Lords Of The Dark Fall - Fabian (18 page)

Damn. Whoever had taken the sketches had a pretty good representation of Fabian. Not a true likeness, thank goodness but she’d drawn him as a powerful man with hair shorter than was the fashion around these parts. That alone made him stand out.

Her pencil flew over the page. She stopped and closed her eyes, trying to visualise Fabian as he might have been, in his old life. Dark hair, falling to his waist, a torque of gold circling his neck. On his arms, she placed the bracelets of power, two snakes entwined. In one hand a sword, the other a shield. A cloak of flowing silk covered his bare shoulders.

Only the face was wrong. Deliberately so. A slant to the eyes, a hooked nose and a moustache disguised him well enough. He was too handsome for his own good anyway.

The story-plates deserved the best bone china, which would mean taking out a loan to purchase the clay, the glazes and dyes. Risky with interest rates so high. She made a quick list on the side of the drawing pad. Scored each item through. No loans. That road led to slavery of one kind or another. Once in the clutches of the loan sharks she would never be free.

Margo’s sharp warning bark stopped her thoughts. It was answered by another, deeper and not from Drake. Sidling up to the window, Tig peered out, heart sinking to see the wagon rattling towards the gate, Hal’s great hound bounding along beside. When it spotted Drake running to greet them, it broke away and raced towards its friend. The two dogs leaped and circled each other in excitement. She saw Drake jump onto the wagon to sit proudly in the passenger seat.

“Traitor.” She couldn’t deny the dogs loved Hal. He looked after them often enough for them to think him a master, of sorts.

She was suddenly hot, her hands trembling. No way would she manage to hide her panic from Hal’s perceptive gaze.

Not with two dead bodies in the barn.

Okay, don’t even try.
There’d been a small raid. She’d killed both of the intruders. End of story.

Time to see who had the best poker-face.

“Hal?” She met him in the yard, already jumping down from his wagon. He’d left his hair loose, perhaps to give the impression of having dropped everything to run to her aid. He strode towards her, almost knocking her over when he grabbed her shoulders and held her in place, a look of concern on his face.

“I heard you’d had some trouble here. I came as soon as I could. Are you all right?”

“I’m fine. Why shouldn’t I be?”

“Because I smell death, Tig. You can’t hide that from me. People died here last night.”

Steadying her expression, she stared him out. A skilled mind-bender but not that good. She shrugged.

“Killed a wolf last night. Was after the hens. Probably what you can feel.”

“Don’t lie to me, Tig.”

“I’m not.”

He huffed, rather too dramatically and gave her a pitying look. Immediately, her hackles rose. She folded her arms.

“And why would I lie to you?”

“Perhaps because you have something to hide?”

She didn’t miss the deliberate glance at the barn. To her dismay, the three dogs took off towards the barn-door, barking up a frenzy.

“Get back into your workshop.” Hal pushed her towards the doorway, his knife already unsheathed. “There’s something in the barn. I knew it.”

“Rats,” she said. “Nothing but rats. Get off me, Hal. This is stupid.”

“Don’t want to scare you.” Hal’s voice dropped to a low whisper. “Rumour has it there’s a stranger in these parts. Escaped from one of the prison camps, so they say. Pretty dangerous man by all accounts. Get inside. I’ll go check the barn.”

She could barely hold back the hysterical laughter. Hal’s act was about as convincing as a cartoon villain in a bad play.

“I’ll get my bow. Go scope it out for you.”

Yes, and you could tidy up those bodies for me while you’re at it. Why hadn’t she let Fabian bury them as he’d wanted to?

“Hal, there really is nothing in the barn but rats.” She forced a smile to her lips. “If you’ve come over to see me, just say it. You don’t have to make silly excuses like this.” Going up on tiptoe, she landed a quick peck on his cheek. It would take more than that to distract him, but after what she’d just done with Fabian, she couldn’t bring herself to offer more.

He returned her a thin smile of his own, fingers reaching out to caress her hair. “If I knew you had that on your mind, I’d have come over sooner.”

She turned away in disgust. “I’ve had a bad night, what with the wolf and all. And I need to work. Sorry you came over for nothing. I appreciate the concern, really I do.”

