Return to Alastair (35 page)

He looked at her soberly, and his words were low. “It was an accident. I lost a crate of his favorite wine on the rocks outside Valhal. I wish to God it had been for something bolder.”

“Were you always afraid?”

“Anyone who was there and says he wasn’t is a liar.”

“Have you seen your family again?”

He sighed. “Yes. Recently. And things are better. Except that my father’s lameness has only gotten worse.”

“Do you love him?”

“Yes.” He shook his head. “Why are you so full of questions?”

“I . . . I want to know more about my brother’s friends. I was thinking that perhaps . . . perhaps they could become mine.”

He smiled. “Well, what would you like to know about Lucas, then? Or Marc Toddin? Or the Triletts, maybe?”

She returned his smile. She couldn’t help herself. “Whatever you want to tell me. I don’t care.”

“You’re very lovely,” he said suddenly.

She stared for a moment, taken aback at the bluntness of his words. She’d been told that before, and never for a good purpose. Her smile faded.

“I’m sorry,” he told her, ducking his head. “I shouldn’t have said—”

“It’s all right. Only it makes me think of the worst of the tavern drinkers. And Mikal Ovny, the son of the man who whipped my brother.”

“Miss Loble—”

“Don’t apologize again. I can see that you’re not like them.”

“But I should restrain my tongue,” Lorne said with a sigh.

“Maybe not,” Tiarra said softly. “Maybe I should dare to tell you that I think you’re lovely too.”

Lorne looked at her in surprise.

“I’ve never seen anyone else offer to feed the street children. It meant so much to them. And I would like to be your friend.”

He closed his eyes for a second. “I want to talk to Lord Trilett about the children. I’d like to help them more.”

His words stirred inside her. Here was a man with good thoughts, good plans. He should be blessed. He should have good things. “Do you work for him always?”

“Yes, I suppose. If you mean steadily.”

“But you are free now. Aren’t you?” Sudden tears clouded her eyes.

“Yes,” he assured her. “The Triletts hire many. But they have no slaves.”

For a moment she couldn’t answer. A tear dropped to her cheek before she could stop it.

“Why are you crying?”

“I don’t know! God has changed so much. For you. And my brother. Even for me.”

He leaned forward. He edged toward her and took her into his arms. And she wept, not even sure why. It was hope, perhaps. For herself, and for the street children. She had never expected good to come. But now, any number of things seemed possible.

Lorne held her tight, and she tried to stop the tears. But she couldn’t. His warmth, his arms, were so different than Mikal’s. But suddenly he pulled away from her.

“You’re all right?” he asked.

“Yes,” she managed to tell him, afraid to look in his eyes.

“I’m glad we found you. I’m glad things could change for you. You won’t have to fear anymore.”

“Thank you,” she whispered, leaning again toward the soft covers the old woman had given her. “You’re a good friend.”

Once again he smiled as he pulled the corner of a blanket over her shoulder and then slid back toward the window. “Sleep if you can, miss. It’s been a very long couple of days.”

28

B
enn Trilett protects him? Even in Alastair!” Lionell spun around so swiftly that he knocked a vase from its pedestal stand. The crimson pottery crashed at his feet, but he didn’t seem to notice. “God Almighty! He must know who Tahn is! Do you understand what that means?”

Saud shook his head with a laborious sigh. “It may mean only that his guard captain has become valuable to him. Especially considering the relationship between Dorn and his daughter.”

“I should have known!” Lionell wailed. “Why would he let a piece of street rabble court a Trilett, no matter what they think that man has done for them! He must have known all along that his daughter’s suitor is a noble son!”

“It surprises me to hear you speak of the scoundrel so generously,” Saud growled. “Dorn is nothing but a worthless villain.”

“Did you see him?” Lionell asked, breathing fast. “Was he at Lord Trilett’s side?”

“We saw no sign of him the entire time we were there, my lord. We heard that the town whipped him before Benn Trilett arrived. Surely for that and for fear of us he kept himself hidden.”

