Alis (10 page)

No. It was one that Mistress Ellen had rescued from Samuel’s place after he was taken from the farm. Luke had begged it of her in his grandmother’s name. When she knew what had happened, she would not grudge the horse to save Alis from Robert and the others.

“How will you go?” Luke asked Ethan.

“Across country. I know the ways through the forest. We must avoid the main highway until we’re much farther south, or they’ll surely hear of us. And,” Ethan added grimly, “that is all I will tell, for what you do not know, they cannot get out of you, do what they will.”

He disappeared into the darkness. Luke and Alis were left alone.

Very soon they must part. Not knowing how to thank him, her voice catching in her throat, Alis said, “I am glad Ethan did not take the ring.”

Luke nodded. “It was hard to think of giving it up. I had hoped there might be some other way. But when I heard Rebecca and realized that they were there, waiting for you . . .”

Suddenly fearful, Alis said in low voice, “Ethan will not fail me, will he? I can do no other than trust him.”

“He did not like the rule of the Elders, even in the days before the reformers took hold here. I think he will be glad to save one they would persecute.”

And now Ethan was back, leading his horse, and the time was come.

Luke said sadly, “You must go. The Maker keep you safe. I had no friend after Tobias until you came, and you are more to me than he ever was, though I loved him dearly. Oh, I wish I could come with you! But I will not leave my grandparents to face their enemies alone.” He took her hand.

Alis felt her throat swell so that it was hard to speak. “We shall meet again. We must. When you go from Two Rivers, you can leave word for me with Mistress Ellen, to say where you are headed. Once I have found my brother, Ethan can bring me news when he comes again to the city, if he will. Tell your grandmother I am sorry for bringing trouble on her. And, oh, Luke, have a care: they will be so angry. I will pray to the Maker to protect you.”

She put her arms about his neck and held him close, feeling the softness of his face against hers. Their lips touched.

Ethan stamped out the embers of the fire and the light died. She stepped back. Luke’s face was the faintest blur in the darkness. He did not speak, but pressed her hand in farewell.

“Stay here awhile and let us get away,” Ethan said to the boy when Alis was mounted and he stood at the horses’ heads, ready to lead them off. “Then if you are seen riding back they will not so easily pick up our trail. In autumn I will be here again. I will bring what news there is to Mistress Ellen’s. Do as the girl says and leave word for me there.”

He pulled gently on the reins and murmured something to his horse. And they moved off into the blackness under the trees.

T
heir route lay mainly through the forest. It was slow but safer: pursuit would be confined to the main highways. Occasionally they came to small settlements where the people had cleared a little land and lived on what they could get from the forest. Ethan was known in some of these places, and so they had a bed for the night. Otherwise they slept in the open. Alis grew used to being tired, hungry, and cold, and she did not complain.

As they got near to their destination, Alis wanted to know about the city and told Ethan what Luke had said. He smiled at that. “He’s right enough in some ways. The merchants who make their money from trade have great houses and do as they please. And they dress themselves in finery and think it makes them fine folk.” He looked at Alis sardonically. “But you’ll know how it is, surely. Have you not been warned what a terrible place the city is—
where the Maker is mocked and all manner of sin triumphs
?”

Alis nodded. Murder went unpunished there, and crimes too terrible to recount were committed.

“Yes,” said Ethan. “That is what I was taught, too.”

“Is it not so?”

“Only in part. On the north side, there are merchants who trade with foreign lands, and crafts folk, and tradesmen. Aye, and the Communities buy and sell with them for all their high talk. There are laws and taxes, courts to try offenders, and a prison to keep them in. Over the river it is different. Only the poorest people live across the bridge now—and those who have something to hide.”

“My brother will not be there, I hope,” Alis said rather anxiously.

Ethan did not answer.

 

 

Joining the wagons and horses on the northern approach to the city, Ethan was nervous. She was his niece from one of the forest settlements if anyone asked—her mother was sick and he had taken charge of her.

“How will you be called?” he said.

