The Tale of Mally Biddle (17 page)

Lita nodded.

“That’s why he only likes
one
servant cleaning his study at a time. He can prod and pressure and threaten us for information for hours and at the same time complain about our poor cleaning techniques. Last time it was poor Hattie. She’s been a nervous wreck.”

Mally had noticed that Hattie had seemed paler and jumpier than usual.

“I would happily spend the afternoon with Evelyn instead of Molick,” said Lita ruefully before rising from the bench and heading to the door.

Halfway down the table, Nanette caught Mally’s eye. Nanette smiled slightly and inclined her head.

Evelyn was just as temperamental as Mally had expected. Ma
lly had wanted to stop by the Lone Candle to see Galen after visiting Sam, but with Evelyn huffing and muttering impatiently while Mally rubbed Sam’s nose, she wasn’t about to bring it up.

It was when Evelyn was arguing about the prices of wool with a seamstress at the market that Mally spotted him. A knight Mally didn’t know by name was watching her. Mally quickly averted her eyes, but cut another glance at him discreetly. He leaned against a display of brooms, some forty feet from her, his arms crossed, his face expressionless, but very clearly
staring
at her.

Beside Mally’s elbow Evelyn seemed to have won her ha
ggling, and without ado, pushed the load of wool into Mally’s arms. Evelyn then made her way to the next stand, leaving Mally to politely nod to the scowling seamstress.

As they shopped, the knight followed them. He always kept his distance, but always his eyes were on Mally. Why in the name of Lenzar was he following
her
? Mally’s mind was a blur of panic, full of explanations all more frightening and ridiculous than the next. She had never heard of a knight behaving so strangely. They intimidated, but this was much more than that. He was sending a message. Was Molick behind this? Did he suspect her of something? The rebels? Mally’s face paled dramatically and she felt cold sweat on her back. But there was no reason for Molick or this knight to think that. The knight wasn’t getting close enough to overhear any quiet conversations. Had Molick heard of her asking questions about the royal family? Mally had thought she had been discreet … that anything the servants discussed wouldn’t reach the ears of the court … but how could she be sure?

Mally felt her stomach drop—what if she was followed when Ivan or Galen wanted another meeting? Would the knight overhear them then? She had to warn them that it wasn’t safe—that she was being watched. Perhaps, if she fooled this knight, then Molick would decide she was unimportant and she would be ignored once again? If she was going to be successful at that, then Galen and Ivan must be told to lay low until it was safer. But how was she to get such a message to them without the knight tagging along?

She spent all day planning. Any excursion during the day would be difficult to manage. She didn’t have an excuse—she had already seen Sam. And the knight at the gate would see her leave the castle. So instead, she’d leave after dinner—after Lita and Ge
rda had gone to sleep and after the customers at the Lone Candle had left or retired to their rooms. But that still didn’t help her pass the guard without detection. And that wasn’t her only concern. She would be trying to leave after curfew—an act that sent people to the dungeons.

It was the day after her discovery of the knight who was watching her, and two after her attack. The bruises to her side were just as black and blue, causing her to move slowly and carefully, but as they were hidden under her shirt, they didn’t receive any stares. Her cheek still sported an ugly bruise and her shoulder still required a bandage.

Mally was glad beyond relief that she hadn’t run into Bayard since that night. Perhaps he was now satisfied? Lita and Christ
opher were glued to her wherever she went but Mally didn’t mind … until it interfered with her plans of leaving the castle. She couldn’t possibly ask Lita or Christopher if there was a passage that led into the city without questions. And if they thought that all Mally wanted was to sneak more time with Sam, then they would insist upon accompanying her. She had considered telling Lita why she had been hired into the castle in the first place. Lita wouldn’t tell anyone, Mally knew that. But she had promised Galen and Ivan that she would keep their secret.

“You seem preoccupied,” said Christopher cheerfully.

Mally and Lita both looked at him in surprise, unsure who he had been addressing, for both of them had been silent—Lita unnaturally so. Suddenly realizing that Lita hadn’t said anything but a simple greeting as they had dressed, Mally frowned at her curiously.

