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