Kenton had learned long ago to remain calm in situations such as this. His heart rate had barely increased and his breathing was still quite steady, all signs of a man who had faced death before and knew how to survive it. Chances are, he thought, the assassin was a servant who had no idea that he was the one now being stalked. The tables were turned.
Kenton’s grip tightened on his dirk, preparing to withdraw it and plant it squarely in whoever was lurking about in the darkness. Body tightly coiled, ready to spring, he reached the landing of the stairs only to be confronted with something crouching against the stone stair railing just as he turned the corner.
“Argggh!”
It was a very small person with some kind of coverlet over its head, now jumping up and clawing the air in his direction. Genuinely startled, Kenton actually took a step back as the small figure, covered with a linen sheet, jumped up and down and continued clawing at the air.
“Ooooooooo!”
More noise from the figure as it suddenly turned tail and ran back up the stairs as fast as its little legs would carry it. Kenton stood on the landing, frowning, as the figure went to hide behind one of the support pillars. The problem was that there was already a second small person hiding behind that same pillar and the little ghost who had tried to scare him got pushed out. But the little figure scrambled to its feet and chose another pillar to hide behind.
Kenton stood on the landing below and watched all of the hissing and pushing going on. His initial surprise was now tempered with realization and perhaps impatience. With a heavy sigh, he let go of the hilt of his dirk and began to take the stairs, going in hunt of the figures that were lying in wait for him. He was about halfway to the top when another figure, with what looked like a woman’s linen shift over its head, jumped out at him from a pillar on the right.
“Oooooooo!” the figure said threateningly in a very heavy lisp. “I am going to curse you!”
Kenton came to a pause, hands on his hips as he faced his nemesis. “Is that so?” he said rather casually.
“It is!”
“Do as you must.”
That seemed to stump the little figure for a moment; it paused as if confused but quickly took up clawing the air again.
“You are afraid!” it told him in a terrible lisp. “Go away and do not come back or you will be cursed!”
In spite of himself, Kenton found himself fighting off a grin. “I see,” he said, wiping his hand over his mouth to hide the smirk. “Then you may as well curse me for I am not leaving.”
That thoroughly stumped the figure and it came to a halt, turning to look up the staircase and into the shadows as if seeking silent support. It didn’t take long for the walls to come alive with two more small figures, with coverlets over their heads, as they rushed down the steps. One of them even tripped, rolling down a stair or two, before picking itself up and recovering. It rubbed an elbow painfully.
“Go away!” the biggest of the trio pointed imperiously at Kenton. “You are not wanted here! Go away or you will be sorry!”
Kenton recognized the voice as that of Lady Thorne’s eldest son. It was the same commanding tone the lad had used when he had ordered Kenton to leave his mother alone earlier in the day. With no more patience for their foolery, Kenton reached out and yanked the pale covering off of the lad’s head.
Hair mussed, Tab glared up at Kenton with as much courage as a five-year-old boy could muster. In truth, the lad was beyond courageous, showing no fear in the face of his conquerors. Kenton had to admit that the boy’s bravery impressed him. He was foolish, but brave nonetheless. Kenton held up the dusty, white coverlet.
“What are you doing with this?” he asked drolly.
Tab was scowling fiercely. “We were scaring you away!”
Kenton cocked an eyebrow. “Scaring me?”
Standing next to him, Teague pulled the woman’s shift off his head and reached out, tugging on the hem of Kenton’s tunic until Kenton looked down at him.
“We are ghosts,” he said with his pronounced lisp. “Were you not afraid?”
He was quite serious and Kenton gazed down at the child, feeling an odd tugging in his chest, something betweencompassion and humor. For as much as these children were out and about when they should not be, he had to admit that he found it somewhat funny simply because they were dead serious about it.
“Nay,” Kenton told the child flatly. “I do not believe in ghosts. And you were told to stay to your apartments.”
Teague was thoroughly confused. “But everyone is afraid of ghosts.”
“I am not.”
Teague wasn’t sure what to say to that. He looked at Tab, the eldest, for help. Tab was quick to intervene.
“It is our duty to chase you away,” he said. “You are the enemy and we must protect Babylon. Mother does not allow us to fight with real swords so we are going to scare you away instead.”
Kenton realized that, for the second time in as many minutes, he was struggling not to grin. The lad was determined to rid his keep of the enemy; Kenton could see that. But it was also clear that the boy did not understand the concept of a captor/captive relationship and it was up to Kenton to educate him. He’d already thrown their defiant mother in the vault and he wasn’t beyond tossing her children in after her. He sighed faintly.
