Chapter Three

Jack stopped picking at the frayed cuff of his faded charcoal frock coat the moment he emerged from the side street onto the wider street, one of the more prosperous areas of the city.

Railings encircled each of the gated houses, separated by large, leafy trees. Polished carriages rolled down the street. In the neatly-kept park across the street, well-dressed men and women strolled, and servants walked with their young charges, and a little further in, riders, mainly men, trotted by on their immaculately groomed horses.

Jack’s erect posture mirrored the puffed-up feeling that suffused him, still pleased with how easily he’d eluded the guards who’d chased him from the Trade Building. It felt satisfying to finally take some action, no matter how small, against having the tall-folk, or giants as he preferred to call them, in their city. If the people only had to tolerate having them around for the duration of the two-week trade gatherings, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad, but they also had to endure the giants’ presence through the year because of those who willingly wedded them.

Involuntarily, his mouth turned down at the thought of spending any time with giants, let alone one’s whole life. Not for the first time, he wished giants had never come to their land. Instead of welcoming them, the people’s ancestors should have forced them back to their homes in the distant mountains. How much better their lives, his life would be without the presence of giants.

Glancing at the well-dressed couple who strolled past him, Jack became conscious of his bare head the moment he noticed their condescending expressions. He forced himself to hunch his shoulders and dip his head when he really wanted to look them in the eye and curse them. But he knew he mustn’t draw unnecessary attention to himself, and fear of his employer kept him in check.

He resented being subjected to the disdain of those who thought themselves better than him. Like that arrogant fool with the black horse by the Trade Building who couldn’t even be decent enough to speak to him. When he’d deliberately dashed in front of the horse, Jack had hoped it would be spooked enough to throw its rider and was disappointed when that had failed to happen. But at least he’d been successful with the mission he’d been set.

Jack’s steps slowed as he approached the home of the man he worked for, Garlon, whose crest adorned the centre of both tall black gates – a canary yellow iris on a white background. While he’d been thankful he’d finally managed to find employment that didn’t involve sweating in a field with peasants, Jack had soon understood he wasn’t working for an easy man.

There was something about Garlon that left Jack anxious in much the same way the man who’d ensnared his mother had made him anxious after the death of his father. The memory made him scowl as he mentally correctly himself; his mother had allowed herself to become ensnared, had allowed herself to be plied with laudanum supposedly to forget the loss of her husband and all their possessions. Except, in the process, she’d also forgotten her son.

His mouth pressed tight, Jack walked past the gates, heading for the smaller, servant’s gate around the corner, almost hidden by a thick-trunked tree. He shut the gate behind him, barely glancing at the man dozing in the small hut to the side. He idly wondered what the punishment might be if Garlon ever discovered that, most times, those who guarded the side gate weren’t as diligent as those who guarded the front.

It hadn’t taken Jack long to realise that being in Garlon’s employ was a delicate balancing act. Once the man had decided Jack fit enough to perform specific duties for him, he’d made it plain that as few people as possible should be able to identify Jack as working for him. And if Jack was ever caught, if he so much as mentioned Garlon’s name, he would pay a steep price. However, he’d also said that Jack needn’t worry about being incarcerated for that would never happen. Jack had wanted to know more but hadn’t dared ask.

It also hadn’t taken Jack long to realise Garlon’s men never betrayed one another to their employer. And Jack knew he wouldn’t betray any of them either as he wasn’t prepared to get on their wrong side, for he spent enough time in their company.

Making his way through the kitchen where the cook and her helpers chatted quietly as they prepared the evening meal, Jack grabbed a couple of pieces of carrots and tossed them in his mouth. Standing in the corridor, he quickly adjusted his coat and ran his fingers through his hair. He didn’t think he’d ever get used to this silent house with Garlon the sole occupant, waited on by seemingly invisible servants.

Then the butler stepped out of a side room, noticed Jack, and said, “He’s waiting for you in the study.”

Nodding, Jack quickened his pace as his heartbeat quickened.

He knocked and waited, silently counting to ten. It annoyed him that Garlon never answered straightaway, and Jack had worked out that after a count of ten, inevitably the man would state a curt, “Come.”

Garlon sat at his desk, studying some papers, the lamplight illuminating his bald head.

Jack remained by the door, saying nothing for he’d learnt the hard way that Garlon did not tolerate his servants speaking before he acknowledged them.

After what felt like ages, Garlon finally sat back in his chair and turned to Jack. “Well?”

Jack swallowed hard. “I threw a brick at the Trade Building, broke one of the lower windows. Shouted ‘a plague on giants’ and ran.”

“You weren’t caught?”

“No, my lord. I’m fast, always have been, and I ran into the crowd. The guards didn’t stand a chance.” Jack had to force himself not to smile.

“You waited until day’s end. Good. Always a bigger crowd for the market. A small act but still, an act. Tell Cook she’s to give you more meat for your meal.”

“Thank you, my lord,” said Jack, failing not to grin. Bowing low, he backed out of the room and sauntered to the kitchen.

There was no mistaking Garlon was a menacing man to work for, but the rewards certainly made up for that. Meat and wine with every meal, even for the servants. And extra for a job well done. Clean clothes and shoes. At least one willing young woman to keep him warm in his bed. And the opportunity to act against the giants, knowing he would be protected, no matter what.