Return to Alastair (26 page)

“Perhaps they’re all bewitched,” the boy suggested in a quiet voice.

“It is written,” Lucas told him, “that God will bring to pass his work, his strange work. And his act, his strange act.”

Tahn rolled with a groan, hearing noises in the distance. At first he wasn’t sure where he was. But then he remembered the hole beneath the barrel maker’s shop. And he swallowed hard.

The darkness was suffocating. And haunted, it seemed, with the screams he’d filled this place with so long ago. But past them, beyond his memories, he could discern the continuing sounds of a commotion, and not very far off.

He took a deep breath and tried to see around him in the dark. He knew his sister must still be here, somewhere. “Tiarra?” He thought of her pleading questions about God, and he was ashamed that he must have slipped from consciousness.
God help me!
he cried in his heart.
She needs me to be stronger. She was crying out to you, and I failed her.

Suddenly he felt her hand. “I’m here. And your friends were here, but they’ve gone.”

“What is happening?”

“I wish I knew. Ansley said something about the baron’s men.”

“Do you still have my sword?”

“Yes, but—”

“Do they know this place?”

“I don’t know.”

His head seemed almost in a fog. How could they not know this place? All of Alastair knew this place. Surely they could still hear his lingering screams.

Feeling strangely hot and cold at the same time, he tried to pull himself toward the opening but wasn’t sure whether he’d managed to move more than an inch.

“I have water,” his sister told him. “Please, sir, let me give you a drink.”

He felt a sudden shock of cool water on his forehead and could not stop the shiver that ran through him.

“You’re not well,” Tiarra was saying. “Please don’t try to go out.”

“I can’t . . . stay here . . . if they need me.”

“They only went to look. To see what was happening. I’m sure they’ll be back.”

The noises outside seemed even farther away now. The baron’s men, she said? What of Burle? What of the bandits? “I meant . . . to pray with you,” he managed to tell her.

“I know. And I’ve been trying to pray, for our safety, for a miracle,” she said with timid voice. “Do you think it folly for me to ask such a thing?”

“I think it large faith.” He tried to move again, toward the entrance, but she was pressing a gourd ladle into his hands.

“Please drink.”

He tried. And the cool water was a welcome relief to his dry throat. But strangely he thought of how good it could feel washing over him. How he missed the stream at Onath! How he longed to dip his head again and feel the coolness on his burning back.

“Are you all right?”

He heard the fear in Tiarra’s voice. And it pained him that she should be here with him this way, in this uncertainty, hunted through no fault of her own. “Yes,” he told her, willing his voice to sound steady. “And God hears your prayers. I can believe that he will send your miracle.”

“I know,” she said softly. “You can believe.”

He found her hand and gave it a soft squeeze. “Sister—he draws you to believe as well.”

Suddenly there was a sharp commotion just outside. The board was shoved roughly away, and the moonlight coursed into their hiding place.

“Ansley?” Tiarra called.

“Shh.” Tahn squeezed her arm. But it was already too late.

“Hah!” came a rough voice outside. “I’ll get her.”

“My sword,” Tahn whispered to his sister and felt her press the cold handle into his hand. The dimness around him seemed suddenly to be swirling. And the soreness of his back was like a weight holding him down. But he reached with his free hand for the knife at his belt. “Get back,” he told his sister. “As far as you can.”

There was a scuffle at the door. He could hear a muffled curse, the thud of a blow. And then someone fell. He expected that Lucas or Toddin would show themselves at the entrance after besting the stranger. He prayed so. But the clink of metal scraping the stone foundation told him that it was not so.

“Miss?” a strange voice called in. “Come out to me, miss. I’ll not harm you.”

Tahn was glad that Tiarra gave no answer. This was not a bandit. He would know their voices, and they would not bother with such words. But the baron’s men could be capable of any deception.

“I understand your wariness,” the voice continued. “But . . . but I’ll not harm you. I knew your mother.”

