it.
* * *
It was late, well after the evening meal that a knock came at the window. Fisk started that way, but Darrin held up a hand that gave him pause.
“It would seem that we have a rat in the area. You’ll have to see just how large it is presently. August, Mara, you are dismissed for the night.” The young lord sounded somewhat amused, and the two slaves disappeared with somewhat bemused expressions. Fisk waited until they’d gone to open the window for a little blond urchin.
“Took ya long enough,” she muttered, then dared to give the young lord a glare. “I ain’t no rat.”
Darrin chuckled. “My apologies. A mouse, then? Or perhaps a bat?”
“You aren’t supposed to come here,” Fisk told her ominously, breaking into the nonsensical banter, but she just grinned up at him.
“Got somethin’ for ya. Couldn’t wait.”
“Given your past success, I look forward to this one,” Darrin said with a mildly amused smile.
“There’s a crazy old coot found one of our safe spots. He’s hiding out - looks like he’s been on the run a while. I ain’t goin’ near ‘im on my own, but I figure the big man there can.”
Darrin took a drink from a convenient crystal chalice. “And what are we to do with a mentally challenged and possibly criminal elder?”
“Oi, don’t play dumb.” The girl scowled. “You want info? Criminals got it. Kids like me, we know the streets and how to avoid getting caught. Real criminals? They’ll know who’s straight and who they can bribe. They’ll know how to spot a mark and all the risks. Anyway, don’t know that he’s a criminal. Might just be some slave run away or a crazy that saw too much.”
Darrin nodded slowly and glanced Fisk’s way. “Do you think you can handle one old man?”
Fisk snorted. “Depends how slippery he is. The crazies can be tricky, and they bite. I’ll give it a try, though.”
* * *
August waited outside the inn, finding a place in the shadows where he could see both the upstart lord’s window and main door. Whoever had come to visit was information well worth knowing and if he could follow the informant, all the better.
The shutters opened and a small figure climbed out, followed by Lord Darrin’s goon. It was difficult to see much, both of them backlit by the candlelight inside and further obscured by ill-fitting clothing. Still, it wouldn’t be hard to keep track of someone as big as Fisk.
Or at least, that’s what he thought. But the pace they set was quick and sure, and he almost lost them several times in the darkness and as they slipped into alleys or doorways to avoid the few other people on the streets. Where on earth were they going? The question kept sounding in his head as they headed deeper and deeper into the worst parts of town.
He almost lost them again when they passed a loud and dirty bar just in time for a drunk to get tossed out on his rear. The two in front of him didn’t even pause for the disturbance, but August was unused to this sort of thing.
“Oi,” a small voice said from the shadows. “Got a spare copper, my lord?”
August cast his eyes toward his quarry then down to the urchin. “I’ll give you three if you help me catch up to that slave. He’s running away.”
“That so?” The kid asked, squinting into the darkness. “You ain’t holdin’ that one if he don’t wanna be held without a lot more help.”
“I didn’t have time to get help, but if I find where he’s going, I can bring back help.”
This time the child grinned, the flickering light flashing off his teeth but illuminating little else about his features. “Too late, yer lordship. Lost ‘em in the dark.”
August turned and grimaced. The urchin was right. Even the goon had been swallowed by the night.
“Is there anything you can do to help me? I’ll give you three gold if you can help me find the safe house. My master will put me on the post if I lose his favorite smithy slave.”
But when he turned back, the child was gone as surely as the others were.
He couldn’t give up, though. He walked back the way he’d come. Perhaps he could catch the goon as he returned to the inn. If he didn’t figure out what was happening, his master truly might decide he was only good for fodder. The night was not cold, but August shivered.
* * *
Fisk glanced warily at the man Sena had designated a ‘crazy old coot’. The man certainly looked the part, with long straggling hair and beard and clothing that smelled like it hadn’t been washed yet this year. He wasn’t all that old, though, with only a few threads of silver glinting in the darker beard lit by a small fire he warmed himself by. The man muttered to himself, adding to the image of insanity.
“Hello,” Fisk said cautiously. Sena was waiting well behind him, and he thought he could feel her amusement radiating. Mischievous little brat.
“Hullo, hullo, what sort of greeting is that? Ain’t from no one I know, no, so what is it? Big enough to be an elephant, but no trunk! Smells like fire, mustn’t touch fire, no, no. You’ll summon bad things, bad bad things.”
“What are you doing out here, sir?”
“It’s crackling at me. What’s it crackling at me for? Didn’t do nothing to it.”
“I’m here to help, if you’ll let me. Why are you hiding?”
“Why?” The man’s big eyes landed disconcertingly on Fisk. “Why? It asks why! When the sky’s full of burning fire, it asks why! Suppose fire don’t mind fire, though.”
“Sena, what’s he mean by fire? Danger?”
“Why you askin’ me? I don't speak crazy. Oi, look here, mate, you made enough sense askin’ Norbert ‘bout food, so why don't you talk straight now?” The girl demanded.
