Thanks to sw33t t3mptations for giving me some titles. I'm considering some of them. Forgot which ones though x_x Just for that, I'm dedicating this chapter to you. And to Wake-Robin, because she thought up one too. Oh, and for those who did not know, this will eventually be K/J. I'm obsessed with that pairing, so expect a lot more K/J fics from me.
Disclaimer: Look at previous chapter.
~*~
The noon bell rang, but Joren just hazily acknowledged it. They knew. Everyone knew it was he who did it, somehow. He did not know how they knew (okay, maybe he did), just that they did.
When he walked into the mess hall for breakfast the entire room fell silent. Mindelan's friends stared at him with stony faces, then whispered to each other fiercely, glaring, looking at him like he was scum.
On the other hand, his friends and those who shared a hatred of the Lump grinned or winked at him, hooting and nodding appreciatively at him. There were much fewer supporters on his side. Some that detested Mindelan shook their heads at him—they did not like her, but they thought it was shameful what he did.
I wish they'd stop looking at me like that.
But they did not—admittedly, they could not read minds anymore than he could, but still.
He saw Lord Wyldon of Cavall, the training master, stand up, and his heart sank, though his face betrayed no emotions. A second or two behind him was Sir Paxton of Nond…his knight-master.
Huzzah, he thought dully.
"Squire Joren, I do believe we have some issues that need to be discussed," Paxton said in his clipped voice.
"Please meet us in my office," Wyldon said coldly. (A/N: What are medieval-office thingys called. I forget ^_^;;)
Joren nodded curtly then joined Vinson and Garvey at their table. Vinson threw around his back a long, spindly arm.
"I don't know what you did, but you got rid of the Lump," he hissed gleefully.
"Good job, Joren," Garvey agreed approvingly, shoving a forkful of mashed potatoes into his mouth. "Maybe she'll stay away for good this time."
Why did that thought not comfort him?
"Maybe," he said absently.
"You don't seem to be awfully proud," Vinson said suspiciously.
"Oh, I am, I am…it's just that everybody knows it was me."
"Ah…yeah, you should be worried about that."
"No. Shit."
~*~
Keladry squirmed fiercely, squealing behind the gag with heated indignation.
"Will you shut UP?!" a man yelled, boxing her ears.
She paused three seconds before deciding that it did not hurt that bad and began to thrash again. The only person she took orders from was Frenn. He was a man to reckon with.
"Gods damn it all—"
"Is there a problem?"
Almost immediately she and the four men stilled.
"Well, mister assassin, sir, the girl hasn't shut up since you left and—"
"Whose fault is that?" Frenn asked coolly. "Not mine, certainly. Not the girl's, she is not to blame in the matter. That leaves the blame with you, and so help me, if someone heard her I'll tear your rotten heads off."
Silence.
"But—"
"Don't argue with me, Arden. The last man who did found himself buried six feet under missing a head, an arm, and both legs over in Tusaine."
"Why isn't she being punished?" Arden asked in a small voice.
"It wasn't her job to keep her quiet, now was it?"
"No, but she was the one making the noise."
"Maybe so, but wouldn't you do the same if you were bound and gagged? Therefore, the blame lies solely on you."
Kel craned her neck to see Arden better. She could not see him very well, but the glimpse she did get showed a young man with curly blond hair looking extremely pale, nervous, and more than a little indignant.
"Have you fed her?"
"No, she wouldn't—"
"Gods damn it, I told you to feed her! I want her dead after the voyage, not before it! Those were my orders!"
"But—"
"Feed her!" Frenn hissed furiously.
"Yes sir," the men muttered, scrambling away like mice.
Frenn looked down at his charge and saw with a sort of strange feeling the spark of triumph in her dangerously glittering eyes. The chit was so full of life, so spunky, it almost made him wish he did not have to kill her.
Almost.
"I see you gave my men a hard time," he chuckled, sitting down at her feet. "Good girl. They need to learn that I'm not the only one who can boss them around. I'll remove the gag, if you promise not to scream."
She nodded, and he slowly and carefully pulled out the dirty cloth. Gratefully she ran her swollen tongue over her chapped lips, and she spoke in a hoarse, grating voice.
"Where am I? How long have we been gone? Where did you go? Where did you find those men? Where did they come from? Who are they?"
A smile tugged at the corner of the assassin's mouth. "In two hours we'll reach the dock, where we'll get on a boat and go to Carthak. It's been, hm, about ten hours since I kidnapped you."
You say that so remorsefully, she thought wryly.
"I went ahead to the dock to make sure our ship was reserved. Those men are part of the crew, bandits from Galla."
One of the bandit-sailors, a dark boy who seemed no more than thirteen, returned with a basket of sausage rolls in one hand and water in the other.
"Can you sit up enough to drink the water?" Frenn asked.
"I'm not drinking anything else," Kel snapped.
"The water isn't poisoned this time, little warrior."
"I don't trust you," came the petulant reply.
For some reason that made the assassin's eyes narrow and his mouth settle into a frown.
"Listen, little warrior, my job may not be the most respectable—"
She snorted.
"—or the most honorable—"
She snorted.
"—but I keep my word. Always."
She snorted.
"Well then, how do you know the food isn't poisoned, huh? I can slip a drug or herb in your food easily as I can slit Filip's throat here.
Young Filip gulped and clutched his neck with desperate hands.
Kel eyed him warily, but in the end gave in to the thirst and hunger and indulged herself in the delicious meal. She tensed, waiting for the wash of dizziness she had experienced twice now. But nothing happened, and she looked confused at her captor.
"I told you, didn't I?" he asked dryly. "I want you conscious and alert so you can cooperate."
"And what if I don't?" she asked.
Frenn casually pulled out his dagger. "I'll kill you."
~*~
Long time no see.
Go away.
Now, Jory, dear, is that anyway to greet your conscience?
It is when you don't want it here.
Always the charmer. We need to talk.
No we don't.
Yes we do. About Keladry.
Her name's Mindelan.
No it's not. Now, you know as well as I do that what you're doing is cruel and callous.
Nuh-uh. It's perfectly reasonable.
Not quite, love. I suggest you do something.
What can I do? I tried telling the assassin person to stop, but he didn't think I was me.
Then you'll have to do what any sweet person would do.
Glad I'm not a sweet person.
You should go after her.
Joren sat bolt up in his bed. "Like hell," he said out loud. "Why should I? I don't care about her."
You do, or I wouldn't be back after all these years.
"Oh, shut up. Can't you leave me alone? I'm trying to think about how to get out of this mess. Everybody suspects me."
Your problem, his conscience said in a singsong voice.
The meeting with the Stump and dear old Paxy did not go so well. They had started off by saying they know he did it and that they were going to do everything they could to make sure everyone else did too.
I never would have thought the Stump, of all people, would defend Kela—I mean Mindelan.
"What am I going to do?" Joren moaned into his pillow.
Go after her, you nitwit.
"OKAY!" Joren screamed, leaping out of bed. "IF IT MEANS GETTING YOU OFF MY GODDAMN TAIL, I WILL GO AFTER THE STUPID SLUT AND SAVE HER SKIN! BUT SO HELP ME, IF YOU DON'T DISAPPEAR AS SOON AS I DO, I'LL KILL HER MYSELF!"
Someone needs anger management, don't they Joren?
~*~