Wren (The Romany Epistles) (13 page)

Returning to my bed, I sank back down on it, slipping my
sword into its sheath. Running my hands through my hair, I tried to turn my
mind to my morning prayers as my father taught me, but the door burst open
before I could focus. Dardon strode in and crossed to stand over me.

“Lord Hiller wants to know if they can cut down the grove
north of the upper meadow to use for a new front gate.”

“There is wood enough stacked behind the smokehouse,” I
reminded him without really looking up. “What does Hiller care about the gate?”

“They are already using that in the repairs to the
gatehouse.” Dardon ignored my question and sat down next to me on the bed. “He
also wants to know where he can get thatch to re-thatch the roof of the
stable.”

“What?” I pushed myself to my feet, reaching for a clean
tunic. “The stable roof is the least of our worries. If he is so eager to give
his men work, they should work on the outer wall.”

“That is what he said you would say. They are already
working on that. He was wondering where would be the best place to get more
stone.”

I pulled my tunic over my head and grimaced at Dardon. “It
seems he still knows me well.”

Dardon just grinned. “He and Lord Iscarus asked me to
request that you join them at the front gate. They have some plans that they
want to run by you before they commit to them.”

“I wonder why they are bothering to ask.” The words slipped
out of my mouth before I could catch them. I looked over at Dardon to find him
frowning at me. Shame quickly filled my chest. “That was wrong of me, Dardon.
Pray don’t tell them what I said.”

Dardon nodded. “I can understand how you feel threatened,
Tourth. Just remember that they are only here to help.”

I nodded. “Have you seen Wren yet this morning?” I asked as
I reached for my sword and belt.

“She left past the rear sentry an hour or two ago. I suspect
she will return when she is ready.”

“When she does, could you let me know? I wish to speak with
her.” I buckled the leather straps of my belt and reached for my leather
jerkin.

Dardon studied me for a minute as I laced the front. “Don’t
go scaring her off, Tourth. We need her.”

“I doubt anything would frighten her off, Dardon, unless she
wanted to go.”

He frowned at me as though disagreeing.

