A man stepped out onto the dock and looked at them. Black hair, fit, tall, about thirty. If they were in the Weird, William would’ve sworn he was looking at a blueblood. The man held himself very straight, taking up more space than his lean body needed and radiating enough icy, stuck-up elegance to give Declan’s relatives a run for their money. William growled in his mind and pulled Declan out of the recesses of his memory. If this guy was a blueblood, he’d have to concentrate not to give himself away.
“That’s Richard. My cousin,” Cerise said.
A small mud-slathered creature sat by Richard’s feet. He was lecturing it. William couldn’t quite catch the words but it looked like a serious chewing out. William focused on the little beast. A kid. Looked like a girl, sitting with her knees clasped to her chest, long hair a mess of mud and leaves.
Cerise drew a deep breath. He glanced at her. She was looking at the little girl. Her black eyebrows knitted together. Her mouth quivered once, wanting to droop at the corners. He glimpsed sadness in her eyes. Then she hid it and pulled the smile on like a mask.
Richard’s words floated down to them. “… absolutely not appropriate, especially hitting him in the head with a rock …”
The little girl saw them. She shoved past Richard and dove into the water. Richard stopped in mid-word.
“Oh, Lark,” Cerise whispered.
The little girl swam through the water, limbs flashing. Cerise slowed the rolpie. The kid dove and scrambled onto the boat, wet and dripping mud. She lunged at Cerise and clutched at her, burying her face in Cerise’s stomach. Cerise put her arms around the child and looked like she was about to cry. Her smile broke. She bit her lip.
“Don’t leave,” the girl whispered, her arms locked around Cerise.
“I won’t,” Cerise said softly. “I’m home now. It will be okay. You’re safe.”
“Don’t leave.”
“I won’t.”
The kid looked like a stray cat, half-starved and skittish. She clasped on to Cerise, as if she were her mother, and she smelled of fear.
William reached over, took the reins from Cerise’s hands, and slapped them on the water. The rolpie pulled, and he guided the boat to the dock. The boat bumped against the support beams, shuddering. Richard leaned over, and William handed him the mooring line.
“Hello,” Cerise’s cousin said.
“Hi.”
“Lark, you have to let go now,” Cerise murmured gently.
The kid didn’t move.
“I can’t carry you to the house. You’re too big. And if I did, the other kids would make fun of you. You have to be strong now. You must let go and stand on your own feet. Here, hold my hand.”
Lark pulled away. Cerise took her hand. “Shoulders back. Look at the house. You own this house and this land. Walk like you mean it.”
Lark straightened her spine.
“That’s it. Show no weakness.” Cerise gripped her hand, and they stepped onto the dock in unison.
William picked up their bags and followed. Richard strode next to him on long legs. He walked with a light step and good balance. A sword fighter, William decided.
“My name is Richard Mar. A pleasure to make your acquaintance.”
Like someone had plucked the man out of the Weird and dropped him into the Edge, with all his manners intact. Except bluebloods didn’t wear black jeans.
William raised his chin a slight fraction, channeling Declan. “William Sandine.”
“Lord Sandine?” Richard asked.
Go figure. He must be doing better than he thought with his disguise. “Occasionally. When it suits me.”
“I hate to pry, but how did you and Cerise meet?”
“Something tells me you love to pry.”
Richard permitted himself a small spare smile.
Cerise turned around. “We got stranded together coming in from the Broken. He’s here to hunt the Hand.”
Richard’s expression remained polite but impassive. “Oh?”
“He saved Urow,” she said.
No change. “What happened?”
“The Hand shot him with a copper harpoon.”
A flicker of fury shot through Richard’s eyes. William filed it away. The man had a temper.
“I see,” Richard said. “So you’re our guest and ally, then, Lord Sandine?”
“Just William will do, and yes.”
“Welcome to the Rathole. A word of caution, William. If you betray us, we will murder you.”
Ha! “I’ll take it under advisement.”
“A couple of days in our company and you may view it as the superior option.” Richard regarded him with his dark eyes and turned to Cerise. “The papers?”
“I have them.”
An adolescent boy came riding down the road, leading three horses.
Cerise wrinkled her nose. “What are the horses for? We’re just going to the house to wash.”
“You don’t have the time,” Richard said.
“I’m covered in mud and blood.”
“It will have to wait, cousin. Dobe moved the court date.”
Cerise blinked a couple of times. “How much time do we have?”
Richard glanced at his wrist. He wore a G-Shock, a durable plastic watch. William had bought one for himself in the Broken. The watch didn’t look too good, but it was shockproof and waterproof and it was precise. For all of his blueblood airs, Richard was practical, and Mars made frequent trips to the Broken.
“Fifty-two minutes,” Richard said.
Cerise raised her head to the sky and swore.
WILLIAM had seen some piece-of-shit towns in his lifetime, but Angel Roost took the cake. It consisted of a long muddy street, flanked by about a dozen houses and terminating in what Cerise kindly termed “a square,” a clearing about the size of a hockey field. On one side of the clearing sat a two-story structure with the sign HOUSE OF WORSHIP. On the other side rose a long rectangular box of a building, put together with giant cypress logs and graced with an even bigger sign that read HOUSE OF COURT. Its barn-style doors stood wide open and a steady stream of people made their way inside.
“This is the town?” William murmured to Cerise.
“The county seat,” she said.
He blinked.
“We decided we didn’t want Sicktree telling us what to do, so we formed our own county. Our own judge, militia, and everything.”
William pretended to look around.
“What are you looking for?” Cerise asked.
“The one horse that all of you share.”
She snickered like a kid. William preened. She thought he was funny.
Richard was frowning.
“He’s implying this is a one-horse town,” Cerise told him.
Richard raised his eyes to the sky briefly.
“Are you appealing to your grandparents as well?” William asked.
Richard sighed. “To my dead father, actually. He sees it fit to put me through all sorts of foolishness lately.”
They dismounted before the courthouse, tied their horses to the rail, and joined the crowd filtering into the building. Dozens of scents swirled in the wind, assaulting William’s nose. His ears caught bits and pieces of broken
