Chapter 1430: A Fishy Opportunity (Part One)

Devlin climbed in across from Jocelynn and pulled the door shut. The carriage lurched into motion, and for a while, neither of them spoke. Rain drummed on the roof while outside the windows, the city moved past in grey smears of stone and lamplight.

The route between the Great Temple and Lothian Manor was filled with people making preparations for the coming Grand Ceremony. The common folk were preparing banners of blue and yellow to honor their fallen lord along with the ascension of the next one.

A number of alehouses were already setting up awnings and outdoor tables, expecting revelers would overflow their smaller taprooms once the morning funeral gave way to the afternoon’s wedding celebrations.

In the street, children darted between workers, playing with sticks as though they were swords.

"I’m Owain Lothian," one child shouted, holding up a stick in two hands and striking a heroic pose. "No demon can defeat me! Who will fight at my side?"

"I will," another child yelled, climbing up on top of a bench. "I’m Sir Rain! Who will be my mighty steed? Popin, be my horse!"

"Why do I have to be the horse?" a younger boy complained. "Why can’t I be Lord Loman? I wanna use Holy Light to keep everyone safe!"

"You can’t be Lord Loman," a fourth child said, punching the boy named Popin in the arm and giving him a fierce glare. "Do you want ma to scold you for insulting the Church again? If you don’t want to be the horse, be the Horse Lord and fight them. I’ll fight with you," he added helpfully, cracking his knuckles and flexing his fingers as though they were claws. "I’ll play the Cat Lord, and we can team up against everyone!"

To the children outside the carriage, Owain Lothian’s ascendance to the throne was a moment of pure joy. They’d grown up on stories of the demon-slaying Lothian Lord, and now he was about to be their Marquis. Even the cold winter rain couldn’t dampen their spirits as they chased each other through the puddles, splashing and swinging their ’swords’ with wild abandon.

Inside the carriage, the warmth of the memorial was already fading. The wine was still in her blood, but the lightness that came with it was draining away, replaced by the familiar weight that settled over her shoulders every time she was alone with her thoughts.

"Devlin," she said eventually, her voice quieter than she intended. "I need to tell you something."

"My lady?"

"I’ve been talking with Lady Charlotte. About Otker Canyon," she said as she turned the urn slowly in her hands, feeling the smooth clay against her palms and using the sensation to steady herself. "About the roads, and the carters, and how long it takes to get from this side to the other."

"About lots of things," she said, closing her eyes in an attempt to blot out the noises from outside so she could focus on the important things she needed to say.

"That’s useful information," Devilin said, frowning slightly at the statement. They’d all passed through Otker Canyon on their way here, so what was it that she’d needed to learn about? And why bring it up now?

"It’s more than useful," Jocelynn said. She leaned forward, willing the words to come out in the right order, as if she could force the wine to release its grip on her tongue long enough for her to say what needed saying.

"I’m putting you in charge," Jocelynn said solemnly. "After the wedding, I need you to get everyone through the canyon. All of our people. The knights, the Templars, the captains, the servants, everyone. Charlotte can help. She knows the routes, and there are carters who need the work."

"Albyn should do it," Jocelynn said, opening her eyes to meet Devlin’s gaze as directly as she could in the swaying carriage. "But Owain took him away for the hunt and the Stag Feast. Or Sir Elgon should do it, but he’s too, he’s a knight who’s too... um, he won’t do the things he shouldn’t do to do the things he must do," she said, hoping that Devlin would understand. After all, Devilin was a man who had been willing to spend several days in a house of ill-repute in order to avoid capture by the Inquisition.

"You will do what needs to be done," Jocelynn insisted. "So, as soon as the wedding ends, you do the things. You take everyone away."

"After the wedding," Devlin said, sounding even more uncertain as he listened to Jocelynn’s muddled instructions.

"Before the feast is done," Jocelynn said, and the urgency in her voice pushed past the wine but landed unevenly, the words coming out too fast and slightly tangled. "It has to be before the feast... Before everything, because once it starts, they won’t be able to... The things that are coming, Devlin, they aren’t things we can fight. Not with big sticks, I mean with swords. Not with..."

She trailed off, aware that she was losing the thread. The careful argument she’d constructed was unraveling in the warm haze of the wine that seemed to be hitting her even harder now that she’d stopped drinking. She pressed her palm against her forehead and tried again.

"You need to get them out. Promise me," she said. "Albyn can help on the day. He’ll follow your orders. Talk to him. But you need to start making arrangements now, quietly, so that when the time comes..."

"My lady," Devlin said, his voice steady and careful in the way it got when he was choosing not to argue with his wife at home. He might be the captain of his ship, but he knew very well whose hand held the tiller.

"We came here to protect you," Devlin said, even though that wasn’t entirely true. They’d come for a number of reasons, including the chance to become knights in Lothian March. But Devlin’s interest in being a knight in Lothian had stopped and started with his desire to serve Lady Ashlynn, and now, her sister. He wasn’t about to run away from that responsibility.