The next morning, exhausted and frightened, Natalie snuck out of the house before Robbie and the other children could see her battered face. The swelling had already gone down quite a bit; however, she still had ugly scabs crisscrossing her forehead and her eyelids had remained a dull purple.
When she reached Upper Angle’s gates, the sky was still black with no hint of the rising sun. Only a handful of people were up and about: rat hunters checking their traps, lamplighters snuffing out the lamps hanging above the streets, and a few traveling merchants finding spots to set up their carts. They all went about their business as though it was just another day.
Natalie kept reminding herself everything was going to be fine. After all, why would anyone suspect her of stealing Brago’s books? Only her friends knew what had happened; they certainly weren’t going to tell anybody. And if by chance somebody did question her, she’d giggle like a stupid girl and say, “Why would I need books? I can’t read!” and they’d believe her. Everyone would suspect that the thief was another adventurer trying to stop Brago from winning the quest, right? Everything was going to be fine.
As Henry’s Livery and Stables loomed closer in the darkness, Natalie’s anxiety grew. She desperately wanted to draw her knife, but she had to appear normal—simply a peasant girl going to the job she’d worked at for the past three years. No need to panic.
Taking a deep breath, she peered cautiously around the dark, vacant street. No Brago.
Then she crept toward the stables and listened. Inside, horses shifted, eager for their breakfast and to be released into the livery yard. But that wasn’t unusual.
Wiping her sweaty palms across her pants, Natalie tried to calm herself. She’d hidden the books and papers under some spare clothes in box she used as a chest. The kids wouldn’t dare go through her stuff; even Robbie knew what would happen if they did. She only had to finish her work, then she’d figure out what to do with Brago’s things.
Natalie slid open the stable door, its rumbling disturbing the early morning quiet. None of the horses greeted her. That was odd. They usually whinnied and snorted as soon as she appeared; it was the best part of her job.
Cautiously, she edged into the stable, checking the shadows for anything amiss. She searched behind the bales of hay. Nothing. She peeked into the makeshift tack room where saddles and bridles were stored. Still nothing. She took another step deeper into the darkness, when something moved. It wasn’t one of the horses.
Natalie spun on her heel, ready to run, screaming—until somebody spoke.
“Nat?” said a weak voice.
She froze.
“Nat? Is…is that you?”
As quietly as she could, Natalie drew her knife and peered into an empty stall. Henry was sitting on an overturned bucket, face deathly white.
“Oh.” Natalie tried to calm herself. “Hey, Henry.” She checked the other stalls. Except for the horses, they were alone. “What are you doing here so early? Trying to do my work for me?” Her lighthearted laugh came out more like a nervous shriek.
Henry’s shallow breaths appeared as grey vapor. Natalie suddenly realized how chilly the morning was.
“Nat,” Henry said slowly, “did you…did you take anything from Brago’s saddlebags?”
Natalie’s heart skipped for several beats, then began to hammer at her aching ribs. “What?” She staggered. “No! No, of course not. Why? Why do you ask?” She forced herself to breathe.
“That’s what I told him,” Henry mumbled into his trembling hands. “It wasn’t me, it wasn’t you. He must have lost it after he left. He didn’t like hearing that. He didn’t like hearing that at all.”
“Lost it?” Natalie licked her dry lips. She scanned the stalls again. Brago’s horse wasn’t in any of them. “Lost what?” she asked with feigned confusion. “Who are you talking about?”
“I tell you, Nat, I’ve never been so scared in my life. I…I still don’t know what I should do. Most of me says I should get the hell out of town while my legs still work. But my family—”
Natalie, clutching her knife, stepped farther in the stable. “What happened, Henry? What’re you talking about? Are you okay?”
Henry chewed on a ragged fingernail as he stared at the hay-covered stable floor. A horse thrashed its mane.
“Henry?” Natalie rested a hand on Henry’s shoulder. He recoiled, bloodshot eyes wide. “It’s okay. You’re all right.” She knelt in front of him, nearly stepping on an empty brandy bottle. “Just tell me what’s going on, okay?”
“Do you…do you remember yesterday? Back when Brago was here? He, he had that big red mare with the white splotch between the eyes. Remember? You saddled her, remember?”
Natalie nodded, not trusting what she might blurt out.
Henry resumed staring at the floor as if trying to recall some detail upon which his life depended. “He had something in his saddlebags—books and…and maps and things. Hell, I don’t know, but it was something important. Something very important.”
The cold grip of hysteria tightened around Natalie’s throat. “Maybe they fell out!” she said. “Maybe they fell out and, and…got covered with straw or something.” She kicked wildly at the straw, hoping to find the books she knew were back in her bedroom.
Henry shrugged. “I checked. I checked everywhere. My gods, he’s going to kill me!”
“No, he won’t. I promise you, Henry, everything will be fine! Why, I bet those books’ll turn up real quick. Tonight, maybe! Maybe somebody…Maybe they fell out of his saddlebags in the road and—and somebody picked them up! We’ll, we’ll spread the word, and somebody will return them here. I bet you anything!”
But this seemed to unnerve Henry even more. “You don’t understand. I told him I didn’t know what he was talking about. If, if I…if I suddenly find them…Oh, Nat, he’s crazy. He’s—I’ve never seen a man so angry before. I thought he was going to kill me right there, in front of everybody. He—”
“Did you tell him about me?” Natalie asked quickly. “I mean, you didn’t, did you?”
Henry shrugged a second time. “I told him everything he wanted to know. I nearly pissed myself. Oh, Nat, he’s…he’s a madman!”
Panic surged over her. “What…what did he want to know?”
Henry chewed his fingernails again, still staring vaguely at the floor.
Natalie shook him. “What did you tell him? About me, I mean. What did he want to know?”
“He asked who else could have taken it. I told him it was only you and me in the stables that morning. I told him we both saddled the mare and…”
“And what?” To her own ears, Natalie was practically screaming. “What else did he want?”
“He wanted to know where you lived.”
Natalie leapt up, shaking. “Did, did you tell him? What did you say?”
“Well, I…I don’t exactly know where you live. I told him your family has a small farm just past the hills south of town, west of the Lesser Green. Natalie? Natalie?”