“Whipped?” Lionell stared at him. “Perhaps he’s in bad shape. Pray God that he dies. It would be a perfect solution.”

“But not likely,” Saud told him. “He’s strong.”

Lionell turned away and sank into an embroidered chair. “What can we do? Just when I had things going well again, with Lord Fontler’s daughter as my bride! And now this!”

Saud only stared at him. He had expected railing anger. At least that would have shown some strength. But a morose Lionell, devoid of the fire needed to complete his own plans? “My lord, return a message to Benn Trilett saying you had no idea the affairs of Alastair were so important to him. We were simply attempting to make the city a safer place. He has no way to prove otherwise. He can’t use this against you.”

“Fool!” Lionell responded. “He doesn’t need to find cause, or to convince anyone that I’ve done anything. Don’t you understand that? All he needs is the right moment to announce Karra Loble’s son!”

“Benn Trilett is no schemer. And it will not matter. I have no intention of letting the Dorn make it back to Onath or trouble us any further.”

“What will you do? Attack the Triletts on the trail? Fool! The other nobles will have my head on a platter!”

“Not so, my lord. You can’t help it if we weren’t finished with the cutthroat terrors of Alastair’s roads. Nor if they take their vengeance upon the first noble party passing by.”

Lionell turned, his eyes suddenly bright again. “You’ve hired the bandits.”

“More than that. I have left men among them to be sure of the job. In common dress, you can be certain. And they will be ready as soon as the Dorn leaves Alastair.”

“Well,” Lionell replied, slowly standing. “I’m learning why my father thought so much of you.”

“He knew my capabilities.”

“Prove them to me,” Lionell said with a smile. “And let me know promptly if there are Trilett losses. You know I shall want to properly grieve.”

In the little cottage, Tahn woke again. The room was quiet. Netta was at the side of his bed, her head on a cushion near him. At first he didn’t see anyone else. He could imagine that he must have slept, and dreamed, a very long time. It was like waking from a fog to find the world now changed. How much time had passed? Why had Netta come?

Her father had been here. And he thought he saw Lorne now, over by the window. At the other side of the cottage, the young mother sat in a chair, her baby clutched close to her breast. The sight of her made him think of his own mother again, and he sighed. There was no way to know if the things he’d seen in his strange dreams had been real. But because of the dreams, or whatever they’d been, he felt sure that his parents had loved their children and each other. He might never have proof. But he believed it just the same.

He reached his hand to Netta’s soft hair, hoping not to wake her, but she stirred at his touch.

“Tahn?”

“I’m sorry . . .”

“No, don’t apologize. I’m glad you’re awake.”

“Netta, please . . . why did you come?”

“I had to be with you. I’m not sure how else to explain.”

“Is it safe now?”

She smiled. “Yes. We have plenty of guards. And your enemies have gone. You look so much better. Are you in pain?”

She smiled again. “You did. I’m glad you remember.”

“Have I offended your father?”

“He wouldn’t tell me last night. But I’m sure it’s all right.”

“Will he give his blessing?”

“After he talks to you again, I don’t doubt that he will.”

He took a deep breath, trying to muster strength. He needed to talk to her further, despite his weakness. “Is Lucas still here? Has he told you much?”

“He went with Father and the priest to the church. He told us what happened to you.”

Her beautiful eyes so clearly pictured her concern for him. Her love. He tensed inside. “But did he tell you who I am?”

Tenderly she took his hand. “I know about your mother, Tahn, that she was sister to Naysius Trent. But it doesn’t matter—”

“How can it not? He . . . he was a coward and a beast.”

“I know. And I knew you wouldn’t be pleased. But his deeds speak nothing of your mother. Or of you.”

“That’s not all, Netta,” he said softly. “There’s also Samis.”

Her brow furrowed just slightly. “What about him?”

“He was kin to my father, lady.” He struggled with the words. “They were brothers.”

“Oh . . .” Her hand tightened in his. “No one said . . .”

“Lady . . . naught but the devil himself could have been more evil.” A shudder ran through him, and he lowered his eyes.

