However, there was no choice but to turn back and give up his plans.
Still, he hesitated, eyeing the exposed section of the right-hand beam where the planking had fallen away. It looked undamaged, and while his horse could not cross such a narrow walkway, it was just wide enough for him to pick his way over the gap on foot.
Daunting, perhaps, and a trifle dangerous. But he had a great deal of experience around bridge construction sites and wasn’t afraid of heights . . .
Mind made up, the man unslung his bags and tied his tired horse to a nearby tree.
“I can hire a post boy at the Three Crowns to take the long way around to fetch my mount,” he muttered, “and once my business is done at the inn, I can hire a new mount for my visit to Hypatia.” The story of his absentmindedness and the havoc it had wreaked with his travels would likely garner a good laugh when told in the comfort of a gracious drawing room with a glass of fine spirits in hand.
Warmed by the thought, he drew in a deep breath and shouldered his bags. Without hesitation, he stepped onto the bridge and started forward.
Unsure of the planking that still remained, he kept to the outer edge of the structure, taking care to center his steps over the beam.Focus, focus—he needed to keep himself balanced and alert to any shifting of the rain-soaked oak. The rush of the roiling water on the rocks below warned that the slightest mistake could prove fatal.
Halfway across, the gap forced him to walk along a width of wood that was barely more than eight inches. It looked even narrower in the gloom and swirling fog, and after swallowing hard, he forced himself to lock his gaze on the silhouette of a tree on the other side.
It felt like forever, but he finally inched across the gap and onto more solid footing. Quickening his steps, he hurried across what remained of the planking and reached the other side, his boots sinking into the mud ofterra firmawith a welcome squelch.
Despite the chill of the night, the man realized that his brow was beaded with sweat—
“Halloo?”
A tentative call suddenly floated out from the darkness up ahead.
“Is someone there?” added the disembodied voice.
“Yes, yes,” answered the man, feeling unaccountably comforted that he wasn’t the only one traveling on such a hellish night. “But if you are looking to cross the cursed bridge, you are out of luck—unless you are willing to risk a drop to your death.” He drew in a quick breath. “The planking has fallen away in the middle.”
“But you were daft enough to cross the wreckage on foot?” A blade of lantern light cut through the fog. “I feared as much, Milton.” The blade grew brighter. “Thank heaven you survived.”
The man—his name was Jasper Milton—let out a relieved laugh on recognizing the voice. “I can’t tell you how happy I am to see you, Axe!” Whatever the reason that had forced his friend—the moniker “Axe” was a private joke between them—to be on the road in this devil-damned weather, he was glad to encounter a kindred soul. “But how did you know I was traveling tonight?”
“Don’t you remember me coming to your room early this morning?” interrupted Axe.
“I . . .” Milton scrubbed a hand over his face. “I sometimes get things jumbled in my head when I am concentrating on a scientific problem.”
“I’m well aware of that. Which is why I decided to wait for you at the Three Crowns Inn, thinking that we could ride together for a while before parting ways for our final destinations. But when you didn’t arrive at the time you should have—”
“I was late in leaving,” explained Milton.
“Alas, why does that not surprise me?” replied Axe dryly. “When the inn got word earlier that the bridge at King’s Crossing had been badly damaged in the maelstrom, I worried that you might have decided to take the shortcut in order to make up for a delay. And so I thought that I had better come look for you in case you had suffered some injury.”
“Thankfully no,” said Milton. “Though I’m soaked to the bone, and my bags are damnably heavy.” A wince. “But what are you doing here? I thought you were heading—”
“A last-minute change in plans, which appears to be a stroke of luck. My horse is tethered close by.” Axe stepped free of the fog. “You’re an idiot—you know that, don’t you?” he added, as he set the lantern down with a long-suffering sigh. “Here, let me give you a hand.”
“You’re a more thoughtful friend than I deserve—always acting as the steely support to keep me from spinning out of control!” exclaimed Milton as Axe grasped the straps of the valise and leather satchel and slipped them free of his aching shoulder. “I’m very much obliged to you.”
“Since we are speaking of friendship . . .” Axe paused. “Allow me to make a last plea for you to change your mind about your plans for your latest innovation. Think of—”
“Absolutely not.” Milton stiffened. “If that’s why you’ve come to find me, you’ve suffered an uncomfortable trip for naught. My mind is made up.”
“Allow me to remind you that we made an agreement. A very lucrative one—”
“And I’ve explained to you why I’ve decided that I can no longer be part of it.”
“But see here—”
“Enough!” he snapped. “You’re an excellent fellow, Axe, but your vision is limited. You don’t see the grand scheme or the far-reaching effects my contribution to history will have on mankind.”
