False Covenant

The brief jostling by the constables, however, combined with the sight of Gerard's flushing cheeks and bleary gaze, was enough to snap her back into some semblance of restraint. “What happened? What happened?!” She heard the shrill edge in her voice, felt tiny little teeth chewing at the already-frayed edges of her self-control; heard it, felt it, and hated it, but was as powerless to stop it as she was her own heartbeat.

“Widdershins,” Gerard began, “I-”

“Where's Robin?”

“I didn't know what else to do,” he said, gesturing helplessly at the gathered constables. “We couldn't find you, and I didn't think it was safe to hesitate, and-”

“Oh, gods, where's Robin?!”

“Mademoiselle?” The blond constable stepped closer, one hand raised. “We need to-Mademoiselle, please?”

But it was Renard who stepped in, laid a hand on Widdershins's wrist, and whispered, “You can't help her like this.”

She froze, actually raised a hand to her cheek as though he'd slapped her, and nodded. “I'm sorry. I'm sorry, everyone.” She inhaled once, deeply, then faced the constable-and if he, or any of the others, noticed the violent trembling of her clenched left fist, they chose not to remark on it.

“I am Constable Paschal Sorelle,” he told her. He didn't ask her name; clearly, he already knew. “Your man here reported a crime, and we've come to investigate.”

“A crime? Robin…?” Keep calm, keep calm, keep calm…

She felt a slow but steady torrent of soothing emotions from Olgun, enough-just enough-to enable her to maintain her composure. Had he been tangible, she'd have kissed him.

Paschal nodded. “Your friend Robin has been abducted, mademoiselle.”

“I couldn't stop him!” Gerard sobbed, stretching out a hand to lean against the nearest table. “I wanted to, but…”

It never even occurred to Widdershins to ask who. Had Robin been murdered, there might have been options, but kidnapped? She had no doubt at all.

“I'll kill him. I'll kill him!” She spun, backhanding a carafe off the table with that same trembling fist. Several of the constables, as well as Igraine, leapt back to avoid the sloshing wine and shattering ceramic.

“I take it,” Sorelle said blandly, “that you believe you know who did this? Ah…Hmm. I'll take that glare as a ‘yes.’ You realize I can't permit you to-”

“Don't. Just don't. Gerard? Was…” Widdershins cleared her throat, tried again. “Was she hurt?”

“No. Not when they left, anyway.”

“Good.” The knot in her belly didn't disappear, but it loosened a touch. “Good, that's something. All right, the first thing we need to do is-”

“The first thing you need to do,” Renard said quietly, “is go with the nice constable. Talk to Bouniard. There's a lot that needs doing. I'll get Robin.”

“If you think for one second-!”

And, simultaneously, from Sorelle, “The Guard cannot allow you to make this into some personal-”

“One at a time! You,” Renard said, pointing at Sorelle, “patience. We'll explain in a moment. And you”-here he grabbed Widdershins by the shoulders and steered her over to the bar-“need to listen.”

The constable looked as though he might follow and demand to participate in the conversation, but he held his ground, scowling.

“Renard, it's Robin. I can't just-”

“Listen,” he said again, his tone low but sharp. “We need you to talk to Bouniard. Nobody else is going to be able to convince the Guard to help us deal with Iruoch.”

“I don't care about Iruoch right now! I-”

“And when he kills more children? Will you care then?”

Widdershins slapped him. Renard clearly saw it coming, and just as clearly held himself rigid rather than avoiding the blow.

“That's not fair,” she whispered, tears rolling down her cheeks.

“No,” he agreed. “It's not. Widdershins, I'm not an idiot. I know-a lot of us know- that you can do things, sometimes pretty amazing things, that most of us couldn't even attempt to duplicate. Even if you weren't the only one who could bring the Guard and the Guild together on this, you might be the only one with a chance of stopping that creature.”

At any other moment, the revelation that Renard knew more of her secret than she'd suspected would have elicited at least a comment, if nothing more. Now, she just nodded. “But I can't just-”

“Widdershins, why do you think Evrard's doing all this?”

“D'Arras tower,” she spat. “Why else?”

“No, I mean, why is he threatening you? Taunting you? Abducting Robin?”

“I…” Widdershins blinked. “I assume he's trying to goad me into doing something stupid.”

“Precisely. You've heard of Evrard's skill as a duelist?”

“Yes, but-”

“He's noble blood. You're not.”

“So?”

“So by custom, he can't challenge you to a duel. All he can do is sic the law on you, and for that, he needs proof. But if you challenge him…”

Widdershins's jaw dropped, and she swore the Flippant Witch must have shifted off its foundations. “All of this is because he wants me to attack him? Because it wouldn't be proper for him to draw first?!”

Renard shrugged. “I can't say for sure, of course, but that'd be my guess.”

“But…That's stupid! If he attacked me, he could just say it was self-defense! Who'd argue it?”

“Aristocrats,” the foppish thief said, “have a twisted sense of honor. I've never really understood it, myself.”

“That's because it's dumb, Renard!”

“Could be.”

“So I let you do this,” she said slowly, “it means we get that much closer to stopping Iruoch, and we make sure Evrard doesn't get what he wants.”

“Precisely.”

“But Renard, it's Robin.”

“I know.” He reached out, took Widdershins's right hand in both of his. “I know she's practically a sister to you. I swear to you-I swear to you, on the Shrouded God and the rest of the Pact-I won't let him hurt her. I'll bring her back safe.”

“You were just telling me what kind of an amazing, renowned duelist he is….”

“Indeed.” Renard's teeth gleamed in the lantern light. “But he's one man, whereas I…I am a Finder.”

For the first time since she'd spotted the black-and-silver assembly outside her tavern, Widdershins smiled, if only shallowly. “How will you find him?”

“The same way you would have. He wants you to come to him, so he won't make it difficult. If he's not staying in one of the various properties owned by the d'Arras family-probably a tenement or a warehouse, I'd wager-I'll be shocked.”

Widdershins nodded. “I don't like this. I understand, but I don't like it. Renard, if he's hurt her…”

“Then he'll regret it. Briefly.”

A second nod, followed by a chaste kiss on Renard's cheek, and then Widdershins squared her shoulders and turned to address Constable Sorelle.