Distracted by the jostling crowd, she snatched the first name that came to mind: Sarah. Afterward, she wished she had chosen differently.

They reached the crumbling wall and passed under the remains of the gate-arch shored up by thick wooden poles, then into a roadway bordered by low shops. Most were open-fronted, with tables of goods or provisions for sale. The noise was tremendous: the vendors shouting their wares above the jingle of harnesses and the shrill cries of the ragged children who ran among the crowd, almost under the horses’ hooves. Alis concentrated on keeping close behind Ethan as he edged his horse through the throng. Away from the gate, off the main thoroughfare, the crowds were less dense. Uneasily, she noted the number of passersby in the clothing of her own people.

After some time, they passed under an archway into an enclosed yard overlooked on all sides by windows. Here they dismounted, handing their animals to a bent-shouldered youth who received them with a grunt.

“Come,” Ethan said to Alis, who was staring around her still stunned by the noises and sights. His expression was grim.

Inside, a passageway led to the inn’s main room with trestle tables under a low ceiling. It was crowded with tradesmen and laborers sitting elbow to elbow at their midday meal. There was a good savory smell of meat and onions. A white-aproned woman carrying a steaming dish nodded her head at Ethan and indicated a side table. They sat there, and within a few moments she came over to them.

“You’re back then. And who’s this? Given up your lone ways, have you?”

“My niece,” Ethan said tersely. “Her mother’s sick.”

The woman had a raw-looking red face, and wiry, dark hair threaded with gray strands piled loosely on the top of her head. She had been stacking up the dirty dishes on the table. At these words she stopped, a bowl in her hand. An avid look came over her face. “Niece? I never knew you had family. Thought you claimed no kin in the world.”

He shrugged. “We’re hungry, Moll. Is there food enough left for us?”

The eagerness in her face died and the last dish clattered loudly onto the pile.

“Well, I’m sure I can’t see why you have to be so close with me.

I’ve known you years enough. And let you have the little chamber at the top of the house so you needn’t share bed-space with others. There’s maybe some stew left, or bread and cheese if not.”

And she turned away, calling loudly to a fat, red-faced man who had appeared at the door to the kitchen, “Two more, Jem, and draw some ale, too.”

Ethan did not speak while they ate. Alis would have liked to question him, but he seemed preoccupied and she was anxious not to vex him. Her first view of the city had come as a shock. How was she to find her brother among all these people? She would need much help, and there was only Ethan to give it.

While he ate, Ethan looked watchfully about him. The tables under the blackened beams were emptying as the traders and workmen returned to their labor. A few lingered over pots of ale, taking their ease. At last, Ethan pushed away his plate. “Tell me about your brother.”

“He is seven years older than me,” Alis said. “He was named Joel, but I always called him Jojo. He is fair-haired as I am, with blue eyes. We are both like our father in that. And he is tall—Jojo, I mean.”

Ethan looked skeptical. “Such a brother would seem tall to a little girl, but most likely he was of ordinary height.”

“At fourteen,” Alis said, “he was as tall as boys three and four years older—taller than some of them. My mother thought he took after my uncle who is above six foot.”

“Tall, fair, blue-eyed.” Ethan’s expression was gloomy. “It is not much to go on. There is nothing else, no mark by which he might be known?”

Alis shook her head. She remembered very clearly the boy who had been her brother, but he would be a man now. Perhaps she would not even recognize him. The thought chilled her heart.

Ethan was frowning in concentration. “It’s fortunate that the people of this region are mostly small and dark. Such as your brother are not common, except among outsiders who have settled here. And Joel is not a name given to children outside the Communities. We must hope he has kept it, so that he may be easier to find.”

He was silent once more. Then he said, “Had he a skill? Was he destined for any particular trade, do you know?”

Alis said slowly, “My father is a master carpenter, and Jojo was good with his hands. But whether he would have taken to that work, I do not know.”

Ethan nodded. “I’ll try the guild of carpenters. It’s a starting point, at least.” He got up. “I’d best bestir myself.”

“Shall I come with you?” Alis said eagerly, but Ethan shook his head.

