Chapter VIII

Tourth

I had to do something. There were no more harvests to give me an excuse to stall. I still had no idea what to decide, though. I had mulled and prayed the past two weeks almost constantly. My mind retraced the familiar arguments. I counted the options as the water coursed down my face.

I could leave, pack up everyone and leave. We had little to live on and even less to take with us, but we could seek our fortune in another valley. However, something within me couldn’t bare the thought of leaving. Despite the fact it was a fraction of what my childhood home had been, it was still my home. The place I had envisioned coming home to every night and where I wanted to be.

Another possibility was what my comrades at arms had suggested. I could stand up and fight. Claiming my inheritance and all that was due me was as risky as leaving was heart wrenching. There was no hope that in my and my men’s strength alone we could withstand Orac’s Enforcer long enough to stake and validate my claim. There had to be a third option.

“Tourth.”

A familiar voice broke through my thoughts. I looked up to find myself standing at the door to the old guard quarters where we lived. I was home. As I thought back I had no recollection of walking the three miles between the farm and there.

“You really need to pay more attention to your surroundings,” Roulf cautioned as he appeared at my side. “I have been trailing you for a mile now, and you didn’t so much as look around. If I had known that you were being this careless I would have come sooner.”

I frowned at him. That sounded bad. “Why?” I opened the door and stepped inside, dripping rainwater all over the fresh rushes Kat had laid down the day before. The smell of slightly burnt meat filled my nose almost instantly.

“The Enforcer has started using press gangs to pick up every available male in the valley. He intends to have his mansion finished for the anticipated arrival of King Orac.”

“When is this to happen?” I asked, sinking to the bench next to the door to remove my boots.

“A day you should know well,” the shopkeeper replied solemnly. “He is coming for the celebration marking the anniversary of his ascension to the throne.”

My hands froze, laces dropped from suddenly unresponsive fingers as my head filled with the memories of that terrible day. Marching through the city streets with my hands bound behind me, the jeering crowds pressing us on all sides, I closed my eyes, but the images were not easily closed out.

“Press gangs?” I struggled to get my brain to think.

“Oh, it is you.” Kat entered the room. “Hello, Roulf, what brings you here?”

“Bad news, I fear,” he informed her, laying a hand on my shoulder. “Are you going to be alright, Tourth?”

I nodded. “Just give me a minute. Some memories are harder to banish than others.” I carefully gathered up my laces and retied my boots. I needed to think, and being shut in doors was not going to help me do that. I thought better when I was in motion, I always had. “I am going to take a walk.”

“But it is raining outside,” Kat protested.

“The press gangs…” Roulf didn’t stop in time to check his words. Kat’s face drained of color.

“What press gangs?” she asked.

I sighed heavily. “I will stay close to the keep and out of sight,” I assured Roulf before leaning over to kiss the top of my sister’s head. “Give Roulf some food and something warm to drink. He can fill you in and the others when they arrive. I need to think on my own for a bit before we decide what to do.”

Kat searched my face for a moment before nodded. “Be safe,” she cautioned before turning to Roulf. “I am sorry to say I have only burnt venison to offer you and some mulled cider.”

“That sounds filling Miss Mynth,” Roulf was saying as I closed the door behind me. He would explain things better than I could and soothe her worry a bit in the process.

I stepped out into the ever increasing down pour and headed out to the east, up the valley toward the tree line. There were no roads in that direction, only wilderness, trees, and wild animals. In this downpour I doubted any animals would be moving about to bother me and the shelter of the thick wood would be perfect for thinking. I turned my face toward my destination and started praying.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Wren

He wasn’t a total idiot. I had to admit that. As I stood in the shelter of a rather large pine with more character than its neighbors, I watched Tourth.

Kat was right. He obviously needed to move to think. He paced back and forth along the top of a fallen tree. He struck the side at regular intervals with a stick in his right hand. I couldn’t hear his voice, but his lips moved as though he were speaking to himself or perhaps praying. A fall of sopping brown hair was plastered to his forehead. I was debating whether or not I should interrupt his thoughts when he turned and jumped off the log with a squelch. Frowning down at his soaked feet, he grew still amid the constant uneven tempo of rain dripping from leaf to leaf over our heads.

I stepped from my shelter and approached him. “Have you decided?”

His head snapped up in surprise. “How did you find me?” he demanded. “I didn’t leave a trail.”

I debated letting on that he had. His trail, though fainter than the one an inexperienced man might have left, had been pretty easy to follow. Settling on a more elusive response, I shrugged. “Kat asked us to look for you. She is getting worried.”

“She sent all of them out to look for me? And only you found me.”

“I figured you would choose somewhere out of the way to think. I had come bearing news, but Roulf said he had already informed you about the press gangs. He didn’t say anything about the Enforcer having an eye for attractive women, but I am guessing that is old news.”

He nodded, retreating again behind a contemplative mask. “That is why Kat rarely leaves the keep.”

Silence settled between us. The shadows, deepened by the setting sun weighed upon us as we stood.

“So, have you made a decision?”

“Part of one.” I raised my eyebrows and regarded him patiently. Finally he glanced my way and interpreted the expression. “Kat needs to go to Lord Eryant.”

“She isn’t going to go willingly.”

“Well, she doesn’t have a choice,” he replied more forcefully as he studied the branch still in his hand. “I can’t protect her anymore, and I am going to need all of my attention and concentration for what lies ahead. Worrying about her safety would be a distraction I cannot allow myself. She has to go.”

I watched the play of emotion in his features: fear, resolve, determination, and uncertainty in almost equal parts. “You are going to stake a claim on your title.”

He pinned me with a dark gaze scanned my face briefly. “Yes. I have no other choice.”

Although a number of alternatives jumped to my mind, I didn’t open my mouth. If all the prayer and thought had culminated in this decision, I was willing to wager that it was Deus’ will.

“How far is it?”

“To Lord Eryant’s stronghold?” I nodded. He shrugged. “A day’s ride.”

“I will take her,” I volunteered. He looked surprised so I explained. “I am the best choice. If you are making a stand, you will need to lay low and keep the other men with you for protection. The press gangs will be roaming the roads. They won’t be interested in two women should they spot us.”

“They might be interested in you for other reasons.”

I shook my head. “I know how to keep them at bay. Trust me. There are a couple options, and I need to speak with Kat to choose which to use. So, how are you planning to make your claim?”

“I was thinking of sending word to King Orac,” he grimaced at the name, “stating that I wish to lay claim to lands. I will say that I have just returned to my home, found it in disrepair and my people being treated like vassals of his Enforcer. I will state that I wish to swear allegiance to his throne and take my rightful place.”

“Then what?”

“Then we wait. I am hoping that when he arrives at the celebration, I will be able to present myself as a mighty leader willing to join forces with the king. To do this I will have to organize the farmers as best I can, gather my father’s former troops, the ones I can, and parade into town.”

“With Lord Eryant’s backing.”

He shook his head. “All I can ask of Lord Eryant is that he protect Kat. This move is imprudent at best and down right foolish at worst. I will not ask him to back my claim at the detriment of his own prestige. He is a good man. I do not want to make trouble between him and the king.”

I watched him throw away his branch. I had no qualms about asking Lord Eryant for his assistance. I would try to speak to him while I was there delivering Kat.

“Kat is not going to go willingly,” he muttered to himself.

