Wren (The Romany Epistles) (12 page)

I let the door fall closed behind me while my eyes adjusted
to the dimmer light and quiet. One lantern sat high on a stack of crates,
covering the area in grotesque shadows. As the heavy door eased back into its
place and the latch slid home, my eyes fell on the ruined remains of a crate
only a few feet inside the room. The light caught at the ragged edges of the
splintered wood, casting their raw edges in sharp relief.

“You are late.”

I didn’t look at him. By the sound of his voice, I placed
his location to the left of the door, but I didn’t turn to face him. Instead, I
picked up a fallen book, lying open among the dirt and splinters.

“Arthus isn’t going to appreciate the destruction of his
property.”

“You had no right.” His low tone burned at my ears as it
rippled over me, seething with fury. I hoped that a bit of time to himself
would have cooled his temper. Apparently not. It had only simmered down to
lava.

“I allow you to dwell under my roof, trust you with my
confidence, and you return the generosity by disobeying my orders.”

“Orders?” I kept my eyes on the book as I straightened to my
full height, stroking the leather of the binding.

“Yes, orders. I clearly told you my intentions and you
cannot claim that you did not understand them.”

“Yet, they were not orders,” I pointed out. “You simply
outlined your plans and reasons. I have plans and reasons of my own.”

“To undermine my authority?” He moved closer, keeping to the
shadows and moving between me and the door.

I clamped down on defensive instincts honed from years on my
own. With a deliberate step, I moved away from the door, giving him room to
block my exit. It made me nervous, but it was necessary. I needed to make it
clear that I trusted him.

“No. I seek only to protect you and the others.”

“I don’t need your protection. We did well enough on our own
before you came.”

I frowned as I set the book on top of a nearby crate. “You
and I both know that isn’t true,” I replied softly. “You were starving. You
told me as much yourself.”

“We would have found a way.” His confidence was forced,
shaky and crumbling. He stepped closer. “I don’t know how but we would have
found a way. We did not need to ask for help.”

I turned to face him at last. “Why is the thought of asking
for help so unwelcome, Tourth? It isn’t as though you had no friends to ask.”

He turned away before I managed more than a brief impression
of his features. “I don’t want to discuss it.”

I took a deep breath. “You must.”

“Why?” He turned and stalked up to me. Fire burned in his eyes
as he towered over me.

If he thought that would intimidate me, he was very wrong.
My brother Aiden was the master at intimidation but he couldn’t make me flinch.
The key was to see beyond the fire and posture and look at the heart. Aiden
hurt in ways I could not help. Tourth, however, knew the Healer and cure, but
he could not see the way. For some reason he blinded his own eyes, wallowed in
his pain, and punished himself for something that he needed to let go of. “It
will eat at you until you do.”

“I do not need a confessor, Wren. I am beyond that.” Anger
lingered in his voice, but it was no longer directed toward me. He turned and
retreated into the shadows, away from the door.

