The Runaway King (The Ascendance Trilogy #2)

The Runaway King (The Ascendance Trilogy #2) Page 26

“Maybe so. But that’s not why you did it.”

“I did it because someone here had to have a plan.” With that, I replaced my knife in its sheath and began walking over to Mystic. I climbed astride and without looking back, continued on the trail to the thieves’ camp. The other men followed my lead, and after another minute, I noticed Erick had taken up the rear on the trail, the stolen coins jangling again in his saddlebag. Only when we had left that area of the road did I allow myself to breathe freely again.

It was late morning when we returned to the camp. Fried eggs and biscuits were prepared, and I forced them down only because one of the men I had saved from recruitment — the pockmarked thief — insisted on it. Fink sat beside me, full of questions about our adventures away from camp, and disappointed because I didn’t answer any of them. His rat was back on his shoulder, eyeing my breakfast.

“You’re family now,” he said. “That’s what the men are saying.”

“I have no family.” And if I did, they wouldn’t be thieves.

Fink only chuckled at whatever thought was breezing through his brain. “Told the king you had the plague? Ha! When I’m your age I’ll be just like you.”

“Go away,” I growled. “You don’t want to be anything like me.”

He was unconvinced, and continued to eat his meal by my side. After I’d finished, he pointed to a bedroll near some tents. “Erick said if you’re tired, you can sleep there. I’m supposed to keep watch on you.”

“I thought I was family.”

He shrugged. “Erick just wants to make sure you’re not the kind of family who runs when we’re not looking.”

“I’m not going to run, Fink.”

“I know. But I’m supposed to watch you anyway.”

True to his word, Fink parked himself on the ground with a direct view of my bedroll. I lay down and closed my eyes but sleep was impossible. After a short while, it must have looked like I was asleep because Erick approached Fink and whispered, “What do you make of him?”

There was a brief hesitation, then Fink said, “He’s no ordinary thief, not like any of us.”

“I agree. He didn’t want Vargan to see his face. Why do you think that is?”

“Dunno. You said he’d be more open with me, because we’re both young. But he doesn’t act young. And he doesn’t tell me anything.”

“He’s probably seen a lot in his life, and learned to keep his secrets. But you were right — he is a good thief. Which means he must have some very interesting secrets. Keep an eye on him until I figure out what he really wants. I don’t think he cares a devil’s inch for the treasure inside that cave.”

In fact, I cared plenty about it. Most of the wealth of Carthya was stored there. I’d let the pirates kill me before I told them where it was.

There was a backup plan. Before I left Drylliad, I’d asked Kerwyn to order extra soldiers to guard the cave. If I failed, I wanted to make sure nobody would get at Carthya’s wealth. But if everything went well, my plan would be complete long before it came to having to reveal that location.

I finally drifted off to sleep, with a pit in my stomach reminding me that since the night of the funeral, nothing had gone well for me.

The sounds of applause and cheering woke me later that afternoon. I sat up and brushed my hair out of my face. “What’s going on?” I asked Fink.

He was standing on a rock and leaning over a tree branch to see something behind my tent. “A Queen’s Cross game has started. Want to go watch?”

There was a serious risk of Fink dissolving into a puddle of disappointment if I didn’t say yes, so after a long stretch of my arms I rolled to my feet and we walked to the field where several men were playing.

Queen’s Cross is played with two teams, each seeking the other’s flag, or “Queen,” from behind their zone. Players fight for control of a leather ball stuffed with grains of wheat or rice. The ball can be kicked, carried, or thrown toward the other team’s zone, but only with the ball can a player enter the zone to steal the Queen and win the game. Queen’s Cross games are very physical, often laden with injuries, and always a lot of fun.

As we walked up to the field, I saw Erick throw the ball to someone farther down the field, who was immediately tackled to the ground. He waved at us, then tripped an opposing player trying to clear a path for his teammate. A few of the players had ridden with us to Harlowe’s last night, and all of them encouraged me to come onto the field, but I still held back.

“Sage, join us!” Erick called. “We need another player.”

“I’m not very good,” I replied, which was perfectly true. I had enjoyed Queen’s Cross as a child until I realized that the children of nobles who played with us had been instructed to let my brother and me win. Darius had tried to explain that this was the way of life for a prince and that it was the duty of the other boys to allow us the advantage. To demonstrate what I thought of the “advantage,” I had climbed with the leather ball to the top of the chapel, then impaled it on a spire where it stood until my father ordered a hapless page to climb up and retrieve it. Queen’s Cross was banned from the castle after that. Games were occasionally played while I was at the orphanage, but Mrs. Turbeldy discouraged them because they almost always ended in fistfights.

“Go on and play,” Fink said. “You look like you want to.”

I’d have had to be blind not to see the desire in his eyes to go onto the field. I called to Erick, “Fink’s going to play with us too.”

“That’ll give us an extra man,” Erick said.

“He’s barely a boy, much less a man,” I answered. “Let him play.”

Just to get the game moving again, the other team gestured for Fink to come out with me. “Thanks,” Fink said, clearly excited.

The game began as soon as we were close enough to take positions. Fink was knocked over immediately, but he signaled that he was fine and the players ran past him toward our zone. I dove into other players to stop their progress and their teammates tackled me down in return. One of them tugged at my shirt, revealing the injury I’d received in defending Nila three nights ago. We looked at each other, but I didn’t recognize him from that night so I rolled away and rejoined the game.

After several minutes more of play, the other team called for a break so everyone could catch their breath. Erick huddled us into a circle and said, “They’re getting tired. We should make another play for their Queen.”

“We’re tired too,” a player next to me said. “We can’t push through all of them.”

“Yes, but they don’t know that,” I said. Everyone looked at me and in turn, I looked at Fink, then explained my idea.

The next time we got the ball near their zone, instead of only one strong man attempting to push through their team to get to the Queen, all of us made a run to go around their team, far down the field and away from their zone. All of us, but one.

When we were far enough away, Erick kicked the ball back to Fink, who was innocently waiting alone near the zone. He caught the ball and ran with it into the team’s zone. The Queen was in his hand before most of our opponents even realized they’d been tricked.