“Let me speak to her. I think I can explain it so that she will understand.”

He smiled over at me in relief. “Thank you. I am still not too happy about facing Svhen, Dardon, and Arthus when I return.”

“I thought they were for you taking a stand and claiming your title and lands.”

“Just watch. When I tell them, they will change sides.” He brushed his hands off on his shirt and then stared at it as though just realizing how soaked he really was. “How long have I been gone?”

“Kat said you left two hours before I returned and it has been at least an hour since then.”

“We should go.” He started off in the direction he had come, tramping through the underbrush and pushing aside branches as he fought his way out into the open. I followed at a distance, planning my own strategy on how to help my new found family.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

“How can I do it?” Kat demanded later that evening in the dinky kitchen. Her blue eyes flashed fire at me. “I have never left my brother before and I am not going to leave him now. I have only just begun to see glimmers of the man he used to be. I am not willing to leave. I don’t want him to retreat to the shell that came home from the war.”

There was barely enough room for two. I was thankful for that fact because it had kept the others from follow us in there.

“Kat, listen to me for a minute. I understand your anguish. I too have lost brothers that I sometimes doubt that I will ever see again. I have seen the shattered souls that remain within the eyes of the battle-scarred. I am telling you that this is the only way you can help your brother.”

“How?” Kat flung the word at me. Anger flushed her cheeks and brightened her eyes, but I identified the emotion behind them, fear.

“Get me an audience with Lord Eryant.”

“What? How will that help my brother?”

“He is not willing to ask Lord Eryant for help in his claim, but I have no such restraints. I intend to speak with the man and ask for the support that Tourth so desperately needs.”

She considered this. “If you ask in the right way, he will listen. I cannot guarantee he will do it though.”

“We won’t know until we try,” I pointed out. “We can’t try unless you go, and go willingly.”

“If Tourth figures out your plan, he will stop you.”

“Then don’t tell him.” I held out my hand to her. “I want to help you, Kat. Will you help me?”

She regarded me for a moment. “You truly are an unusual woman.” She smiled and took my hand. “Now how are we getting over the mountain?”

“Ah, I have a few ideas.” I smiled mischievously. “Shall we be old women, young men, or lepers?” Her eyes widened in surprise. “Don’t worry. This will be fun.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Wren Romany - © 2009 Rachel Rossano

Chapter VII

Tourth

While I waited for Wren’s return, I retreated to the ruins of the lookout tower. At least none of the others would dare bother me there. It was my haven, the one place that I made it clear I wanted to never be interrupted. Perched high among the ragged, scared stone parapet points still standing, I almost felt as free as one of Wren’s falcons. On some nights the wind would blow, gusting and filling my ears with a roar that blocked out all other sounds. Up there I could look out over my little plot of ground, the only place I still could call mine, and pretend that my parents still lived.

Looking out on the darkness, I asked Deus the question that I had been asking since I returned to find my parents gone beyond my reach and my sister grieving and needing from me more than I could give. Deus, what should I do? I leaned my forehead against the cold stone. I breathed deeply of the ancient smells of earth and damp.

The desire to follow Deus’ will burned in my soul. That same desire had led me to leave years ago to fight for my king. When the battle took all that I had, I returned home to even more destruction and devastation. Despite the evidence to the contrary, I knew that Deus was merciful and loving. The training engrained into my memory, actions, and thoughts from youth reassured me that He was, but I often struggled with that fact in the harsh reality of the right now. It was hard to see the big picture and overarching plan when the details hurt so much. Just when I think that I had found peace, the past would intrude into the present and the future would demand change. I concentrated on the cold seeping into my body, cooling my anger-fevered skin.

Please show me the way, Father. For right now I am blind and liable to walk into a ditch and kill us all.

A small whirlwind of flapping wings brought my attention to the wooden framing next to me just in time to see a rather large bird alight. Straightening her feathers, the dark-pigmented female falcon coldly fixed an eye on me. Even in the darkness and dim moonlight, I could catch the intelligent glint in its gaze. I remained completely still. After switching eyes and shifting its weight a few times, it appeared to deem me harmless and began preening its feathers.

“She likes you.” Wren’s words slipped through the night as though they belonged there. I turned my head to find her sitting cross-legged on top of the parapet across from me. The bird’s head turned and she regarded with Wren with first one eye and then the other. She made a sound in greeting and returned to her preening.

“She does?”

She nodded. “Volante doesn’t take to people she doesn’t know very often. The fact she was comfortable enough to let you out of her sight to preen is a sign of trust.”

I peered into the darkness at Wren. Her head was angled so she could see both me and the bird, the moonlight at her back, caressing her shoulders, outlining the angle of her cheek and hiding her expression. She had all the habits of a woman who knew how to hide in plain sight.

“How is Roulf?”

“Well as far as I could assess. I helped him with some unwelcome company and in return he wishes to immortalize me as the Ghost of Davron Alley.”

I smiled. “That sounds like Roulf.”

“He also told me to give this back,” she said as she held out the small bag of coins I had given her before. Once I had focused on them, she tossed them to me. “He also sent a warning. There are rumors that you are in the valley. He predicts that is it only a matter of time before the Enforcer comes to search this ruin to disprove the rumors.”

My chest tightened as I lowered my head, hiding my face from her view.

Volante made a noise and moved across the short distance to Wren’s position. With a swift bat of her wings, she was airborne, flinging her small body at the woman, claws first. Wren raised her arm, sheathed in a leather sleeve. Sharp claws caught the material and the bird came to perch, sharp beak inches from the smooth moonlit outline of Wren’s face. The bird then shifted her weight, lifting a leg up, offering the small message tube.

“Impatient to deliver her message,” Wren commented as she accepted the gift and the bird retreated to the edge. Then with a final head bob my way, Volante was gone.

“Oh, that life was as simple as hers,” I whispered.

“It isn’t simple. Hers is a complicated journey everyday, seeking out my siblings, and returning. Falcons are not as welcome other places as they are here. In many lands, they are considered prizes to capture or kill.”

“How many siblings?”

“Eight other than myself.” She tucked the message deep into a pocket.

“Who was that from?”

“An elder brother, most likely. So, what do you plan to do about the Enforcer?”

I lowered my head and shrugged. “Pray and hope the Lord will reveal a way for us to take.”

When I finally did look up, she studied my face. Although I couldn’t see her eyes on me, I could feel their steady scrutiny. “I will pray as well,” she replied. Then in one fluid motion she rose to her feet. Unaffected by the sheer drop three stories to the cobbled courtyard below, she stepped from stone to stone to the rickety stairs and disappeared down them.

How does she figure in all of this Deus? She has come out of nowhere like an answer to prayer, but which prayer? I lowered my head again, rubbing my scalp with my fingertips. Please give us a clear indication soon.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Wren

Two weeks passed without event. Then the rain came. It started with a few drops, catching the nose and cheeks, speckling the dust with dark splotches. We raced to get the last of the grain from the fields as we prayed that the Lord would hold it off a few hours longer. In His grace, He did.

With the last of the grain under a tarp in the wagon behind us, we stood just inside Farmer Hanor’s barn and watched the overburdened skies unleash their load in a torrent.

“Praise the Lord, we made it,” Arthus murmured, his voice only slightly louder than the pounding of the rain.

“Aye,” Svhen agreed.

