Chapter Five
Huzzah
Idid not ask the Captain about the hunt the next day.
Nor the day after that.
The day after that was Yule Eve, and I had given up all hope of having the Kingsmen out of my hair for the following day’s celebrations. There was one silver lining. Roy had finally gone out and corralled a twitchy, grumbling Tanner into joining him for their Yule Eve dinner at the tavern, a tradition as old as their friendship. And, when he wasn’t flinching at the barest peripheral movement or throwing glances at the hungover Kingsmen sleeping off their nightshifts at the bar, Tanner’s company was a comfort.
He had the good sense not to bring up the hunt or the Kingsmen in Sorcha’s presence – or perhaps it was the weight of my watchful eye that kept his lips sealed. Either way, the four of us spoke only of Yule that morning, memories of years past and prayers for tomorrow. Tanner told the well-rehearsed tale of the time my father had woken him one Yuletide morning,hammering on his door and near incoherent with fear. He’d managed to express that Tanner and his gigantic barn ladder were needed at theThe Mageand Rose, and dragged the farmer, still dressed in his nightshift and robe, to his carriage. They arrived at the tavern to find myself and Magnus asleep on the roof in a bedding of snow, my mother in hysterics, certain that we’d frozen to death.
“And d’you know what they said, when we got them down?”
Tanner twinkled at me, and I rolled my eyes good naturedly.
“I was four years old!”
“Theysaid,” Tanner went on, “they were waiting for the Sugar Plum Saint.”
Sorcha burst into sweet peals of laughter, and even Roy, who had surely heard this story as many times as I had, gave his own gruff little chuckle. I actually remembered that morning, in my own foggy, time-dulled way. Six-year-old Magnus had grown petrified as the night wore on and the frost began to bite at our toes and fingers. He was too scared of slipping on the ice to climb down and swing back through my bedroom window, so I’d stayed with him. It was the night I’d first learned how to direct my Flame, to coax it through my veins until my skin glowed with its heat. Then I’d wrapped myself around my brother, and we’d drifted into a deep sleep beneath the starlit sky, my magic a cocoon of warmth around us both.
My chest gave a bittersweet ache at the memory, but I made myself laugh with the others.
It wasn’t until late morning, when the soft hush of fresh snowfall fell over the tavern, that Sorcha hurried outside to bring in the laundry. I watched her slip on her cloak and those threadbare gloves, and when she passed by the window on the other side of the door, I finally turned to Tanner. By the way both he and Roy shifted in their seats, they knew what I was going to say. I asked anyway, my voice soft as the snow gathering in the corners of the slowly fogging windows.
“Where’ve you been, Tan?”
He threw a skittish glance over his shoulder. The daytimeplatoon had yet to return from their hunt, and most of the night shift had finally given up on the hair of the dog approach and dragged themselves back to bed, with the exception of the sweaty, greasy lump in a corner by the hearth. Fischer was draped over a table, snoring loud enough to shake the snow from the rooftop. Apparently satisfied he was not in danger of eavesdroppers, Tanner turned back to me with a determined grimace, the grey brush of his brows knotted together.
“I’m sorry, Miss Roz. The new clientele, ah –” He tapped reflexively at the counter. “They make me a tad twitchy, if I’m honest.”
I waited for an explanation that wasn’t deeply unsatisfying. Tanner was free to spend his coin wherever he liked, but I’d watched Roy wither by that window for weeks. Not to mention the fact that the whole village heard of the Kingsmen’s arrival before I’d even finished dressing their beds. Tanner squirmed, but I held his stare until he broke.
“I’ve had a bit of trouble with them, y’see. A past in Kingsborough. When I first retired, I had a mind to follow my brother to the city and all its luxuries. But I, eh – I might have enjoyed those luxuries a bit too much.”
“He developed a taste for the card tables,” Roy added helpfully, “but he forgot to develop a skill.”
Alight with quiet mischief, his hazel eyes were almost green. Tanner gave his old friend an abrupttsk, but Roy just shrugged and drained his pint in one long slug. Clearly his endless patience had finally approached a horizon after weeks of sitting alone in this tavern.
I pursed my lips against a smile, and grabbed Roy’s empty glass.
“What changed, then?” I asked, eyes trained on the fresh pint I was pouring – mostly so Tanner would have some relief from my admittedly stern gaze.
“Well.” He sighed, but then drew his shoulders back, chest puffing importantly. “I’m not sure how much I can say, Miss Roz. I wouldn’t want to interfere with a royal investigation – y’know yourself.”
“Youspoke to the Kingsmen,” I guessed.
“Aye, I did. And the lad I spoke to seemed to think Imaybe a source of invaluable information.” He mimed turning a key in his whiskery lips, then flicked the imaginary key away. “That’s all I’ll say now, ask me no more.”
Roy grunted, but I didn’t try to hide my smile. I wouldn’t ask him more, and I wouldn’t need to. Whether or not he spilled Kingsmen intelligence, this would certainly not be the last we heard of Tanner’sinvaluablecontribution to the serpent hunt. “Well if it puts your mind at ease, I’m glad to hear–”
The three of us jumped at the sudden crash of the inner door to the room swinging open. A stout old woman rounded the bar, scowling at everything from the twinkling overhead lights, to the Yule tree, to Fischer piled in the corner.
“Madame Bracken,” I said politely. “Is everything alright?”
Her beady black eyes found mine and her scowl contracted fiercely.
“I should say not.” She tapped impatiently at the counter. “Get your book out girl, I need another few nights.”
