“Sure,” said Tom. “You need it done right away, don’t you?”
“Well . . . yes. But I thought there’d be some sort of plan.”
“Of course there is. We’ll overpower them, get your friends, and be on our way.”
I was so used to Grant’s calculation and scrutiny that a quick, impulsive act was startling.
As we crossed the room, the crowd’s indifferent air shifted dramatically. People stopped what they were doing, shouting out greetings to Tom. He responded in kind, calling many of them by name and making jokes as he did. A few of the pirate pretenders jumped to their feet, hoping to be noticed. They shot me envious looks, and I tried to act like I was completely unimpressed by a den of pirates. Secretly, I was fascinated. I could understand the glamour and intrigue that surrounded them—especially if saving others was a regular practice. But what about their other activities? Stealing? Assault?
Tom kept walking until he reached a table where three masked men played cards. All immediately looked up. “Gentlemen,” he announced. “Allow me to present the angel I told you about the other night, the one who rushed bravely into battle, defending me against some of Abernathy’s goons.”
One of the men guffawed. “I still can’t believe you needed help.”
“I wouldn’t have needed any help if someone had told me Abernathy was still angry about that incident last week.” Tom looked pointedly at another of the men, a gaunt one in a striped shirt who seemed very young.
“I hadn’t heard anything, boss! Honest,” cried the man. “And you know me. I’ve always got an ear to the ground.”
Tom smiled, but there was a tightness in his voice. “Well, use both ears from now on.”
One of the men, his head shaved and a silver hoop in his ear, stood and shook my hand. “I’m Elijah. That was my wife and boy you helped. You need anything, you ask.”
Despite his tough appearance, I heard true emotion in his voice. “I’m glad to have helped,” I said.
“Are you from the continent, Miss?” The question came from the man in the striped shirt. “Skarsia?”
“Lady,” corrected Tom. “One must always address an angel as ‘lady.’ And anyone who knows anything knows she’s from Belsia, not Skarsia. Anders is from Skarsia. Does she sound like him?” Tom’s gaze swiveled to me. “But we really must decide on a name for you at some point.”
“You can call me whatever you want,” I said, “as long as we can help those people.”
“She’s all business, our angel.” Tom nodded at Elijah and the young man. “You two are visiting the jail with us. Peterson, go find Anders and make sure that shipment goes as planned.” To me, Tom said, “This isn’t really the kind of thing that requires a mastermind to pull off. You don’t even have to come along, if you don’t want to.”
The old thrill of helping Lonzo and my father coursed through me, but I didn’t know exactly what Tom was asking. “What would you have me do?”
“Knock a few heads together. Swing a sword.” He scrutinized my waist. “Do you even have one? Or just that sad excuse for a knife?”
I pushed back my cloak and remembered I needed to play bold, no matter how embarrassed the blade made me. “It’s better than nothing.”
“Debatable. Peterson, please assist the lady.”
Peterson removed a leather sheath from his belt and handed it over without question. I ran my fingers over the wooden hilt, embellished with bronze and bone, and pulled out a dirk. Its straight steel blade was about seven inches long and had a point so sharp, it probably could have cut my old knife in half. More than a dagger, less than a sword. I hadn’t practiced with a weapon like this in years and never with anything so fine. It took my breath away, and I admired it for several more moments before sliding it back into its holder.
“I can’t—”
“Hush,” interrupted Tom. “And tell me if you’re coming with us or not.”
I bit my lip and felt like I was standing on the edge of this blade, teetering between two drastic decisions. I’d come to Cape Triumph with simple plans. Settle into comfortable married life, pay off Lonzo’s bond. And then I’d become entangled in espionage. I’d sneaked out of Wisteria Hollow’s protective circle. I’d robbed a home. I’d interacted with pirates . . . and now I was going to fight alongside them.
“I’ll go,” I said, fastening on the dirk.
Tom beamed. “You’re certain?”
“Positive. I need this.”
