Page 98 of Sword & Shadow
“How much longer is our journey here?”
Auden pursed his lips in thought. “Ilain’s better at numbers,” he said offhandedly. Then he muttered under his breath, counting on his fingers. “Another month?”
“A month?” Evylin couldn’t help her disappointment. “Please tell me that it won’t rain the whole time.”
Auden chuckled. “You Ephrians act as though a little damp will melt you like snow. But no,” he assured her. “Soon, we’ll head west through the moors. It’s not so wet there. And then we’ll be at the end of spring, so the rain up north will dry up too.”
“Thank Allore,” she said.
They passed back through the center of the village, coming to an abrupt halt as a man was thrown, bottom over teakettle, out of a building and into the street in front of them. Evylin, Auden, and their horses scrambled back as the man sprawled in the dirt,bleary-eyed and dazed but no worse for wear. A woman stood in the doorway of the building, railing at the man as a burly guard dusted his hands before slipping back into the noisy interior. As abruptly as the man had been tossed out, the woman ducked inside and slammed the door. The round wood sign above swayed, identifying the building as a tavern.
Evylin turned to Auden. “Is it usual to get drunk before noon in Wauld?” she asked sarcastically.
Auden led his horse around the drunkard, who mumbled a love song as he lay on his back, staring at the sky. “Depends on who you are,” he replied blandly, and she realized he was serious.
Pulling a face, Evylin followed him around the drunkard. She glanced back at the tavern door, wondering if that was why the village seemed so deserted. Perhaps all this dreary rain mixed with Blount’s oppression led the people to drink.
As she started to turn away, Evylin’s eyes caught on the tavern’s exterior wall where a noticeboard hung. A smattering of papers ruffled in the breeze, a small canopy failing to protect them from the rain. Most of the pages showed deterioration and wear from the elements, but one crisp sheet stuck out like a beacon in the center.
Evylin stopped in the middle of the street, the drunkard still singing off-key about a lady fair and the knight who tried to save her.
“Auden,” she called, his name coming out as a warning.
The highlord turned around, expression concerned. “What is it?”
Evylin didn’t bother saying a word. She pointed to the noticeboard, letting him see for himself. The poster bore a clean sketch of Auden, Ilain, and Evylin with the words:
Writ of Attachment
for crimes against the Crown,
siblings, Highlord Auden Calder and Highlady Ilain Calder
of the Order of the Flame,
and the fugitive Evylin Deckard,
accompanied by their four accomplices.
Reward per head: 20 gold
Reward for all: 150 gold
Alive; Confirmation Mandatory.
Evylin and Auden stared in disbelief. Blount must have gotten his father, the king, to issue this writ, labeling them as fugitives. The illustrations were good. Realistic enough that there could be no doubt should anyone spot them.
Auden shifted, tightening his grip on his reins. “We have to get out—”
“I’m afraid it’s already too late, mucker,” a man said, causing them both to whirl.
Nev stood at the corner of the tavern, his gap-toothed grin cunning. Evylin went for her knife, but the sharp press of a blade to her lower back halted her. Suddenly, she realized the drunkard wasn’t singing any longer.
More men crept from around the corner, moving to box Evylin and Auden in.
“I knew I recognized you,” Nev said, his accent not quite as uneducated as before. He tapped the stone of the tavern wall. “As I said, it pays to sell. And it pays even better when you check the local tavern first.”
Evylin glanced at Auden, confused.
