Till Dawn Tames the Night (50 page)

"The captain asks you to go
belowdecks
, miss."

Aurora turned to find Benny hovering solicitously around her with
Koonga
comfortably around his neck. She smiled tremulously. "Where is Isaac now?"

"Taking tea in the widow's cabin, miss.
The widow asks that you join them."

Aurora again looked longingly toward the tavern. The sign creaked as it swung in the humid breeze.

She turned to Benny. "Vashon can't spent any more time here than necessary. I can't hold him up looking for my father. I've got to look now while he's searching for the Star."

"Miss, you can't go now!
Vashon'll
have my head!"

"Benny, I've got to. I've just got to!"

"No, miss," Benny began but she was already moving down the gangway.

"Benny, I'll be right back, before Vashon returns."

"No, miss!" he cried out, but by this time, she was already on the quay heading toward the Standing Stone. He had no choice but to follow.

Aurora had never been in a tavern before. She was intimidated by the dark interior, even more by the groups of men who sat at trestle tables quaffing their stout. Nonetheless, she glided across the dirt and straw-strewn floor to the man who, by his apron, had to be the
taverner
.

"Pardon me, good sir, but I'm looking for someone and thought I might find help here," she began.

The man eyed her with typical Cornish distrust. He wiped his bulbous nose with the back of his hand and leaned against the crude planking of the bar. He said, "
Thar
ain't
noone
here
fer
tha', love. We got more Irish on the lay than we know
wha
'
ta
do with. So don't need
none
of
yourn
off the ships."

Taken aback, she didn't know what to say, but behind her, Benny came to her rescue.

"You're addressing the fine lady Miss Aurora
Dayne
, bloke. And if she
ain't
addressed
properlike
, the owner of the
Seabravery
just may come to pay you a visit."

The tavern keeper had been about to take a sip from his mug when Benny mentioned the
Seabravery.
Upon that name he nearly spewed the contents to the floor.

"The owner of the
Seabravery?
Y' mean the—the—the
Dragon
hisself
?" he stuttered in shock.

Aurora turned and gave Benny a look of amazement. She had never known Benny could be so commanding.

"The very same," Benny stated evenly.

"We-e-el, ya needn't be
askin
'
agin
. What
genelmen
would ya be
lookin
'
fer
, me lady?" The tavern keeper fairly oozed ingratiating sweetness. He straightened and even wiped his perennially runny nose with his apron, not his hand.

"It's my father," Aurora quickly offered. "He was born in Hugh Town. I think he returned here. Would you know him? His name was Michael
Dayne
."

"
Dayne
?
I never '
eard
of tha' name."

Crestfallen, Aurora was about to thank the man when he said,
" 'Course
,
thar
were a bloke
runnin
' 'round here 'bout five years past."

"What was his name?" she asked excitedly.

"Don't know that."

Her disappointment grew. "Then what made you think of this man?"

"Bloke had the same red 'air you do, me lady."

Aurora stared at the man as if he had just handed her the Holy Grail.

"Miss, we've got to return to the ship," Benny whispered at her elbow. "
Vashon'll
speak with this man himself when he returns. But right now it's not safe for you to be here."

"No, Benny, wait!" She turned back to the tavern keeper. "What happened to this man?"

" 'E
disappeared. '
Bout five years past.
And we were glad to be rid of '
im
, tha' we were. The
bloke were
as crazy as I want
ta
meet. '
E'd
get to drinking, never talking to nobody, and
lookin
' more and more grievous by the year.
We
toF
Mm to go back to his parish, but 'e kept '
sisting
tha' 'e was from here."

"Oh, God, that's he," she whispered, clutching Benny's arm for support. "But now you say he left?"

"No, don't reckon 'e left. I think 'e died, me lady. But we don't bury
paupers,
tha's
the parish's task."

"But he was no pauper!" she exclaimed.

"Seemed like 'un to me,
wanderin
' 'bout,
talkin
' of stars
. '
E were a lonely
creatur
', 'e were."

A lump settled in her throat, thinking about her father. What had gone wrong? Though it would always pain her to think of him as a thief, she'd found some comfort believing he was at least living well on the proceeds of that jewel, even if he'd chosen to do it without her. If she never found him, she at least wanted him to be happy, to picture him living like Bacchus, drunk on his own pleasures. But instead it seemed his last years were spent like a beggar, too crazy even for the workhouse. The thought of him sitting alone in some dank corner of this tavern, drunk and miserable, gave her an inconsolable ache.

"Where did he reside?" she whispered finally, feeling the weight of depression descending upon her.

"No one really knows
. '
E came down for 'is gin from the thicket near Troy-fair. To tell true, I think 'e
were
livin
' in one of them tombs near the maze."

"What maze?" she asked.

"The
druit
maze, me lady.
The big 'un beside the elms, way up there."
He shoved his finger behind him, in the direction of St. Michael's Bluff.

"Thank you so much," she said numbly. She turned away and began walking out. Benny thrust a coin in the man's hand and followed her back out to the docks.

"Thanks
fer
the blunt!" the
taverner
called out before they left.

"Where are you going now, miss? We've got to return to the ship!" Benny exclaimed, following her as she walked away from the harbor.

"I've got to find him.
Even if he's dead.
And now's the time to do it.
I can't risk Vashon being caught by Peterborough if my father's gone. I just want to see if he truly is."