“Come. Show me where Hiller and Iscarus are waiting. The
sooner we can get to work the better.”

~~~~~

When I returned to the castle yard after the noon meal, I
caught some of our visitors in the midst of raising the repaired gate. Four men
strained to hoist the solid wooden panel with a pulley system while three
others guided it into place. Another man prepared to slide the hinge bolts
home. I scanned the yard, looking for Tourth, but he was nowhere in sight. Lord
Hiller stood near the smokehouse, deep in conversation with his captain. I
passed Iscarus and another man felling a tree on my way back.

"Better watch your back," Dardon said from behind
me, announcing his arrival by dropping a large stone at my feet. Pushing sweat
damp hair from his forehead, he grimaced at me. "Tourth still hasn't
cooled down about last night."

I studied his face. "What makes you think that?"

"He asks after you every half hour like clockwork. Even
Svhen began acting nervous around him. What did you say to him?"

I shrugged. "Nothing that didn't need saying. Where is
he now?" A line of ten men wound through the back gate. Each was burdened
with a stone the same size as one at my feet. They looked just right to repair
the gap in the wall behind the stables.

Dardon ignored my question. Glancing quickly around the
yard, he said, "The cook saved you some lunch in the kitchen. Where did
you go all morning? There were bets among the men that you disappeared because
you were too afraid of Tourth to face him."

"Are they afraid of him?"

"Nah, he has just been a regular bear since he woke
this morning. I think they aren't used to the idea of a woman standing up to a
man."

I nodded. It was a concept that most men didn't understand.
"So, where is he?"

"He is cleaning out the keep," Svhen offered,
appearing at my elbow, smelling of smoke.

"Thank you, Svhen." I smiled up at him gratefully.

"He is in a rare mood," Svhen warned before
continuing over toward Hiller and the captain.

"Not rare enough," Dardon pointed out as he lifted
his load again. "Watch your back," he cautioned. Then, with a grunt,
he started after the end of the line of men disappearing around the back corner
of the stable.

I watched the new front gate settle on its hinges for the
first time.
Deus, give me strength.
Then I approached the main door of
the keep.

Within the walls, the sunlight filtered through the burned
out ceiling two stories above me. The crates of the night before had all been
removed, revealing the smooth stones of a great hall. I paused inside the door
to admire the newly recovered space. In my mind, I could now envision what it
looked like in all of its glory. The heavy timbered ceiling, seasoned with age,
spanning the room easily seven times the size of the great room in my childhood
home. The stone floor, worn into hollows with generations of foot traffic,
covered with a layer of sweet smelling rushes where Tourth, Kat, Philon,
Hiller, Iscarus, and Warwick played as children. The image of Tourth, lanky and
carefree with youth abruptly faded from my thoughts when the Tourth of today
approached me from the far end of the hall.

"Where were you all morning?" he demanded before
he even reached me. Dirt covered his face and dust tinted his clothing with
gray highlights. "You invited these men into my home, gave them
instructions to tear it apart, and then disappeared. The least you could have
done was stayed and helped me sort them out this morning."

"I could hardly do that since I didn't know what order
you wanted things done." I crossed my arms in front of me and studied his
features. The anger of the night before, carefully controlled once again,
lingered behind his mask. Only the fire in his eyes hinted at its presence.
"Besides, I didn't instruct them to do anything. All of these projects
were their own idea."

"I suppose they carry building tools and craftsmen
everywhere they go while on the road." He stopped barely a foot in front
of me, forcing me to look up at him as he glared down at me. "You told
them we needed them."

"I mentioned that the keep needed work. Kat filled in
the details."

"Still you mentioned it."

I met his glare with icy calm. He hadn't forgiven me. I was
sorry to see it, but I cared too much for him and his family to back down now.

"I am leaving."

He blinked and looked aside, momentarily puzzled at my
statement. However, he recovered quickly. "Running away?"

"No, studying the enemy. I am going to go assess the
enforcer and his position."

"You can't." His voice was flat, but his hands
tensed into fists.

"I can and will. I am the best one for the job."

The anger flared, his gaze biting. "Because only you
have the skills?"

"No," I calmly replied. "Because I am the
only woman. If you or any of the men went, you would be pressed into labor. I
can at least avoid that danger without effort."

"And what if he presses you into a different form of
forced labor?" Worry edged his voice despite his efforts to hide it. I
took hope in the crack in his façade. He cared despite his current feelings
toward my actions. I grabbed onto that worry and reminded myself that he was
hurting deeply, more deeply than even I could fully understand. Like a wounded animal
afraid of hurting again, he was lashing out.

"I know how to take care of myself, Tourth," I
said softly. "Don't worry about me."

Our gazes locked, and he knew that I was reading his face.
