“Who?”
She gave him a small smile, and he realized he was a fool. “The boy,” he said, “you mean the boy.”
She nodded slowly. “Do not worry yourself, Bernard. You are what you are—perhaps you chose it, perhaps you did not, but it is too late now either way. Yes, the boy. Would you like to know his name?”
“If you would like to tell me.”
She gave another small smile at that. “So careful,” she said. “It is not like you. If only…” She winced in pain. “If only you—we—had been careful sooner. But never mind that. What’s done is done. His name is Matthias. I will call him Matt.”
Cutter nodded. “A good name.”
“Do you know what it means?”
“I do not.”
“Peace,” she said softly. “It means peace.”
“A good name,” he said again, because he was unsure what was expected of him.
She gave a weary laugh but sobered quickly. “He will come for him. Feledias. He will hate him because of our sins.”
“I can protect you.”
Another laugh at that. “Protect me? What do you know of protecting?” She waved a hand. “I’m sorry. That’s not fair. I am as guilty as you are. But no, Bernard. Your path is not one of peace, and even if it were, I would not leave him like that, would not complete the betrayal in that way. He deserves better from me, from both of us. No, I will stay. But I have something I would ask of you.”
“Anything.”
She stared at him then, shaking her head in what might have been disbelief. “If something should happen to me—”
“Nothing’s going to happen to you.”
“But if it does…will you watch out for him?”
“Of course.”
The answer was out of him before he gave it any thought, for he was sure that, whatever she said, he would keep her safe. But he had been wrong. He had been a fool.
***
He did not want to waken, wanted to remain with her, for while the memory brought great pain, it brought pleasure too. Yet, he woke anyway and slowly opened his heavy eyelids.
“Well, well, well,” a voice said, and he turned to see the innkeeper, Netty, standing beside him. “I’ve heard devils can’t be killed, and I guess now I’ve seen the truth of it.”
“Where am I?”
She held her hands out to the side. “Our new home,” she said. “Like it?”
Cutter glanced around, blinking. At first, he saw only darkness, but then he was able to make out the ruddy glow of torches and campfires and, around them, the great shadowed silhouette of trees. “The forest,” he said.
“That’s right.”
He was about to say something more when suddenly two figures walked up, a young girl he did not recognize and a man that he did, one of those he’d fought with in the inn. He tensed, knowing that if the man chose to press the issue now, to revenge himself, there was nothing he could do in his current state to stop him.
But the man made no move forward, only standing with his hands on what must have been his daughter’s shoulders, and it was not he who spoke but the girl. “Thank you,” she said, “for saving us.”
Cutter found himself staring in surprise. He glanced at the innkeeper, Netty, who gave him a sidelong smile, then back to the girl. Her face was open, honest, and he was surprised by how much those words meant to him, though he knew that, in the end, he did not deserve them. After all, had it not been for Matt, he would not have come back. “I don’t…” He hesitated, suddenly not wanting to tell the truth, not wanting to see the smile of appreciation fade from the girl’s face. “I didn’t…”
“We’ll let you get back to it,” the man said, wincing. “But…we just wanted to say, you know, thanks. And…sorry. For the inn. Cend shouldn’t have…” He paused, taking a deep breath. “We shouldn’t have done that.”
“It’s fine,” Cutter said, finding that he meant it. After all, the men’s reaction to his presence was a far more familiar one than the thanks the girl had offered. The man offered him another nod then he and the girl turned and walked away. Cutter watched them go, then, following the young girl’s presence, he found himself thinking of Matt, the dream where he’d promised to take care of him so fresh in his mind.
He started to rise, but Netty pushed him back down with one hand, seemingly with ease. “No, no. You relax. I ain’t worked as hard as I have to keep you from goin’ through the veil just to have you die anyway.”
“But the others—”
“Are all fine,” she interrupted. “The boy is fine. I am too, in case you care,” she grunted, giving a small smile.
He sighed at that, allowing himself to relax. “And Feledias?”
“Gone into the night,” she said. “I suppose maybe we could have chased him down, but we’re simple villagers here—killing princes isn’t our business.” She met his eyes then. “Understand?”
“I do,” he said. “And…thank you. For everything.”
She grunted again. “Reckon I’d rather have my inn back, have all those dead we’ve lost back, but if thanks is all I can get I s’pose I’ll take it.”
“I’m…I’m sorry.”
She studied him carefully, as if it had been the last thing she’d expected him to say. “I think maybe you really are. And I thank you for it. Now, that’s enough chatting—I’ve got some frightened villagers need seein’ to. I’ll go and get your friends. They wanted to hang around, but I told ‘em to all go get some rest, or I’d finish what your brother’s troops started.”
She was gone before he could say anything else, and he lay there, breathing, surprised to still be alive. Soon, the others arrived, Maeve and Chall, Priest and Matt. All of them looking battered and exhausted but all of them, thank the gods, alive.
The bruises