“We are still going to have to walk home in it,” Dardon pointed out with a grimace. “I wasn’t planning on a drenching or I would have brought my cloak.” None of us had brought our cloaks. The walk home promised to be wet and cold.

“So, what is next?” I asked Tourth, who leaned against the door jam at my left and stared moodily into the downpour. Even as the words fell from my lips, a lone rider appeared on the lane to the homestead.

“Who is it?” Dardon asked.

Svhen answered, “He wears the livery of the Enforcer.”

Within moments, the four men disappeared without a sound. Svhen melted into the shadows beyond one of the stall walls; Arthus slipped into the wagon, beneath the grain; Dardon swung up into the overhead loft; and Tourth slipped out the back exit that opened into the paddock. I was left standing, hay fork in hand, in the overly wide doorway when the stranger approached and dismounted to bring his horse out of the weather.

“Pardon miss, where might I…” He paused upon looking on my face. “You were the maid wearing trousers.”

I lowered my head and curtseyed clumsily. “Aye, sir. How might I help you?”

“You are a pretty one,” he commented studying my lowered head. There was no malice in his tone. “Your brother shouldn’t let you roam out alone. You might catch the Enforcer’s eye.”

I curtseyed again. “I will tell him, sir. Do you seek anyone in particular?”

“I do. Is this the land of Farmer Loer? I need to speak to him on a matter of great urgency.”

“Farmer Loer is not at hand, but his wife is within the house.” I pointed to the building across the yard. “Do you wish for me to seek her?”

“No, I will.” He threw his horse’s reins around the nearest post and knotted them. “Thank you for your help.”

I nodded, not meeting his eyes and busied myself with unloading the last of the hay from the wagon while he walked away. When I thought he was far enough to no hear, I gently poked Arthus’ hiding place. “You should leave before he returns.”

He rolled out of the hay, whisps clinging to his hair, to frown up at me. “Are you sure you will be fine?”

“Of course she will,” Dardon commented, jumping down from the loft. “Have you seen what she can do with a knife?” I had demonstrated a small sampling of my skills for him the week before.

“No. But regardless, she shouldn’t be left alone.”

Svhen hurtled the stall wall with surprising ease for a man as large as he. “Tyron is a good man,” he commented with a nod toward where the man had disappeared. “He won’t molest her. Besides it will look suspicious if she isn’t here when he returns.”

Arthus frowned at Svhen. “That was Tyron?”

Dardon looked from one to the other. “You know him?”

Svhen shrugged. “Have to get news somehow. He doesn’t like his master.”

“Svhen encountered him on the edge of Ruther’s property a few days ago. They struck up a mutual appreciation,” Arthus explained.

“A possible ally?” Dardon asked.

Svhen shrugged again.

“You should tell Tourth about him.”

“Already did,” Svhen replied and sauntered toward the paddock door.

As he disappeared outside, Dardon grimaced after him. “Sometimes I cannot comprehend that man.”

“Not everyone tells you everything, Dardon,” Arthus pointed out before turning to me and studying my face. “Are you sure you will be alright?”

I smiled at his concern. “I have been taking care of myself for years. I am certain I can deal with Tyron should he try anything inappropriate. I will see you later.”

“Hurry up, Arthus,” Dardon complained. “He is going to come back any minute.”

The two of them followed Svhen and I turned back to the hay. Roughly an hour and a half later, the man that Svhen had called Tyron returned walking through the rain as though it wasn’t even there. He shook off his heavy cloak upon reaching the shelter of the barn.

“Mistress Loer says I should speak to you.”

I stopped my work, and turned to him with raised eyebrows. He was an quiet-looking man about the age I placed Tourth at. “Why did she say that?”

“I have news that she believes you should know.”

He met my gaze evenly with dark hazel eyes. There was no cruelty in their expression or in the lines of his face, only a weary honesty tested by circumstances beyond his control. I turned back to my work, heaving the pitching fork under another load of hay. “And that would be?”

Accepting that I was not going to volunteer anything, he spoke his piece. “The Enforcer is planning on hosting a celebration, an anniversary celebration of the rise of King Orac to the throne. He has hopes that the King himself will attend. In preparation, he is demanding his mansion be completed before the festivities. To do so, he is pressing every able bodied man his men can find into work. Every able-bodied man,” he said, accenting the last words heavily. “Mistress Loer said your brother needed to know this.”

I didn’t immediately reply. My thoughts were with the men who had just left me. “How soon is this new order effective?”

“Immediately.”

I nodded as I hurled another load of hay upward into the lift that would bring it into the loft. “I will see that my brother hears of it, sir. Thank you.”

“Wish your brother well for me,” Tyron said as he untied his horse. “And don’t forget what I said about you being about on your own. The Enforcer is always looking out for pretty maids to share his bed. I wouldn’t want you to end up there.”

I glanced his way as he mounted, but he wasn’t watching me anymore. I was grateful for the warning. I hadn’t known the Enforcer was so carnally inclined. It was something I might be able to use to my advantage in the future, should I need to get into the mansion. However for now, I had more pressing things to work on. I lay my fork in the corner as the horse and rider rounded the bend in the lane. Now I needed to get home and find Tourth. He was going to have to decide on a course of action soon.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Wren Romany - © 2009 Rachel Rossano

Chapter VI

Wren

Dinner was a tense affair. I began to wonder if I had stumbled across a gopher hole mine. It began with Tourth informing the others about my discovery.

Dardon’s reaction was to lower his leg of mutton. “What will be our response?”

“The same as it has always been,” Tourth replied.

Arthus leaned back uncomfortably and focused intently on his meal. Kat’s blue eyes darted warily from Dardon to Tourth and back again. Svhen continued eating without pause or raising his eyes, but I sensed a sudden tension in him despite the lack of physical signs. I had long learned to trust my instincts. This was a long standing argument that even put Svhen on edge.

“We sit back, watch them suffer, and do nothing.” Dardon shoved his dish across the uneven surface of the table almost spilling it into Tourth’s lap. He leaned back and crossed his arms over his chest boring a hole in Tourth’s head with his dark eyes.

“Dardon, we have been over this many times.” Tourth calmly moved the plate and mutton a safer distance from the edge. “We are doing something.”

“Putting food on their tables isn’t enough when the Enforcer is killing off their men. You know Simon lost his leg a month ago and only last week the Gibonson boy was hit in the head and died. The working conditions at the mansion are inhumane. All you would have to do is declare your identity and claim your birthright and you could spare these people from that monster. It is only a matter of time before he discovers us anyway and puts us to work there as well.”

Tourth’s knuckles grew white where he gripped his plate. The movement of the meat to his mouth was slow and deliberate. Tension grew thicker with every silent moment.

“You know it isn’t as simple as that, Dardon,” Kat said, showing more courage than I had given her credit for. “Father and Mother died simply for taking a stand.”

“He is only protecting his own hide and he knows it,” Dardon replied. Surging to his feet, he crashed out the door into the darkness, cursing under his breath.

Tourth didn’t move. His breathing was slow and painfully regular, his dark head bowed so that his face was hidden from my sight, but the muscles in the forearm resting on the table were tight with tension. I watched him warily as he struggled to regain his temper. Kat quietly removed Dardon’s portion from the table, being careful to give Tourth a wide berth.

“I will go see he doesn’t do himself harm,” Arthus finally volunteered, breaking the heavy weight of restrained words and actions, before disappearing out the door.