I needed to remember the principles I’d always held so dear. I needed to remember what it was like to fight for the innocent. And—at least for a night—I needed to forget about Grant Elliott.
CHAPTER 19
CAPE TRIUMPH’S MAIN JAIL WAS OUTSIDE THE ACTIVE city center but close enough to simplify prisoner transfers to the courthouse. “There are smaller holding areas,” Tom told me as we traveled in the darkness. “The soldiers have one at the fort. And the militia has a watch of sorts that also maintain a couple. But mostly those places are just to hold petty criminals. Keep drunks confined overnight. The bigger prizes are kept here.”
“It all sounds very . . . sloppy,” I said. “The city watch in Osfro wasn’t always effective, but at least they had a system. Here, there’s no real central law enforcement.”
“Then they’re lucky we’re around,” Tom said cheerfully. “The burden of justice falls on us.”
“Something tells me your justice is selective. And profitable.”
“A city watch would get paid. Why not us?”
We stopped about a quarter mile from the jail while Lesser Tom—the young, skinny man—scouted ahead. Since his name was Tom too, the “lesser” designation differentiated them. It wasn’t clear to me if Tom or the other men had come up with the addition.
“Jenks was right,” Lesser Tom said, trotting back to us. “More than usual. Six.”
“Six?” said Tom irritably. “You promised me four, Jenks.”
“I didn’t promise you nothing. I just said probably it’d be double.”
Lesser Tom added, “They’re militia. Not soldiers.”
“Well, that’s something,” said Tom. “Now. Tell us everything else you saw.”
Five minutes later, we had a plan and were all moving toward the jail, keeping off the main road. A lamp near the front door showed us what we needed. The rectangular building was barren and rough, with no windows. Two men stood sentry at the front, and each corner was guarded by one man.
We spread out into the positions Tom had designated for us, and anticipation crackled through me as I moved to a dark patch of trees with Elijah. I’d never gone into a planned altercation. Usually they just happened to me. My grip on the dirk was so tight that I had to keep adjusting it so my fingers wouldn’t kink up.
The action started with a gunshot. It was Lesser Tom, firing near one of the guards in the back of the building. Tom had made it very clear he wanted to avoid killing anyone tonight. “The militia is very lenient with us,” he’d explained. “And I want to keep it that way.”
He’d also warned that because the militia were so inconsistently trained, they were likely to react recklessly. At the crack of the gun, all the guards raced off toward the sound’s source—except one. He remained at his post by the front door. Elijah, who was with me, swore. We’d hoped that the guards would all run to the building’s back, where our other three companions were waiting.
“Nothing for it,” said Elijah. “Let’s go. Stay behind me, angled over there. You’re the smaller target—he’ll go for me, but it’s better if you’re still out of the way.”
The militiaman at the door saw us coming and raised his musket. He fired at Elijah, as predicted, but missed. He’d shot too soon with a gun like that. A few more feet would have given him better accuracy. Elijah and I were on the man before he could reload. Elijah knocked him to the ground and kept
him pinned. The guard shouted obscenities as I tied his hands and wrists, and I wished we’d brought gags as well as ropes. Just as I finished, I saw the door open behind Elijah.
“Look out!”
Elijah turned as the barrel of a gun poked out. I leapt up and swung my dirk like a club, knocking the gun off-kilter just enough to miss Elijah when it fired. That gave Elijah the opportunity to pry the door open and grab the gun’s owner, another militiaman. Elijah swung him hard into the wall, but the man was stockier and pushed back with his own brute strength. Looking beyond their fight, I spotted yet another guard. Lesser Tom’s scouting had only shown us the outside defense. We hadn’t known for sure what to expect in here.
