the sign at Steifann’s tavern showed a large, leering hare drunkenly embracing a jug of ale, Corson looked up at it fondly, remembering how the hare had seemed to wink at her the first time she’d seen it, inviting her to enter.
She went around to the back entrance, hoping to find everyone together in the kitchen. She’d been away longer than usual and her friends would fuss over her and scold her. Walden, the head cook, would complain that she was too thin, Annin would make her take a bath, and Trask would flirt with her-but then, Trask flirted with everyone. And Steifann would hug her so hard he’d lift her off the ground, all the while demanding to know where she’d been, what she’d been doing, and with whom she’d been doing it-but without really expecting any answers.
Corson hurried through the courtyard to the kitchen.
Walden was scowling over a huge stewpot when Corson came up from behind and hugged him. “I’m starving,” she said.
“Corson, you rutting idiot! What are you doing here? They’ll find you!” he looked around anxiously. “Trask, get Steifann.”
The serving-boy gave Corson a horrified look and rushed from the room.
Bewildered, she drew her sword and backed towards the door. “Who’ll find me?
Where are they, out front?”
“Not yet, but they’re bound to come sooner or later-you’re well-known around here.”
“Asye’s Blood, man! Who are you talking about?” Steifann came in from the front room, bolting the door behind him. “What are you all gaping at? Corson’s not here, everyone knows she’s left town. Corson, put that sword away before you kill somebody.” He pushed the hair back from his forehead distractedly. “We’d better go to my room,” he said at last, “and make some plans.” He led Corson out the back way. “Get back to work,” said the cook. “Nothing’s happened here. Get that spit turning before the birds burn!”
Corson dropped onto the bed and slapped the space beside her. “Steifann, what is this all about?”
He sat down and put his arm around her. “You stupid ass, don’t you know there’s a price on your head? Two hundred crescents in gold for the capture of a tall, left-handed swordswoman called Corson. Or one hundred for killing her. There’s a lot of people in this city who’d sell you for half that.”
“But who offered the money? Who wants me that badly?”
“They say he’s some great nobleman from Rhostshyl. And there are other rumors about him, Corson…” Steifann hesitated. “I don’t think he has an easy death planned for you.”
Corson looked away. “Threats,” she said carelessly. “Well, is there anything else I should know?”
“He’s looking for someone else as well-a small, dark-haired woman. And there’s five hundred crescents to be had for her. His servants have gone to every rat hole on the docks, and every ship in port.” Steifann felt Corson’s shoulders suddenly tense, and he looked at her sharply. “She’s down there, isn’t she?”
Corson didn’t answer. Instead, she threw her arms around Steifann and kissed him hard, then stood up and shouldered her pack.
“Corson, don’t be a fool! What are you going to do?”
“Run! Run like a hare from the hounds!” There was a knock at the door, and Corson’s hand dropped to her sword hilt.
“Steifann, let me in,” said a woman’s voice impatiently. Corson laughed with relief and shot back the bolt to admit a short, stocky woman of forty with broad hips and an ample bosom. Annin had been head serving-woman at The Jugged Hare for years, and was firmly convinced that only her common sense and good judgment kept the tavern from ruin. The fact that Steifann was the owner did not prevent her from treating him as one of her underlings.
“Corson, my lamb, you oughtn’t to be here, it’s too dangerous. Have you no sense at all?” she scolded.
Corson bent down and kissed her. “I’m not here, I’m leaving. You take care of Steifann for me.”
“You’re not going anywhere till dark,” Annin said firmly. “You’d be seen. How do you think you’d get out of the city?”
“I think she means to go straight to the docks and warn that woman,” Steifann broke in.
“Rubbish,” snapped Annin, and pushed Corson back onto the bed. “Sit down.”
“I don’t have time to argue, Annin, I-”
“Then don’t. If you want to warn someone, you can send a message.”
“That’s right,” said Steifann. “I know my way around the waterfront. When I was working on the wharves-”
“No. Not you,” said Annin. “You’re so rutting big, folk take note of you. I’ll go myself, tonight. With a shawl over my head, no one will notice me.”
Corson shook her head. “This is my affair, Annin. I know what I’m doing.”
“You don’t know your left hand from your right. Every informer on the docks is looking for you. You won’t do yourself or anyone else any good by getting caught.” Hands on hips, she fixed Corson with a fierce, protective glare.
“You’ll stay out of sight until we can get you safely away from here.”
“Destiver’s ship is in port,” said Steifann. “If we take the wagon down to the wharf before dawn, maybe we can smuggle her aboard. There’ll be plenty of carts unloading supplies and cargo.”
“Who’s Destiver?” Corson protested. “I’m not-”
“Good idea. I could arrange that now. Both of you wait here till I get back. Is that understood?”
Corson was silent.
“She’s right, you know,” said Steifann. “You can’t go down there. You might as well walk into their arms.”
“Where is she, Corson?” Annin demanded.
Corson got up and paced the room restlessly. She’d never involved her friends in this kind of thing before, but she knew that she had no choice. She couldn’t protect Lady Nyctasia by walking into a trap. A feeling of helplessness swept over her, and to Corson it seemed, as always, a foretaste of death. She clenched her fists. “I don’t like it.”
“I know,” said Steifann. “You’d rather get yourself and that other woman killed than admit you need help.” He waited.
Corson looked at the floor. “She’s at The Crow’s Nest. I’m supposed to get her on a ship tonight.”
Annin nodded. “I’ll see about passage for both of you then. I can take her straight to the ship after dark, but meanwhile I’d better go talk to Destiver.
And, Steifann,” she added sternly, “don’t let her out of here!”
Steifann raised Corson’s head and kissed her. “Now what can I do to keep you here till Annin gets back?”
She put her arms around him and pulled him close. “I thought I’d be able to stay with you awhile,” she sighed, leaning her head on his shoulder.
“I don’t want you to go.”
There was nothing more to say. He held her against him and stroked her back gently, then reached up to loosen her long braid. Corson tilted back her head and shook free the bronze cascade of her hair. His lips brushed along her throat, and he began to kiss her on the mouth and eyes. Corson pressed against him and slid her hand between his legs. She heard his breathing change and he held her even tighter.
“Corson…”
“Mmro…?”
“Will you take off that rutting sword, or do you want to make a gelding of me?”
“Asye forbid!” laughed Corson, letting her sword belt slip to the floor, and pulling him down onto the bed.