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.

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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.

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Wren Romany - © 2009 Rachel Rossano