Return to Alastair (38 page)

“We’ll go,” Netta promised. “As soon as we can.”

She helped him sip the water again, and then he lay on his side with his eyes closed. He was pale and warm to the touch. That worried Netta, but she prayed that the worst was past. She leaned and kissed his forehead. “Rest now. God give you peace.”

Lorne left the cottage to tell Benn Trilett that Tahn had waked.

“Will he be all right now?” Tiarra asked timidly.

“I believe it,” Netta told her.

“God has touched him,” Lucas added. He went to the fireplace, added a chunk of wood, and moved the pot of broth closer. “He’ll be gaining strength soon enough.”

Netta could see the uncertainty in Tiarra. How hard this must be for her, to be here with strangers, not knowing what tomorrow might hold. “He’ll be all right,” she assured her again. “But you heard that he’s concerned for you. You will come with us to Onath, won’t you?”

“I’m not sure what else I could do,” she said solemnly. “I don’t think I belong here. I could cook for you. Or clean, or whatever you want.”

Netta smiled. “I think I want a sister.” Her eyes turned suddenly to Lucas beside the fire. His dangling gold cross twinkled with the fire’s reflection. “What about
you
, sir?” she asked. “Tahn has so often been concerned for you too. He would have liked you to stay at Onath before. I’m sure he’ll feel the same way again.”

Lucas glanced over at her. “Somehow that’s not much of a surprise.”

“Please, will you consider coming with us? I know he will ask you.”

Lucas turned his eyes back to the fire. “If he asks, I’ll consider. But I can’t promise. I am needed here.”

“And surrounded by enemies,” Netta prompted.

“They are Tahn’s enemies more than mine.”

“But you’re his friend. And they surely know it by now.”

Lucas threw the last few sticks on the fire and moved the pot closer. “We need more firewood. Let me check outside.” He glanced at Tahn and moved quickly to the door.

Netta watched him go, wondering what sort of thoughts were churning in him. She knew that his had not been an easy life. Tiarra seemed to understand that as well.

“Even my hard world seems light compared to theirs,” the young woman said softly.

Netta nodded. “Lorne was the same. And Marcus and Vari back home. They were all captive boys. May God heal their hearts. It makes me want to pray for the bandits all the more.”

“But
they’re
not the same!” Tiarra protested. “They are wicked and hurtful!”

“Because of their dreadful choices. Perhaps by the grace of God, they could yet choose more wisely.”

Tiarra stared at her. “You taught my brother mercy.”

But Netta shook her head. “I think sometimes that he taught me.”

When Tahn woke again, Benn Trilett was sitting beside him. The room was hazy and gray. Tahn hoped that meant it was night and his eyes played no tricks on him.

“Well, son,” Benn said. “You slept a long time.”

“I’m sorry . . . to beg for help here.”

“I’m glad to give it. I wish now I would have sent far more men to begin with.”

“Thank you for them.”

“Are you feeling better?”

Tahn did not try to answer. “You and Netta . . . you should not have come.”

“I knew you would feel that way. So did she. But I suppose we were drawn, as you were, to learn the things we learned here.”

“I am hated, lord.”

“You were persecuted for what you can’t help.”

Tahn was quiet, taking in those words. It was true, he knew it now. He bore no guilt against his mother, against this town. There was nothing he’d done wrong, nothing he could have changed. He took a deep breath, trying to ignore his soreness and especially the pain in his gut. Strange gray spots floated in the air between him and the Trilett lord. Whatever was the old woman’s poison, it did its job. He was cold, and one of his hands was shaking.

“Tahn, it troubles me the things you’ve gone through here. I spoke to the priest about it. I want the people of this town to know that there will be no more. Father Bray will gather whoever will come and tell them the truth of what took place. And I am considering what to do with the old woman. I’ll have no more of it. She tried to kill you, and I can’t just turn my head.”

Tahn’s heart suddenly raced. He knew that her poison hadn’t left him, that it was still working what it would work. The pain was so deep he could not have described it. But there was something wrong in Benn Trilett’s words, and he had to make him see. “My, lord—”

Netta’s father put a hand carefully on his shoulder. “Are you all right?”