“Bed,” Svhen muttered. He followed practically on Arthus’ heels. I doubted that was truly where he was headed since his usual sleeping place was inside the house in the opposite direction.

I continued to eat. It would take more than an argument to stop me from eating. It was a habit born of years of not knowing where my next meal would come from. I pulled off a piece of the roasted mutton with my teeth and chewed slowly. The meat was tender and well prepared. Kat was a pretty decent cook most of the time. While I worked on my bite, I continued to watch Tourth.

He didn’t move, but as Kat continued cleaning up and I eating, the muscles in his arms slowly relaxed, his knuckles returned to a more normal color, and his breathing eased into a natural rhythm. Once I was certain that he had calmed to the point that he wouldn’t lunge at me, I spoke.

“I haven’t been around long enough to hear the reasons why you are choosing to do nothing, and I would prefer hearing from you rather than someone else.”

His head snapped up, and his eyes glared at me for a moment before softening. “Sorry about that.” Sighing deeply, he reached around to catch Kat’s arm as she moved past him. “I am sorry, Kat, but I seem to have lost my appetite.”

She grimaced. “You know you should have let me know that everyone was going to fight and lose their appetite tonight.”

“Sorry.”

She waved off his apology and claimed his portion as well.

With a heavy sigh, he leaned his elbows on the table, ran his hands through his hair as though to clear his mind, and finally met my gaze again. “It all comes down to the past. My father and mother died because my father refused to comply with Orac. If I stand up and declare my rights, I will simply be dealt with in the same manner and this time, he will probably kill Kat too. What will that gain the people?”

“Was your father aware that Orac wanted him dead?”

“Not as far as I know.”

“Then you have an advantage that your father didn’t have,” I pointed out.

“I also have no troops or walls to defend myself. I have no money to build an army or even a simple castle keep. If I stood up and proclaimed my rights only to demand that my people build my fortress instead of the Enforcer’s how would that be better?”

Katherine sat down next to him. “At least they would know that your fortress would be used to protect them and not to oppress them. You have to admit that Dardon has some good points.”

“He does,” Tourth agreed. “But I cannot see how it will work out any way expect for in disaster.”

“Surely your father wasn’t the only lord to speak out against Orac,” I commented.

Kat answered, suddenly eager. “Father’s friend, Lord Eryant in the next valley used to back up father when he was alive. He even sent me a letter offering help should I ever need it. Lydia had already offered me shelter and I wanted to stay close to home should you return so I wrote back thanking him for his offer and explaining that I wished to stay with my old nurse.”

“Perhaps he would assist you,” I suggested.

Tourth sighed heavily. “I will consider it. But for now, I am going to prepare for a trip into the village tonight.”

As he rose from the table, Kat caught his arm. “Please don’t go. Send someone else.”

“I will go,” I volunteered. “I have great deal of experience moving without detection. I could move in and out without even the storekeeper knowing if you wished.”

Tourth scrutinized me for a moment before agreeing. “Kat has the list of what we need. Come find me in the stable for the money when you are ready to leave.” He then turned and left, closing the door firmly behind him.

“He doesn’t really know what to do,” Kat commented, looking after her brother in concern. “I don’t know how to help him and neither do the others.”

Crossing to a slate on the wall, she took it down and set it before me. It was a short list of items, bare essentials that we couldn’t produce on our own or trade from the farmers around the area. I memorized it easily and rose to follow the others. Kat stopped me. “Please go easy on him. He is trying his best.”

I nodded. “I only want to help.” Then I pulled my heavy woolen cloak from the hook by the door stepped out into the chilly night.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

The village was silent and dark, not even a glimmer of light shone in any of the windows. It was easy to spot and avoid the Enforcer’s men. They tramped along alleys and streets in groups of two, holding lanterns aloft to light their way. Every time they came near my position, I shrank into the shadows, huddled down in my cape behind an object, and waited in silent stillness for them to pass.

Tourth’s clear instructions led me straight to the shopkeeper’s back door, a rough hewn slab of wood, thick and sturdy, left slightly ajar in preparation for my arrival. Just as I was about to dash across the open alley to enter it, a sudden noise made me pause. Two of the Enforcer’s men came shambling around the corner, slightly drunk as they wove back and forth along the narrow way.

“Well looky here,” the elder one muttered, tapping the door open with his sword.

A middle-aged man, slightly gray at the temples appeared in the doorway and looked at the soldiers in alarm.

“Expecting someone old man?” the young, skinny one asked, shoving the shop owner back against the now open door.

“I was only inventorying my stock,” the man Tourth had called Roulf protested.

My fingers crept to the throwing knife at my waist. I had made sure to strap all five on before I left just for such an emergency. Now as my palm weighed the hilt’s reassuring smoothness, I debated how it would be best to use it.

“Hardly a job to do so late at night,” the older, more flabby soldier drawled. He drew his eating knife and began picking his teeth with it. My stomach rolled. It was a nasty habit that so many men did. It always left a dirty knife. I hope he slipped. “Who knows who would come along and try your door and perhaps murder you at your work? It is fortunate for you that we happened along when we did.”

“Yeah, you might have been assaulted or something.” The skinny man shoved the Roulf’s head back against his door, banging the wood next to it with the hilt of his drawn sword. “Good thing we were walking by. Seems you are in our debt.”

“Worth a cask of ale or something…”

I couldn’t stand it any more. I let my first dagger fly. It whizzed past the flabby one, nicking his ear and buried itself in the door two inches from the skinny one’s hand. The second was on its way before they could even react. It flew pass the other side of Flabby’s face and embedded in the doorframe inches from his nose.

Flabby yelped, dropped his eating knife, and grabbed his ear while Skinny jumped away from my first knife as though it was a snake rearing up to strike. Both of them let loose a stream of profanities that made my skin crawl. I wanted to release another blade, but I restrained myself to watch how my first assault was received.

Flabby was attempting to regain control of the situation. He peered into the darkness of the alley in the wrong direction. Skinny grabbed a lantern and strode off in search of me among the shadows on the side of the alley opposite them. Swiftly melting into the shadows of a doorway, I waited. As I guessed, Skinny swept past my huddled form without a second glance. He probably supposed I was a bundle of laundry waiting for the wash or something else of little consequence. However, when they turned back to question Roulf, they discovered something even stranger.

“Where are the knives?” Skinny squeaked.

“What knives, sir?” Roulf inquired. He had apparently removed them from the door frame and door when their attention was elsewhere.

Flabby lunged forward, grabbing Roulf by the back of his tunic and shoving his face into the wood of the door. “The knife that made that mark you imbecile,” he demanded.

Roulf played the innocent. “That has been there since before I owned the shop, sir. I don’t know where the knife is that made that.”

Skinny’s face, ashen in the lantern light, stared at the spot on the door as though he were losing his mind. Flabby wasn’t giving up easily though. “And this?” He shoved his blood covered hand in Roulf’s face. “Where did this come from if not from a knife nicking my ear?”

“What knife, sir?” Roulf cowered. “I saw a dragonfly bite you, sir. I saw no knife.”

Flabby swore, slapping Roulf’s face and leaving a smear of blood across it before returning his hand to his ear. “Come,” he ordered Skinny. “I am tired of this idiot. Let us check the tavern next.”