Tahn heard his sister’s tiny gasp behind him. He wanted to caution her, but he said nothing. If this stranger thought the girl was alone, let him think it. Tahn knew that if worse came to worse, he would sorely need the advantage of a small surprise.

The man was coming down to them. The metal of his partial armor scraped the stone again. With all the effort he could muster, Tahn pulled himself to one side and crouched in waiting.

“Miss—”

Tahn sprang at the man just as he reached the dark depth beside him. He was large, round. It took Tahn only seconds to secure a blade against his throat. And the man stopped stark still.

“Dorn?”

“Who are you?”

“E-Emil Korin.”

Tahn had never heard the name, but he knew armor such as this, and he knew whose men rode these streets. Thoughts of Onath swirled over his mind, with the memory of his own prayer not to shed blood again. But this—this was a world away from Onath, and he had a sister to protect. Unable to stop his shivering, he swallowed hard and pressed the blade even tighter against the man’s neck. The words came out hard. “Tell me why I should not kill you now.”

“I mean you no harm.”

“You ride for the baron.”

“It has . . . it has been my life, and not a happy one.”

Tahn had no time to question the words. Sudden footsteps were just outside again. And in only a moment, Lucas’s voice called out. “Tahn? Are you all right?”

“I have a baron’s man.”

“Please—” the soldier tried to speak, but Tahn’s jerk stopped him. And Lucas wasted no time coming down to them, knife in hand. He took the soldier’s weapons immediately and cast them into a darkened corner.

“Did you best the one at the door?” Lucas asked.

Tahn had to lick his lips before he could answer. “I feared that was you fallen.”

“Let me take him for you.”

“What of the others?” Tahn pressed him. “Are there more?”

“We thought they’d all gone after Burle’s men. Toddin and the boy are watching the streets for them. I came back to check on you. We did not realize—”

“I don’t want to kill him.” Tahn suddenly felt drenched in sweat. He fought a wave of dizziness.

Slowly, Lucas nodded. “I know, Tahn. Let me have him.”

Tiarra edged closer out of the shadows. “The other man— at the door—is he dead?”

“Yes,” Lucas told her.

“Then who . . .”

“Please,” the bulky soldier tried again to speak. “Please, I mean you no harm.”

“Let him loose, Tahn,” Lucas said. “Let him explain himself. Perhaps he fought his fellow soldier.”

“Yes,” the man maintained, but Tahn did not loosen his grip, despite his shaking. His breaths came hard now. Here in the darkness, hearing Lucas’s voice—it was like Valhal, that darkened room they had once shared, the daily torment, the anguish of those dreams.

Just a glimpse of his friend’s eyes in the moonlight sent a chill over Lucas. “Tahn? Are you all right?” He reached forward, pulling the unknown man away from his grasp. With just an incidental brush of Tahn’s hand, Lucas knew the fever was still upon him. Tahn dropped the sword but still clutched a knife in his hand.

To Lucas’s relief, the soldier made no move to fight at them or escape. He wasn’t sure what he would have done if he had. Somehow he wanted to keep his eyes on Tahn, until the wounded look left him again.

“We—we heard the girl,” the soldier was saying. “I didn’t want Toril to find her.”

“Are there more of you, separate from the group?” Lucas asked him. Tahn sat motionless, his dark eyes focused on the stranger.

“No. Saud sent us to search the old woman’s house and . . . and anywhere else the Dorn might remember. He thought we might find the sister while they fought your men.”

“They’re not our men,” Lucas answered simply. “Why would you kill one of your own?”

The man turned his eyes toward Tiarra. “Because . . . he gladly would have killed her.”

Tahn sunk against a rock support for the floor above them. Lucas saw that he kept the knife tightly in his hand, despite his shaking.
God, we need time to find the healer!
Lucas prayed.
Help us!

“Why?” Tahn’s voice sounded jagged and weak. “Why did you care what he would do?”

