Return to Alastair (25 page)

Lucas pushed away from the wall. “We should go to the others. I think the boy is right that they’ll not know where to search.”

He headed back in the direction of the barrel maker’s shop. Toddin followed him closely.

“He’s in bad shape, you know.”

“Tahn is strong,” Lucas replied without stopping. “I have seen him survive worse.”

“Yes. I know. But we can’t let him put himself in harm’s way again.”

Lucas turned. “He has Lady Netta and the children waiting for his return. You don’t think that’s important to him?”

“Yes,” Toddin acknowledged. “But not enough. And I think you understand.”

“Maybe I do. But he’ll not jeopardize himself if he sees an option! Do you understand that? He has no longing for death any more than I do! We are in God’s hands.” He turned around again and walked on.

Blocks away, Ansley had stopped at a well that he knew. The street children came here often at night because it was closer than the stream and there was a pail tied to the post. Careful to be quiet, he lifted water from the dark depths. He would have to untie the pail and take it with him. He hated to. He knew it was unkind to whoever might follow. But he would return it if he had the chance. Miss Ti’s request was important to him. Because her brother was important to her.

He still wondered about that. It must be strange to suddenly meet a brother you’d never known before. And such a brother! All the town spoke of him as though he were a vile criminal, a murderer not to be trusted.

But tonight he was very sick. Only once before had Ansley ever heard someone speaking in the delirium of a fever. His grandfather. And the fever had taken him away forever.

He didn’t know if Miss Ti’s brother would die. He hoped not, for her sake, because he knew how hard it was to be suddenly left alone. But maybe Tiarra felt alone anyhow, without Martica. He wondered if she might be just a little afraid of Tahn Dorn, her brother or not.

Carefully, he struggled to untie the knot that held the pail. It was not easy. But just as he had it loose, just as he thought he could slip away and go back, he heard horses. Too close. Running horses. He took the pail and ran for the nearest cover.

He shouldn’t have run.

“Grab him!” some gruff voice was saying.

He left the pail beside a wall and tore down an alley as fast as his legs could carry him. Why were they chasing? Surely they would know he was not one of the ones they were looking for. And they could not be aware that he knew anything of them. But he was tall. Perhaps he didn’t look like a boy fleeing them in the night. Perhaps in the darkness with his uncut hair, he might even resemble Tiarra’s brother, who was small for a grown man.

He tried to stay ahead of them. He tried to duck away. But they were too close, and it was only a matter of moments before one of the rough men had him by the arm.

Almost he fought, but he knew he’d not escape them now. The best thing, surely, was to let them see that he was no one to them. Just a scared boy, running like street children do.

“Let me go,” he begged, glad that he sounded weak and frightened.

“Just a street kid, Burle,” said the man who held him.

“Why did you run from us?” the larger man barked.

“I—I was afraid of the bandits after dark. Most of the town is sleeping.”

“The bandits, eh?” Burle laughed. “You do well to be cautious, all right. But why would that concern you? You have anything of value that might interest bandits?”

“N-no, sir.”

“What about information? You see everything, hear everything on the streets, don’t you?”

“Not everything.”

“I thought we were going to the church,” one of the men complained. “This is a waste of time.”

“Shut up,” Burle commanded. “It doesn’t hurt to ask questions, in case that priest had the good sense not to let Tahn through his doors. And this boy was in our path. We might as well see what he knows. What about it, boy? Do you know anything of a girl called Tiarra Loble? Or her brother, a stranger named Dorn?”

“N-no.”

Burle stepped from his horse. “You mean to tell me you’ve heard nothing of a man named Dorn coming to your town? The tavern master says there has been much talk. Quite a bit of unrest. The people don’t want him here. They even whipped him.”

“I—I know nothing.”

“Come on, Burle,” one of the other men said again. “Leave the fool of a boy and let’s get to business.”

“No,” Burle said more quietly. “Didn’t Samis pick you up when you were living on the streets, Jon? Just like most of the rest of you. When did you not make it your business to know where the dangerous sorts took themselves? When did you not pride yourself on knowing enough to buy your way out of trouble if necessary?”

“Maybe this kid’s an idiot.”

“Maybe he’s hiding something.”

Ansley was in a panic. He tried to pull away, but the man who held him only grasped tighter. Burle stepped forward and took him by the throat. “There is no one to stop me from ridding this town of you, boy,” he said. “You have one more chance to tell me what you know.”

Ansley’s mind raced around all the things he’d heard. He could not betray Miss Ti. He could not endanger her. There must be something he could do to send them elsewhere. And for some reason they were already on their way to the church. Perhaps he could keep their attention there. “Th-that man Dorn has a friend from the church,” he stammered. “I—I don’t know his name, but he’s a friend of the priest. He’ll know where Dorn is. But—but be careful—”

“Careful?” Burle scoffed. “Of what?”

“Th-there are other men in town. From the baron. They’re here because of the stranger too.”

“The baron’s men are here?”

“Yes, sir.”

“There’s no love ’tween the baron and the Dorn, Burle,” one of the bandits said. “Maybe they’re hunting him too.”

But Burle scowled, took hold of Ansley’s shoulder, and shook him hard. “Why do you tell us to be careful, boy?”

Ansley knew there was something strange in his tone. This strong, cruel man was uncertain what the presence of the nobleman’s soldiers might mean to their lawless quest. And Ansley thought he could use that uncertainty to advantage. “They might not like it, you coming up, so many men with swords. Tahn Dorn’s a friend of Lord Trilett, that’s what they say. So the baron don’t want any more trouble for him in this town.”

“Lies!” the man called Jon scoffed. “The baron protecting the Dorn? More likely that the sky fall down around us! We all know how the elder baron wanted to kill him!”