For the briefest moment the man hesitated, and that was enough to give it away.
“You’re not mad at all!” Fisk exclaimed.
“Can’t prove it!” The man yelped, then darted away. Fisk had been expecting something of the sort, and lunged after him. He caught up in three long strides and grabbed the man’s wrist, and found himself clinging to a person that writhed worse than a snake.
“Hold still!” He ground out, trying to pull the man into a bear hug.
“You ever known that to work?” Sena asked curiously from her safe place several steps back.
“You could help!” He snarled, more from the effort than from any true anger.
“Nah, you’ve got it, big man. I have faith in you.” He could hear the grin in her voice and gritted his teeth just in time for his captive’s elbow to hit him in the jaw. It almost loosened his grip enough for the man to pull free.
“We’re not trying to hurt you, man!” Fisk panted, finally managing that hug and pinning the stranger’s arms to his sides.
“Maybe not now,” the man replied breathlessly, “but sooner or later it all goes bad!”
The two struggled a bit longer until the weaker, malnourished man gave up and collapsed against Fisk. In order to keep hold of him, Fisk slowly lowered both of them to the ground while they caught their breath.
“Look, I want to help you. I’m not a guard or noble or slaver. I don’t know whatever you’ve done, and I don’t much care. My friend wants to talk to you, and he’ll let you go without restraint when you’re done.”
The stranger made his disbelief known in a series of colorful phrases unworthy of being remembered or recorded. Fisk waited patiently for the tirade to end.
“You’re not getting free, sir. I didn’t call for any guards, did I?” The man paused, but whether that was a lack of breath or listening, Fisk couldn’t tell.
“My name is Fisk, over there is Sena, and the friend who wants to see you is Darrin. I was a blacksmith. Nothing special. Come on, let’s start with a name.”
The man grumbled a little bit before he huffed out a breath. “Vyran.”
“Good start,” Fisk congratulated. “Why are you hiding?”
The body in his arms tensed again, and Fisk did the same. “I- I’m an escaped slave. Well, almost. I escaped from the slavers, but they never sold me or finished the paperwork. And I’m not going back.”
Fisk patted his shoulder twice and let him up. “You don’t have to. I’m no friend to the slavers.”
“Let me guess. You’ll just ’let’ me work for you for the privilege of not being returned to my true owners? You’ll forgive me if I’m not interested in that deal.”
Fisk shrugged. “I’m not sure what deal Darrin will try to offer, but I know you’ll walk out of that meeting in the same condition and just as free as you are when you walk in. Seems to me he doesn’t really want slaves, though.”
“Lies, I think.”
“Think what you like. You’ve already seen your chances of escaping me, and if you struggle the whole way there you’ll attract attention neither of us wants.”
“You have to sleep sometime.”
Fisk rolled his eyes. “Yes. I’d like to be sleeping now, so come along and get this over with so I can, and you can get on with whatever it is you want to be doing next.”
“And if I refuse your generous invitation?”
“You don’t get an option on coming. You can refuse any offer my friend makes without consequences.”
Vyran scoffed and tried to shake off Fisk’s hand. “Doesn’t seem like it.”
“One way to find out.” Fisk began to pull him along, and though there was some initial resistance, the man seemed to realize the futility and chose to save his strength.
* * *
August waited outside the inn for over an hour before he finally saw the goon and another large man ambling through the gloom. Whoever the rat had been was nowhere to be seen. “Who did you bring home with you, Fisk?” He muttered to himself.
The pair climbed in through the window, and August crept closer to the best of his ability to listen. It would perhaps be safer to listen at the door, but he feared to miss a word. Perhaps this information would distract his master from his ire over August’s earlier failure.
“Welcome! Help yourself - that bowl is refilled daily. When you’ve settled, perhaps you could start with your name?”
August heard some movement from the direction of the road as he tried to shift into a somewhat comfortable position, but surely it was only a rat. Or so he told himself, until a small hand landed on his shoulder.
“What’re we listening to?” A young voice asked in his ear.
August jumped. “I lost something in the bushes. I’m trying to find it.”
“Sure you did, Coat-tails.” The small figure knocked on the shutters of the window. “Ya got an extra pair of ears out here.”
August stood, mentally scrambling for a way out of this mess.
“Thin, perfect clothes, looks snooty enough to be a noble?” Fisk’s voice drifted out in response.
“Yeah. Bet said he was following us earlier, too.”
August had the momentary, breathless impulse to run. Perhaps if he was fast enough neither master would catch him. He might survive. Reality crashed down on him quickly, and he shook his head. The rat was fast, the goon was strong, the upstart was clever. August was doomed.
“August, return to your room. My door and windows will be watched for the remainder of the night, and we will discuss this in the morning.” Darrin’s order was calm, and the shutters didn’t open despite his fear of the light flooding out to catch him.
