Brute (28 page)

“I’ll—” Gray’s voice broke, and he swallowed before beginning again. “I’ll b-be alone?”

“Not for long. It’s nearly dawn already, and then I’ll come for you. Nobody’s going to find you, Gray.”

Gray nodded quickly, and Aric couldn’t help but lean down to press their foreheads together. “This is a shock, I know. You’ve been in that damned cell for so long. But you survived… gods, Gray. You survived so much. You can manage this.”

“M-maybe the gods don’t hate me so much after all.”

“If the gods hate you, the gods are bigger idiots than me,” Aric replied, feeling suddenly foolhardy and a little giddy. He was having an adventure. He was
doing
something. He was fucking well going to save the man he loved.

Gray laughed and cuffed him lightly on the head. Then he felt around until he found the satchel, which he hoisted over one shoulder. Clutching the quilts under one arm, he managed to squirm through the window. “G-good thing you didn’t fatten me up any more,” he panted, and then he was through. Aric couldn’t see him due to the darkness and the thickness of the wall, but he heard a soft thunk and a muffled oath, probably as Gray walked into the barrow. Wood creaked. And that was it.

Aric pulled the shutters closed and bolted them. He found the pile of rotted fabric that someone long dead had left in the hallway, and he moved it in front of the little window. A careful search would eventually reveal Gray’s means of escape, but at least for a while, his exit would remain a mystery—all the better if the palace feared the disappearance was due to a witch’s dire magic—and Aric figured the bit of subterfuge could only help their chances of getting away.

He returned to his chambers for the last time. They seemed very empty without Gray. For no particular reason, he closed and bolted the cell door, and then he tidied the room as best as he could in the dark. The people of the palace had been good to him, and although he might betray them, he didn’t need to leave a mess behind as well.

He paced, glancing at the window every few minutes, trying not to think of how Gray was doing, what Gray was thinking, whether Gray was terrified, huddled blind and alone under the quilts.

When the soft gray light of morning stole through the chamber’s single window, Aric washed. He couldn’t shave because his razor was in the satchel with Gray. He took one last look at the ugly face in the mirror and gave himself a twisted smile. Then he left for the final time.

The guard at the door was bony and cross-eyed. Evidently the mousy one was off duty. It didn’t matter. This one grunted a morning greeting and watched disinterestedly as Aric emptied the waste pail. Aric left the pail near the door, as he sometimes did when he was in a hurry. He walked toward the kitchens, but as soon as he was out of sight of the guard, he turned and doubled back, trying to look as innocent as possible, approaching the Brown Tower from the back. The only things of interest in the alley between the tower and the armory were a sleepy orange cat and a nondescript wheelbarrow.

It’s hard for a seven-and-a-half-foot tall man to make himself invisible, but Aric did his best as he turned down the alley. He stopped when he got to the barrow and whispered, “It’s me.” The quilts twitched the tiniest bit in answer.

Now Aric had to push the cart up the alley, across a courtyard, and around several buildings. He could smell the kitchens not too far away and remembered that neither he nor Gray had eaten, but he wasn’t sure he could have managed breakfast anyway. His stomach felt tied up in knots.

Nobody paid him much attention, although a few people he knew gave him waves or smiles. The palace staff was well used to him by now, and even the fact that he was pushing a wheelbarrow wasn’t remarkable. He’d run errands for Alys on occasion before.

The morning crowds were just beginning to pass in and out through the palace gates: delivery men with their carts, errand boys, citizens of the kingdom who had business with the crown, noblewomen and their servants on their way to the shops, couriers with arms full of bundled papers. The guards barely glanced at Aric and his wheelbarrow as he exited.