“That was for a scapegoat, to blame for the killing of Triletts,” Burle reasoned. “But the younger baron is sworn to peace with Benn Trilett. If he’s sent a guard, it’s surely because he can’t afford to risk trouble between them right now.”

“But maybe he only wants to finish what his father started,” a thin man suggested.

Burle hesitated. “What about it, boy?” he demanded with another shake. “Tell me the truth! Why are they here? Might the soldiers have come to capture the Dorn?”

Ansley could scarcely believe how well his spark of an idea was working. “I—I heard nothing of that. Only that they’d have no more trouble. Even if they have to police Alastair with swords.”

Burle shoved the boy away with a curse.

“What now?” another man asked.

Burle spat on the ground and then stared up at his men. “You say the Dorn is charmed! All of you say it because he does not die when a man should die. And now he has noblemen taking his part. So be it! But the baron and the Triletts be cursed! I’ll yet have Tahn’s blood!”

Ansley trembled as the big man turned to him again. But the man said nothing more, only kicked at him and took the reins of his horse. Ansley backed away as best he could as the men mounted and rode away from him. For a moment he stood still, struggling to catch his breath. He might have been killed just now. And it took a moment to steady himself. But then he smiled. Because he might have just saved Miss Ti’s life.

18

S
aud hurried back with his men from their fruitless ride to Valhal on the mountain. No one was there. The place stood abandoned, and Saud was angry. Where would the Dorn take himself instead of Samis’s stronghold? He thought of the old places, the places Tahn would remember from his childhood. Especially the painted house where his mother had once stayed, and the barrel maker’s shop where Samis had found him. But Saud could think of no reason Tahn would want to revisit them. He was probably encamped somewhere with a troop of outlaws, reveling in the chance to taste the kind of power Samis had known. But what about the sister? Perhaps he should send men to search.

They rode through the dark streets and passed the church, ready for the conflict that was sure to come. He had expected it to be a simple matter to find the Dorn and quietly kill him, with no one the wiser. But apparently Tahn was not what he had seemed in Onath. He must have either turned his back on the Triletts or been cast out by them.

How many bandits might there be? The priest had not said. The killing wouldn’t be quiet tonight. Nor hidden. But Lionell would gain in favor for sending his men to battle the bandits. And Tahn falling in the midst of them would only show him for the scoundrel that he was.

“Riders ahead,” a young soldier named Hawke told him gravely.

“Good,” Saud answered with a scowl. “The sooner we begin, the sooner it is ended.” He slowed his men, and those in front formed a line on either side of him. He wasn’t surprised to see the approaching horsemen suddenly stop, blocking their path. “Men of blood!” he yelled to them. “In the name of Baron Trent—”

“This is none of his affair!” the brazen bandit in the center interrupted. “Tahn Dorn is not your business! Go home, why don’t you? We seek no trouble from you!”

But Saud shook his head. “The moment you chose to name the name Dorn, you brought trouble on yourselves.”

He motioned to his old friend Korin and sent him and another man to go and search for the sister. They had enough soldiers to deal with Tahn’s bandits. But was he with them?

Burle stared at the line of soldiers blocking his way in the street, scarcely able to believe that Lionell Trent would send these men, or that Tahn could be so important to Benn Trilett that he insist upon it. For a split second, Burle thought of ordering his men to attack them, but the bandits had become more accustomed to preying on the helpless. This fight could cost considerably. “Go,” he told his men. “Fall back. They are too many.”

He thought their retreat would be the end of it. After all, the street boy had said that the soldiers were in Alastair only to prevent trouble. But these soldiers did not stop when Burle and his men turned. Rather, they gave chase and attacked.

Ansley was almost back to the barrel maker’s shop when he heard the horses returning. With a choked cry of panic, he thought the bandits had somehow discovered his deception and come back for him. He pressed himself into the shadows of a doorway, hoping they would not see him.

He could hear the shouts and then, with bewilderment, the clash of swords. Had they discovered that big man, Toddin, and the priest’s friend? Peeking out of his hiding place, he saw some roughly dressed bandits fleeing, and others fighting off a band of well-armed soldiers. At first he almost thought he was dreaming. No one had ever dared fight the bandits. Except Miss Ti’s strange brother. Could these be the baron’s men? Could the words he’d made up actually be true?

No one paid him any attention. With the water pail in his hand, he slipped from the doorway and came to the corner of the barrel maker’s shop. “Miss Ti!” he cried at a whisper.

But he knew she could not have heard him. So he ran to the board at the entrance and carefully shoved it aside. “Miss Ti! They’re fighting! The baron’s men have come.”

“Lower your voice,” a gruff voice answered. “Did they see you?”

Ansley knew the voice belonged to the large man, the Dorn’s friend. “No, sir. They’re too busy. A block over. Maybe more.” He was about to slip into the hiding place with considerable relief when the big man came out to him, followed immediately by Lucas.

“The baron’s men are fighting?” Toddin asked him. “Against whom? The bandits?”

“Yes, sir. But some of the bandits have run away.”

“Why?” Lucas pressed. “What quirk of heaven has wrought this?”

“I—I told them that the baron’s soldiers would not let them cause the Dorn trouble, but—but I didn’t know it would be true.”

“It can’t be true,” Lucas insisted, shaking his head. “Something else is afoot.”

“You spoke to the bandits?” Toddin questioned.

Quickly Ansley related his encounter.

“This makes no sense,” Lucas maintained.

“Whether it does or not, we can thank God for it,” Toddin replied. “But we can’t be sure of the soldiers. And this hole is no place for fighting. We had better watch what happens. We don’t want them drawing too close.”

Lucas passed Ansley’s pail of water in to Tiarra, and then all three of them went to a better vantage point.

“From what Tahn said, I might have expected the baron’s men to join the bandits tonight, not fight them,” Toddin whispered.