Chapter Fourteen
The Black Cock
Kane was snoring away, enjoying the first truly deep sleep he’d had in a long time, when someone came knocking at his door.
He wasn’t sure how long the knocking had gone on before he finally awoke.
Then it took him a few moments to remember where he was.
Sitting up was a struggle, and he rubbed his eyes, looking to the other bed in the chamber only to see that Darwish wasn’t there.
He’d been sleeping heavily when Kane entered, but now the man was gone.
Suspecting it might be Darwish knocking at the door, Kane growled as he stood up and stumbled over to the panel, yanking it open.
“You dolt,” he rasped. “Why not just open the—”
He stopped mid-sentence when he realized it wasn’t Darwish at the door. It was someone he’d never seen before. Frowning, he looked the well-dressed and well-armed man up and down.
“Who are you?” he demanded. “What do you want?”
The man gazed at him steadily. He was in his third decade, perhaps, with auburn hair that was already turning gray. He reeked of breeding.
“My name is Gerard,” he said. “Are you Kane?”
Kane narrowed his eyes. His sword and other weapons were under his bed, and already he was planning to run and get them. “Why do you want to know?”
“I hear you are looking for a duke’s daughter.”
That gave Kane pause. Suddenly, he wasn’t in such a scramble to kill the man or even defend himself. He’d told the big serving wench about his quest in the hopes that it would get around. He could see that it had.
Cautiously, he proceeded.
“I am,” he said. “She is my sister. She was abducted by an evil man, and I have been trying to rescue her lo these many years. I only wish to save her, I swear it. Have you seen her?”
St. Gerard’s gaze lingered on him for a moment before he snorted.
“Is that what you are telling people?” he said.
“You are a bounty hunter, and you are here to claim the duke’s daughter on behalf of her uncle, who stole the duchy by murdering his brother.
There is no use lying to me. I know the truth. ”
Kane couldn’t help his startled reaction. Throwing caution to the wind, he backed away from St. Gerard.
“Then if you know why I am here, what do you want?” he said. “To claim part of the reward for her?”
St. Gerard shook his head. “I am here for a better reason than that,” he said. “I am here to tell you to leave immediately. Men are coming to kill you for seeking the duke’s daughter, so you must leave and never return. If you do, you will be killed. Do you understand me?”
Kane was confused, but he was also on his guard. “What men?” he said. “Why?”
St. Gerard looked around the chamber, seeing the possessions strewn about. “Get out of here if you value your life,” he said. “We do not want any bounty hunters in Exmoor. The woman you seek is out of your reach, so get out while you can. You’ll never get her.”
With that, he turned to leave, and it was enough of a distraction for Kane to grab his sword.
“Wait,” he said, weapon in hand. “Why would you tell me this? Who are you?”
St. Gerard paused at the door, an expression of disgust on his face. “You are verging on creating a great problem for a great many people,” he said. “I will say no more. I’ve already said enough.”
“But how did you find me?” Kane asked. “How do you know why I’m here?”
“The tavern keep is a friend,” St. Gerard said.
“If you want to know, he told me where you were. It seems you’ve not made a secret out of your name or why you’ve come, but I know the real reason behind it, and so do some dangerous men who are on their way at this very moment to kill you.
Are you stupid? Stop asking questions and leave while you still can. ”
Kane didn’t know what to make of any of it. He was confused and enraged. If this man knew why he was here and men were coming to kill him, then that meant…
“She’s here,” he finally said as everything became clear. “Athdara de Ghent is here.”
St. Gerard cocked an eyebrow. “She is here and she has some very powerful friends,” he said. “Leave or you will die.”
With that, he yanked open the panel, which had only been half-closed, only to find another man standing there, a dagger in his hand. Before St. Gerard could say a word, the man plunged the dagger into his neck as Kane screamed at him.
“Darwish!” he boomed. “Nay!”
It was too late. The blade cut clear through St. Gerard’s neck and came out the other side, cleaving his windpipe. As St. Gerard fell to the floor of the chamber, mortally wounded, Darwish looked at Kane in horror.
“I heard him!” Darwish said frantically. “I heard him say you would die! He has come to kill you!”
Kane went to his knees beside St. Gerard, who was bleeding out quickly.
“Nay, you fool,” he said, holding St. Gerard’s head up as the man choked on his own blood.
“He came to warn me. The de Ghent bitch is here, somewhere, and men have found out why we are here. They are coming, and this man was warning me.”