“Yes, my lord,” August forced himself to say, dread nearly crippling him. He swallowed against the thick lump in his throat, and it took a try or two to get himself moving.
* * *
Darrin shook his head after Sena told them the valet had gone and Fisk had taken up a post outside the door. “I apologize for the interruption, sir. My name is Darrin, and you are…?”
“Vyran,” the stranger said, taking Darrin at his earlier invitation and shoving a pear into his mouth to devour.
“Careful. You don’t look well, and if you eat too much too fast it might all come back up again,” the young lord cautioned.
The man waved off the warning. “I know, I know. What do you want?”
Darrin leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers. “I want to know how I can help you, and how you can help me. Why are you on your own?”
“Told your man,” Vyran answered, pear juice dripping down his chin. “Got caught by slavers, escaped before they made it to market. Not interested in going back.”
Darrin raised one eyebrow. “Why were they after you? Debt? Criminal activity?”
“Yeah, that.”
Darrin waited, but nothing more seemed to be forthcoming. “I am able to pay you or provide you with food and safety. I’m looking for information-”
“Information is dangerous, sir.”
“-or perhaps other services, depending on what you have to offer.” Darrin’s gaze was almost disconcerting. “Yes, information is dangerous. Why else should I want it?”
“I do know of something you might be interested in. You’re stuck in that chair all the time, right?”
Darrin pulled back a little, his expression shuttering. “I have had the best healers in Sarthe to see me. I cannot be healed.”
“I don’t know any healers who ain’t part of the pit so I can’t help you there. But there might be someone who could invent something.”
Darrin slowly forced himself to relax. “I gave up on getting out of these chairs a long time ago. But if you know someone with that kind of vision and capability to bring it about, I am certain I could find more than a few jobs for them. Are they here, in the capital?”
“Yeah.”
Darrin nodded and watched the man take an orange from the bowl after opening the shutters and tossing the pear core out. “What is it that you want, in exchange for this information?”
“Anonymity.”
“Meaning?”
“My friend won’t want his name out there. Mine either. I choose who I introduce to my friend.”
Darrin smirked. “That I can do. Are you willing to introduce me, or shall I have to send Fisk on my behalf?”
“You’re not welcome where he is, dandy,” the man said, swiping his sleeve across his chin.
Darrin nodded. “Your price seems rather low. Do you mean for yourself and your friend to stay in the lives you have led, or do you mean for me to begin providing for you?”
“My friend and me…we’ll get along fine with the money you pay for our services. I have no interest in either of us being beholden to anybody, dandy.”
The young lord tapped the arm of his chair. “What other manner of items can your friend provide? Unique traps and weapons, tricks to awe people, tools no one else has?”
“He can do most anything you can imagine,” the man tossed the orange peels out the window but one flew off course and hit Sena in the cheek.
“Oi! Watch it, fish-breath!”
“Move yer head, runt!” He shot back, and shook his head while muttering under his breath.
“That’s some high expectations to set… unless he has magic,” Darrin said to bring them back on topic. The implication in his words sat heavily in the air between them for a long moment.
“It’s illegal for a free man to have magic, Sir.”
“Have I said anything that would make you think that would bother me?” Darrin shook his head slightly. “The only thing I would do with that is offer to do the paperwork to make him legally mine to allow him to move about more freely. He may stay in hiding as he wishes. All I want to know now are the limits.”
“I don’t know that my friend wants anyone to own his papers. At any moment that benevolence of yours could be gone.” He snapped his fingers, the noise sharp in the quiet room.
“More likely I would come to an untimely end and the papers would pass to someone less inclined to allow him his freedom,” Darrin remarked dryly. “As I said, your choice.”
“I’ll have him make you something that will show off his skills. Then we’ll talk.”
“I look forward to it, but if he has magic my greatest concern is locks that cannot be picked and items to prevent eavesdroppers from overhearing things I’d prefer kept quiet. Those, I assure you, I should be delighted to purchase.”
“Tell your rats and your thugs to stay away. I’ll find you when he’s ready.” The man stood and opened the shutters before hopping out there and disappearing into the underbrush.
Darrin watched him thoughtfully, then called the other two in. “Thank you, Sena. That was most informative. Fisk will bring you extra supplies tomorrow. Fisk, I do believe that the excitement is over. Rest, if you can.”
“What will you do about August?” Fisk asked, eyes hard.
“Be more careful, I suppose,” Darrin sighed. “I might leave the blueprints for the manor lying around for him to snoop on. The hidden rooms should be enough to keep Vovlan off his back for a day or two.”
“You should get rid of him.”
“And lose such an easy way to feed Vovlan bad information or let him sneak a misleading peek? No, we’ll just have to be careful. Besides,” he gave the other man a look. “I would have thought you wouldn’t wish to see anyone on the post.”
“You won’t put anyone on the post,” Fisk scoffed.
“No, but his other master certainly would.” The quiet statement ended the conversation, and it was not long before both of them retired for the night.