“You’re a terrible liar, Tig. Did you know that?”

“I could say the same for you.”

“Then why don’t we stop this charade and you tell me what really happened here last night?”

She took a moment to compose herself before facing him once more. “All right. Two raiders attacked the farm last night. What I want to know is how you know about it when neither of them lived to tell the tale.”

“You killed them?” He sounded incredulous rather than surprised.

“Both of them. They’re in the barn. Was coming over later today to see if you could help me dispose of them.”

“Leave the Jura scum out for the Frey to pick clean.” He rammed the knife back into the sheath. Took hold of her chin and forced her to look at him. “You could have been killed yourself. Now do you see how dangerous it is for you out here?”

“Well, that’s the strange thing. They weren’t Jura. Go and see for yourself. No mark of Crolos.”

“Wild cards?”

“Can’t blame them for trying their luck now Carson is dead. Not everyone’s sworn allegiance to Warrington?”

Part statement, part question. A leadership challenge always brought out the wild cards. Men who took advantage of the chaos to profit where they could.

“Warrington’s no Carson. Let me see them.”

She rubbed her chin, trying to erase the imprint of his fingers. “Sure, go ahead. I need them gone before the wolves really do come prowling.”

“I’ll take them and then you’re coming back with me. I won’t leave you here by yourself when everything is in such flux.”

She ran after him. He was already striding towards the barn. Nothing she could do but hope that Fabian had either left the barn or heard the wagon and had the good sense to hide. Another probing look from Hal as that thought flitted through her mind. No use in reciting the alphabet - that would only alert him further. She concentrated her thoughts on the bodies instead, the horror that left her disturbingly cold.

When had she become so blasé about death?

Hal hesitated at the barn door, like a man expecting to find more than the dead. The dogs came running to greet him. Tails wagging, they ran to the tarpaulin and nosed it aside to reveal a bunched fist, a leather sleeve.

Swallowing down her nerves, she followed Hal into the barn and watched him flip back the tarp and inspect the corpses. No reaction or recognition. Just a cursory glance at each. He covered them again and stood, wiping his hands on his jacket.

“Warrington will want to know about this.”

“If he does, he’ll send sentinels to the farm. I don’t want that.”

“You won’t have a choice.”

“What will it take to keep this to yourself?”

“You know what I want.”

“Fine. I’ll marry you. You wanted an answer and now you have it.”

He was already leaving the barn, crossing the yard to his wagon. She jumped out of his path when he whipped up the horse and charged towards the barn door.

“Did you hear me, Hal?” She grabbed his arm, stopping him when he jumped down. “Warrington doesn’t have to know about this.”

Efficiently, he loaded the bodies into the wagon, rolling them both into the tarp, tying it down so it wouldn’t blow away. Though her nerves were screaming for him to react to her offer, she felt a wave of relief as he took charge of the bodies. The quicker they were off her property, the better.

Hal spoke at last. “I agree. Warrington doesn’t have to know about this.”

“Thank you.” Had she just offered to marry him? Another reason to put as much distance between her and this place as quickly as possible. She would cut her hair, dye it black and paint her face. Should be easy enough to disappear in one of the distant towns.

Hal laughed and tucked his straggly hair behind his ears. “You’re as transparent as glass, Tig. I admire your loyalty to whoever it is you’re shielding, but I’d know you anywhere whatever you did to yourself. If you’re hiding a runaway, you’re in big shit. You know the rules.”

“Better than most.” She folded her arms, feeling her temper rising like an animal backed into one corner too many. The more he goaded her, the less he scared her. It was an odd thing.

He whistled his dog. “Think about what you’re doing, Tig. Spoils belong to the warlord. Nothing’s changed. You have a secret you’re not telling and I won’t stand by and let it destroy you.”

“You mean you won’t stand by if there’s profit to be made? So much for allegiance to Warrington.” A horrible thought struck her. “You’re not thinking of taking him on? He’s twice your size.”

“Whatever gave you that idea? What you speak is treason, my dear.” Before she could stop him he’d clamped a fist to the back of her neck and drawn her in for a hard kiss. He always tasted of sour wine and desperation. Of the grease he plastered on his moustache. She should be used to it, but it turned her stomach every time.