His expression closed and he turned away.

"When will you be back?" he asked finally.

"Soon. A week at the most." I studied the line of
his stance. "Remember what I said last night. You need to speak to the
Lord about what is consuming you before the poison is all that remains."

He stiffened and showed me his back. "Close the door on
your way out."

It was nothing less than what I expected, yet the coldness
in his voice hurt a bit.
Father, make him see. Break his pride and draw him
to You.
I turned away. Crossing the distance to the door, I continued to
pray. I stole one last glimpse of his straight form among the patches of shadow
and light in the center of the ruined hall. By the time I returned, the roof
would be repaired and the space useful again. I hoped desperately that the same
would be true of Tourth.

She was so infuriatingly sure of herself, certain that her
assessment was correct. The overwhelming urge to throw something flooded
through me again. I thought I finally quenched it in moving all of the debris
and crates out of the great hall, but one brief conversation with her brought
it back. I wanted to yell with frustration. However, not even that release was
open to me. One holler and forty plus men would come running. I ran my hands
through my hair and groaned.

"Did Wren find you?" Hiller asked as he approached
from the direction of the stairs to the solar.

I grimaced at him. "Yes, she found me. She is leaving
to check out the enforcer."

He nodded. "Know the enemy. A wise move. So, what is
the problem?"

I closed my eyes and ignored the question. "Are the new
beams going to be long enough to reach across the roof?" I asked instead.
I risked glancing at Hiller as he squinted up at the roof.

"Shouldn't be an issue. Svhen says that they should
have enough wood prepared to start work on this in two days."

"Your men work fast."

"I should hope so. We have been re-beaming and
thatching houses for months now." Catching my puzzled expression, he
grimaced. "Raiders along the border take great delight in razing farm
houses and barns. As fast as we rebuild them, they demolish them. Scouts say
the men wear red and mustard paint on their faces."

"The colors of Orac’s house."

"We suspect the enforcer. So far, we haven’t been able
to connect the raiders to the enforcer, but it is only a matter of time. If we
could get you reinstated as Lord Iselyn, overseer of this valley, the enforcer
would have no reason to continue to support the raiders. Then we can remove
their presence from our borders."

"And here I thought you were helping me purely on the
basis of our fostering together."

Hiller laughed, a loud, uninhibited sound that bounced about
the newly cleared hall. "Hardly. You gave me plenty of trouble during
those years. I can hardly remember a time when you weren't planning some kind
of mischief to get us involved in. I, also, seem to recall more than a handful
of scrapes where I got the rougher portion of the effort and not the
reward."

"I can't help it that you were a strong lad," I
protested. Memories of those lighter days slipped through and whittled a bit at
my dark mood.

"Aye, but you were faster," he muttered with a
smile.

"I had to be. If I let you catch me, I would have never
survived your wrath."

He laughed again. I managed a weak smile.

Brone shifted his weight beneath the full saddlebags. He
sensed that we were leaving again, and he wasn't happy with the prospect. After
a year and a half of wandering, staying less than a week in any one village, he
and I covered a great deal of ground. Now that we lingered here for a few
weeks, he seemed inclined to think that this was now our home.

I tightened the cinch on the saddle and frowned. I was
beginning to think of it as home too. True, my siblings weren't here. However,
it felt right to be here. Even if I didn't truly belong to this group, I did
believe I needed to defend what they had. Family was precious. I didn't have
the opportunity to defend my own family, but I could do something to help this
one stay together and safe.

"Going somewhere?"

I looked up to find Iscarus watching me. He stood at Brone's
head, stroking the stallion's nose. With his hair awry and his clothing
spattered with stone-laying compound, he looked more like his brother Warwick
than he probably would like to know. I fed the cinch strap through the loops
that would keep it from dangling below Brone's belly and turned my attention to
the stirrups.

"I am going to investigate the enforcer's resources and
activities on the other end of the valley."

Iscarus grunted. "Not running from Tourth?"

I snapped my face around to study his. "Why would I run
away from him?"

He shrugged, a movement too precise to be spontaneous.

Something was up. I dropped the stirrup and turned to face
him. "Everyone seems to be very concerned about how Tourth and I are
doing."

"You are the first girl I have known to stand up to
him."

I crossed my arms over my chest. "And what is that
supposed to mean?"

He smiled. "Tourth tends to scare the women."

I thought of Aiden and Arnan and laughed. "There is no
chance of that." I claimed the reins and mounted. "Don't let him do
anything foolish while I am gone."

He nodded. Stepping back to allow Brone space to move, he
lifted a hand in salute. "Safe journey." Brone snorted a response and
headed toward the newly hung gate.

