The Faintest Ink (Watty Winner 2015)

Chapter Eighty-One

Hawth clung onto the bed post, her head spinning. All this waking up to find a sword being aimed at her hadn't done much for her health. She wanted to throw up, but giving the ongoing circumstances, she wasn't sure that was appropriate.

She hadn't noticed Straw come in. She must have been sleeping deeper than usual, because he didn't have the talent of moving through a room without finding every creaking floorboard within in. And she'd managed to miss his symphony of snores which usually prevented her from getting back to sleep until after the witching hour.

Which made his ability to sneak up of the red-faced all the more impressive. Admittedly, they had all been distracted at the time. A man wielding a sword tended to focus the mind.

"Why don't we all sit down?" she said, with more enthusiasm than hope. "I'm sure this has all been a dreadful mistake."

It didn't surprise her at all that neither of the men gave an answer. They circled one another, managing to avoid the furniture with surprising agility.

They were squaring up to one another, but the truth was, the fight was already over. Straw may look like a warrior, but he grew up in the woods. He could carry a load that would break the back of a lesser man, but he never learnt how to win and a scuffle. And he was unarmed, still in his nightshirt, his thick legs bare beneath the hem.

Straw didn't look at the blade. He kept his gaze on the man's eyes. He was waiting for flash that would indicate an imminent strike. Hawth felt the hot vomit rise in her throat. She had to do something.

"Hilton," she said, blurting out the word. "That's what he called you, isn't it?"

"He does call me that. Which doesn't mean that trespassing whores can."

"I'm not a..." she started, her grip on the bedpost tightening.

"And I don't care. Spy. Whore. What does it matter. His lordship wants you gone."

Hawth saw her opening, and went for it. "So let us go," she said. "I promise you'll never see us again."

"You bet I won't. I never visit graves."

"You'll kill us just because he says so?" She laughed, leaning her head against the post. "We didn't need to burn the books when there are people like you in the world. He just needs to crook his finger and you come running. Is that the way it is? No, I don't believe it. You know how to use a sword, and it wasn't taught to you by some fencing master. You've been to war."

Hilton's jaw tightened. "You don't believe a old soldier can't follow orders?" he snapped.

A direct hit, thought Hawth. She was right about him. "I don't believe an old soldier would be so in the thrall of a man like that," she said. "He has your name book, doesn't he?"

He snorted.

"Alright, your child's then. Or your wife's." There wasn't a single flicker in his expression. She had been wrong then. Perhaps he wasn't married. "It can't just be money," she said, appalled. That would just be too tawdry.

"It isn't."

Well, that was something. She could appeal to his better nature. If there was something tying him to that horrible lord, then there must be a way to unknot them. She'd had brought down the masters, the matter of a irritable lord couldn't be that much of a challenge. "Whatever it is, we can help you. We destroyed the power of the masters. Everything is changing now. The old ways are just that, old.

"You've got the wrong idea. It isn't just money. It's a title, land, respect. And money."

"And all it takes is your unquestioning loyalty."