Lark pulled away. Cerise took her hand. "Shoulders back. Look at the house. You own this house and this land. Walk like you mean it."
Lark straightened her spine.
"That's it. Show no weakness." Cerise gripped her hand, and they stepped onto the dock in unison.
William picked up their bags and followed. Richard strode next to him on long legs. He walked with a light step and good balance. A sword fighter, William decided.
"My name is Richard Mar. A pleasure to make your acquaintance."
Like someone had plucked the man out of the Weird and dropped him into the Edge, with all his manners intact. Except bluebloods didn't wear black jeans.
William raised his chin a slight fraction, channeling Declan. "William Sandine."
"Lord Sandine?" Richard asked.
Go figure. He must be doing better than he thought with his disguise. "Occasionally. When it suits me."
"I hate to pry, but how did you and Cerise meet?"
"Something tells me you love to pry."
Richard permitted himself a small spare smile.
Cerise turned around. "We got stranded together coming in from the Broken. He's here to hunt the Hand."
Richard's expression remained polite but impassive. "Oh?"
"He saved Urow," she said.
No change. "What happened?"
"The Hand shot him with a copper harpoon."
A flicker of fury shot through Richard's eyes. William filed it away. The man had a temper.
"I see," Richard said. "So you're our guest and ally, then, Lord Sandine?"
"Just William will do, and yes."
"Welcome to the Rathole. A word of caution, William. If you betray us, we will murder you."
Ha! "I'll take it under advisement."
"A couple of days in our company and you may view it as the superior option." Richard regarded him with his dark eyes and turned to Cerise. "The papers?"
"I have them."
An adolescent boy came riding down the road, leading three horses.
Cerise wrinkled her nose. "What are the horses for? We're just going to the house to wash."
"You don't have the time," Richard said.
"I'm covered in mud and blood."
"It will have to wait, cousin. Dobe moved the court date."
Cerise blinked a couple of times. "How much time do we have?"
Richard glanced at his wrist. He wore a G-Shock, a durable plastic watch. William had bought one for himself in the Broken. The watch didn't look too good, but it was shockproof and waterproof and it was precise. For all of his blueblood airs, Richard was practical, and Mars made frequent trips to the Broken.
"Fifty-two minutes," Richard said.
Cerise raised her head to the sky and swore.
WILLIAM had seen some piece-of-shit towns in his lifetime, but Angel Roost took the cake. It consisted of a long muddy street, flanked by about a dozen houses and terminating in what Cerise kindly termed "a square," a clearing about the size of a hockey field. On one side of the clearing sat a two-story structure with the sign HOUSE OF WORSHIP. On the other side rose a long rectangular box of a building, put together with giant cypress logs and graced with an even bigger sign that read HOUSE OF COURT. Its barn-style doors stood wide open and a steady stream of people made their way inside.
"This is the town?" William murmured to Cerise.
"The county seat," she said.
He blinked.
"We decided we didn't want Sicktree telling us what to do, so we formed our own county. Our own judge, militia, and everything."
William pretended to look around.
"What are you looking for?" Cerise asked.
"The one horse that all of you share."
She snickered like a kid. William preened. She thought he was funny.
Richard was frowning.
"He's implying this is a one-horse town," Cerise told him.
Richard raised his eyes to the sky briefly.
"Are you appealing to your grandparents as well?" William asked.
Richard sighed. "To my dead father, actually. He sees it fit to put me through all sorts of foolishness lately."
They dismounted before the courthouse, tied their horses to the rail, and joined the crowd filtering into the building. Dozens of scents swirled in the wind, assaulting William's nose. His ears caught bits and pieces of broken conversations. People edged too close to him, trying to make it through the doors.
A nervous giddiness squirmed through him. Crowds were dangerous and exciting, and usually he made it a point to stay away from them.
Keep a lid on it, he told himself. He had to get through this court thing, and then he'd be home free.
"We're a bit provincial. Nothing ever happens here," Richard said. "A court hearing is a big event." He smiled.
Cerise smiled back.
"Did I miss a joke?" William asked.
"We're going into battle smiling," Richard said.
"To show that we aren't worried," Cerise added. "The Mire is watching and here reputation is everything."
William leaned to her. She smelled like mud, but he caught a mere whiff of her real scent underneath and it made him want her. "Are you worried?"
"If I didn't have to smile, I'd be pulling my hair out with both hands," she said softly.
"Don't. You have pretty hair, and it will take a long time to grow back."
Her eyes sparkled, and she bit her lip, obviously trying not to laugh.
Inside the air proved colder than on the street. A fresh pine scent floated on the draft. Several pine saplings grew from barrels set in the corners. Opaque lamps hung from the ceiling on long chains. As they made their way through the crowded aisle, the lights came on in yellow electric glory.
William looked at Cerise.
"We have a power plant," she said. "It runs on peat."
This had to be some sort of human joke he didn't get.
She looked at his face and grinned. "Seriously. Peat burns really well once you dry it. We heat the house with it."
That had to be the craziest thing he'd heard. At some point they must've looked around and said, "Hey, what do we have a shitload of?"
"Mud! It's cold and wet. I know, let's burn it!"
"Well, it ain't good for nothing else."
What the hell? He supposed if fish could have legs, then mud could burn. Spider or no Spider, if their cats started flying, he would be out of here like a rocket.
Cerise took a seat in the front row, behind a table. Richard stopped by the row directly behind her and offered him a seat with a short bow. "Please."