~~~~~

Even before the village came into sight, the air began to
change. Heavy with silence, the tingle of a coming storm prickled across my
skin. I pulled Brone to a leisurely stop beside the road and looked over my
shoulder to watch the dark clouds rolling over Iselyn. Brone shifted uneasily
beneath me, eager to keep moving away from the storm. I listened to his signals
and kneed him forward once again.

The village appeared as we crowned the fifth rise. Iselyn
out of sight behind us, the rain arrived in a sudden onslaught of cold water
that stole my breath away. The weather transformed from foreboding to deluge in
seconds. Brone protested with a snort and a small prance of nerves. I pulled my
hood down over my already sopping head and tugged the brim down to shelter my
eyes.

As much as I would have liked to stop and seek out shelter
in Roulf's shop or even one of the inns, I resisted. We needed to make it to
the other end of the valley by nightfall, and I didn't want to attract
attention.

We passed through the village without incident. Almost all
the buildings offered blank faces of wooden shutters and dripping stone. Even
Roulf's store looked closed. Only the thin streams of smoke coming from the
chimneys and occasional movements behind curtains revealed the life behind the
dead façade. Unable to bear looking at the evidence of fear, I urged Brone
onward toward the far side of town.

I expected the roads to be empty, especially considering the
press gangs, so I was surprised when a half-hour later I heard the sound of
voices. Male shouts, distorted by the roar of the rain around me, came from the
crossroads ahead. As I rounded the bend in the road and the weather-bent
silhouette of the wooden marker came into view, I involuntarily reached for my
first knife.

A crew of five men, bent dark shapes in the rain drove a
train of eight chained men along the center of the road from the capital city.
Punctuating their yells with cracking whips, they turned the line of captives
onto the road I was following, the way to the enforcer’s fortress. None of the
men noticed me as I pulled Brone to a stop and watched them.

What do I do, Father?
I hadn’t even considered the
role I would play before the enforcer and his men. A female bounty hunter would
probably be accepted, especially if my fame preceded me. It was a possibility
considering my public run-in with Steward Farley not so long ago over my last
catch. Because of that, my best bet would be to be myself, or at least a
version of myself most men expected. I replayed the incident with Steward
Farley in my head, refreshing my memory and forming my role.

“Hey you!”

One of the men separated himself from the rest and started
back toward me with whip in hand. I drew back my hood with one hand while the
other closed about the hilt of my knife.

“Where are you headed, sir?” I asked politely, drawing out
my braid of hair from beneath my cloak. The man’s pace and body language
changed with my hair and face’s appearance.

“The local enforcer’s fortress, miss.” He came to a stop
next to Brone’s head and squinted up at me through the rain. “What brings you
out and about in such weather?” He scanned the road behind me. “And without an
escort.”

Reasonably sure he was not an immediate threat, I used both
of my hands to wring out my braid and begin winding it around my head. “Between
bounties. You don’t happen to know of anyone who would need my assistance,
would you?”

“Bounty hunter?” He drew in his chin in disbelief and
grunted.

“Perhaps you have heard of me,” I suggested, raising my hood
once again. “The Romany.”

He lowered his face to hide his reaction, but his body
language changed again.

“The enforcer might have a task for you,” he finally
offered. “Those men are some criminals for his building crew.” He turned to
glance at the group slowly moving down the road behind him. “If you want, you
can travel with us.”

“I appreciate it.” I nodded down at him.

With a grunt, he turned back to catch up with his prisoners.
I followed far enough back to not crowd them, but close enough to scan the
captives. My presence caused a mild sensation among the captors, but the
captives continued to trudge forward with heads bowed.

Thus we traveled for an hour. The rain kept up a steady beat
on our heads, turning the road to a mess of mud that lapped at Brone’s ankles
with every step. The pedestrians fared worse. Caked in brown, wet slop to their
knees, the drivers endeavored to keep the captives moving at a quick pace
despite the conditions and the upward slope of the road. However, their
expectations were unrealistic. One man stumbled and the whole line fell to
their knees, drawn down with their comrade by the chain binding them together.
After the fifth incident of this kind, I approached the leader of the gang.

“Why don’t we stop and wait for the rain to let up?” I
asked.