Stricken with what he’d done, Darwish looked to St. Gerard, who was still conscious. “My God,” he breathed, grabbing at his victim. “I did not know. I did not know!”
Kane was on his feet. “Leave him,” he said. “Those men will be here, and we must be gone. Go get the horses ready. Hurry!”
Darwish was reluctant to leave St. Gerard, who had finally slipped into merciful unconsciousness at that point.
Death was imminent. Groaning at the horror of what he’d done, Darwish struggled to his feet and stumbled out of the chamber, tracking blood on the bottom of his shoes as he went because St. Gerard was lying in an enormous puddle of it.
As he ran out, he plowed into the tavern keep, who had heard the yelling and rushed to see what the trouble was.
Darwish literally bounced off the man and ended up back in the room, standing in the puddle of blood that he had created.
Hovering in the doorway, the round tavern keep with the curly white hair looked at St. Gerard on the floor and let out a yell. “What happened?” he demanded, rushing in to see if anything could be done. “Did you do this?”
Kane was quickly packing his things. “Nay,” he said. “It was an accident.”
The tavern keep, a man named Hobbes, was beside himself. “An accident? My God, man, do you know who this is?”
Kane slowed in his frantic packing. “He said his name was Gerard.”
Hobbes was trying to stop the blood that was still coming from St. Gerard’s neck even though he was dead.
“This is St. Gerard de Bottreaux,” he said, sounding ill.
“His father is the Earl of Exmoor. He is the Lord of the Blackchurch Guild. God help me, they are going to burn this place down when they find out what you did!”
Kane paused, quickly digesting what he’d been told. So the man was from the Blackchurch guild, was he? Then that must be where Athdara de Ghent was. The woman you seek is out of your reach, he had said. He must have meant that she was at Blackchurch.
Stepping over Hobbes and St. Gerard, Kane went to Darwish and grabbed the man by the neck. “You did this,” he hissed. “Now you will make amends.”
Darwish was terrified. “What?” he said. “What shall I do?”
“Go to Blackchurch,” Kane said through clenched teeth. “The duke’s niece is there. Go there and find her. Bring her to me any way you can. If she will not go willingly, then kill her and bring me her head. I am finished chasing her.”
Darwish looked at him in horror. “But you—”
Kane shook him. “I will be fighting off these men who have come to kill me,” he said.
“I will lead them away from this place, but you… you must go to Blackchurch and find the de Ghent girl. I will find a way to evade those men, but you will meet me in Taunton. With her or with her head. Do you understand?”
Darwish nodded fearfully, quite convinced he would never be able to do what he’d been tasked with. But he’d just made a horrible and deadly blunder, so he had no choice.
As Darwish rushed out, Hobbes on his heels, Kane found himself alone in the chamber with a cooling corpse and a desperate need to escape. He was in the process of shoving a collection of daggers into a satchel when he heard a commotion down in the common room.
Concerned, he rushed to the door to see what the furor was about. Since the tavern had an open catwalk on the second floor where the sleeping rooms were, he could see down into the common room as three very large men spoke to Hobbes and the frantic tavern keep pointed to the second floor.
To Kane’s room.
After that, The Black Cock, in its entirety, descended into chaos.
*
That wasn’t something Tay had expected to hear.
In fact, he asked old Hobbes, the tavern keep of The Black Cock, to repeat himself.
He did, in a panic, and Tay understood the shocking situation clearly.
But the moment he looked up at the doorway where Hobbes was pointing, a man with dark hair and in dark clothing suddenly disappeared back into the indicated chamber.
Tay, Fox, and Sinclair ran.
There were two sets of stairs that led to the catwalk above.
Tay and Fox took one while Sinclair took the other, but Sinclair was yelling to Aamir, Creston, and Ming Tang, hoping they could hear him through any number of open windows or doors in The Black Cock.
The three of them went thundering up the stairs, and by the time they reached the catwalk, the man with the dark hair appeared again, hurling a dagger at Tay’s head.
Whoosh!
Tay dodged just in time, and the dagger plowed into the wall behind him.
It did not, however, slow his pursuit. He and Fox rushed across the catwalk, reaching the door just before Sinclair did.
Unwilling to have another dagger thrown at them, they pressed themselves against the walls on either side of the doorway as Sinclair quickly waved a corner of his cloak in front of the open door.
A dagger came sailing out at it, landing in the common room below.