Free Dreams of Stardust by Lynn Kurland Page B

had learned in
a special operations unit he wouldn't talk about. Jake had been tempted
to push Thad for some answers until Thad had given him a password to
use while they camped, just in case Jake had to get up and pee in the
middle of the night. Apparently, Thad didn't wake up well.
    And his camping buddies didn't wake up at all unless they warned
Thad first that they intended to move.
    Jake smiled at the memory now, but at the time he'd wondered just
what in the hell he'd gotten himself into, hiring a man with such a
short, pointed resume. But he'd gotten his sapphire, he'd earned a very
lethal friend, and he'd learned how to pick any lock in front of him
silently and with a minimum of tools.
    He wasn't silent now, and it took the liberation of a very rustic
shutter hinge to help him, but he got the door open eventually. Too bad
Thad hadn't been all that up on medieval-type locks, otherwise Jake
might have been able to leave the window-covering intact. At least Thad
wasn't around to give Jake that look that said oh-so-clearly what a
pansy he was if he couldn't get something open with a wish, a prayer,
and a bit of bent, rusty wire.
    Jake stepped out into the hallway. It looked a bit like Seakirk, but
this place was definitely in need of a little of Worthington's spit and
polish. And some central heat. Jake rubbed his bare arms as he followed
his nose to the left. Dinner was that way, and dinner had to mean hosts
and that meant an explanation and perhaps some directions to the inn.
    The torches that burned in sconces along the hallway were real, with
real flames and very real smoke. Jake shook his head. Cheap was one
thing, but this was taking frugality to an entirely new level. What was
wrong with a good space heater or two?
    He came to a circular staircase and descended it silently, no mean
feat considering his lack of balance at the moment. The stairs widened
at the bottom of the flight and then, quite suddenly, he was out into a
great hall.
    And out, apparently, into the middle of a costume ball.
    He stood stock still and gaped. He could feel his mouth hanging
open, but couldn't do a damn thing about it.
    Massive logs crackled in the fireplaces set into the walls. A long
table sat near that fire with mailed knights eating enthusiastically
and talking just as animatedly. To his right on the dais was another
long table, covered with a cloth and a decent amount of food and
boasting a handful of quite impressively carved chairs. Only three of
those chairs were occupied at the moment, two by young men and one by a
woman.
    That woman.
    The one with the blue eyes.
    Jake retrieved his jaw, but only partway. He tried shaking his head,
but that only left him clutching the table to keep his feet. His vision
began to blur, but not so much that he didn't notice the two young men
leaping to their feet and bellowing in dismay. Before he could ask them
to quit shouting, he found himself grabbed by the arms and slammed back
against the wall.
    "Hey," he said in irritation, "what the hell—"
    A knife at his throat effectively cut off everything else he had to
say. He attempted a brief struggle, but found the knife to be quite
sharp, so he ceased.
    This was not good.
    Jake listened to the babbling going on around him and tried to
decipher it. It was difficult, but he wondered if some of that might
have been due to the blood thundering in his ears. He closed his eyes
and listened for several minutes.
    Well, what he could say with certainty was that they were speaking
French, or perhaps some dialect of it. Unfortunately his French,
despite years of it at Eton and more study of it at Cambridge, was not
what it should have been. It was serviceable, however, and he would
make use of it, once he had the chance to sit down and listen in peace.
    But that would come after he'd extricated himself from his current
less-than-comfortable situation.
    He could have escaped, he supposed. After all, picking locks wasn't
all Thad had taught him, in return