She was paler this morning. Her gaze was serious and she looked as if something was on her mind.

“Was Molick difficult?” Mally asked quietly as they entered the Servants’ Chamber for breakfast.

“Molick’s always difficult,” Lita said shortly. And she didn’t say anything else as they ate.

Lita’s mood did not improve. The quieter she became, the su
rlier her face. Mally and Christopher finally stopped prodding her about what was wrong or trying to lift her mood, for Lita’s frown would only deepen. Mally wondered if it was something
she
had done, but that seemed stupid. She hadn’t said or done anything that would upset Lita. Most likely it was something that had transpired during cleaning Molick’s sitting room, and Lita would talk about that when she was ready. And anyway, Mally had her own problem to deal with.

Around noon, Mally found her answer. She was being shuttled down to the Servants’ Chamber for lunch, though she wasn’t r
emotely hungry. She had turned just as moody and quiet as Lita—she had failed repeatedly to find any servant passage out of the castle. Christopher looked more than happy to be leading the way to the Servants’ Chamber. Mally couldn’t blame him for wanting to get as far from their bad moods as possible.

They entered the Great Hall where Mally had had her disa
strous encounter with Bayard. She walked slowly, purposefully lagging behind Christopher and Lita.

“Ouch!”

Mally started and stumbled to a halt. She took a few quick strides to the front doors and swung them open. On the other side was little Sammy McGriff, struggling to carry one too many pails and shovels. Mally hurried down the front steps and grabbed a shovel that had fallen to the ground.

“Thanks,” Sammy panted.

“Mally?”

Mally turned and saw Lita hovering in the doorway. She must have heard Sammy’s exclamation and had followed Mally.

“Go ahead,” said Mally, taking another shovel from Sammy. “I’ll help Sammy put these away and be right in.” And before Lita could say anything, Mally had spun on her heel, but not before she had seen Lita’s face twist sourly.

“Thanks,” Sammy repeated, huffing as he walked beside her.

“No problem,” said Mally smiling. Sammy did look very much like Rosa. Their dimples were identical.

Mally and Sammy walked to the large shed where Jake kept his tools. Once all the pails and shovels had been put away, Sammy turned to her and smiled widely.

“Want a walk?” he asked.

Mally agreed. It would be nice to be out of the castle a little longer. They left the shed, heading in the direction of one of the rose gardens. Heavy clouds covered the sky. It had been dreary for days.

“You said you have a horse?” Sammy chirped suddenly.

“Yes,” said Mally smiling. She remembered mentioning Sam in front of Rosa. “His name’s Sam.”

“That’s my name!” Sammy exclaimed. “Sort of. And I heard that he’s huge!”

“He’s pretty big,” Mally admitted. They entered one of the n
umerous rose gardens. Its center was taken up by a large group of statues. Seven angels, their winds fanning out behind them, half shielded, half concealed an angel in the center. Her arms and face were not raised like the others, but focused downward.

“I wish I could see him,” said Sammy. From his pocket, he pulled out a sticky cake, cut like a square with sliced apples on top. Mally recognized it immediately.

“Where did you get that?” she asked, staring at the apple square.

His cheeks flushed.

“Archie made it.”

“No he didn’t. That came from the Sticky Finger Bakery. That’s an apple square.”

Sammy looked highly uncomfortable.

“How did you get that?” Mally pressed.

“Please don’t tell Mom,” pleaded Sammy. “I’m not supposed to go into the city alone.”

“I won’t if you tell me how you got past the guard without b
eing seen.”

Sammy’s face broke into a relieved grin.

“There’s a hidden tunnel under a loose floorboard in the back of the cellar,” he explained in a rush. “It’s the third board to the right next to the barrels of gooseberry wine. It leads to a worn down shed outside the castle’s walls.”

“Does anyone else know about it?” Mally asked, her heart ra
cing beneath her ribs.

