Mindless

Chapter 14 Haëgre

As the door closes behind the captain, Haëgre feels that familiar welling of fear which leads to hysteria. A small chuckle slips through, and Jonah looks at him curiously. Haëgre waves him off. He steps back from the stubborn table leg.

They had come through so much for it to end so easily. He would meet the captain in the morning. They would talk with the queen.

"Watch the bar," he tells Jonah and follows the captain outside.

From his threshold, he can see Fahlan has already gathered his guards. The easing of their burden has been instantaneous. Where before they had been serious, nearly to the point of pain, now they mill around the captain, talking orders like chastised children listening for their chores. The captain departs, and men start to break off, waving to the outside villagers as they go where bidden.

Haëgre passes by the crowd of guards. Cornwall smiles and nods to him, then departs. The innkeeper continues passed without responding. He doesn't know where he's going, but he walks without hesitation.

He needs a second, someone else to know. His first thought is Tomlin. The baker feels this like he does. He thinks he would be at peace with finally knowing, but even as he thinks so, he knows Tomlin would despair the responsibility of it.

Suddenly, Haëgre realizes he's afraid of something in particular. So many lies have been told. So much trust broken. So much pain wrought. He doesn't believe this will come to a peaceful end. A cold hand reaches up to clutch his heart. He cannot breathe. He doesn't believe he'll be returning to the inn.

Who could prevail when he was gone?

He must keep moving.

Haëgre stops in front of a pine door. He knocks. After a moment, he knocks again.

"Haëgre?"

The innkeeper turns.

Nahran stands on the opposite side of Haëgre from his own door. He carries a loaf, wrapped in a towel to hold the heat, and peers cautiously at him.

"Might we speak?" Haëgre asks, motioning towards the door.

"Of course," he answers, though his tone is less than inviting. Nahran steps around Haëgre, farther than he needs to in order to get around him, and lets them both inside. He takes the loaf to the table and tears off two chunks. Then he goes to the cabinet and pulls out cheese. He motions for Haëgre to take a seat at the table, and, when he sits, Nahran places the food in front of him, keeping one of the chunks for himself.

"So," Nahran begins, "can't imagine what might have brought our great protector to my door."

Haëgre flushes but accepts the sally. Nahran had been one of them when they first came here. He had walked with them, starved with them, been afraid with them. "You heard the traitor has been named?"

"I heard what everyone heard—that he'd been identified."

"She. The queen's maiden."

Nahran's brows raise. He shifts uncomfortably in his seat. "The child? What proof?"

"The king's ring was taken by his killer," Haëgre answers calmly. "She has it."

"That's it?" The other man shows his disbelief. "She's a child—utterly without power. What could she have gained?"

None among them held illusions that it had been easy for him to leave his people. To come to them and admit his retreat. In the beginning, for some, there had been a kind of gratitude for the man. He had saved them from the same fate—he had kept them free from chains and the half death they saw everywhere they went.