“Promised the enforcer that I would have a new supply by
noon.”

I frowned. Noon was at least four hours gone. The sky was
darkening, and I judged that we would be in complete darkness within another
hour.

“We only have another mile to go,” the leader added. “Just
after that turn in the road.” He pointed where I could dimly see the road
disappearing behind a copse of trees. “We usually catch our first glimpse of
the castle. With this….” He swore profusely as one of the captives went down on
one knee. Turning away toward the stumbler, he raised his whip to strike. I
nudged Brone’s side sharply and he leapt forward, startling the leader so he
scrambled to get out of the way. I drew Brone to a stop a few feet in front of
the slowly moving column, turning just in time to see the leader struggling to
find purchase in the slippery muck. I couldn’t hide the smile that came to my
face when I saw he lost his whip in the mud.

“Sorry about that,” I called back to him above the roar of
the rain. “My horse is skittish around whips.”

I couldn’t make out the words of the man’s response, but he
was saying something loudly. His associates moved to assist him and I scanned
the column of men taking advantage of the disruption to rest. One of the men
raised his head when I called out my apology. He looked at the master, but now,
he turned to find me, recognition in his eyes. My gut hardened with dread.

“Arthus.”

The name slipped from my lips in a whisper as my thoughts
raced. He never made it to the king. He couldn’t have. Not in the amount of
time that he had been gone. This meant that Tourth’s petition for recognition
from the king never arrived. I grimaced. Tourth needed to know immediately so
that he could send out another petition.

The master was on his feet again and the group moved
forward, giving Brone and myself wide berth. The satisfaction of the master’s
empty hands was lost in my frenzied struggle to come up with a plan.

I hadn’t anticipated staying long at the enforcer’s fortress.
If it weren’t for Arthus’ danger, I would have already spurred Brone back
toward home. However, Arthus was here, a captive doomed to hard labor,
something I couldn’t allow. I shut out the stories of the enforcer’s treatment
of his compulsory labor crew and forced my thoughts to organize. Following the
column at a distance, I continued to scheme.

Forty-five men in cramped quarters were hardly conducive to
inner reflection. I reveled in the distraction and used the ongoing training
sessions to keep my mind off of the future. The past was a bit harder to avoid
considering Hiller and Iscarus were right there in the room. Every time I
noticed them, a memory from childhood would explode in my thoughts. It seemed
to take an eternity, but finally it was my turn to take watch. I stepped out
into the drizzle with a sigh of relief.

“Not used to the company?” Iscarus stepped out the door
behind me, shutting out the noise of the kitchen with a click of the latch.

“It is definitely more crowded.”

“The cost of safety,” he pointed out as he raised his hood.

“Where are you headed?” I asked, hoping to hear that it was
far from my own post.

“Wherever you are. I am not on watch until tomorrow
morning.” He met my gaze evenly. “I thought you might need someone to listen.”

I shook my head and peered into the darkness. My eyes
gradually adjusted to the light change. “I am not in a talking mood, Iscarus.”

“In that case, I will just sit with you.”

I grimaced and strode out into the dark courtyard. I ignored
the sound of him sloshing through the puddles behind me and concentrated on
finding the gatehouse stairs. I was scheduled to watch from above the newly
repaired gate. A task I preferred to accomplish alone.

I found the poor man I was replacing perched in the center
of the arch over the gate. He looked up at our approach and then slowly
unfolded himself beneath his cloak. Lifting a lantern so that he could see my
face, he asked, “Password?”

“Very funny, Troj,” Iscarus replied.

“One can never be too careful,” the young man replied.

“I will vouch for his identity.”

“How do I know you aren’t a changeling?” Troj asked as he
offered the lantern to me. I took it and lifted it to peer at the wet-shiny
surface of his features.

“What about you?” I asked. “How do I know that you aren’t a
changeling?”

He laughed. “You don’t.”

“Enough with the mind games, Troj.” Iscarus motioned for the
man to leave.