“Tahn, look at me.” She gently lifted his face to meet hers again. “That’s not who you are.”

“I know. But I had to tell you. And you must tell your father. You have a right . . . to consider . . .”

“I consider what a gift God has given us. I don’t care what your family was! Out of horror God has brought good.”

She leaned and kissed his forehead. And before he could think about it, he caught her head with one hand, pulling her toward him. She smiled, and they kissed. But when their lips parted, he had to catch his breath.

“You’re still warm,” she told him. “You need to rest.”

“I need to tell you something more. Netta . . . I think my parents were good.”

“It need not be such a surprise,” she said gently. “But your father too? Despite what they say about him?”

“I don’t think he killed our mother,” Tahn said softly. “I don’t think he could have.”

Netta lifted his hand toward her cheek, but before she could say anything in reply, the healer woman was suddenly approaching them. “Fever’s down enough for you to be talking, I see. A good relief to your friends, all right. Let me bring you a cup and check your back.”

“He’s still warm,” Netta told her.

The woman’s bony hand reached to Tahn’s forehead. “So much better. He was hot as the devil’s fire yesterday.”

When the old woman looked down, Tahn saw something strange in her eyes. He didn’t know her name, but it seemed to him that she was like Martica in a way he didn’t understand. He might have been uncomfortable with that thought, except that her cottage had been a safe refuge. His friends had brought him here. He could trust them.

“Strange to think that Sanlin Dorn’s children could be kin to the Trents,” the woman said. “I can’t help overhearing all of you, since you came here. Such a surprise. No one knew where Karra Loble came from, though I once heard a traveler say there were Lobles near Tamask.”

“The same family, I think,” Netta answered her. “But I don’t know if they are still there.”

“If Karra Loble were a legitimate child, she would have borne the Trent name,” the healer pointed out almost accusingly.

“Her father claimed her openly before he died,” Netta answered her. “But that is past. It doesn’t matter.”

The old woman turned away with a frown. She poured something generously from a small jar into a gourd cup and mixed it with herb water from her pot. She looked toward Tahn. “Everyone knows that Sanlin Dorn came from trouble,” she said. “He was a horrid man. And his father and brother were like him.”

“There is more . . . more than people know,” Tahn told her. “He was misjudged.”

“How can you be sure?” the old woman pressed.

Tahn took a deep breath and shook his head. He was still weary, but he had to answer her. “Did anyone search for truth? No one asked questions . . . or sought evidence. Alastair did the baron’s will. That is all.”

“I’m not surprised that you see this town as an enemy.”

She lifted his head and put the cup to his lips. The liquid was odd, but he drank it in. He hadn’t realized his thirst. “Thank you,” he whispered, looking up at her.

But she pressed the cup to his lips again. “The fever has left you dry. Drink it all.”

As he sipped the cup he looked into her eyes again, and he saw the angry, accusing faces of his horrible dream. The medicine drink was suddenly bitter on his tongue. He pushed the cup away.

“Finish it, lad,” the healer woman insisted. “You need all the liquid you can—”

“No.” He couldn’t reconcile what he was thinking. He knew his friends must have trusted this woman. But what he saw in her now, he couldn’t ignore. “No.”

“Tahn, she’s trying to help.”

“No, Netta . . .” The black mist was suddenly upon his mind. He tried to shake it away. This couldn’t be happening. He’d already won that battle. The darkness was bested because of God’s light. Lorne was suddenly beside him, but the room would not stay still.

The old woman was looking down at Tahn. She smiled, just a little. “It seems the sickness still clouds his mind a bit,” she said. “Do not worry over it. But he must drink.”

Again, she pressed the cup to Tahn’s lips. And he was thirsty. His friends had trusted her. He had known her helping hands in his sickness. Was it only cruel imagination now making him doubt? His heart was suddenly racing. The faces seemed to stare at him out of her eyes.
“He is not worthy of life,”
they taunted.
“Kin of the baron, kin of Sanlin Dorn—”