Free Archer's Sin by Amy Raby Page A

heard no footsteps at all.
    By the time he’d reached the Crooked Billet, he felt certain he’d lost his tail. He wasn’t sure that was the outcome he’d wanted, exactly. He’d have preferred a confrontation—preferably a nonviolent one—so that he knew who his follower was and what he wanted. The mystery remained unsolved.
    He walked inside. His first thought was that the Crooked Billet wasn’t good enough for Nalica. It was a dump. A few low tables housed some old men who nursed their ales without enthusiasm. The place looked clean enough, but it was dark and smelled of old, rotting wood.
    The innkeeper approached him. “We’re full tonight.”
    “I’m looking for a woman named Nalica,” said Justien.
    “Unless she’s here in the common room, I can’t help you.”
    Justien took a handful of quintetrals from his pocket and pressed them into the man’s hand. “Perhaps this will change your mind.”
    The innkeeper slid the coins into his pocket. “Second floor, third door on the right.”
    Justien thanked him and ascended the stairs.
     
    ***
     
    When the knock came at Nalica’s door, she was annoyed. Her room at the Crooked Billet had offered her the first bit of privacy she’d had all day, and a safe place to let the tears flow after that disaster of an archery tournament. Now she was done with her foolish weeping, but the last thing she wanted was to talk with somebody. She was sick of the world and everyone in it.
    She dragged herself off the straw tick, crossed the tiny room in a couple of steps, and opened the door.
    Justien stood before her.
    She blinked. What was he doing here? Maybe he’d come to gloat about his “victory,” or else to renew his offer of supporting her on his city guard’s salary. Either way, she wasn’t interested. She started to close the door in his face.
    He stuck his foot into the gap and stepped forward, pushing his way into the room. “Just give me a moment. I want to talk.”
    “What can you have to say? I know what happened. You won the ‘tournament,’” she said, making no attempt to soften the contempt in her voice. “Go to your new friends, those crooked jack-scalders in the city guard. You’ve no business here.”
    He flinched as if she’d hurled arrows at him instead of words, and she noticed for the first time that he wasn’t smiling and his eyes were dull and joyless. It appeared his “win” had not made him happy. Well, it shouldn’t. He hadn’t earned it.
    “I’m sorry about what happened,” he said.
    Did she still have tear tracks on her face? She hoped not. “Sorry doesn’t help. You’ve said your piece; now go. Big day tomorrow, starting the new job.” She walked away from the door, hoping that would encourage him to leave.
    “I didn’t take the job,” said Justien.
    She turned, raising her eyes to his face. “Why not?”
    “I hadn’t earned it,” he said. “I won’t take what I haven’t earned.”
    Fresh tears pricked the sides of her eyes. He hadn’t taken the job? Her anger fled; this changed everything. But somebody had to take the job, and if it wasn’t Justien...well, it clearly wasn’t going to be her either. Unless the judges had changed their minds, and Justien had been sent to fetch her back? Could that be possible? “What happened when you turned it down?”
    “They gave it to Caellus.”
    Her hope snuffed out like a candle flame. She sighed. “If they were looking for mediocrity, they got it.”
    “Mediocrity is what they deserve. You’re too good for that job. So am I, frankly.”
    “I’m not too good for their tetrals.”
    “I know.” Justien looked around her tiny room. “May I sit?”
    She shrugged her shoulders. “Do as you please, but there are no chairs.”
    “How about on the bed?”
    “All right. If you call that a bed.” It was only a straw-stuffed tick laid on a wooden frame, but she at least knew after sleeping in it for three nights that it was free of lice.
    He sat on the tick.
    She