Aric’s hope was that it would take a long time before anyone noticed that he and Gray were missing. He was going to be absent from lessons that morning, but Master Sighard would very likely chalk that up to the aftermath of the wedding the night before. He certainly wouldn’t complain to anyone that Aric wasn’t there. If Alys still worked in the kitchens, she would notice that he didn’t appear to collect his meals, but since she was gone and nobody else had been put specifically in charge of him, there was nobody to remark on his failure to appear. Sometimes Warin came looking for him, but Warin was staying with a brother outside the palace for a few days and then moving in with Alys. And maybe the guards would notice that Aric didn’t train with them in the afternoon, but he didn’t train with them every day anyway. In fact, this week they had been practicing archery, which would clearly hold little interest for him.

The wheelbarrow wobbled and bounced over the cobblestones. He hoped Gray wasn’t too uncomfortable. It would be difficult to remain motionless and cramped for so long.

Within minutes, Aric was approaching Alys’s new house, a tall, narrow building with a red roof and flower boxes in every window. He couldn’t stop a broad smile when he caught sight of the statues that now flanked the front door: Lorad and Lokad looking fierce and protective, and each of them with a flower garland around the neck. But Aric didn’t stop at the front door. He wheeled the cart around the back, where there was a long, thin yard. Chickens clucked inside a henhouse, and a cat—this one a fat tabby—stared at him from atop a small shed. He smelled a stable nearby. Aric found a shrub that would screen the view from the house, and that’s where he parked the barrow.

With a quick glance around, he peeled back the quilts.

Gray was curled tightly around the satchel. Aric put a gentle hand on Gray’s shoulder and whispered, “We’re out of the palace now. You can get out.”

Very slowly, Gray uncurled himself. He kept a hand on the edge of the cart for balance and climbed out. He had to stretch to get circulation going in his cramped limbs, and then he turned to Aric and smiled a little. For the first time, Aric had a good look at Gray Leynham in the sunshine. His hair was thick and golden, the color of a fresh-baked loaf of bread. His skin was white as parchment. He had marks on his neck and wrists where the irons had been for so long, and he was still too thin. But he stood straight and tall, and his full lips were curled in a brave grin. “All right, my giant,” he said. “Where w-will you take me now?”

P
EOPLE
stared as Aric led the way to the docks. But then people always stared at him, even when an eyeless man wasn’t hanging onto his left elbow. If the passersby noticed how closely Gray was pressing against Aric, they doubtless thought it was only the natural hesitancy of a man who couldn’t see. They wouldn’t have seen how tense the blind man’s body was, how often he was wracked with fine but uncontrollable trembling.

Aric pitched his voice very low. “I’m sorry, Gray. I know this has to be overwhelming. I wish we had more time.”

“B-but we don’t. I know. D-d-do I look horrible? Are people g-gaping?”

“They can hardly see you past me,” Aric answered honestly. “And you look fine.”

“My f-f-face. My eyes….”

Aric realized that Gray had probably been a little vain once upon a time, as beautiful boys are wont to be. “You’re a little thin and too pale. People probably think you’ve been ill lately.” Which gave Aric an idea, actually, one he filed away for later. He gave Gray a brief pat on the shoulder. “Believe me, I am an expert on monsters, and you’re not even close.”

Gray snorted slightly, which Aric thought was promising. Then Gray took a few deep breaths in an obvious effort to maintain calm. “I remember these smells. G-gods, I remember. And the sounds! T-t-tellomer hasn’t changed, has she?”

“I don’t think Tellomer has changed much in centuries.”

“Where are we now, Aric? What are we p-passing?”

“Ateliers. Painters and sculptors and people like that. Warin told me the nobles and rich folks hire these artists to make their houses pretty.” It wasn’t the most direct route from Alys’s house to the docks, but it was the quietest. It allowed them to avoid the markets that would be packed with shoppers this time of day and also the neighborhoods where the working poor lived in cramped little flats.

“I used t-to be able to draw,” Gray said quietly. “Not well enough t-t-to make a living from it, but I enjoyed it. I drew Friddy.”

Another loss he had suffered, Aric thought. One Aric hadn’t even guessed at. How many ragged little holes were hidden in his lover’s heart? “Are your feet hurting?” he asked. Unsure of Gray’s size, he hadn’t bothered to buy him shoes. He knew from his own experience that poorly fitting footwear could be worse than none at all. Besides, the stone floor of the cell was as hard and rough as the cobbles on which they were walking.