"But—but, miss! I can't follow you up the hill!"

Aurora turned about.
Koonga
was barely keeping a grip on Benny's neck while the boy tried to stay abreast. She softened and said, "I'm sorry, Benny. But I've got to go, for myself, for Vashon. Return to the ship. If you say
I
nothing, I'll be back before anyone even realizes I'm gone."

"I can't do that, miss! I can't leave you here!"

"You have to!" she choked out, hating herself for putting him in this difficult position. She tossed him an apologetic glance, then, blocking out his cries of protest, she picked up her skirt and ran past the quay, leaving the tiny village of Hugh Town behind.

The sailor from the
Seabravery
climbed St. Michael's Bluff, wildly calling out in French. Vashon stood at the top,
Dayne's
crumpled note in his fist. Peterborough was nowhere to be seen. Vashon and the sailor had a quick, tense interchange in French,
then
Vashon turned to Isaac.

"Aurora's left the ship to search for her father." Vashon rubbed his jaw, lines of worry etched into his face. "I'm going after her. Benny left directions. Take the men back and see if anyone's seen Peterborough. From what we've found here, we know he's got to be on the island."

Isaac nodded, but instead of immediately complying, he stared at Vashon, his expression troubled.

"Don't think about Aurora, Vashon," he finally said.

The statement seemed to surprise Vashon. "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying, watch your back. Don't be distracted and we'll win this war. It will seem like you must look out for Aurora first, but if you don't, you'll be better off. Watch your back, Vashon, as you always have. It's the only way to save both yourself and Aurora." As if embarrassed by his outburst, Isaac turned a worried gaze down at the docks of Hugh Town. "That was a foolish thing she did. I hope to God she's not dead already."

Vashon's eyes filled with hatred and agony. In a voice as solemn as a prayer he said, "If she is, then he'll take me too."

He left without a farewell.

The Troy-fair maze consisted of little better than large rocks arranged in concentric circles on the peak of a hill. Aurora looked around, the indigo waters of
Porthcressa
to her right; to her left the dramatic boulders of
Peninnis
. Across St. Mary's Sound, the off-islands of
Gugh
and St. Agnes were barely visible in the mist; nowhere were there any tombs. She continued climbing, through fields of crimson clover and blooming white thrift. When she next looked up, the only structure that broke the desolate scenery was a crumbling stone enclosure that held a wretched copse of elms.

She went atop the ridge of moor and stared at the ancient crumbling walls, unsure of how to proceed. The elms were almost frightening, for where they grew above the protection of the wall, they'd become gnarled and wind pruned, like the fantasy trees in the Chinese screens she'd seen at the governor's mansion in Grand
Talimen
. She couldn't believe her father would live in such a strange place, but she forced aside her doubts and went toward it. Though she feared finding her father dead, she knew it was going to be far worse to find nothing at all and to watch her last chance at restoring her family crumble beneath her hands.

She took a deep breath and entered the walled garden. The purple-brown figwort was so thick it obscured everything but the contorted elms. Here and there a patch of yellow elecampane sprang up to cheer the landscape, but that was a difficult task, especially when she realized the succulent-covered bumps scattered all around were actually large Celtic tombs.

She summoned her bravery and stepped to one, tearing off its overgrown cover. The tomb was pummeled out of granite and looked to have stood since the dawn of time. She stepped quietly to another and a sudden noise frightened her, but it was only a black rabbit scurrying from its disturbed shelter. She smiled at her spooked nerves, but when she walked farther into the
copse,
her breath came fast and tight within her chest.

She ducked under an elm and noted how dark it had become beneath the low, gnarled trees. She moved forward, the elms growing denser with each step, and came upon a large broken-down tomb hidden among some wild privet. The tomb was the largest of them all, certainly big enough for a man to find shelter there. She bit her lower lip and brushed away the figwort from the front of the tomb. The foliage was so overgrown, she tripped. She looked down to see what had caused her to stumble and made a horrifying discovery—a pair of boots that were most definitely attached to their previous owner, a man who was now nothing more than bones and tattered clothing.

Gasping, she backed away. The dead man had to be her father, yet how would she summon the courage to uncover his body to be sure? Desperately needing

Vashon, she decided to return to the ship, but a pair of hands grabbed her before she could even turn to go.

"How dare you disobey
me.
"

She let out a cry,
then
almost laughed from relief, recognizing the voice. She spun and threw her arms around Vashon. He held her tightly, but only for a moment, then he pulled back.

"I'll chain you to the figurehead the next time, Aurora. I swear
,
I'll kill you before I'll see you do something so stupid again."

His harsh words shocked her. She looked at him, for the first time noticing his drawn features, his pale cheeks. He appeared as if he'd just been told everything he'd cherished was gone.

"But I've found him, Vashon. At least," her gaze wandered reluctantly to the spot where she'd discovered the boots, "I think I have."

His gaze followed hers. Leaving her behind, he walked to the body in the figwort and ripped away some of the overgrowth. When he bent to it, his face had the strangest expression, a blend of foreboding joy and dark triumph. He took a faded velvet purse from the skeletal fingers. He opened it and when he stood
again,
her eyes were drawn to his hand. Even in the dim light beneath the elms, the emerald's brilliance took her breath away. The Star of
Aran
was exquisite, alight with blue fire, and so large it took up most of Vashon's palm.

"It was he," she said.