“We don’t have to,” Marcus said. “We continue with our plan. If we can reach La Paix before the others leave, we can join them when they go to Coreé.”
“I’ll be recognized,” Devin said.
“Not necessarily,” Marcus replied. “You have a good start at a full beard: you’ve lost at least two stone in weight and in those clothes I doubt your father would recognize you.”
“And who will kill Forneaux?” Devin asked, thinking of Angelique’s insistence that she wanted to murder the man herself.
“I believe we will have several contenders standing in line,” Marcus muttered. “Don’t worry about that now. Are you hungry at all?”
Devin shook his head and regretted it.
Marcus handed him a flask. “Drink some water and try to sleep then.”
Devin could just make out his bodyguard’s profile as Marcus kept watch, his pistol in his lap. When they’d camped here before, he’d trusted Marcus, even confided in him. Last night, he’d been shot by his own bodyguard and almost killed, but Marcus didn’t appear to have changed. He had assumed his previous position as though he expected Devin to accept him also. And yet Devin would always see the muzzle of Marcus’ pistol aimed at his head and feel the sharp burn of that bullet, the instant before he passed out.
Devin dreamed of troops marching in Independence Square, his father standing on the steps of the Chancellor’s residence to view them, surrounded by his bodyguards. Devin stood beside him, as did his brothers and his mother. The pound of their horses’ hooves hurt Devin’s head as they shook the ground. They never missed a step, one hoof after the other, as though the horses had been trained to march in perfect time, but the soldiers’ rifles were aimed at the Chancellor and his family.
A hand descended over Devin’s mouth, waking him abruptly and yanking him backwards. He struggled, fighting imprisonment and nausea, as rough cloth was pulled over his head and body.
“Be still,” Marcus hissed in his ear.
Devin realized the pounding hooves were not a dream but horses passing on the road above them, at least one squad of soldiers, maybe more. Faint light passed through the coarse fabric of the blanket Marcus had hidden them under. The fabric was a sullen gray like the stone that hid them. It would have concealed them from a casual glance but the men passing above them never halted. The hooves and jingling bridles faded off into the distance, leaving Devin chilled and shaking.
Marcus waited a long time before he spoke. He finally pulled the blanket down and dropped it in a heap beside him. “Those may have been your father’s men, but I have no way of knowing. They could as easily be some secret squad of Forneaux’s sent out to track me down.”
“Why would my father deploy a small army to retrieve me?” Devin asked.
Marcus raised his eyebrows. “Because with the political situation so volatile, I’m sure he wants you safely home.”
“Is Coreé safe?” Devin asked. “It doesn’t seem very secure for my father right now.”
Marcus shrugged. “Perhaps Emile told us what he wanted us to hear. The government may be more stable than you think. Your father has a host of supporters. There is very little that Forneaux could present that would discredit him.”
“And yet Forneaux feels he has an angle. He’d hoped to add Gaspard’s and my deaths to the list of offenses against the provincials but we’ve managed to avoid falling into his traps.”
“Pray it continues,” Marcus said.
“Where is Emile’s body?” Devin asked after a minute.
“At the bottom of the harbor along with his men. I didn’t have time to hide them anywhere else. I needed to get back to make sure you were all right.”
Devin raised his eyebrows. “So you weren’t sure, after all.”
“Sure of what?” Marcus asked brusquely, but the color had begun to rise in his face.
“Sure that I was still alive,” Devin answered.
“I never miss,” Marcus replied. “I’m an expert marksman.”
Devin didn’t doubt it. “Then what was the hurry?” he asked.
“I didn’t want you to bleed to death,” Marcus answered gruffly. He busied himself with rearranging his pack.
“How did you kill them?” Devin asked after a minute.
“Emile and his crew?” Marcus cocked his head, his voice formal but taunting. “That’s not something I’d have expected you to ask, Monsieur Roché.” He looked away, sharpening his knife against a stone. “I drugged their beer in the Wind and Water Tavern and when they staggered out along the dock, I cut their throats one by one and let them drop into the water. I weighted them down with chains so they wouldn’t float to the surface.”
Devin turned his head away. He’d wanted to know, but now that he did, the details only emphasized how brutal Marcus could be when he had to. But then when he thought of the smoldering Chronicles, his fists clenched and he thought that perhaps he could have pushed them into the harbor himself.
Marcus changed the subject. “We’ll stay here for today. They’ve already passed by this area so I think we are safe for the time being. You need a day to rest anyway. How is your head?”
“Better than yesterday,” Devin answered, although any movement still made his head throb.
“Stay quiet for today,” Marcus suggested, pulling cheese and sausage from his pack. “You didn’t happen to bring another one of those little crosses that would grant us access to the tunnels, did you?”
Devin fumbled with his jacket, trying to keep his head still. “Actually, I did!” he said, withdrawing a cross that was still attached to the lining. “I sewed it into the seam because I thought there was some chance we might be separated.”
Marcus beamed. “Excellent! Leave it right where it is. You don’t want to risk losing it. Now all we have to do is find a church.”
“I don’t believe there is even a town close by,” Devin answered. “At least I didn’t see any on our way through here the last time.”
Marcus stretched his legs out in front of him. “I believe you’re right. The closest church is in Calais and we’re not going back there.”
“So, we’ll walk until we find another,” Devin said. “By tomorrow I’ll feel more like myself.” He closed his eyes against the swirling patterns the leaves made and hoped that tomorrow would be better.
“I thought I might try to catch a fish for dinner,” Marcus offered. “Will you be all right alone if I leave for a few minutes? I’ll stay within hearing distance.”
Devin opened one eye. “Go ahead. There is nothing much happening here.”
Marcus threw him the pouch with the bread and sausage. “If you are hungry before I come back, you can eat this then. I think you’d prefer it to raw fish. I’ll find a fish for myself and be back shortly.” He laid a pistol on the rock beside Devin. “Keep that close at hand while I’m gone.”
Devin’s head still throbbed but he hadn’t admitted that to Marcus. There was no way out of the present situation except to walk back to La Paix and he would do it, whether his head hurt or not. The journey would take longer this time,