“I don’t know,” Sammy admitted, shrugging his shoulders. “Probably Archie—he’s been here forever. I found out about it when I was hiding from Gladys. I had a cold and she wanted to give me her tonic.” He pulled a face. “I was hiding behind the ba
rrels and noticed that one of the boards wasn’t laying flat. I pulled on it and there was a tunnel!” He grinned widely before his smile faltered. “You won’t tell Mom, will you?”

“No, Sammy, I won’t,” Mally promised. “We should get back—it’s starting to rain.”

Mally’s excitement glowed in her chest for the rest of the day. She had found her way into the city.

18
Return to the Candle

That night, Mally lay awake in bed, listening to the sounds of sleep coming from the two beds beside hers. Her heart pounded against her chest so loudly she feared it would wake Lita and Ge
rda. What she was planning was completely crazy. Anxious as she was to warn Ivan and Galen, she knew going to them after curfew was foolish in the extreme. But the Lone Candle had already been searched and no matter what Galen had said about it being random, Molick did not seem like a random man to Mally. He didn’t have the other servants being followed. No, he was having
Mally
followed. He had a reason for this. He was guessing Mally would lead him to something or someone and Mally would
not
let that happen. She would not help Molick catch the rebels. She had to warn them.

Rain splattered against the small window. Turning her head on her pillow to stare out into the inky blackness, Mally hoped that it wasn’t raining as heavily as it sounded. She didn’t like the idea of running. Her side hurt even at a quick walk, and rain would ce
rtainly not improve the trip.

Once she was sure that Lita and Gerda were truly asleep, Mally slid off the bed, dressed, and crept out of the room. She had never been through the castle after everyone had gone to bed. The dar
kness made her skin crawl. She didn’t dare light a candle. Praying that she wouldn’t run into a knight doing a nightly round, Mally rushed through the corridors as silently as a ghost, her eyes adjusting to the gloom. She didn’t know what she would do if she ran into Bayard. Thankfully, she didn’t meet anyone and was soon tiptoeing across the deserted kitchen. Feeling it was now safe to risk a flame, she lit one of the candles on the table. Glancing over her shoulder, she inched open the door she had seen Rosa disappear through to fetch Archie mead on numerous occasions. It creaked and squeaked and Mally clenched her teeth painfully as the noise rang in her ears.

She took the steps two at a time, holding her candle out before her, and rushed past giant barrels of wine piled ten feet high, past racks of cheese the size of wagon wheels, past hanging hams and salamis until she had reached the back of the cellar. A stained and torn sign was nailed to a wooden post next to a large group of black barrels. Mally squinted at the neat, loopy script with her ca
ndle’s light and read: Gooseberry Wine. She looked down and inspected the floor. Three boards to the right—she crouched down and dug her fingernails into a thin crack between one board and another. It moved! Biting her lip, she carefully slid the board out of place, revealing a few stone steps; the rest disappeared in the darkness below. Mally hastily swung her legs through the opening and walked down the steps, sliding the board back over her head as she went.

It wasn’t a long descent. She stepped away from the stairs and looked down the tunnel, or at least tried. The brilliant light of her candle hurt her eyes in the dense darkness. Breathing in a shaky breath, holding her candle aloft, she slowly started down the tu
nnel.

She wasn’t sure how long she walked, but it couldn’t have been too long, for when she came across a set of worn stairs her candle hadn’t burned down very low. Mally walked up the stairs and at the top found a dead-end. What looked like a wooden door stood before her. Carefully, she pushed the door open.

She stepped into a very small, very old shed. A thick layer of dust covered everything, and rusty shovels, axes, and nails littered the walls and floor. Knowing that her candle would be useless in the rain, she blew it out and set it beside the door. She exited the shed, pulling her hood over her head. She appeared to be right outside the castle’s walls; the shed was so tiny and run down that it seemed to disappear in the nasty brambles and scraggly bushes that hid it from view.