“Is he always like that?" I asked as Troj disappeared
down the stairwell.

"Usually. He likes to keep us on our toes."

I frowned. I didn't feel nearly as tolerant. I settled on
the wet ledge, wincing as my cloak thirstily sucked up the freezing water. I
leaned forward so that I could see out into the darkness as far as possible and
grimaced as the rain dripped from the edge of my cloak onto my bare hands. I
had forgotten my gloves, not that they would have helped much in these
conditions.

"Reminds me of the night before the battle of
Yornth," Iscarus commented as he settled in beside me.

"I wasn't there." Hoping that Iscarus would take
the hint from my tone, I shoved my hands in my armpits and tried to keep the
cold tendrils of memory at bay. Neither attempt worked. Iscarus continued to
speak and my thoughts plodded helplessly, retracing the most painful memories
of my life.

"It rained that night too." Iscarus' voice
lowered, slowed by emotion. "My battalion was charged with defending
Tanion Hill below Lord Orthan's castle. Out of the hundred men with me, only
twenty saw a fight before. Even my sword mate, Honoiun, had yet to kill his
first man."

My stomach turned as the familiar smells of the battlefield
in my thoughts mingled with the essences of damp earth and wet stone.
"None of us knew what we were getting into when we signed up." I
closed my eyes, but it only intensified the images. Aron standing over a fallen
spearman, his hands and armor covered in the man's blood and the look of horror
on his childish features. He had been too young. Only three years my junior,
eager for his first battle, but he wasn’t prepared for the massacre of war.
None of us were. I shook my head to rid myself of the ghost, but it would not
leave.

"You should have seen their faces, Tourth."
Iscarus' voice cracked.

"We didn't belong there." I looked down at my
clenched fists. I held them out in rain, opening the fingers slowly. In my
mind's eye, they still dripped red. I blinked. "Iscarus, none of us
belonged there. If I had just put my foot down…if I had just said no and taken
them the other way…." My hands shook.

"The battle of Catorna wasn't your fault."

He laid a comforting hand on my shoulder and I shrugged it
off.

It was. Nothing changed. Catorna was my fault. I could have
changed our course. I warned our commander about the signs of ambush. He called
me a foolish country boy. My heart clenched and I gritted my teeth. If only I
said more, refused to continue, or done something, anything to avoid the
ambush. Instead I withdrew, shamed into silence.

"I could have stopped it." I spat the words out
with all the conviction I felt. "You are wrong, Iscarus. I could have
saved all those men. I saw the signs and did nothing."

"Did you report them?"

"Of course, but that idiot of a commander disregarded
them. He kept marching us forward. He made Aron move to the front when I protested.
Then Aron took the first arrow to the chest." I struggled to block out the
sight, but I couldn't avoid it. The smell of shock and fear, the strange
sensation of time standing still, and then the madness came, a fire burning
within my chest, clouding my mind with anger, and then the blind obsession of
revenge coursing through my limbs. "Do you know how many men I killed that
day?" I asked as I pressed my slick palms to my eyes.

"No." Iscarus' voice was quiet and calm amidst the
chaos in my head.

"One hundred and seven." I forced myself to
breathe, drawing air into my aching chest. I had to. I had no choice.
"What is worse is that I wanted to do it. I looked into each of those
men's eyes and exulted as the light of life faded." A sob broke from my throat,
tearing away the scab that I protected so jealously. "I wanted them to
pay. Pay for killing Aron and the other boys, lads who would never know a
future. Pay for being greedy and wanting more than their share. Pay for
destroying so many lives." I laughed bitterly through my tears. "The
irony is that I destroyed more futures in those hours than they."

"Did Svhen, Arthus, and Dardon know Aron?"

I shook my head, struggling to get my heart under control.
"They were north of Catorna at the time of the massacre, loaned out to
train with a different battalion the month before. In Deus' mercy, they missed
Catorna."