Chapter X

Merek meets the woman again, and receives news of the recent royal wedding. Tally disregards boundaries in search of answers. Merek returns to Tally with a business proposition.

In many ways, Merek lived like a king. He had his private royal chambers, his loyal subjects, his secret treasure room. His work mostly consisted of bookkeeping and criminal masterminding. He was respected and feared, but he was a king of thieves only, and it was not enough.

               Lord Einar, he wrote, I write you from my stead in Tavaun to plead for a personal favor. I ask that you put your influence in the Empire to a noble cause. I must learn the location of one Ralnor Dirthitryn of Errusten. I eagerly await your reply.       

                                                                                                                                                                         Humble Regards,

                                                                                                                                                                         Merek

                It was a revolting letter. He was sorry he had written it. He sealed it and put it in his coat pocket anyway. It was the necessary measure to access the information he needed. 

                It had been a few minutes since he had dismissed Tally, and the sun was now high in the sky. Merek descended the stairs and stepped outside. Tally was not in sight. Merek walked to the stables--returning many a greeting nod along the way--tacked up his horse, Gallus, and to the road north. 

                He was meeting her again in The Fox's Glove Inn, a full day's ride away. Merek felt no fear from the road; he owned every bandit in Tavaun. Rather, the road filled Merek with dread, because it left him without distraction from his mind. His mind, which, when he was not busying himself, always returned to Tally.

  

              Never should have loaned to Ralnor. Never should have sent Fawkes. Never should have gotten involved. Merek knew he meant none of it. He was glad to have Tally there, where he could keep a watchful eye on her. She would be dead in the forest if she hadn't met Fawkes.

                But her unanticipated arrival had confused his plan. I'll have to put it off, write my apologies, do what I can here. I have to be here. I have to teach her what I can. I have to keep her safe.

 

               It was dark when Merek arrived, lantern in hand. The town had no name, but it was the nearest of the dozens bordering Stoneshore's gates. He left his horse with the others, took the letter to the postal station, and entered The Fox's Glove. A fitting name.

  

              She was already there, reading in the soft light of their usual room, curling a lock of her long black hair around her finger. "You're late." She set her book aside and folded her hands in her lap.

 

               "Perhaps it was my turn." Merek sat across from her.

  

              "How is she?" she asked, as eager as before, a hopeful smile tugging the corners of her mouth. Merek knew better than to be disappointed.

              "She impressed me today. She's either the bravest person I've met, or the angriest."

  

              "What are you talking about?"

  

              "I'm teaching her everything I know," said Merek.

      

              "Well, that's quite an undertaking." She was frowning, rubbing her hands over each other.

              "We've begun sparring with swords at dawn."

                "Good God, Merek," she gasped. "After what happened?"

  

               "It seemed to... come up, this morning, but she pushed through it. I think this may be helping her."

 

               "Can't you begin with something different? Why combat?"

                "I want her to be able to protect herself, should the need arise."

 

               She looked away and sighed. "You're ridiculous. This is ridiculous." She straightened her posture and looked at him. "I can't talk about this. I can't think of her alone with all those men."

  

              "Is there something else you'd like to discuss?" he asked.

              "Yes," she smiled. "I have news, Merek. Incredible news."

 

               Merek felt his chest tighten. "Do go on."

 

               "The crown princess is married," she said, her words pouring out from between her long white teeth. "The couple has set sail for Tavaun."

               Merek leaned back and exhaled. "Oh, dear. They've done it."

 

               "We have a new king and queen, Merek," her smile would not cease. "You know what this means, don't you?"

               "Why don't you tell me?"

  

               "It's an opportunity, Merek." She leaned forward. "Allow me to explain."

               

  

              Merek slept at The Fox's Glove, and left at first light. It wasn't enough sleep by far, and he thought he might fall off of his horse. There was scarcely an hour of daylight left when Merek returned to the old fort.

              I'll draft a timeline, Merek thought as he climbed the stairs. Events; every tourney and party and festival. I'll need to gather information on every person at court. And she'll need a disguise. Like a lady, not a boy. And, oh, Gods above, I have to teach her the etiquette.

 

               On the fourth level, Merek pushed open the door. He jumped. Tally was waiting, sat on his desk, staring straight at him. 

 

              "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to frighten you," she said.

   

              "You didn't." He closed the door behind him. "Why are you here?"

 

               "Well, I waited all morning, and you didn't show,"

               Had I not told her I would not be here? Had I not, at the very least, told Fawkes?

 

               "But right now, I'm here because I have questions."

                Merek was so very tired, but he could not say no to her, and he had news for her besides. He took his chair from behind the desk and placed it a few feet from her. 

  

               "I'm fine here. Sit," she ordered, and he obeyed.

 

               "What is it you would like to know?"

 

               "Where are the other women?"

               At first, Merek did not understand. "What?"

 

               "There are only men here," Tally began. "But I was thinking, you told me that your people are everywhere, so there are more outposts like this one. And there must be several that are ran by women."