“It’s better I don’t have to explain who you are. I’m not over-practiced at lying. You stay here. I’ll have a word with Moll so that she doesn’t pester you with questions. She’s kind enough for a city tavern-keeper, but she likes to gossip. Remember the story now: your mother is sick, maybe dying. If Moll wants to know anything—you’re too grieved to talk.”

Alis nodded. Once more, she was engulfed with longing for the old days when she had trusted her parents. She turned her head away to conceal the tears that sprang into her eyes. There would be no falsehood in saying that it distressed her to speak of her mother: it was misery even to think of her.

 

 

For three days, Ethan came and went, and always he returned shaking his head. None of the guilds had anyone called Joel on their list of craftsmen. The city authorities kept records of residents, too, for the northern sector, which could be inspected at a price. These also yielded nothing. At last, however, he came back with news. He had come across a man who ran a gang of searchers—boys who lived rough, knew the poorer parts of the city, and earned a few coins by finding people. One of them knew of someone who might be Joel. Ethan was to meet a lad who would show him the way.

“Let me come this time,” Alis pleaded, but Ethan shook his head.

“I must find out more first. Perhaps this is not your brother.” They were sitting at a table in the main room, conversing in low tones so as not to be overheard. Suddenly, the door opened to admit two men dressed in familiar dark clothing. Alis’s heart jumped. They looked like Elders.

Moll was leaning casually on the bar, chatting to a thin man with a set square protruding from the pocket of his leather apron. He slid guiltily away as the newcomers approached. One of them was of middle height, with a slightly weather-reddened face under a bald pate. He looked like a farmer, but he carried an inkhorn and a large black ledger. The other was taller and thinner. He had a long, narrow face as if his head had been squeezed between boards: above thin lips, the blade of a nose jutted out sharply. Dark hair, cut short. He searched the room with his eyes, then greeted the landlady.

“Good day to you, Mistress. All is well here, I trust. Have you anything to report?”

Alis started, but Ethan gestured to her to be still. Moll straightened up.

“Nothing much, Master Bartholomew. We’re full up. No newcomers these three days, since Ethan there”—she raised her voice as she nodded in his direction—“and his niece. He always stays here—a traveler in remedies for the sick—I’ve known him for years.”

Ethan stood up and rested his hand on Alis’s shoulder as the two men crossed the room. Stopping by the table, the man Moll had called Master Bartholomew inclined his head in greeting. In his narrow face, his eyes seemed too close together. His voice was high, slightly pinched, nasal. “Master Ethan. You are welcome. And this is your niece, I understand. What does she do here in the city?”

Ethan looked steadily at him. “Pardon me, Master. You’ll tell me maybe, by what authority you ask questions of me? I am not a member of any Community.”

The thin man nodded his head. “You are quite right to ask, Master Ethan, and I will tell you. The Community of the northern quarter—whose Elders we are—has purchased the lease of this inn. Naturally we wish to be sure that the establishment is well conducted. It is for that reason that we take an interest in who comes here. If you have nothing to hide, you have nothing to fear from questions, surely.”

His glance slid across to Alis and away again. She held herself rigid. Ethan’s hand was steady on her shoulder. Now he said guardedly, “Well, Master Bartholomew. As you know, my name is Ethan. My sister is sick, and I am taking my niece to stay awhile with her aunt who lives in the eastern quarter, close to the river.”

The red-faced man had seated himself at the table and was making an entry in the ledger.

His companion looked directly at Alis for the first time. “And what is your name, child?”

She felt the warning pressure of Ethan’s hand.

“My name is Sarah, sir, but I am c—c—c—called Sally at home.” She knew she was blushing, but he did not seem suspicious.

“Well, Sally, I hope your mother will soon be recovered. Master Ethan, I am sorry that this young woman must be lodged in the eastern quarter. That part, especially near the river, is not as well ordered as it should be, though we have begun to remedy that.”

He turned to his companion. “You have the record? Yes? Then let us be gone. We have much to do. Good day to you all.”