Return to Alastair (43 page)

“I have little doubt. And I told the priest my concerns for his safety now. He and Korin have done much to turn this town’s blame away from Sanlin Dorn. Lionell and his captain cannot be happy about that.”

“What if he brings a troop of men? What if he attacks us right here?”

Benn shook his head. “Far too many witnesses. And we’re too strong for them. They know they could not stop us all.”

“Then why don’t we leave? We would be strong on the road too.”

“Netta, I’ll avoid a fight as long as I can, because people will get hurt. Maybe I would feel differently if you weren’t with us, as well as Tiarra and the children she hopes to bring along. Even Tahn. I’m not sure how strong he is yet. I don’t want to carry anyone home wounded, or worse.”

“Oh, Father.” Netta shook her head. “I hate this.”

“I know. But don’t worry. I would think it good for Lionell to come. It would give me opportunity to speak to him.”

“I don’t need to tell you how Tahn would feel about that,” she said in dismay.

“Oh yes. I know. He doesn’t want me anywhere near Trents or their men. But it’s too late for that now that I’ve come to Alastair.”

Netta did her best trying to help a few of the men prepare the midday meal as her father sat apart talking with Lucas, Tahn, Josef, and Tobas. But she was clumsy and distracted, and Lorne finally bade her to sit down and let them finish. They were gracious to serve her first, but she couldn’t eat with her stomach pressed tight.

She was afraid. She hated to admit it, even to herself, but she was feeling the same dread weight as the night Tahn had kidnapped her. She’d expected to be tormented and killed. And now she expected that her father’s efforts to avoid bloodshed could all be in vain.
Don’t be so faithless!
she scolded herself.
Who would have thought that Tahn had come as a rescuer then? And who can tell now what God will do?

The thought of Lionell and his men so close stirred a cold tension inside her. Her father’s men camped within sight of the graveyard, practically at the church’s back door! And the baron’s men could be cunning devils. Like Emil Korin’s murder, things could happen so quickly.

But Netta knew her father was confident that he was doing right. She watched him talking to the four men he’d drawn aside and wished she knew what was being said. She could imagine that Josef might feel like her, willing to trust God’s grace and their strength on the road. But maybe Tobas would favor a large presence at tomorrow’s burial because he wasn’t a man easily backed down.

She didn’t really know what Lucas would think, or why her father had included him, except that he knew the church and Tahn trusted him so well. She watched Tahn bow his head and wondered what his word might be. He was cautious for them almost to extreme, and yet he would fearlessly step into the most heated of fights if need be.
Lord, give them a plan,
Netta prayed.
Guide us. Protect us.

It wasn’t long before the other men rose and left Tahn and Benn alone. Josef and Tobas took three other men and went in the direction of the markets. Lucas came to the fire and ate with Lorne but did not say a word.

Netta couldn’t bear the waiting. Welcome or not, she set her food aside and rose to join her father and Tahn, who was solemnly shaking his head.

“It can’t help,” Tahn was saying as she sat down. “It makes no difference what I say. He’ll believe as he chooses.”

“He could at least look on you.”

“That is like asking a wolf to care about what he devours.”

“There’ll be no devouring,” Benn said sourly.

“You know what I mean,” Tahn persisted. “It could even cause you trouble, sir. If I presume to meet him, he might think I make myself his equal.”

Benn gave a frustrated sigh. “Why must you be so humble? Tahn, you
are
his equal! You’re his better.”

“And such words are exactly what he fears.”

“Well, what would you have me to do with you, then? Hide you? Or treat you like my servant in his presence?”

“I
am
your servant, my lord.”

“No. You’re not.” Benn rose to his feet. “Netta, he’s impossible. I can’t for a moment make him see that he has a right to lift his head before Lionell Trent.”

She shook her head, aghast. “There’s too much risk! By all that’s holy, Father, why would you want him anywhere near the man?”

“Because it is just. And I will not fear Lionell. We will be at the burial tomorrow because we have a right to be. And this camp will stay right where it is, despite their arrival. I intend to put myself directly in his path.”

“Father!”