                Merek grinned. "And how did you come up with that?"

 

               Tally snorted. "Men have more options. Women don't have as many, and thievery sounds like much more fun than farming or housekeeping or whoring." Tally grimaced and shifted her weight on the desk. "They must be separated for their safety. Or maybe they aren't separated at all, but hiding in plain sight; I thought it would be clever if they pretended to be holy women in a temple, and the coin they collected really went to you."

 

               "A temple?" Merek laughed. "What a fun idea."

 

               "That isn't an answer," said Tally. "Where are they? Why am I not with them?"

 

               "They're north," Merek half-answered. "Would you rather be with them?"

    

                "No."

                Good, Merek thought. "What else?"

   

               "This is where your best men are, correct?"

   

               "Correct."

                "Where do they start off?" she asked. Gwilym had told her that only the first 

few were directly taken under Merek's wing.

  

               "North," he half-answered again.

 

               "Is that your answer for all my questions?"

 

               "I don't know," said Merek. "I haven't heard all your questions."

                "Where does all the money go?"

                "You'll learn that soon enough. Just not right now."

 

               "Alright," she paused. "Then, how did you come to lead these men? What makes 

you the best of the best?"

                "Ah," Merek's expression sank. "That, I'm afraid, I can't answer."

 

               "Why?" she argued.

 

               "Perhaps we can continue this another time." He watched as Tally frowned. "There is something I'd like to tell you, however." She nodded. "Tavaun is going to have a new king and queen. This had created rather a remarkable opportunity for us."

                "I'm not sure I see how."

                "You and I are going to become courtiers," he explained.

                "Like courtesans?"

  

                "No! No, not quite like that. You see, we will go to the capital, and we will attend court on important days, but we will be there more for socialization than politics. It's a highly envied position."

                "But why would we do that? And how?"

 

                "Why? We're going to case it for a burglary." A devious grin lit his face. "As for how, you're going to need a dress."

  

               "A dress," Tally repeated.

               

                "I had assumed you were familiar with the concept," said Merek.

               

                "Yes," said Tally, half entranced. "Does this mean I can go into town?"

               

                "No," He said, quickly. "If you're comfortable with the prospect, we have a tailor within our own outfit." Merek paused to stifle a laugh. "It's safer to keep you hidden until you look less like yourself. Once you're dressed for the part, no one will recognize you as the sawyer's daughter."

               

                Tallis was quiet, blankly staring at the desk between them.

               

                "Tallis," Merek snapped. Tally lifted her head and looked at Merek.

                

               "There you are," He cooed. "You were gone from me for a moment."

              

                "I'm sorry, Guildmaster. I suppose this plan surprised me."               

                "Are you afraid?"

                

               "Do I seem afraid?"

               

              "Yes." He answered. "There is something else, Tallis, if you have the time." Merek had meant to give Tally the option to leave, but instead, through his perpetual sneering tone, had trapped her. Tally nodded curiously.

               

             She was afraid of the plan, and afraid when Merek walked over to her, but she was most afraid when he led her under the tower, back into the dirt-floor room of sconces and sparring.

               

             Merek lit the sconces before closing the door. "I had wanted to begin with this, but I hadn't considered you prepared. I believe you are now." He was standing behind the chair in the room's center. The shawl that had been draped over it now rested in Merek's hands. 

               

            Against her better judgement, Tally approached.

               

            "Sit," said Merek. Tally did, even as she felt her neck burning with fear. Tally knew what Merek was about to do, yet she still flinched when he moved the shawl near her eyes. 

               

            Too many stairs, Tally remembered. She looked to her side and saw where the sparring swords lay (atop crates, like they couldn't afford a weapon rack). Tally settled in the chair and closed her eyes. Tally hardly felt Merek fasten the shawl around her head. When she opened her eyes, she saw only the faintest blurs of candlelight through the filter of fabric.

               

            "Are you going to tell me why I have a shawl on my head?"

               

           "Yes," said Merek, from a surprising distance. "And I'll tell you that shawl has been on many of your comrade's heads for the same purpose. They had to live their day-to-day lives with those on until they got a handle on it--or until they lost their minds."

               

            Tallis, less afraid, asked, "Where are you?"

               

           "I'm right here," He answered, very close to her ear. Then, further, "Your hearing is astonishingly poor."

               

           "Your feet are astonishingly quiet."

             

           "Thank you."

                

           Tallis thought of how she must look, dumbly blindfolded in the middle of a room, and asked, "What am I meant to do now?"

               

           "Why don't you try to find me." It was not asked, but ordered, and Tallis slowly walked in the direction of his voice, holding her hands out in front of her. Her hands were met with the cool, rough feel of the wooden crates stacked beside the steps.

Author's Note

I'd like to hear the readers' ideas about the woman's identity!

Also, this chapter still isn't 100% finished.

(2/17/2019) A page has been added to the end of this chapter!