“The warrior who fell from the sky,” he whispered when he finally let her go. “Give him my regards and tell him I want to speak to him.”

“When I see the man, I will.” She wiped away his kiss with the back of her hand, not caring if he noticed.

“You reek of him, Tig.” He leaped onto the wagon and took up the reins. “Can smell it from here.”

“The raiders,” she said nodding at the outlines tied into the tarp. “They tried to rape me. That’s what you’re picking up.”

Hal sniffed and inclined his head, conceding the point for now. “Let me get rid of these two before word of the raid gets out. You know how it is when there’s a new leader in place. Every man and his dog is eyeing up Warrington’s potential weaknesses right now, wondering which way to throw their cards.”

“What you speak is treason.” She threw the words back at him. Wished he leave so she could collapse on the ground and gather her scattered senses. So she could find Fabian and tell him the dogs of hell were about to be loosed.

“Perhaps. Here, a gift for you.” Hal pulled a ring from his smallest finger and tossed it onto the ground before her feet. “Pick it up and wear it, third finger, left hand. You know the drill.”

“I need time.”

“No more time. Unless I misheard you, we’re engaged. I’ll be back later this afternoon to cement our deal. And don’t look so sad. I’m not a bad sort. I’ll treat you right.”

The sad thing was that he probably would. He’d been a good husband to Sunas. Shown real grief when Alie, his second wife had died in childbirth. Not one of his children had survived to their teens. His desire for a healthy heir was painful to see.

Nothing was ever cast in black and white. As she watched him drive away, she couldn’t decide whether Hal was villain or saviour. Possibly a bit of both. She picked up the silver ring and turned it over in her hand. Alie’s ring, she couldn’t miss the symbolism of Hal passing it on to her. No laughing matter, but today she seemed unable to summon up a better reaction to having two men wanting to gift her with children.

Must be something in the air.

She stayed in place until the wagon disappeared at the bend in the road. Hal had all but told her he was hedging his bets right now. Upping the stakes when she was already neck-deep in potential disaster. Did she prefer Hal as a friend or an enemy? Not as simple a decision as it appeared.

Resolutely, she returned to the studio and this time found herself a lump of clay to bash and give vent to her anger. Storing it up would only lead to self pity and resentment and she wanted a clear head with which to think this through.

Fabian appeared a few moments’ later and stood silently watching her thump the clay onto the table.
The warrior who fell from the sky.
And then who, in the words of the old proverb, had proceeded to make her life a heck of a lot more interesting.

She still had to shake herself sometimes when she looked at him. Touch him to make sure he was real and not some dream she had yet to wake from. He had the look of a man preparing for action, his grim expression, tempered with an underlying calm that scared her more than his bluster.

“So what did Hal want?”

She dumped the clay in the bin, slapped on the lid and wiped her hands on her pants.

“He wants you, Fabian. He wants you.”

Had Tig not been there, he would have gone after the man himself. The time for waiting was over; now was a time to act. And if he did not, the window of opportunity would close and he would be forever stranded in this world, perhaps as a slave, more likely as a fugitive.

From the snatches of conversation he’d managed to hear he’d discovered that Warrington’s leadership was by no means assured. As he’d predicted, others would want to test their sword arms before Warrington consolidated his power-base.

He’d also learned that Hal wasn’t averse to playing a two-sided coin. And that Tig had suddenly decided to marry the man after all.

“Hal’s seen my drawings. Told him they were fiction, but he’s not fooled. He’ll be back this afternoon. What do you want to do?”

The hint of defeat in her voice alarmed him. She wasn’t wearing the ring Hal had thrown down.

“In my world, we like to keep our enemies close.”

A flicker of alarm crossed her features. “You want him to meet you?”

“A seer is always of use. Is he to be trusted?”

“Depends on what you have to offer. Every man has their price as they say.”

“A price you have already paid. Am I right?”

“I only said it to throw him off.” She felt in her pocket for the ring. Threaded it onto her finger and held it aloft. “Seems I’m engaged to be married.”

He took her hand, inspected the silver filigree and then before she could react slid it from her finger and flung it across the room. It pinged off the stone wall and rolled away under the bench. Instead of anger he was alarmed to see only resignation in Tig’s eyes.