The two of them shuffled off into the darkness. Skinny whimpering that there was a knife, and Flabby swearing a blue streak at him to keep quiet. I waited until they turned the corner before slipping from my hiding place, across the street, and into the open door of Roulf’s shop. I closed the door firmly behind me, sliding the bolt home before turning to survey the interior.

“Welcome mistress,” Roulf said. He stood among the box lined shelves with a towel to his face, cleaning off the blood. “I have to admit I am a bit surprised to see you, but it makes sense.”

“What do you mean?” I asked, suddenly suspicious. I had purposefully kept a low profile since joining Tourth and his band.

“This is a small town, Mistress Romany. It isn’t every day that a female bounty hunter forces Steward Farley to pay the full bounty on a wanted horse thief. Also, you are pretty well known among the farmers. I think the only people who do not know of you via gossip are the Enforcer and his men.” He lowered the cloth from his face and smiled at me. “Don’t worry, we protect our own. He will not hear of you from one of us.”

I inclined my head. “Thank you for the quick thinking of removing my knives.”

He shrugged. “It is better for them to think they are going mad than to stage an outright rebellion. It keeps the simpletons from bothering us more than once. Those two were new to the area and thought I would be an easy score. I doubt they will be returning anytime soon.” He crossed to the herb garden along the window sill. Reaching behind the pots, he drew out my knives. “I am grateful for your quick thinking. I can ill afford to give away ale by the cask.”

“I have come to purchase some supplies.”

He nodded. “What does Kat need?” Pulling a slate toward him, he picked up a stub of chalk. I recited my list.

“I think I have it all. Let me go see.” He disappeared behind the first row of goods. “Help yourself to some of my wife’s cider while you wait,” he called over his shoulder. “It is the best in the valley.”

I complied. The cider was delicious, tart and sweet simultaneously, and blessedly cool as it slid down my throat. Within moments he had reappeared with a small sack full of what we needed. He set it on his work table and began double checking the contents against my list.

“I am actually very glad that you made this trip.” He moved aside the portion of gray cloth to fit in a bottle of cider. “It is getting too dangerous for Tourth to be seen about. If you were stopped, it wouldn’t go well with you, but,” he motioned to the knife hilt now back at my waist, “You can obviously take care of yourself. There are murmurings among those who have allegiance to Orac that the Lord of Mynth has returned. It is only a matter of time before the Enforcer turns his attention to looking for Tourth. If he doesn’t take measures to protect himself, you might all be in danger.”

I nodded. “What would you suggest?”

“If Tourth openly makes his claim, he will find more support among the residents of this valley than the Enforcer. Besides, if he takes his father’s title, the Enforcer’s presence will be redundant since his place is to keep order in this valley in absence of a governing lord.”

I mulled this new information as Roulf tied the mouth of the bag. He handed me the strings with a warning. “If Tourth does declare himself, he is going to need more than just his current band to keep him alive. You can be sure the Enforcer will try everything in his power to see that Tourth dies before his claim can be legalized by Orac.”

“I will tell him. Thank you for the provisions.” I held out the money Tourth had given me.

“I will not take it.” Roulf pushed my hand away gently. “All of that is worth far less than the cask of ale you saved me tonight and the peace I will most likely have to the next two weeks.” He smiled. “I will encourage the mystery of the ghost of Davron Alley and perhaps I shall have peace even longer.”

“I wish you well.” I bowed and exited, waiting until I heard the bolt sliding home before I slipped off into the darkness. My arms were heavy with goods and my mind heavy with information.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Wren Romany - © 2009 Rachel Rossano

Chapter V

Wren

Of all the days to resume wearing a dress, this was the worst. I looked up into the spreading branches of an apple tree and grimaced. If I still wore my trousers, climbing up to fetch the unblemished fruit from the branches would be easy work. However, I wasn’t able to do that decently in a skirt. Even if I tucked up the skirt, I would show off a lot of bare leg to anyone who happened to walk under my tree. I looked down at my empty bushel basket and debated doing just that.

“Need some help?” Arthus called as he strode down the row toward me. Under one arm, his good one, he carried a ladder. “Tourth sent me to assist you. He said I might find you up the tree already with your skirt about your knees.”

“It is a tempting thought,” I agreed. “However, I do have some sense of decorum.”

Arthus laughed as he lowered the ladder awkwardly to the ground. “I am sorry I have to say this, but it needs to be said. I can’t lift the ladder for you.” He pointed with his chin to his still bandaged shoulder. “I might have over done it with that demonstration of strength this morning.”

He had fetched the water for breakfast to prove that he was well enough to come with us on our next harvesting trip. It was the only way he was going to get out from under Kat’s watchful eye.

“I think I can manage it for you,” I offered. “Are you going to attempt to climb and pick as well?”

“Oh, no, the ladder is for you. I am here for the ladder, to make sure it doesn’t shift beneath you.”

“The others are not using ladders?”

“They are. They just don’t get a ladder assistant.”

I couldn’t hold back the smile that wanted out. “I thank you then.”

Together, we leaned the ladder up against the nearest tree. Arthus held it steady as I climbed. Once I reached the bottom branch and the first batch of apples, I gathered my apron end, looping it into the apron ties to make a temporary sack to carry my harvest. Arthus watched all of this with great interest.

“You have done this before?”

“Yes, many times.” I reached for the first fruit. As my fingers closed around the firm red orb, I smiled. “And you?”

“First time.” He shifted his hold on the ladder, securing it in the curve of his good shoulder and glanced down the way toward the caretaker’s cottage. “If you had told me five years ago that I would be playing the farmer, I would have called you a fool. I was convinced I was destined for greater things.”

“What kinds of things?”

“I would have told you that by thirty, I would have attended university, graduated with honors, and published at least one book of poetry.”

I almost dropped the apple in my hand. “Poetry?” I shifted on the ladder in order to look down at his tousled head.

“Aye. I thought I had a gift.”

“What stopped you?”

He sighed and replied, “The harsh truth that I have no talent for poetry. Although, I can analyze, savor, explain, and completely adore a beautifully formed verse of the stuff, I cannot write any worth selling if my life depended on it. And, at the time it did. I was literally starving for lack of decent words.”

“Coming down,” I warned and began to descend the ladder with my laden apron.

“So,” he continued, “I did what any starving man who has just realized his life dream is unattainable. I joined the army.”

I straightened from unloading my apples to scrutinize him seriously. Although he had the soulful look of a poet, standing there with his rumbled shirt, tussled hair, roughly shaven cheek, and languishing attitude, I found myself pretty convinced that he was playing a joke on me.

“You don’t believe me. See, I told Dardon that it wouldn’t work. He didn’t believe me.”

“So, how much of what you just told me is false?”

He looked genuinely ashamed. “About half. I do love the written word, I can’t turn a phrase, and I was starving before I enlisted.”

“You were doing pretty well just now,” I pointed out as I moved back up the ladder.

“Ah, but you haven’t seen it on paper. All I have to do is try to write the words onto the page and they turn wooden, clumsy, and awkward. I am much more skillful with the sword.”

“So I would guess considering you are still alive.” I reached for a particularly farfetched prize and asked the question that I had been mulling for a while. “How did you, Svhen, and Dardon get involved with living here?”