Tahn nodded stiffly. “Sir, what would you do? With the woman . . .”

“I’ll tell you honestly that I consider hanging her, Tahn, though you live. We cannot leave Alastair thinking they may do what they will to you. It’s abhorrent.”

“What . . . what of the man who whipped me?”

“I don’t know. I’ve considered that.”

“And the man . . . who burned . . .”

“Tahn, I don’t know who he is.”

“How many . . .” Tahn struggled with the words. “How many men of this town will you gather and hang? Will you . . . also hang Lionell? And his men? Is the crime of one worse than the others?”

“Tahn, what are you telling me?”

“They fear.”

“Yes. And it’s foolishness. It’s evil what they’ve done.”

“I can’t . . . can’t take vengeance. It’s what they expect. Please, prove them wrong.”

“You don’t want me to do anything?” Benn Trilett asked in amazement. “You want me to let her go?”

“Please.”

“Oh, son. Would God that they understood you.”

Tahn could not answer. A sudden fiery pain spread across his abdomen. He closed his eyes, willing himself not to cry out.

“What do you want then? That we should just leave?”

Tahn shook his head. “I want to go home. But . . . I can’t yet.”

“Why, son?”

“Either I die here or I recover enough to leave with strength.”

Slowly, Benn nodded. “You’ll not die. But I think I understand. You want to give a different message. That you’re no threat. That in God’s mercy you give them peace.”

Tahn nodded. “Please, lord, lay the fears to rest.”

Benn sighed. “It is hard for me not to do justice for you. But I understand. And you’re wise, Tahn. God has given you uncommon wisdom.”

Netta approached them carefully with a steaming cup. “Can I help you, Tahn? Do you think you could drink a bit of broth?”

He shook his head.

“Water, then?” she pressed, sounding anxious. “Can you try?”

He wasn’t sure he could hold it down. But he knew he needed it, and he didn’t want to frighten her. “Yes. Please.”

He could not hide his shaking hands as Netta held the cup for him. He was glad for her to lay him down again and to cover him with a soft blanket. “Thank you,” he whispered, hoping she’d heard. But he turned his attention to her father again. There was more he needed to say. “My lord, when you let her go . . . ask her . . . ask her to come and see me.”

Benn shook his head. “Tahn—you’re still weak. I don’t think she should be here.”

“Not alone.”

He thought for a moment. “All right, son. Not alone.”

Tahn closed his eyes. He could hear Benn Trilett’s voice speaking something else, but the words went past him. He thought of the stream at Onath. He pictured it wide as a river. And then he was floating in it. The water washed warm over him, and it was gentle as the hand of God.

He woke again when he heard the old woman’s voice in the cottage. He saw the fear alive in her eyes when he looked at her. But Lorne was behind her, and she did not try to leave.

“Peace,” Tahn told her first. “Tell your neighbors not to fear.”

“But how can we know what tomorrow shall bring?” she asked him. “Or even why you choose to stay Benn Trilett’s hand?”

He closed his eyes and held his stomach as the pain spread over him again. “Because there’s no stopping what went before,” he struggled to tell her. “And I want no more . . .”

The old woman’s voice was suddenly slow and grave. “You haven’t told them, have you? What you feel?”

Tahn shook his head.

“I had thought you must be well recovered. But I can see it, lad. I made the mixture strong.”

“I know.”

“Then why do you not wish me dead?”

“How could it help?” He opened his eyes to look at her. “Who could it serve? I understand. All men . . . even I . . . thought I was born to evil. Only God gives better things.”

She seemed to pale in front of him.

“I forgive you,” he told her. “Tell your town the same. Please.”

She bowed her head. “Lad, how bad is the pain?”

He only shook his head.

“You don’t know if you’ll survive this, do you? And you tell me these things?”

He closed his eyes again.

“Why?” she pressed.

