Chapter 487 A Matter of Bottles and Springs

Chapter 486: A Matter of Bottles and Springs

"Ye needn’t tell us any o’ that. Ye know we’ll stand by ye," Baldwin said to Jim.

Ursula nodded. "Exactly so. Though I must say, it ain’t jus’ me wot thinks them nobles is different from the ones we’re used ter, is it? I never thought the princess clever when I saw ’er yesterday, but..."

"Ye ain’t good at readin’ people," Jim told Ursula. "The princess is clever."

"Very," Baldwin added. "An’ quite observant besides, which makes me wonder, after all ye told us o’ yer conversation earlier, Jim, whether she mightn’t be of use ter our cause."

Ursula shook her head at once.

"I don’t agree. She’s dangerous. We don’t know fer certain she’s fer us yet."

"But she ain’t against us," Jim said. "An’ from wot she told me earlier, no soul in ’er position oughter ’ave witnessed such things. She’s a princess, ain’t she? Yet she spoke of ’unger an’ cold like one wot’d lived it."

"Perhaps it’s time we involved ourselves again wiv the other territories," Baldwin said, with a slow nod. "We know nothin’ o’ the nobles save wot little rumour we’ve gathered. That’s where they ’old the upper ’and. They know more o’ us than we do o’ them."

"Aye? ’Ow so?" Ursula asked. "We know o’ them too. An’ Abel went ter the other territories ter gather us word, an’ see if there be any wot align wiv our cause."

"True enough," Baldwin said. "But ye’re mistaken, Ursula. Abel ain’t back yet, fer one. An’ fer two, only when ’e comes can we ’ave wot word ’e carries." He paused. "Well, that makes the two o’ them one, since they speak ter the same matter. But the trouble remains that, even wiv Abel’s word, them nobles still ’old the upper ’and."

"Is it on account o’ the spring?" Jim asked.

"The spring, an’ somefin’ else besides," Baldwin said, and turned to Ursula. "We ’adn’t the time ter clear off the bottles afore them nobles began cleanin’, did we?"

Ursula’s eyes widened. Then she shook her head.

"Obadiah did say no one paid it much mind while ’e were workin’," she said. "But ’e’d seen a bottle in one Marquess’s ’and, turnin’ it over like it were a curiosity."

"Ye think they know?" Jim asked.

"Not yet, perhaps. But they’ll suspect. They ain’t fools, any o’ them, whatever else may be said. I’m curious ter learn who shall discover the truth first," Baldwin replied.

"I’m not curious in the least," Ursula admitted. "It could land us in trouble, same as the spring, if it were found. An’ we’ve trouble enough already, ’ave we not?"

"That brings me ter somefin’," Jim said. "’Is Grace the Duke o’ Valenridge, when ’e coughed earlier..."

"I suspected ’e didn’t wish certain others ter learn o’ the spring," Baldwin finished.

"Perhaps that mouse-faced marquess," Ursula said. "’E’s got a great mouth on ’im, an’ I don’t like ’im one bit."

"Nor I," Jim added. "An’ now I understand why ’is Grace saw ter it that only them wot work wiv ’im should furnish the water ter the rest. ’E’s keepin’ the spring secret too, ain’t ’e? Though why a stranger should trouble ’imself over our secret, I can’t rightly say."

Baldwin nodded. "That’s a question worth the askin’. I suspect we’ll ’ave our answer in time."

"While the two o’ ye fret over this," Ursula said, folding her arms the tighter, "I’m more troubled by ’ow they mean ter aid the town in so few days. ’Er ’Ighness did say they’d begin tomorrow, did she not? Thirteen days, an’ the fields underwater, an’ not a roof ter spare."

"She did," Jim said. "Which brings us ter the other matter: ’ow do we tell the townsfolk, an’ let them nobles work? There’s some in this town wot’d sooner pelt ’em wiv potatoes than let ’em near a construction site."

"We needn’t do anyfin’," Baldwin said, rocking once more in his chair. "Let ’er ’Ighness an’ the nobles do it all themselves. If they’re sincere, it’ll show. If they ain’t, that’ll show too. But I don’t believe she’s not got somefin’ up ’er sleeve."

---

While the heads of the town conferred in Baldwin’s home, Lyria walked with Duke Valenridge.

She had ensured he should be unable to elude her after the meeting, requesting a walk with him alone. The evening air had turned cool, and the lanterns of Gallowshill had dwindled to a scattering of faint, wavering lights behind them, so that the path ahead lay mostly in shadow and moonlight.

Had His Grace been reluctant? He had. A man who had spent the whole of the evening walking at a careful distance from her was not a man eager for private conversation. But there was no possibility of his refusing her outright, not without making of his avoidance a thing too plain to be borne, and so he had obliged.

They had been walking quietly for some while, no word passing between them, the only sounds the soft fall of their steps upon the earth.

Lyria had turned over a dozen openings in her mind, and rejected each, for none seemed fit to bridge the strange distance that had grown between them since that afternoon.

And she quite disliked the distance between them. Hence why she had requested he go for a walk with her.

A bird hosted in the distance and as though that was all the signal she required, she turned to him.

"W-will you s-show m-me where the s-spring is, Your G-Grace?" she asked. "I c-confess I have n-never s-seen one."

Duke Valenridge regarded me a moment before giving a quiet nod, and then, without another word, he turned upon his heel.

"We are proceeding in the wrong direction," he told me, and set off along the opposite path.

I nodded and followed after him.

He led me past a dwelling that had been very nearly destroyed. Its ceiling had collapsed inward, leaving broken beams scattered across what had once been a floor, while what remained of its doors hung crookedly upon their hinges, like the limbs of some creature long since abandoned. The sight caused me to slacken my steps, and as we went on, I began to remark that a great many of the dwellings in this quarter stood in a like condition.