Arthus laughed a mirthless bark. “It was all the doing of Orac, if you must know. Not just the war, but Orac himself.” I shot him a look under my arm. “Although I enlisted in the army because I needed food, clothing and a way to earn my keep, Dardon and Svhen were two different stories. Dardon was a silversmith before the war, and a…” Arthus bit off the swear word before it left his tongue. “Pardon. He was quite a master. That is, he was until Orac’s men came through his village, killed his partner, and burned down his forge. That was why he joined up, to get even. Then when we lost, he had nothing.”

I brought down another load and remounted the ladder before he finally got to Svhen’s tale. “Old Svhen is an old master at war. Do you know how many wars he has fought in? Seven. Mercenary by trade, he decided that this war was going to be his last. Informed Tourth that he intended to go out fighting, and then our side surrendered. It took a pretty bit of fast and persuasive work on Tourth’s part, but he convinced him that life in the Mynth family’s employ was better than charging Orac’s castle.

“Of course, that all changed when we got here. The keep gone, the lord and his wife murdered, and Kat living on the charity of friends, it nearly broke Tourth. I had no where to go, but even if I had, I wouldn’t have left him like that.” Arthus cleared his throat uncomfortably and coughed. After an uncomfortable silence, he asked, “So, what brings you here?”

“Winter,” I replied as I descended with another load. “I didn’t fancy the thought of spending it out in the open this year. I wanted a roof over my head on snowy nights.”

I could sense Arthus’ unspoken questions as he sorted through them to decide which to ask next. I also suspected that Tourth had supplied some of them himself. My ladder-holder was just getting up the courage to try another one on me when a voice made us both pause.

“Ho, there, man.” A large armed man appeared strolling through the trees, his chain mail glinting in the sun speckled shadows. “I am looking for a man named Joanor, the man who works this orchard. Orac’s Enforcer wishes to speak with him.”

“I believe he is up at the cottage at the far end of the field,” Arthus offered quickly.

The soldier strode off in the direction Arthus had indicated with barely a glance in my direction. I watched him through the tree branches until he was out of sight.

“I don’t know about you,” Arthus said, “but this looks mighty suspicious. Isn’t this the second time that the Enforcer’s men stopped while we were working in for a farmer?”

I nodded. “Perhaps we should speak with Tourth.”

“I think we should.”

I descended the ladder and picked up the bushel of apples I had already picked. Arthus managed to lower and carry the ladder. Switching rows, we started off toward where Arthus said he had last seen Tourth.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tourth

I was working on my second bushel when I heard someone approach the tree. I looked down to find both Arthus and Wren looking up at me. I half expected Arthus to announce that Wren had miraculously finished her assignment.

“Orac’s Enforcer and his men have showed up again,” he announced. “We are wondering if we should make ourselves scarce. Do you think Joanor will give us away?”

I scrambled down, jumping to the ground, and deposited my current load in the bushel bin. “I would prefer speaking to Joanor or his son first.”

“You can’t be thinking to walk right up to the house and asking,” Arthus protested. “What if the Enforcer is there? What if he sees you?”

He had a point. I was about to suggest that Arthus go and investigate when Wren spoke up.

“Let me go,” she volunteered. “I am not known around here.”

“But the Enforcer’s deputy spoke with you yesterday.”

She shrugged. “Then he won’t think anything amiss in seeing me again today. I am a common laborer, hardly worth his notice.”

“You don’t look like a common laborer,” Arthus pointed out. “You walk like a woman accustomed to a different life. And,” he indicated her squared shoulders, “You don’t carry yourself like a woman.”

“Let me deal with that,” she retorted, and then turned to me. “So, shall I investigate for you?”

I nodded. There was no harm in it. She had a good point about her anonymity. She had nothing to fear from the Enforcer and his men except the usual things women feared about a man’s attention. Wren of all the women I had met was the most equipped to handle that kind of interest. Unlike Arthus, I had witnessed her performance yesterday.

“What do you need to know?”

“Just what the men wanted with Joanor.”

She nodded, propped her bushel on her hip, and started to walk toward the orchard keeper’s cottage. With each step, her gait and manner changed, slowly fading into the image one would expect to see in any field laborer or farmer’s daughter. Arthus watched in amazement until she disappeared from view.

“You knew that she could do that,” he accused. “You let me make a fool of myself pointing out how she didn’t fit the role.”

I couldn’t help the smile that tugged at my mouth. “Of course I knew. You should have seen the act she put on for the enforcer’s men yesterday when they called her over for wearing trousers.”

“So, that is why she has the dress today.”

I nodded. “If any of us can do it, I am quite confident she will.”

When she returned, two hours later, the humble manner of a servant was gone. She strode down the lane between the trees, her skirt whipping her legs, and planted her feet at the foot of my tree. Crossing her arms over her chest, she waited in silence while I climbed down to meet her.

“The Enforcer is raising the tax due at the end of the quarter and demanding another day’s work from every man this winter. The Joanor’s wife is beside herself with hysterics. It took me a good hour to calm her down before it was safe to leave her alone.”

“What do you mean, leave her alone. Where is Joanor?”

The Enforcer’s demand begins today. His deputy came to escort him to the work site and informed Joanor’s wife that he won’t return until tomorrow morning. He mentioned something about a curfew and Joanor being released too late to make it home before it.”

A curfew. I frowned. It wasn’t as though we went about much after dark anyway, but when we did, we were going to have to be more cautious than ever. It was also going to make shopping in the village riskier. I was used to slipping in under the cover of darkness to visit the storekeeper. But now, I wasn’t sure exactly how I was going to manage it. Kat would still need flour and oil for her bread and there were other basics we would need.

“I thought these people were your tenants?”

I nodded absently. “They were my father’s tenants, and thus mine. I have been trying to help them anyway I can.”

“So, if you were to claim your rightful place as Lord Mynth, Orac’s Enforcer would have no authority to tax and demand work from these men?” She was frowning up at me, every inch of her small frame held in check and anger glinting in her eyes.

“That is not an option. It is too complicated to explain why, but it is.”

Her strange changing eyes, now more gold than anything else, studied me carefully. I actually felt a little uncomfortable under their concentrated gaze. “If you don’t mind, I would love to understand. Could you explain it to me sometime?” Her voice was calm and sounded almost friendly despite the obvious anger of a moment before.

I blinked and nodded. “I have no problem explain it for you. We just don’t have the time now.”

She nodded. “Did you see where Arthus went with the ladder?”

I pointed in the direction I had last seen him, and she strode off that way. I watched her go. She was a strange puzzled of control and spirit. But the question that burned in my mind was whether or not I could trust her.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Wren Romany - © 2009 Rachel Rossano

Chapter IV

Tourth

I was growing ever thankful to Deus for the strange new addition to our family. She had been modestly accurate about her hunting skills, obvious from yesterday’s adventures. However, she had been negligent in mentioning her experience working a field. Upon arrival at our first stop, she accepted the basket from the very pregnant farmer’s wife with a smile and a slight bow. Then, politely waving away woman’s attempts to explain what she needed to do to harvest beans, she asked where she was supposed to start. I pointed out her row, and without a word, she set off.

“Keep an eye on her,” I ordered Svhen. “It isn’t like we have beans to spare if she doesn’t do her job well.”

“If she says she knows how to harvest beans, I trust her,” Dardon commented, basket in hand.

“Not all of us are as enamored with her as you,” Svhen growled. He picked up his basket and stalked after her. This was his least liked job. For the entire harvest season, he acted like a bear with a hernia. I could only hope that he wouldn’t scare her off.