“What do you think, Netta? That I can back down from him? If he comes here, he gives me no choice but to stand my ground. We’ve no safer option. The more I turn this around in my mind, the more I understand that if he wants a fight, I have to give him one, whether I like it or not.”

He turned toward the church. “Let me speak a word to the priest a moment. Tahn, before the men leave, I’d like a word with them as well.”

Tahn nodded, and Netta stood and stared after her father as he walked away. “He was just telling me he didn’t want to risk us on the road,” she said. “But he—he puts himself in danger right here! And you! Perhaps you could speak to him again.”

Tahn answered her in a quiet voice. “If I do, my lady, I would have to tell him he is right.”

“What?”

“God would not have us fear.” He reached out and took hold of her hand. “Would you like to go with me and see where my sister was raised?”

“Now? Today? Before this is settled?”

“I think it’s already settled. Your father is going to the burial of a Trent soldier tomorrow because the soldier had the heart to be honest. Of course, men will accompany him. And I’ll set the rest in their orders. We’ll not fail to be watchful.”

“But Tahn—”

“Lucas is going to stock Martica’s house with a staple of foods and begin to feed the needy there. Tonight, I think. But we need to look about the place and furnish it more carefully. It would sleep more if we could build stacked beds. Have you seen those? Donas and Morrey built a pair once at Valhal, but most of us slept on the floor.”

She could only stare at him for a moment. It was the first memory of Valhal she had ever heard that was not laced with horror. But not only that, Tahn had turned his mind so easily to this new project. What had happened to him? He had so often seemed obsessed with the details of their safety, even in the peace at Onath.

“I also want to talk with the street children.” He rose to his feet and took her in his arms. “Some will want to come with us. And I think I need your help. How many can we accept? I don’t want your father to be troubled for his generosity.”

She reached to touch an old scar on his cheek. “I scarcely know how to answer you.”

“I know. It’s a hard thing. Many may choose to stay, now that they’ll have a home, but I’d hate to take some and refuse others.”

“No,” she told him, “I meant that you don’t seem troubled at all. You dismiss tomorrow from your mind.”

“Right now there’s no more I can do for tomorrow.”

“Yes, but—”

“We might as well be useful with our time.” He smiled.

She was still stunned, but she couldn’t help but return his smile. “All right. God love you, I’ll go.”

Tiarra and Lorne were coming too. Netta was surprised to see that the tenderness Lorne had shown toward Tiarra when coaxing the sword from her hand was growing. The way he looked at her was unmistakable. Netta wondered if Tahn was aware.

Lucas led them eagerly, with two familiar guards following behind.

“In Onath, do your men go with you everywhere?” Tiarra asked.

“Not within the estate,” Netta answered. “But without, your brother insists on it, though there’s scarcely a need there.”

“I don’t know that I’d ever get used to it.”

“You’ll have to,” Lorne told her. “At least so long as Lionell lives.”

“But he’s always ignored me.”

“Because your heritage was hidden. Who’s to say what he’ll do now?” Lorne spoke with heaviness, and Netta understood that he was as worried as she was.

It was strange to see the house where Tiarra had grown up. It was no bigger than the healer’s little cottage and in far worse repair. Crumbled bits of mud plaster with flecks of scarlet and blue were on both sides of the door. Faded eyes and faces, among other designs practiced long ago by an artist’s hand, gave the place an eeriness that made Netta uncomfortable. No wonder Tahn would remember it, even if only in his dreams.

The place was worse on the inside. Cracks in the walls, sagging fireplace, dirt floor. And no furniture at all except a rickety old table.

“It’s perfect,” Lucas pronounced. “But we’ll want a few chairs and shelves for supplies. Lots of food. Plenty of bedding.”

Perfect? Netta was speechless. But Lucas had been a street orphan himself. Anything with a roof might seem good to him. She looked up and was perplexed to notice at least one visible gap in the slats and thatching. “Is it leaky?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Tiarra answered her. “We used to catch the rain in the pail and the pot. Then we could use the water.”

Netta looked at her a moment. The pail and the pot? She turned toward the hearth and saw that there was indeed only one cooking pot in sight, next to a flat stone and a pottery jar with a bare handful of utensils. A small pail for carrying water sat to one side with what looked like a nearly empty meal sack beside it. Two bowls were on the mantle shelf beside an oil lamp, a worn basket, and a cloth. That was all. There was nothing else to see except the bare opening to another room in back.