“They’re f-fine.”

After a few more blocks, they turned downhill, and Gray sniffed. “F-f-fish.”

“The fish market’s not far from here.”

“And the d-docks.”

“And the docks,” Aric agreed.

Gray came to a sudden halt, breaking his contact with Aric, so Aric stopped too. “What is it?” Aric asked with concern.

“L-leave me. You’ve set m-me free and now you can go. They’ll ch-chase me, not you.”

“Gods, Gray! No!”

“If they f-find me, I’ll say I b-b-bewitched you.”

Not caring what sort of spectacle they might be making, Aric grabbed Gray’s arm. “I’m not leaving you. If I have to swing you over my shoulder and carry you, I’ll do it, but I’m not going anywhere without you.”

After a brief pause, Gray nodded and gave a small, shaky smile. “I g-guess walking has more dignity.” He disentangled himself from Aric’s grip and grasped Aric’s elbow again.

As always, there was considerable activity at the piers. Aric had to weave his way through the crowds, and twice Gray was wrenched away, but both times they were quickly able to reunite. Luckily, the berths Aric sought were relatively close by, and he was relieved to discover that ships were tied at both of them. He and Gray pulled away from the crowds and stood up against a building, Aric spending a few minutes watching the ships over people’s heads. It seemed to him that most of the work going on at berth thirteen involved unloading cargo, whereas at berth twelve men were dragging full sacks and crates onto the ship. He had to use his considerable bulk to work them closer to the gangway at berth twelve.

The ship was called the
Ouragan
, and to Aric’s admittedly unpracticed eyes, it seemed to be nothing special. It wasn’t sleek and deadly-looking like the warships that flew the royal crest. It was big and blocky, and the goddess at the prow was crudely carved and in need of repainting.
All right
, he thought. An ugly ship, but serviceable. A brute of a boat, perhaps.

He hovered uncertainly until he spied a middle-aged man standing at the edge of the gangplank with a sheaf of papers in one hand and a quill in the other. He had a bottle of ink in the chest pocket of his coat, and splotches and splatters of blue-black were all over the coat’s front and lapels.

Aric waited until there was a momentary lull in the loading of cargo and approached the man. “Excuse me?” Aric said.

The man didn’t even look surprised at the sight of the ugly giant and the blind man. Just irritated. “Whattaya want?”

“This ship is going to Racinas?”

The man huffed. “She always goes to Racinas. Twice a month she goes to Racinas and twice a month she comes back. Prob’ly since before you were born.”

“And when does it—um, she leave?”

“Tonight, if you get your ass out of the way so’s we can load ’er up.”

Still clutching Aric’s arm, Gray may have snickered slightly.

“Could we book passage?” Aric asked.

This time the man rolled his eyes. “Unless you can squeeze yourselves into boxes, I ain’t the one to ask. You wanna talk to Mr. Noft. He’s the first mate.”

“All right. Where can we find him?”

“On the ship, of course.”

Gray stumbled slightly as they climbed the gangway, but Aric caught him and kept him from falling. “Th-thanks,” Gray mumbled.

“Watch your step now. There’s a little drop down to the ship’s deck.”

The sailors aboard the ship were too busy with ropes and sails and things to spare the newcomers more than a glance. Aric and Gray stood uncertainly until a small girl wearing trousers and a boy’s shirt, her long hair in wild snarls, came over and looked up at them. “What do you want?” she demanded imperiously.

“We’re looking for Mr. Noft.”

“He’s over there with my papa.” She pointed toward the bow. “My papa is the captain of the
Ouragan
, and he doesn’t want any ogres on his ship.”

To Aric’s surprise, Gray took a half step forward. “My friend’s not an ogre, m-miss. He’s a giant, and that’s much b-better. Great-great-grandson of Lokad himself.”