“God . . . is the only answer I have.” He was suddenly cramping so badly it brought tears to his eyes, but he kept them tightly shut.

“Tahn?” Lorne called out fearfully.

But then the woman spoke again, and he could hear the brokenness in her voice. “I’m sorry, lad. If you mean us no evil, if you’ll not lord over us what we’ve done, I’m sorry. God be with you.”

“But he could still die?” Lorne asked bitterly.

Tahn shook his head. “Lorne, don’t speak it.”

“But Tahn—”

“I’ll live. In God’s hand. Don’t worry them.”

“But is there anything we can do?”

“Have confidence.” He looked up into Lorne’s eyes. “All right?”

Lorne nodded. But then he bowed his head. “Can I see the woman out? If you must let her go, can I send her on her way?”

“Yes. Let her go.”

“Tahn, how can we help you?”

“Where is my sister?”

“With Netta. In front of the church.”

“Be her friend, Lorne.” That was all he could say. The awful cramping worked its way over him again, and he pleaded with God in his mind for the river he’d felt, to wash away the pain. He thought he heard the door. But he wasn’t sure if Lorne had gone out or if someone else had come in.

Help me, God. I am yours.

Coolness like a breeze touched his face, he didn’t know how. The pain subsided for a moment, but he was suddenly exhausted. He struggled for a deep breath. But just when he thought the pain was gone, it came back again like a sweeping wave. He kept his eyes closed, but he could hear someone moving quietly in the room. He didn’t try to talk. He didn’t look to see if it was Lorne still there. After a while he heard the door again, and the voices were like music. Netta and Tiarra. Lorne. Lucas now, and Benn Trilett. He knew their voices, but he didn’t speak to them. He didn’t open his eyes.

Netta’s gentle hand touched him, and she whispered words of peace. She thought he was sleeping again, and he knew he should tell her otherwise. But he was afraid that if he opened his eyes right now, if he tried to speak, he would betray the pain that had rushed back so vigorously. Lorne had seen it, and Tahn didn’t want to frighten anyone else.

He didn’t know how much time passed. He was awake and then not, hurting terribly, and then some better, in cycles he didn’t understand. He was given sips of water and Netta’s warm broth, never sure if he could hold them down. But he did. It must have been God’s grace at work.

Finally, he thought he could talk to them again. He could try, because the pain had lessened. He opened his eyes and saw Netta, her auburn hair all down on her shoulders. Morning light peeked at him through the window.

“Tahn, how are you feeling?”

“Better,” he told her. “I hope I don’t worry you.”

“I’m glad you could sleep the night. You needed the rest. I only hope we didn’t bother you, insisting that you drink.”

“I love you, Netta . . . Angel.”

“I love you too.” She leaned close and kissed his cheek. “Your sister will be glad you’ve waked, but I’ll not disturb her yet. She’s had far too little sleep.”

“How long have we been here?”

“In this cottage? Or in Alastair?”

“The cottage.”

“We are just past the third night. Perhaps your fourth.”

“Netta . . . has your father given his blessing?”

“Oh, Tahn. He waits to speak to you again. But he will, I know it.”

“Tell him . . . tell him I would speak to him.”

“Now?”

“If it’s all right. Please.”

“Yes. All right, Tahn.” She kissed him again. “I’ll get him. But please, rest on. Can I get you water?”

He nodded, and she brought him a dripping dipper. He took it in his hands, but she held his head. “Lorne says the sleep gives you strength.”

“Yes,” he told her. “He is right.”

“I’m glad,” she said with a peaceful smile. “I’ll go on and get my father, if you wish.”

“Yes, lady.”

He watched her go, knowing she would be back as quickly as she could. He remembered when he had first met Lord Trilett, after being rescued from a waiting noose. Stretched out on blankets in Netta’s church, with two arrow tips just cut out of him, he’d been too weak to get up. But it would be good if he could do so now.

He pushed the covers aside, willing strength into his limbs. He fought a wave of nausea and the fierce soreness to pull himself upright and move toward the bed’s edge.