That second man hadn’t seen me yet. As much as I longed to valiantly wield my dirk, it was Lonzo’s training I used. This guard wasn’t as muscled as the one Elijah fought, but he was taller than me. I darted forward and took him by surprise, slamming my elbow into his face in a move that put me too close for him to shoot. Instead, he immediately tried to strike back by swinging his gun like I had the dirk. His height worked against him. I wasn’t where he expected, which forced him to shift his footing in order to keep his balance as I kept moving erratically. He dropped his weapon and started to go for me with his fists. I used those split seconds to deliver another upward hit, this time to his neck. It lacked precision, but it was efficient. The man let out a small cry and staggered backward. I snatched up the musket and pointed it at him, yelling at him to drop to his knees. I’d never fired a gun before and hoped I could bluff convincingly.
Apparently I could. He obeyed, and I heard a great laugh behind me. “Look at you,” said Elijah. “You didn’t even need me. No wonder you were able to scare off Abernathy’s gang that night.” His combatant was lying on the floor, presumably unconscious. Elijah strolled up to my captive and began tying up his wrists.
“I don’t know that I did that much scaring. But I’m glad to have helped your family.”
Elijah frowned as he finished his work. “They shouldn’t have been in that situation. That whole Abernathy mess was Tom’s arrog—”
A gunshot sounded from outside, and I looked around in alarm. “Should we do something?”
“No,” Elijah said. “That’s their job. Let’s do ours.”
He took the keys from the unconscious man, and we searched the building. It had two corridors splitting off in opposite directions, with ten cells in each. Frightened men and women peered at us through the bars. They’d heard the commotion but had no idea what it meant.
“It’s okay,” I said, as Elijah unlocked the cells. “We’re here to help.” As the prisoners hurried past one by one, something occurred to me. “We don’t know that they’re all Alanzans. We could be freeing hardened criminals.”
“Yup,” Elijah agreed. “But we don’t have time to conduct interviews.”
The last of the prisoners ran out the front door, just as Tom and the others strolled in. He grinned. “Looks like everything worked out.”
“You should’ve seen your girl,” said Elijah. He pushed the man I’d subdued toward one of the cells. “You didn’t tell me she could fight like that.”
We locked up all of the militiamen. Tom’s crew had a few more cuts and bruises than when this had started, but no one on either side had been shot. The prisoners had long since disappeared into the night when we finally left.
“Thank you,” I told Tom as we walked back toward the main city. “I know you’ll say you owed me the favor, but still. I appreciate it.”
“Happy to.” Silence fell for several moments. “Exhilarating, isn’t it?”
“What?”
“The rush of battle.” He waved his hands around grandly. “The thrill of it. The blood pounding through you. Every part of you on alert. It’s hard to come down off the high.”
I did feel a rush of sorts. All my senses seemed sharper and clearer. “Yes,” I admitted. “And it is hard to come down.”
“This isn’t the first time you’ve been in a fight.”
“No, but never anything like this.” My father had taught me some basic fighting skills but rarely let me go along on any of his raids. I’d been shuffled to the side as pretty bait. Only Lonzo, in our brief time together in Osfro, had treated me as an equal partner and enhanced my training. “It feels good—knowing we saved innocent people from oppression. That’s a rush too.”
“Well, who can say if they’re truly innocent?” Tom asked dryly. “But we did save them from oppression, I suppose. Now. If you’ve still got a bit of battle lust left in you, I’m sure there are other stops we could make.”
I hesitated. “I should really go.”
“I can make sure they’re noble ones, just for you.”
“No. Really, I have to go.” I hardened my resolve against the tempting offer. “I shouldn’t even be out. But I’m grateful. You more than made up for what I did.”
“Ah, well. Maybe next time.”
“There isn’t going to be a next time.”
He pressed a hand to his heart. “You wound me again. Half the men back at the Bull would kill to work for me.”
“Work for you? They’re welcome to it. And why would you want me anyway? I don’t have nearly the experience your other men have.” A hollow feeling settled in the pit of my stomach, and I stepped away, suddenly aware of how quiet the streets we’d taken back into the city were. “Look, if you think ‘working’ for you is going to include something else on the side—”
He scoffed. “You are a pleasure to behold, but no, nothing like that. You held your own tonight, and something tells me you’re a fast learner. It’d be worth your while too. Lesser Tom!”
