Chapter XI

Tourth

Svhen’s cooking lay heavy in my belly. With Arthus on the road to the capital, not to return for two weeks, Svhen had taken over the cooking. Although I had only been eating mashed turnips and ground lion, I was counting the hours to Wren’s return. Anything was better than a turnip boiled until it fell apart and then mashed beyond recognition. I had nothing against turnips, but I liked to be able to identify the vegetable on my plate before I tasted it. At least the lion meat had been well cooked and seasoned, though a bit burnt. Dardon had side tracked Svhen with knife target practice. Wren had taught them a trick and they were determined to master it before her return.

I shifted my position, glancing hopefully down at the road winding past our gate. The stone beneath me was cooling from the heat of the day, seeping away into the coming night. The eerie shade of the light right after sunset but before complete night always played tricks with my sight. With my gaze I traced the track to where it disappeared beneath a grove of trees.

Wren was due back today and I had been watching the road since first light. It hadn’t been an intentional action. It was strange actually. Whenever I paused to think or breathe, I found my eyes and thoughts wandering in her direction. I had to struggle to focus on my tasks.

“Any sight of her?” Dardon asked. He capered up the crumbling stairs and joined me on my perch on the wall directly over the gate.

I shook my head. “She could have been delayed.”

He nodded.

We sat in silence for a while. “If she doesn’t show, I am cooking tomorrow night.”

I shot him a glance before smiling slightly. “What would you make instead, practically raw carrots and red mutton?” Dardon’s usual fare was barely cooked.

“I can’t stand seeing food being tortured the way Svhen does it.”

“And not cooking it properly isn’t torture to your captive consumers?”

“Why don’t you take a turn?”

A movement in the trees near where the road emerged from the copse caught my eye. “I thought you wanted to live. Did you see that?”

“What?” Dardon leaned forward and squinted into the night.

Darkness had fallen completely now. There was hardly any starlight from the partially cloudy sky and the moon was hiding behind a particularly thick cloud. Something moved again. It was too far to hear anything, but something was definitely emerging from the trees and it was larger than a single woman on a horse.

“The Enforcer?” Dardon asked.

I peered. “No, they are moving too openly.”

“Should I warn Svhen?”

“Yes, but don’t do anything until you know who it is. Someone might be with Wren.”

“Who could it possibly be traveling with Wren unless…” The thought must have occurred to him at the same time it blossomed in my own mind. “She wouldn’t betray us,” he protested.

“Unless she had no choice.”

“No.” Dardon’s voice was hard with conviction. “No, Tourth, she would never betray us even if it meant her life.”

I wanted to believe the same, but I couldn’t. I ignored the gut feeling that concurred with Dardon, and reached for my sword hilt. “Go warn Svhen.”

Dardon disappeared into the night creeping silently down the stairs in the direction of the kitchen. I stalked off in the other direction. I wasn’t about to let someone enter our gates unchallenged. I took the longer route, stopping at the stable to gather my bow and quiver from the stable wall, before reaching the ruined gate. One of the doors was propped closed, blocking half the entrance. The other, however, was long gone, sacrificed to kindling last winter because it had been beyond repair. I swore to myself that I would start building the replacement tomorrow if we survived that long.

I took up position in the gap, spreading my feet solidly into an archer’s stance. Whipping an arrow from the quiver, I slipped it into place as the sounds of horses approached. Svhen, sword in one hand and torch in the other arrived at my side a moment later. Voices came out of the darkness, but I couldn’t hear what they were saying above the roar of the burning torch beside me.

Almighty, Father, protect us. My brief petition was all I could manage before the first horse came into the light.

“Who goes there?” Dardon demanded from somewhere above us. He must have taken a position on the wall above the gate.

“Hiller and Iscarus Pendraco request lodging for the night.”

“Who?” Dardon demanded.

A cold fury rose in my chest. That meddling woman. I half wanted to demand she present herself so that I could strangle her.

“Where is Wren Romany?” I demanded, lowering my bow and letting the string fall slack.

“Pardon?” The soldier, armed in full gear, looked down at me in confusion.

“Where is Mistress Romany? I know she is with your party and I demand that you tell me where she is.”

“Tourth?” Svhen’s questioning voice came from behind me, but I ignored it.

“Fine.” I glared up at the new arrival. “See that you tell her that I want to speak to her in the keep.”

The soldier looked a bit taken aback at the force of my demand, but he saluted me. I turned on my heel, threw my bow at Svhen and stalked past him into the courtyard.

“Are we to allow them shelter?” Svhen asked.

“What is going on down there?” Dardon’s voice demanded from a distance. “Oh, I wouldn’t recommend you take another step until I know what Tourth wants us to do with you.” He was clearly speaking to the soldier I had just left. I didn’t care. She had done just what I had told her I didn’t want done. I had expressly informed her I was not asking for Lord Eyrant’s help and she had ignored my order. I was going to…

Svhen’s large hand on my upper arm brought me up short. “I get that you are angry, but what are we to do with those men?” he asked.

“Let them in,” I growled. “And see that Wren finds me immediately.” I shook myself free of his grasp, strode across the courtyard, and entered the ruined keep, slamming the door behind me. As soon as it had latched, I swung around and smashed my fist into the side of the nearest crate. It fell over and something broke in its wake with a satisfying tinkle of glass. My fist throbbed, but I wasn’t finished. Kicking the next closest thing, I rolled up carpet, I swore at the empty space. Why couldn’t people just follow my instructions and stop meddling. I shoved another crate over on its side and perched on it to wait for Wren.