“I knew your mother,” the soldier said again. “I would not have faulted you to kill me. It was wrong, all that was done.”

Was this Tiarra’s miracle? Tahn could not remember the name this man had given for himself. But he was a soldier of the baron. And he wished them no harm? It was hard to believe him. It might have been impossible, except for the body lying outside.

“If you tell us the truth,” he pressed, “what was your part with our mother? Did you kill her yourself?”

“No. But I was there.”

Tahn could almost feel her gentle touch on his cheek again, but the memory was washed away by a sudden wave of confusion and a sea of faces. This man was there? Had he been part of that crowd? Tahn felt almost too weak to sit up any longer. The faces in his memories were swirling about him, mixing with the faces of his dreams.

“You were there?” Tiarra spat out bitterly. “Then you helped our father!”

“No, miss. But truly I should have.”

“How dare you!”

Tiarra moved forward, but Lucas stopped her with his outstretched arm. “Why did you call the bandits our men?” he asked the stranger.

“Because the priest warned us. He said the bandits would stand for the Dorn, and if we sought him, we’d have the lot of them to face. It is not so?”

“No,” Lucas answered. “It is not. I don’t know why the priest chose to claim it. But perhaps it works to our good.”

The burly soldier laughed. The strange sound of it floated into Tahn’s ears and all through him. He remembered Burle as a boy standing before him, laughing. “You screamed like a girl last night,” he’d said. “Or a stuck pig. You’re
pitiful
.”

The strange soldier was saying something about the priest daring to lie to soldiers. But suddenly the baby’s cry assaulted Tahn’s ears. She was so near. He knew it—he reached out with a shaking hand, leaning away from the stone support, but he could not hold himself upright. The dark space pitched like a wave of the sea. Faces drew nearer. Too many faces. And then everything grew blacker.

When he fell, Tiarra rushed forward.

“Tahn?” Lucas called, but Tahn could not answer.

Tiarra quickly bathed her brother’s head with the cool water from Ansley’s bucket, but Lucas could not tell her what could be wrong. He could make no sense of this. Tahn, who had endured so much with such strength of will, now lay swept away by this mysterious fever. Lucas had known men to become sick after floggings before. But not like this. And not Tahn.

But he could not give him or Tiarra his full attention. He was obligated to watch this soldier and stay alert to the possibility of more. It pained him that they had failed Tahn in their watchfulness and allowed this man to get through to him.

“He is sick,” the man said simply.

“We know.”

“Reverend, pray for him,” Tiarra cried with desperation in her voice. “Why is this happening?”

“Reverend?” the strange soldier asked. But no one answered him.

“God knows,” Lucas said softly. He began to pray aloud, his eyes on the soldier, his heart with Tiarra and her brother. “Hallowed Father in heaven . . .”

“We should not stay here,” the soldier suddenly said. But Lucas only continued his prayer.

“Listen to me,” the soldier insisted. “The priest’s ruse was a good one. We believed him. But Saud will discover the truth soon enough. He will come back this way. And if I do not meet him, he will search the places he sent me. He will come here.”

Lucas ignored him and continued the prayer, even though he knew the man was right. He wasn’t sure why this soldier would choose to warn them. But if Saud had known to send men here, there might be others at any moment.

“I could go,” the soldier offered. “I could ride out to meet him and lead him another way. I’ll tell him one of the bandits slipped away from the others and killed Toril. He would believe me that I found nothing here.”

“You will not go,” Lucas told him. “I can’t be sure that you wouldn’t lead them here. For now you’re our prisoner, do you understand that?”

Lucas wondered if the big man might consider how they could possibly back up such a bold statement. Tahn might easily have killed him just moments before. But Tahn could be no help to them now.

“Yes,” the man said. “I understand.”

“Should we go back to the house?” Tiarra asked fearfully. “No. The church. If Father Bray would lie for us, surely he would help.”

“Saud will go there,” the soldier protested. “The priest will have trouble of his own when the lie is discovered.”