Amber and Iron - Margaret Weis [33]
“That’s him,” said Nightshade, pointing his finger. “He’s one of the Beloved.”
“Which one?” Gerard asked, eyeing the kender. “There are two young men standing there. Which one is the Beloved?”
“The one with the red, curly hair and the freckles,” Nightshade answered promptly.
“That’s Cam, all right,” Gerard said with a sigh. “Dammit to the Abyss and back again!”
“I’m sorry,” Nightshade said. “He has a really nice smile. He must have been a good guy.”
“He is,” said Gerard glumly, “or rather, was. What about you, Brother? Can you verify the kender’s claim?”
“If Nightshade says he is one of the Beloved, then I take his word for it,” Rhys replied.
“What about Atta?” Gerard asked.
They all looked down at the dog. She stood alertly at Rhys’s side, and they could all see her gaze was fixed on the red-haired young guard who was chatting and laughing with two girls. A low growl rumbled in her chest. One corner of her lip curled.
“She agrees with Nightshade,” said Rhys.
Gerard glowered. “Forgive me, Brother, but you’re asking me to trust the word of a kender and the growl of a dog. I’d feel better if I had your opinion. I know young Cam, and I know his parents. They’re good people. If I’m going to have to apprehend him, I want to know for sure he’s one of these Beloved.”
Rhys stood, unmoving. “I am not at all certain I like this, Sheriff. What kind of trap are you proposing we set?”
Gerard didn’t answer. Instead he gestured over to where young Cam was talking and laughing with the young women.
“He may be arranging to meet one of those girls this very night, Brother.”
Rhys still hesitated, then said, “Take Atta away. If she sees me going near one of the Beloved, she might attack him. I will meet you back at the inn.”
When Atta was out of sight, Rhys gripped his staff and walked over to the stairs. He knew what he was going to find. Neither Nightshade nor Atta had ever been wrong before. He walked up to the young man, just as he and the young women burst into laughter.
Seeing Rhys approach, Cam turned from his flirting to attend to his duty.
“Good afternoon, Brother,” he said, giving Rhys an engaging smile. “What is your business up top?”
Rhys looked directly into the young man’s green eyes.
He saw no light, only shadows—shadows of hope unfulfilled, shadows of a future that would never come to pass.
“Are you unwell, Brother?” asked Cam, placing a solicitous hand on Rhys’s arm. “You don’t look good. Perhaps you should sit here in the shade and rest. I could bring you some water.…”
“Thank you,” said Rhys, “but that will not be necessary. I will rest a moment here where it is cool.”
Several vendors had put up stalls near the bridge stairs to take advantage of the near-constant traffic. This included an enterprising seller of meat pies, who had set up tables and benches for the convenience of his customers. The two young women with whom Cam was talking were supposed to be selling ribbons from their stall, though at the moment they were doing more giggling than trade.
“Suit yourself, Brother,” said Cam, and he turned back to his conversation with the young women.
Ignoring the glares and pointed remarks of the meat pie vendor, who did not like non-paying customers taking up table space, Rhys sat on the bench and listened to the conversation Cam was having with the two girls. He did not need to listen long. One arranged to meet Cam this very night.
Rhys rose to his feet and took his departure, much to the gratification of the meat pie vendor, who bustled over quickly to where the shabby monk had been sitting and dusted off the bench
hys found Gerard and Nightshade standing outside the inn in the company of two people, both of them strangers to Rhys.
“Well, Brother?” Gerard asked.
Rhys had no need to answer. Gerard could tell by the expression on Rhys’s face that the news wasn’t good. He swore and angrily kicked at a clod of dirt with the toe of his boot.
“The young man