We’d walked far ahead of the others, and Lesser Tom came scurrying to our sides. “Yeah?”
“Show her what I paid you earlier for the visit to Judge Mathers’s house.”
Lesser Tom reached into his pockets, and I did a double take when he produced two handfuls of silver coins. I counted about twenty. “I spent a few on drinks,” he admitted.
Tom waved him aside. “No matter. Thank you.”
Lesser Tom put the money away and immediately fell back. Tom shot me a sidelong glance. “You see? I make sure everyone is well compensated. Sometimes they’re paid in gold.”
Gold? I still felt dazzled by all that silver. “I . . . I didn’t do what I did tonight for money. I wouldn’t want to. I did it because it was the right thing to do.”
“Even an angel’s got to eat. But I do like the way you think. Many talk about justice and fighting for change. Few live it. My men are good souls, but most do this for the money. They’ve got to eat too. I could use someone at my side who truly fights with a noble spirit.”
I scrutinized his face in the lamplight, gauging his sincerity. “Do you really want nobility? It doesn’t seem like you’re giving away all your earnings to charity. Those feathers can’t be cheap.”
“They aren’t, but image is important.” He fondly stroked the green and blue feathers that adorned one of his sleeves. “I have to keep some for operating expenses. And I freely admit I’m no angel—I like my profit. But I’m also not as selfish as you think. I see the city’s downtrodden every day. There’s corruption and abuse of power around here, and I have a lot of ideas about how to improve things.”
The sincerity in his voice took me by surprise. “Is robbing people improving things?”
“It’s not like I’m stealing bread from orphans. I mostly deal in rare and valuable goods, exquisite things that aren’t always easy to get ahold of—but pay off well for that difficulty. And trust me, the men we take them from aren’t exactly hurting for money.”
“They might still be good people, even if they’re rich. And I’m sure some get killed when you attack them. Is that fair?”
“No, and neither is the fact that plenty of good people are starving and
suffering here. The coin and food I’ve given away has saved many of them.”
“And you . . . you just want me to fight with you?” I asked reluctantly.
“Definitely. Sometimes to ‘acquire’ goods. Sometimes to issue a warning to those who think they can trample others. I’ll try to keep you out of jobs that might go against your angelic principles. And I’d also need you for another task. I aim for luxuries, but plenty of mundane goods fall into my hands that I can’t use. Basics, like food and clothing. My workload is going up, and I don’t have as much time to distribute that surplus to those in need. Something tells me you’d like that job. And I also think the city would be enchanted by a lovely angel helping them.”
“Do you want to use me to boost your image?”
He grinned. “Well, as I said, image is important. But I don’t ‘use’ anyone. The people I work with aren’t tools to be pushed around and cast away.”
The temptation . . . I could barely hold it back. Gold for Lonzo. Purpose for me. But at what cost? “I can’t. I have other commitments.”
His eyebrows rose. “Oh. Some husband or lover?”
“No!” My voice gave away too much, and Tom laughed.
“Oh, I see. It’s one of those complicated things, eh? All the more reason to make your own way. And I saw your face when Lesser Tom flashed those coins we got from the judge. You have some debts, perhaps?”
The possibility of paying off Lonzo’s bond and my own contract suddenly made me heady, but I tried to hide it. “Judge . . . you mentioned Judge Mathers?”
“You know him?” asked Tom, interest clearly piqued.
“Sort of. And I know what he does. The bribes. The shady sentencing of penal workers.”
“Then you know he’s a bad man who breaks the law.”
“We just broke the law.”
“For the greater good, remember?” Tom’s voice hardened. “He sold off a few of our associates recently, to plantation work. Those sentences are far too long for petty theft. No one in my crew, but it’s an insult to our brotherhood. He’s never punished for what he does.”