With a glance at Tahn, Netta went to the doorway of the next room. But she could only stand and look for a moment. There was a thin woven sleeping mat on the floor. A ragged blanket or two in a heap beside it. And a folded garment in the corner with a cup and what looked like a bottle of medicine. Except for a half-spent candle, that was all.

It made her cold inside that Tiarra’s childhood here was far better than Tahn’s. And that the street children, even if they were crowded in with nothing added to the place, would find the house a genuine blessing. There was so much need in the world. It was horrid to think that such dwellings as this were common and not the worst to be had.

She felt like crying but didn’t want their questions, so she steadied herself completely before turning around. But thoughts of her own grand home filled her mind. With its winding staircase and spacious rooms of furniture, it was not filled even after taking in eight children. And that place had only been secondary. The other estate house, even grander, had been destroyed by the flames set by Samis’s men sent by the baron for destruction. The Triletts even owned a third property sitting empty in the forest south of Onath, something of a retreat cottage, but far better and larger than this.

“Well,” she said solemnly, “I can think of a thousand things this place needs. We’ll not have it all done in one day, but we can make a good start. First, of course, we must find someone in the marketplace with materials for repair of the roof. And the walls need to be plastered afresh in and out. Already the nights grow colder.”

Tahn smiled. “I knew we’d need your help.”

Strangely, his innocent comment made it all the harder for her to hold back the tears. “It’s none of your faults,” she told them, “that you’re ill-acquainted with such details.”

Netta herself had no idea how to go about the work, but she had little trouble finding someone in the marketplace who could supply materials. As a stout merchant bundled things together for them, the man’s small son peeked around a table at Tahn and then suddenly reached his tiny wooden mallet to him.

“Here you go, sir,” he said. “You might need this. And I’ve got it worn to the hand for you.”

“Thank you,” Tahn replied with all seriousness. “But a good worker such as yourself shouldn’t be without his tools.”

The little boy giggled. “It’s just a toy. Didn’t you know I was only playing?”

“I thought perhaps you’d built this stand, where your father displays his things. Nice work for a small lad.”

Netta smiled at Tahn’s response, and the boy and his father both laughed.

“Look, Papa,” the boy said. “Isn’t he the man who gave his sword to God? He thinks I made this place.”

“I think he’s playin’ as much as you.” The father nodded to Tahn. “Thank you for your trade with us.”

Netta wasn’t sure Tahn would answer. It seemed to take him a moment to find his words. “You’re very welcome, sir,” he finally said. Netta took his hand. They walked on a little ways, and she was glad that the looks they drew did not seem to be malicious ones. Everyone seemed to know him. Everyone watched. It was a bit unnerving. She shuddered to think what it had been like for Tahn when he first entered the town.

“Where has Tobas gone?” she asked in order to draw her thoughts elsewhere. “He could not only repair the house but probably also build your stacked beds. And hang shelves. He’s handy at all sorts of things.”

“We’ll probably find him if we pass by anyone with clothes to trade,” Tahn answered her.

“Clothes?” She couldn’t imagine why Tobas would be in need of any, but it wasn’t long before she spotted him and the men he was with. They were indeed buying clothes, old work garments off someone’s drying line. They’d also acquired a handcart full of basketry, and a mule. But no one offered any explanation.

Tobas stayed with them while the other men returned to see Netta’s father. Soon they had borrowed a rope-and-pole ladder, and Tobas had Lorne with him on the roof.

They’d barely started when a dirty little face peered at them from behind a neighbor’s house. Netta smiled at the child, but he only ducked his head until Tiarra called, “Jori, come here! Don’t be afraid.”

The little boy slowly stepped into view, followed immediately by a girl barely taller. “Come here,” Tiarra told them again. “Let us tell you what we’re going to do.”

“That blond man who was mad at us is tearing pieces off your roof,” the girl reported soberly.

Tiarra laughed. “He’s not mad. And they’re fixing it, Rae. For anyone who needs a place to stay.”