Taking my own basket, I turned and wove my way to the end of my designated row of green leafy plants.

Three hours later, something suddenly cast a dark shadow over the plant I was working on.

“Wren wants to know where she should work next?” Svhen informed me.

Welcoming the chance to straighten my aching back, I stood to find Wren standing just beyond Svhen in the next row over. Her dark plait of hair was wrapped around her head, pinned up off her neck with one of her sheathed throwing daggers. Sweat glistened on her face, but that was the only sign she had been working at all.

“Then work with Dardon.”

Svhen shook his head. “Dardon doesn’t want us to do any more. Something about not feeling like he has done his share if we do.”

I blinked and looked from one to the other. “Well, then you can help me. Start over there and meet me in the middle.” Wren nodded and headed off in the direction I had pointed. Svhen remained, casting a long shadow on my work.

“Dardon was right.” He looked particularly pleased about it, too. “She works fast and well.”

I glanced off after her willowy form as it stepped with fleet, sure footing over the rows of plants. By the time I looked back at Svhen, he was gone, moving after Wren in a more lumbering, but no less certain manner. I couldn’t help being appreciative. In less than a day, this woman had earned the respect of two of my closest friends and was on friendly terms with my sister. It was at the very least an encouraging beginning.

I peered over to where Wren was working swiftly down the bean row and realized why Dardon requested they move on from helping him. If I didn’t get to work, I was going to be left behind. I bent my protesting back and attended to the nearest plant.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Wren

My back complained, but it was a familiar ache that brought back memories, happy memories from home that I hadn’t dwelt on in years. As my hands and arms repeated the motions of pulling up turnips and placing them in the wooden buckets that had been provided by the limping farmer and his painfully thin wife, I reveled in the clean smell of rich earth and they way it crumbled between my fingers. If I concentrated very hard, I could hear Ilara’s humming as she worked and Sam’s syncopated thuds as he bumped the side of his barrel, knocking the dirt off the turnip heads. Somewhere over head, a falcon cried and the smell of freshly baked bread wafted on the breeze coming from the kitchen. My mouth watered at the thought.

“Ho, here comes trouble,” Dardon’s rich bass brought me out of my daydream. I straightened under the guise of easing my back muscles and peered into the setting western sun. We had only an hour of sunlight left and two rows a piece to finish before completing the turnip patch.

“Who is it?” I asked, shading my eyes to focus on a trotting cluster of horses coming over the rise from the direction of town.

“Orac’s Enforcer, by the looks of the crest on the livery,” Dardon offered. “Best keep your head down. And you should probably hide this.” He plucked my throwing knife from my head. My heavy braid fell down my back with a soft thump as he offered the knife back to me hilt first. “He will have his men confiscate it if he sees it.”

I nodded. Stowing the knife, one of the three I brought with me, in my boot, I pulled my trousers over the hilt, hiding it from sight. Then I returned my attention to the task, all the while listening to the creak and groan of the leather horse tack as the small party approached. When they came parallel with the edge of the field, I cautiously stole a look at them out of the corner of my eye.

“You, woman,” a voice called out. I looked up to find that they had stopped on the road and a tall, lanky man was beckoning to me.

“Yes, sir?” I set down my bin and proceeded to cautiously cross to the road. I purposefully made my movements slow and weary. It wasn’t difficult to do considering that was how I felt. Finally reaching the side of the road, I looked up at the man’s knee. A lowly serf of the land wouldn’t look her master in the eye though Wren, the bounty hunter, would have no problem doing so. I had to play the part. Tourth and the rest of the men’s survival depended on it.

“Why do you not wear a skirt, woman? Do you not know that trousers are indecent?” The red satin of the man’s own trousers was so fine its price would have paid for seven of the rough practical kind I found useful.

“I am sorry, sir.” I bowed my head lower. “I haven’t had time to patch my skirt with the harvest coming in, sir.” I thickened my accent, mimicking Old Alec from the tavern. “I’s had to wearn my brother’s trousers, sir. It won happen agin, your lordship.”

“You see that it doesn’t.” He was apparently mollified by my groveling, but I still held my breath as he surveyed the field behind me. “I don’t see Farmer Ruther out there in the field. Why isn’t he there? He has a half day’s rest today.”

I swallowed my anger. The only reason Ruther had been given a half day’s rest is because he had been unable to stand due to the injury of his leg. An injury that had occurred while he toiled building the Enforcer’s great hall. “We’s friends of his, sir. We’s helping bring in the crops, Milord. I thinks he is up at his house, taking a slight rest.”

“Very well,” he replied. Then he kneed his mount forward, knocking me out of the way. I landed a safe distance away as his cohort followed in his wake, kicking up a cloud of dust that clogged my mouth and nose and stung my eyes.

“Are you alright?” Dardon asked, rushing to my side as soon as it was safe to do so. “You didn’t…?”

I spat in the dust at my feet and swiped at my face with my sleeve, not that it was much cleaner. “He is bound for Ruther’s house. I don’t think he is particularly suspicious, but I would recommend that we leave for the night before he makes a return trip.” I beat my pants with my hands. Clouds of pale dirt billowed from them.

“What did he say to you?”

I grimaced. “He wondered why I was wearing trousers instead of a skirt.”

Dardon’s eyebrows rose. “What did you tell him?”

“That my brother let me borrow his because I had ruined my only skirt. He said I should make sure I have a skirt for tomorrow.” We walked companionably back toward the field where Tourth and Svhen were waiting worriedly.

“Do you even own a skirt?” Dardon asked. His tone hinted that he suspected I didn’t. As much as I wished I could shock him by saying I did, I honestly didn’t. He must have read it in my face because he laughed. “Don’t worry. I am sure Kat will lend you one until you can purchase the fabric for one of your own.”

I grimaced. I didn’t have anything against the idea of skirts. I had worn them for many years. However, I had tossed them aside when I left home. They were woefully impractical for a bounty hunter who is constantly climbing trees, running though dense woods, and hunting for food. “I hardly think it will be necessary. It isn’t as though I am going to be wearing it everyday.”

However, it turned out, I would probably be doing just that for the next few weeks at least. Tourth pointed out, once everything was explained to him, that I would attract more unwanted attention if I continued to work in the fields in trousers. I reluctantly admitted he was right, much to Dardon’s amusement. So, when we returned home, Dardon announced it loudly to Arthus and Kat that I would be requiring more feminine attire.

“Of course, you may have one of mine,” Kat immediately offered. “I have plenty of frocks left from when times were better. They aren’t all appropriate for working in the fields, but I am sure we can find something. We can go looking after supper.”

“Just don’t get her too gussied up,” Dardon said, “We might forget that she can kill us as easily as she can curtsey. Perhaps more easily.”