Nervously, Mally looked up at the wall, terrified of seeing a knight standing on patrol above her head. But no one was there. Jerking her hood farther over her head, she sprinted away from the shed down a cobbled street. It was raining just as heavily as she had feared and by the time Mally had reached the road that she knew led to Bob’s stable, she felt like she had swum rather than run. Her cloak was heavy and clumsy and her feet squelched in her shoes. Splashing her way, she continued on, passing the road to the stable. She kept to the sides of buildings, always looking in both directions like a petrified rabbit. The city was so empty and silent that Mally felt like the only living person.

She ran on, forced to stare at her feet while awkwardly holding her hood over her face. Panting, her side stinging, she stopped and stared about her. She should have been at the Candle by now. Mally stared wildly down the street she had come down before swiveling around and staring down another. Trying to keep the panic out of her throat, she attempted to read the sign of the building she stood before but in the dark, she couldn’t make it out. Swallowing with difficulty, Mally started to walk again. Her eyes were as large as an owl’s as she tried to see through the rain anything that she recognized.

Feeling her resolve snap like a twig, Mally’s panic overcame her and she ran at full speed. She ran blindly, turning down one road and then taking a sharp turn down another. She splashed through the streets of Bosc without any sense of direction. But her side seized up and she stumbled to a sliding halt, collapsing on a barrel outside a shop. Gulping down great gasps of air, Mally looked up and blinked in surprise. There it was! The Lone Candle! Halfway down the street! She had found it! Jubilant and relieved beyond measure, Mally made to walk around the giant barrel but then the air in her lungs disappeared. A lantern bobbed in the di
stance, heading toward her. Quick as a flash, she dived behind the barrel, peering around its side. Three soggy knights walked toward her and, without glancing her way, continued straight on past. She waited until the light from their lantern dwindled to a tiny speck before rushing to the Candle’s door like a criminal to her shelter.

Wheezing and gasping from the pain in her side, Mally poun
ded on the wooden door, desperate to be out of the rain and out of the open. She felt horribly exposed. No music issued from inside nor any voices. No light spilled out on the road from the large window to the right. She knocked louder and pulled on the gold chain beside the door frantically. From somewhere inside the inn, she heard a bell ring faintly.

Had she waited too long to depart from the castle? Maybe he was in bed. Maybe no one dared open their doors after curfew for fear of what danger and trouble that would bring. She raised her fist to knock again and a piece of wood covering an eyehole slid away.

“Mally?”

She recognized his eyes just as much as his voice.

“Can I come in?” she whispered, pressing herself up against the door. “I need to speak to you.”

Galen’s eyes disappeared and in seconds the door had opened and Mally nearly tumbled inside, dripping water all over the floor.

“Galen? Who is it?”

Olive’s voice came from somewhere upstairs, strained and nervous.

“No one, Mother,” Galen replied, ushering Mally through the door behind the bar. “The sign was hitting the wall again.”

“I thought I heard the bell ring.”

“Really? I didn’t.”

“Ah, well. The rain must be playing tricks on me. Goodnight, Galen.”

“Goodnight, Mother.” Galen closed the door behind the bar. Mally stood in a kitchen. It wasn’t as large as Archie’s but it got the job done. Large black pots sat beside a soapy washtub. Galen was staring at her in deep worry. “What happened? Why are you here?” He stepped closer to her and frowned slightly. “What happened?” he repeated.

Unlike the dining area and bar, the kitchen was well lit. Mally quickly turned her face away from him, wishing the bruise on her cheek was gone.

“What happened?” Galen demanded in a fiercer voice.

Mally swallowed.

“I had a … confrontation with Bayard.”

For a moment, Galen looked like stone.

“When?” he bit out.

“Two days ago,” said Mally. Relieved that he wasn’t yelling, she added quickly, “But nothing’s happened since then. I haven’t even seen him. Please don’t tell Ivan.”

“
Tell Ivan?
” Galen suddenly exploded making Mally back away in alarm. “Why didn’t you come to me when it happened?”

“It was at night,” said Mally, startled.

“And this isn’t?” Galen asked, pointing at a window. “Do you realize how dangerous entering the city is at
night
?”

