Hilari Bell - Players Ruse (Knight and Rogue)

H ave you ever noticed that your friends get you into more trouble than your enemies ever could? But this time it wasnt Michaels fault. He was as surprised as I when we approached our lodging on that lazy summer evening and found trouble waiting, right on the doorstep.

Wed spent the day fishing. Michael had insisted that any man approaching his twentieth birthday, city born or not, should know how to fish. When that didnt motivate me, he added that if he caught them all, I would have to clean them. I wasnt as good a fishermanor as luckyas he was, but wed caught three goodish river cod between us, and Michael carried them, dangling from a string.

The town of Litton was too small for cobbled streets, and our footsteps were raising dust on the rutted track when the familiar stink of the leather-works reached my nose. Our lodging, in one of the narrow wooden houses that lined the narrow street, was too close to the tannery for either of our tasteor anyone elseswhich was why it was so cheap. But it was only a few streets from the rough tavern where Michael workedas a bouncer, of all things. It was also near enough to the edge of town that Michael could ride past the fields to the woodlands to exercise Chant and Tipple and do a bit of hunting to supplement our meager income, since I made even less for fine sewing, copying, and letter writing than he did as a bouncer. But Litton was the first town wed entered in over a year that hadnt thrown Michael out as soon as the sheriff found out about the tattoos on his wrists, so wed lingered here all spring and into early Berryon, the first month of summer.

Looking at the crowd surrounding our angry landlady, I had a feeling our welcome wasnt going to last much longer.

Then Mrs. Inger, who was standing on the stoop before her door, caught sight of us and shifted her massive form to one side. The glare she shot at us from under the ruffle of her cap could have felled an ox, but I barely noticed it, for her movement had revealed the girl who sat behind her.

A cloud of rose-gold hair had come loose from the knot that slipped down her neck, framing a face of heartbreaking beauty, smudged and weary as it was. Id probably have stopped dead in my tracks, as Michael had, except that Id seen her before. At Michaels home, when his father began the long, tangled idiocy that led to his being unredeemed today.

Michaels jaw dropped. He looked remarkably like one of our unfortunate fish, but he did have some excuse. He was in love with the girl.

Rosamund followed Mrs. Ingers gaze and saw us too. Brother! She sprang up from the battered trunk shed been seated on and darted down the steps and through the crowd. The fine silk of her full skirts was grubbier than her face, and the lace on her wide white collar was torn. Oh, Brother dear, Im so glad youve come.

Neither Michael nor I was her brother.

And Michael, almost as poor an actor as this lovely nitwit, was already shaking his head in denial.

Rosa! I took two long strides and intercepted her embrace, gripping her shoulders and giving her a small warning shake. It was a good thing the crowd couldnt see her face just then. What under two moons are you doing here? Wheres your escort?

Ah, said Rosamund. I... um...

My own sisters were lost to me, but you never lose the knack. I scowled and went on in my best brotherly tones. Does Father know where you are? You ninny! Theyll be frantic.

But I had to. Even wailing, her voice was sweet. He has half a dozen suitors lined up for me, and I want to marry...

She suddenly realized that the crowd around the doorstep had fallen silent, and a wild-rose flush bloomed in her cheeks.

I controlled my appreciative expression before it went too far for brotherhood, but it was a near thing.

Michaels jaw had closed. The glare he sent me as I threw a fraternal arm around the girls shoulders almost matched Mrs. Ingers.

Well, for mercys sake dont tell the whole street. I hauled her back to the house and maneuvered her up the front steps.

You asked, she protested, sounding so miffed, it came out quite sisterly.

Fine, tell me later. Mrs. Inger, I thank you for welcoming my sister, but could she go upstairs now? Shes had a long journey.

A stocky, middle-aged fellow I hadnt noticed before snorted. Is that so, Master Fisk? If shes your sister, how come she has a nobles accent and you dont?

This drew a murmur from our audience, who hadnt noticed that small detail, curse the fellow. It wasnt as big a crowd as Id first thought, just a dozen lads from the leather shop and a few farm girls with baskets on their arms. After four months in Litton, Michael and I knew most of them, but Michaels become wary of mobs. He lingered at the fringes of the crowd, managing, for once, to be inconspicuous. Not too hard, with Rosamund around.

You dont look much like her, Squire, Mrs. Inger said suspiciously. Thats a fact.

Curse the cranky old besom, too. Rosamund and Michael were some sort of third or fourth cousins, but neither my curly, medium brown hair and stocky, medium tall body, nor Michaels taller, leaner form and straight, light brown hair bore the least resemblance to Rosamunds dainty fairness. In fact, no one... No one looks like her. I shrugged, with just the right degree of rueful pride. Ive had a lot of practice lying my way out of difficult situations.

Shes really my stepsister. Her mother was of a Gifted line, but she and Rosa werent. When her father died, their noble kin... I shook my head sadly, evoking a murmur of outraged sympathy at the thought of a noble family so ruthless and dastardly that theyd cast off this lovely girl, just because she hadnt been born with the Gift for sensing magic.

In fact, nobles are usually no more or less ruthless and dastardly than most folk. But no one in this rough, working-class crowd had my experience with gulling the wealthy, and they were firmly on my side when I turned to the stocky man.

And what business is it of yours, anyway, Master...

Hes been following me, Rosamund put in angrily. The horrid man. I had to

Quidge, the man interrupted. He had thinning sandy hair, and his manner was unobtrusive, but he neither yielded nor stiffened to defy the antagonism of the rabble. Oliver Quidge. Im a warrant officer, hired by this girls uncle

Her uncle? I decided to interrupt, before he told too much of the truth. Why would he send a bounty hunter for Rosa, after all these years? Or let me guesshe learned she grew up pretty.

Even Mrs. Inger looked angry at that, and Quidges gaze slid to the growling crowd before he went on. I was hired by her uncle, whos cared for her since her parents diedas you well know. Its Master Sevenson here is her cousin, and you, Master Fisk, are no kin at all.

You wretched creature, said Rosamund, putting her arm around my waist. Fisk and I grew up together just as he says, and no one here is going to believe your nasty lies for one minute. Will you?

She looked at the crowd and widened her clear, aquamarine eyes. Her lashes were just dark enough to set them off properly, and they subverted every man under ninety. There was a time when theyd have had the same effect on me, but a con man, which had been my profession before I joined up with Michael, learns to see people as they are.

Quidge had the sense to know when he was beaten, though his eyes narrowed in annoyance. Very well, Mistress, you win this round. Ill just take your uncles letter to Lord Roger. I doubt hell be as gullible as this lot, who dont even realize that youre calling your brother by his last name.

If your name was Nonopherian, youd go by your last name too, I said, before the dismay on Rosamunds ingenuous face could give us away. I was usually called Squire here in Litton, thanks to Michaels ridiculous persistence in introducing us as knight errant and squire to everyone we met. Several tanners snickered, and Quidge shrugged in grudging defeat. He took himself down the steps without another word, paying no heed to the hostile stares.