I was sorely tempted to stick my tongue out at him, a childish gesture I hadn’t used since I was seven and Arnan had teased me about my braids. I refrained, but I smiled instead. Kat brought the large stew pot to the table, and the organized chaos of dinner began. I leaned in to claim my portion when I caught Tourth studying me. His dark eyes openly scrutinized my face for a moment before Arthus bumped my elbow and jarred me out of their power. I turned my attention to receiving my meal, but the back of my mind rubbed awkwardly over his attention. It is just that I am the newcomer, the unknown element, I theorized. However, when I looked in his direction as I crossed to a quiet corner to eat, he was still watching me. His gaze wasn’t particularly intense, just mildly observant. I lowered my attention to my stew and bread and tried to follow the quick banter going back and forth between Dardon and Arthus.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tourth

She was a mystery, a complex puzzle that nagged me. An appealing woman, though very unconventional with the skills of a huntsman, a scout, and a farmer, she hardly fit any mould I had ever known. As she pointedly consumed her meal with measured bites, watching and listening to the animated conversations around her, I was certain she was also quite aware of my scrutiny. Occasionally, with practiced nonchalance, she would lift her head and run her gaze over my location, never pausing to show that she was checking to see if I still was watching, and then focus on Kat, sitting beside me and smile at her in a friendly way. It was the tactic of a woman who knew how to spot a tailing undesirable.

“Why are you staring at Wren?” Kat laid a hand on my knee to ensure I had heard her. “If you keep it up, you are going to make her uncomfortable.”

I smiled down at my sister. Her fair hair curled around her face, drawing my attention to her features, delicate and lovely, just like our mother’s. “I was just wondering where she came from and what she had to go through to get here.”

“Well you should wonder that with your eyes on your food. It is getting cold.” She patted my knee in a motherly fashion. “I don’t want you getting sick. The farmers need our help. Besides, Svhen says she is the fastest field worker he has ever seen. You don’t want to drive her away when we need her most.”

I glanced over at Svhen in surprise. Even unapproachable, unflappable Svhen was falling under Wren’s spell. If I didn’t figure out something quickly, I might lose any authority I had to the woman. At least Arthus was untouched. For the moment.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Wren

After dinner, Kat and I left the current makeshift quarters in search of clothing for me. I was surprised when Kat, lantern held aloft, led me in the direction of the ruined keep.

“I thought it was useless,” I commented.

Kat shrugged. “It is ruined as a place to live. However, it is a good place to store things that we don’t need or use. I keep all my extra clothing here. Rovern has a chest full of things he brought back from the wars. Arthus stores a crate or two of books. He doesn’t have time to read except in the winter months. With the first snows he brings the crates into the living quarters and reads out loud to us on the days we are all trapped inside.”

Memories of Taerith’s low soothing voice filling my ears was enough to make tears press against my eyes and tickle my nose. With the sensations of Aquila’s thin, small form pressed against my side and the steady rasp of Zoe’s fretful pacing across the rushes on the floor I was suddenly remembering the winter that Aiden and Arnan were missing for three days during a winter storm. The younger one’s fear, sharp and keen had filled the air for those three days. Even Taerith’s outer calm wore thin.

“Here they are,” Kat announced pulling my thoughts forcefully back to the present. She had perched the lantern on the top of a stack of boxes so that she could wrestle open the top of a crate at their base. I stepped forward to assist her, but I was too late, the lid creaked open. “Just like I thought,” she said, beckoning me to look with her. “There are plenty here. Surely we can find one that will fit you.”

I quickly found myself disagreeing with her. The lavish fabrics of the dresses she pulled from the trunk made my breath catch. The reality of how far she and Tourth had fallen in their circumstances caught me anew. Silk, fine wool, muslin, and lace slid from the contents with sighs of delicacy. I was hesitant to touch the cloth for fear that the calluses on my hands and the dirt beneath my nails would accidentally mar their beauty. None of us girls growing up had even dreamed that such luxury existed or that we should even desire it. I tried to envision my sisters in the gauzy lace bedecked dress that Kat now held up to my shoulders.

“You are a bit shorter than me,” Kat observed. “That is an easy thing to fix though.” She draped the dress over the pile on a nearby crate. “I can always hem it for you.”

“I am supposed to be working in the fields,” I reminded her, eyeing the rejects skeptically.

“There should be more casual ones at the bottom. I just like to take these out sometimes and remember the past.” She paused. “So much has happened since then.”

“How long has it been since…” I let my voice fade away when I saw the grief in her clear blue eyes.

“Two years.” She brushed a hand over the grey wool dress coat and looked up at the ruined skeleton of the floor that had once hung above us. “I was away that night. Mother and Father never even felt the pain. One moment asleep here, the next with Deus in heaven, they never felt the heat of the flames or the fear of watching them consume our life. In some ways God was gracious.” She lowered her gaze to the cloth beneath her fingers. “At least, that is what Tourth says.”

“You don’t agree?” I asked.

She shrugged and tilted her head to one side. “I think he is right about them never knowing the pain of death. I do hope to see them again in glory. However, I cannot help missing them and missing how things were before.” She lifted her gaze to my face, studying the features. “Not just before they died. I mean before Tourth left to fight for the king. He was different then, less cautious and more carefree. I suppose it is as Arthus says, the price of growing up, but I cannot help wishing to see more of his lighter side again.”

I nodded. “At least you have him near you,” I pointed out.

Her eyes suddenly narrowed. “Do you have a brother?”

I smiled weakly. “Four brothers and four sisters.” When I looked up to find her eyes round with surprise, I laughed.

“Where are they now?”

“I am not sure,” I admitted. The hollow place in my gut that manifested every time I thought of them made my dinner suddenly feel like a rock in my stomach. “We were separated about a year and a half ago. It is a long story.”

Realizing she was staring at me, Kat quickly resumed picking through the clothing. “Are you in contact with them?”

“My falcons bring me news sometimes.”

“Oh!” She straightened, a brown woolen dress hanging from her arm. “Tourth told me about your falcons. I would love to meet them someday.”

“Are you sure? Tourth seemed quite in awe of the one he met and all together they can be quite overwhelming.”

She tilted her head. “Meeting one would be nice. The thought of more does seem daunting.” She smiled. “I think I have found a dress that will do.” She held up the brown dress. A simple shift with a semi-full skirt, the brown woolen material was functional despite it being of finer quality than anything I had ever worn before. “If we hem it to a functional length and rub dirt into the weave, I think we can pass it off as a peasant’s frock. What do you think?”

I nodded. Considering the other garments scattered about us, it was going to have to do. I helped her repack the trunk and followed her back out into the courtyard. Once back in the kitchen, Kat instructed me to change while she found her sewing basket. I retreated into my room. It had once been the quarters of Lord Mynth’s captain at arms.

When I returned, swimming in a dress a size too big and a skirt that swept the floor around my bare feet, all four men looked up from their evening tasks to inspect me.

“A little big, isn’t it, Kat?” Tourth observed.

“I can make it fit better,” she protested. “Besides, it is better than too small.”

“You look halfway decent in a dress, Wren,” Dardon teased. “I can see how you could resemble a lady with a few more frills.”

“Leave her alone, Dardon,” Arthus said. “She might sic one of her falcons on you.”

I glanced his way in surprise. Then I checked the reaction. I should be surprised. Falcons were not common birds in this part of the country and a trained falcons were only common among the landed gentry. A female of obvious meager income with a trained falcon would be unusual. One with seven was unheard of. Besides, I should be glad that Tourth told them about my birds. I could rest assured that one of my companions wouldn’t shoot one down when they did appear.

“Please stand on the stool,” Kat prompted me. “I need to see where to put your hem.”

I obediently stepped up. Kat set to work and I watched her, constantly aware of Tourth’s thoughtful gaze following my every move. I wondered what he was watching for.

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Wren Romany - © 2009 Rachel Rossano