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Wren

“He wants to see you immediately.” Svhen looked worried, an expression stronger than any I had seen cross his face before. “He is really angry at you.”

I nodded. “I expected as much.” I slipped the tack from Brone’s back and placed it in its place. I walked around where Svhen was leaning on the stall door to fetch the brush.

“You knew he would be angry?”

I nodded. “I did something that he explicitly told me he wasn’t going to do himself.” The rhythmic act of working the brush over Brone’s coat was soothing. I had missed this in the two days I had spent in Sedlyn Castle. Brone seemed to agree.

“Why did you do it then?”

“Someone had to.” I glanced at Svhen before turning my attention to Brone’s hooves. “If I let him, he would fall on his sword and take you all with him.”

“He wouldn’t deliberately harm us.”

I pinned him with a look over Brone’s glossy back. “What about himself?” I came around to the gate and looked up at him. “I know he fiercely protects Arthus, Dardon, and you, but does Tourth make an effort to protect himself?”

Svhen’s light colored eyes held my gaze for a few moments before he looked away.

“He wasn’t always like this,” I observed, “obsessive in his pursuit of helping others without consideration for himself.”

Svhen shook his head. “That isn’t a completely bad thing.”

“No it isn’t.” I turned and stroked Brone’s silky nose. He lipped my hand and snuffed my wrist before nosing my shoulder affectionately. I rubbed the side of his neck and then turned back to Svhen. “I am not concerned about the actions as much as I am concerned about the underlying mentality.”

He nodded. “Guilt.” We held each other’s gaze for a moment before he stepped back, holding the stall door open for me. “He is in the keep.”

“Thank you.” I moved past him, pausing after he closed the stall behind me. “If I haven’t come out in an hour, come and fetch me.” If I hadn’t gotten Tourth calmed down by then we would both need a breather. I usually could calm anyone down by then, but Tourth was an unknown.

“Will do,” Svhen replied and then preceded me out into the noisy courtyard.

The Pendraco brothers and their cohort of forty men were working out the details of their accommodations with Dardon. At my suggestion, they had brought their full gear straight from their camp on the eastern border of the Sedlyn lands. A heavy wagon, now parked in the center of the courtyard, laden with four month’s supply of provisions for forty-five men came also. Thankfully Dardon had taken over the organizing of them and their gear because Tourth was going to be keeping me busy for a while.

I crossed the courtyard, dodging horses and weaving through provisions to reach the door to the keep. The heavy oak, though beaten and weathered was still stout enough to require a good shove to get it open. Without hesitating I stepped over the sill and into the darkened space beyond.

I let the door fall closed behind me while my eyes adjusted to the dimmer light and quiet. One lantern sat high on a stack of crates, covering the area in grotesque shadows. As the heavy door eased into its place and the latch slide home, my eyes fell on the ruined remains of a splintered crate only a few feet inside the room. The light caught at the ragged edges of the splintered wood, casting them in sharp relief.

“You are late.”

I didn’t look at him. By the sound of his voice I placed his location to the left of the door, but I didn’t turn to face him. Instead, I picked up a fallen book, lying open among the dirt and splinters.

“Arthus isn’t going to appreciate the destruction of his property.”

“You had no right.” His low tone burned at my ears as it rippled over me, seething with fury. I had hoped that a bit of time to himself would have cooled his temper. Apparently it hadn’t. It had only simmered down to lava. “I allow you to dwell under my roof, trust you with my confidence, and you return the generosity by disobeying my orders.”

“Orders?” I kept my eyes on the book as I straightened to my full height, stroking the leather of the binding.

“Yes, orders. I clearly told you my intentions and you cannot claim that you did not understand them.”

“Yet, they were not orders,” I pointed out. “You simply outlined your plans and reasons. I have plans and reasons of my own.”

“To undermine my authority?” He moved closer, keeping to the shadows and moving between me and the door.

I had to clamp down on the instinct that I had honed over the years. With a deliberate step I moved away from the door, giving him room to block my exit. The move made me nervous, but it was necessary. I had to make it clear that I trusted him.

“No. I seek only to protect you and the others.”

“I don’t need your protection. We did well enough on our own before you came.”

I frowned as I set the book on top of nearby crate. “You and I both know that isn’t true,” I replied softly. “You were starving. You told me as much yourself.”

“We would have found a way.” The confidence was forced, shaky and crumbling. He stepped closer. “I don’t know how but we would have found a way. We did not need to ask for help.”

I turned to face him at last. “Why is the thought of asking for help so unwelcome, Tourth? It isn’t as though you had no friends to ask.”

He turned away before I managed more than a brief impression of his features. “I don’t want to discuss it.”

I took a deep breath. “You must.”

“Why?” He turned and stalked up to me. Fire burned in his eyes as he towered over me.

If he thought that would intimidate me, he was very wrong. My brother Aiden had always been the master at intimidation but he had never been able to make me flinch. The key was to see beyond the fire and posture and look at the heart. Aiden hurt in ways I could not help. Tourth, however, knew the healer and cure but he could not see the way. For some reason he blinded his own eyes, wallowed in his pain, and punished himself up for something that he needed to let go of. “It will eat at you until you do.”

“I do not need a confessor, Wren. I am beyond that.” Anger lingered in his voice, but it was no longer directed toward me. He turned and retreated into the shadows, away from the door.

“No one is beyond redemption, Tourth,” I replied. Then without waiting for his reply, I slipped out the door.

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Wren Romany - © 2009 Rachel Rossano