The Jack of Souls (Multi-award winner!)

Chapter 3e - Twenty

By noon the porch rails dripped with revelers, and the market boomed with merriment. The yeoman and his mates were still going strong, and when the yeoman told newcomers of Harric's sunset doom, they bought Harric drinks of apple wine.

"To your doom!" they toasted. "May it be a gentle one!"

Harric drank.

When a squire discharged a long-barreled spitfire over the crowd, one cried, "Spitfire! All-drink!" and Harric joined in another.

Not an hour went by in which he didn't con at least one well-born Westie. Lyla appeared once on the porch to shake out a rug and empty a chamber pot. She managed to fling Harric a conspiratorial nod before the head maid called her name and she hurried back inside. Caris never resurfaced, however, which worried Harric. After their adventure in the fog, she'd probably fled to the stables and curled up in a ball at the back of a stall. He longed to check on her, coax her back to her feet before Rudy spotted her and used it to prove her idiocy, but Harric dared not interrupt the Proof. It was just as likely she'd taken Rag for a ride up the Hanging Road. He hoped so.

Caris's absence also came as a relief, however, since he couldn't pull cons in her presence. He'd learned quickly that her ideas of nobility and honor were about as rigid as his were loose, which is why he hadn't yet dared to explain to her the true nature of his childhood training. He'd only told her part of the truth:  that his mother had him trained to be a squire. The fact that he only learned enough squiring to make a convincing cover for his real arts was something he dreaded might end their friendship.

By late afternoon he scored his eighteenth and nineteenth cons, the last upon a balding Westie squire who rode off with a reduction of goat piss to rub in his scalp for new hair. With that he'd matched his mother's record, and with one more he'd have his Proof. But two hours passed after that without a suitable lord or lady passing through. Several lords passed, but they appeared to be from court; when he saw these, he held his breath and let them pass without engaging.

During those hours, too, the servants of Lyla's former master found him. The lord's men were easy to spot in their saffron-colored liveries. Four of them took stations on the porch, watching and waiting for Harric to try to leave. Harric's stomach flopped over inside him.

Worry about them later, he tutored himself. Concentrate on nineteen.

The inn's shadow crept steadily up the cliff wall, marking the downward path of the sun in the west, and still no suitable marks appeared. When the inn and its shadow were finally of equal height, Harric knew the sun touched the horizon, and he had little time left. If he were to get his twentieth con, he'd have to attempt a courtier.

"Carriage!" a reveler called, pointing to the gate. "Drink!"

A fine carriage trundled through the south gate, brass tokens flashing on the breasts of the lead horses. A knot of doubt twisted Harric's stomach, as he recognized the tokens as licenses admitting carriages into the court of the queen.

Harric muttered a silent curse. "You think it's my doom you send in that carriage, don't you, Mother? Well, you're wrong. It's my Proof."

"Sir Bastard!" The yeoman leaned across the porch rail to offer a cup of frothing apple wine. "This your magic number? We must toast!"

Harric bowed to the yeoman, never taking his eyes from the carriage. He waved off the wine. "Keep it for after," he said. "For this I'll need my wits."

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Thanks for reading!

* WHY ONLY 4 CHAPTERS HERE? *

In 2014, I published this entire novel here. Since then, I published it on Amazon, and my contract with them stipulates I can only leave the first 10% up.

                    * * *    BUT...!  * * *

If you liked this, check out the * sequel* THE KNAVE OF SOULS!  I'm posting the entire novel here on Wattpad as I write it. It is currently over six chapters posted!

Happy reading!

- S