“I came here to warn you!” Mally fumed heatedly. She was risking her life and this was how he thanked her?

Galen froze and stared at Mally.

“Warn me about what?” he asked quietly.

“A knight has been following me. I noticed him yesterday when I was in the city running errands. The day before that I was called to Molick’s sitting room.”

Galen’s eyes widened and his cheeks turned the color of sour milk. He sat down quickly at a large table.

“He asked me questions about the rebels, but they were pretty general—ones he asks everyone,” Mally continued, taking a seat opposite him. “But when I saw the knight, I got worried. I think Molick found me suspicious. I wanted to warn you to keep your distance from me for a while.”

Galen blinked and said so flatly that Mally nearly laughed, “And tonight doesn’t count?” He rubbed his chin distractedly. “I’ll tell Ivan. You couldn’t have sent a letter?”

Mally opened her mouth like a fish. How stupid. Of course she could have sent a letter. She could have penned it to discreetly share her fears of being followed among lines of silly gossip.

Galen sighed heavily and rubbed his eyes.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

Mally nodded, embarrassed. Sitting in the warmth of the kitc
hen with Galen, rushing out to warn him suddenly seemed so ridiculous. She felt hot around the collar and just wanted to return to the castle.

“I mean your bruise,” said Galen.

“Yes, I’m much better. Gladys—she saw to my bruises and cut—”

“Cut?” Galen repeated, once again looking shocked and angry. “
He cut you?
”

“No. I fell against a candle stand.”

Galen looked momentarily speechless. Mally fidgeted slightly in her chair.

“Like I said, I haven’t seen him since then. I would have come earlier, but I had to find a way out of the castle.”

Galen frowned.

“How did you leave the castle without the guard seeing you?”

“The servant passages.” And when Galen continued to look confused, she remembered Meriyal’s order to keep them secret. But she brushed this away. Galen wouldn’t spread this bit of information. “There are secret passages that only the servants use. Molick is just as obsessed with them as he is with the rebels. I had to find one that led out of the castle. I—” Mally looked at her hands, now feeling like a complete idiot for such a risky excursion. “I just wanted to warn you,” she muttered

Galen looked startled for a second before a very small smile appeared on his face and leaning forward slightly, he said, “Thank you.”

***

Nearly two hours later, Mally was clambering back out of the tunnel. She shook her cloak, showering water droplets all over the cellar floor. Mally flung back her soggy hood and hurried back up to the kitchen. There she blew out her candle and replaced it on the table. It was half burned, its wick obviously lower than the rest. She hoped that Rosa and Archie wouldn’t pay it any mind or a
ssume they had left it burning by accident. A few minutes later she was rushing along a dark corridor, her wet skirt swishing heavily about her ankles. There was a servant’s passageway at the end that would lead her to the third floor.

“Miss Biddle?”

Mally gasped and spun around. Sir Anon stepped out from behind a towering vase. In his hand he held a lit candle. How could she have not seen the light? She must have been so focused on reaching the servant passage that she had walked right past him.

“Sir Anon,” said Mally in surprise. “I didn’t see you there.” She hoped her smile covered her nervousness.

He stepped closer, his eyes sweeping over her.

“What are you doing in the corridors at this hour?”

Mally’s mouth went dry.

“I couldn’t sleep,” she invented. “I took a walk.”

“In the rain?” he asked, staring at her dripping cloak.

“Yes—in the rose garden. Rain calms me,” Mally answered, though she didn’t feel remotely calm and she doubted that she looked it. “I did it all the time back home,” she added.

“You used to live?”

“In Bligh—Halspeare.” Mally hoped her fumble would go u
nnoticed.

“Halspeare. Why did you decide to leave it?” Sir Anon asked curiously.

Mally thought that this conversation was heading down an odd road. Did he no longer care why she had been in the rain? Or if she was telling the truth about staying inside the castle’s walls?

“Halspeare is wonderful, but I wanted a change of scenery,” Mally invented. She fervently hoped that the city could be called wonderful, as she had never stepped foot there. “I’d never been to Bosc or the castle.”