“No one is beyond redemption, Tourth,” I replied. Then
without waiting for his reply, I slipped out the door.

~~~~~

I strode after Wren. When she stepped out the door into the
courtyard, I grabbed her shoulder. She would not walk away from this so easily.
Not after a comment like that. She didn’t know what I had done, what I
witnessed, why I truly left for war. I had to set her straight.

“Tourth!” A familiar voice from hazy years past stopped me
mid-motion, my hand resting on Wren’s slender shoulder. Suddenly I was encased
in a bear hug. I released her as I was lifted from my feet with my assailant’s
enthusiasm. “Where have you been hiding all of these years?” Hiller demanded as
he pounded on my back.

Then before I could respond, he stepped back to examine me
at arm-length. “You look thin.” In the dim light of the torches, I could just
make out the familiar planes and angles of Hiller Pendraco’s handsome face. “We
last heard of you before the battle of Catorna in the south. When we didn’t
hear of you afterwards, we gave up hope that you survived that massacre. Philon
even sent out a few scouts a year back to see if they could find you, but they
returned with nothing. Where have you been keeping yourself?”

“Right here,” I rushed to say. Hiller had always been the
talkative one of the Pendraco clan. If I didn’t speak up soon, he would
continue his narrative without any assistance from me, especially if he was
excited. From the sparkle in his eyes, I could see that he was just that. “I
returned home and settled back here.”

Hiller frowned. “And you didn’t send word to us?”

“There was no need. We were safe and well enough.”

“This is hardly well enough,” Iscarus pointed out as he
appeared at his brother’s side. The years had been kind to him also. His lean
frame showed no signs of abuse or malady. “I saw Kat, Tourth. She has been
without adequate food recently.”

“Last winter was rough,” I admitted. “This year will be
better.”

“Aye, it will,” Hiller said. “We will see to that.”

“Wren told us of your troubles with Orac’s local enforcer, and
Philon sent us to straighten you out.”

“You don’t need to.”

“Nonsense,” Hiller thumped me on the back. “What are family
friends for? If your father, may he rest in peace, hadn’t supported father in
the Turantian conflict, we would have lost half of our holdings. We are just
returning the favor.”

“My Lord.” A strange soldier approached us. Suddenly
realizing he spoke to three nobles, the man clarified. “My Lord Hiller, the
horses are being moved out to the temporary corral. The men need to know where
they are to set up camp.”

Hiller turned to me. “Where do you want us, Tourth?”

“If they bunk three to a room, they should be able to fit
into the old barracks,” Dardon suggested, joining the conversation. “Wren has
already offered her room. She says she will bunk in the old keep.”

“She shouldn’t need to do that,” Iscarus protested. “There
has got to be a way that she can still keep her room and bunk us all.”

I watched the exchange wondering when I lost control of the
situation. Only hours before it had been Dardon, Svhen, and me, completely in
control and certain of who we were and what we were doing. Now, looking at the
chaos around me, I couldn’t guess how many men milled about. How were we going
to feed them all during their stay? Didn’t Wren realize this would be more
complicated than simply asking for help?

As though answering my question, Wren joined us. She avoided
my gaze, meeting Hiller’s instead. “The provisions are stored, the horses
bedded down for the night, and your cook is rearranging the kitchen to suit his
needs. Svhen says he has organized a watch rotation from the volunteers. If
there is nothing else, I am going to head to bed. There is a lot to be done
tomorrow.”

“Indeed there is,” Iscarus agreed. He grinned my way. “We
have a strategy to plan.”

“You should be able to keep your current sleeping
arrangements,” Hiller told her. “I will speak to my men. If I remember the
barracks well enough, those rooms are plenty big enough for sleeping four men
apiece.”

“No.” She shook her head. “I will not see four men squeezed
into one of those rooms just so I can have one to myself. I will be more
comfortable out in the open. I have missed sleeping outdoors.”

“And if it rains?” Hiller asked, looking doubtful.

She smiled. “I wouldn’t be much of a bounty hunter if a
little rain hurt me. If you would excuse me, gentlemen,” she said with a bow.
“I need to sleep.”

Hiller and Iscarus bowed in return. I nodded although she
didn’t bother looking my way. Dardon walked back toward the barracks saying he
needed to make sure no one stole any of his gear, and the soldier followed him.

“Where did you find her?” Iscarus asked. The awe in his
voice did strange things to my stomach. If I didn’t know better I would have
identified the feeling as jealousy. Even stranger since all I wished at that
moment was to shake some sense into her head.

“She appeared one day a few weeks back and asked for a roof
over her head in exchange for her services.”

Hiller frowned at me. “Is there a man you need to find?”

“Not as a bounty hunter, as a huntress.”

“A blessing for you, Tourth,” Iscarus muttered. “Well, I am
off to find my bed. See you on the morrow.” He turned toward the barracks, but
Hiller remained.

“What is wrong with you, Tourth?” he asked. “You have
changed.”

I refused to look at him, turning to stare at the broken
castle gate instead. “War changes men, Hiller. Some men grow into heroes, other
monsters. I thought I was of the former and found I was the latter.”

Uncharacteristically silent, Hiller stood motionless beside
me. “You are not alone in finding that, Tourth.” Another span of quiet fell
between us. A wolf howl far outside the walls only interrupted the silence for
a moment. I hoped that Hiller would leave me, but he didn’t.

“What did she say to you?” he asked suddenly. “When you came
out of the keep, there was anger in your eyes, and it was directed at her.”

I took a deep breath. “Wren says I need to speak to
someone.”

Hiller moved, shifting his weight. “She is right.” Then
without a farewell, he lumbered off into the night, leaving me standing alone
in the darkness.

My anger was gone. His words drained it away. That didn’t
mean I would take Wren’s advice. She didn’t fully understand the depth of my
sin and I intended to keep it that way. I took a deep breath of cold night air
and held it before releasing it again. Then I walked toward the barracks,
ignoring the dull ache in the center of my chest.

I woke the next morning and left the castle by way of the
back door. Passing the sentry with only a nod, I headed toward the clearing
that I discovered Tourth pacing days before. I needed to think, and that was a
good place with the grounds and walls soon to be crawling with guests.

On the journey the day before, I spoke at length to Iscarus
and Hiller about the state of the defenses of Iselyn Castle. They grabbed onto
the idea of rebuilding the defenses. Apparently Hiller’s men rebuilt the
outposts along the shared border between the two valleys on a regular basis. I
fully expected to find a flurry of activity when I returned, and I needed time
alone with Deus before I confronted Tourth again.

The morning was cool, crisp, and sunny. The strange
combination of bright warmth of the sun on my head and the slight bite in the
air invigorated. I raised my face toward the sun and breathed out praise to the
Creator. High above me on the breeze, I spotted one of my falcons. It looked
like Elsu, the black male, bringing a message from Ilara. I smiled, even more
to praise the Lord about.

I waited for Elsu to join me before stepping into the shadow
of the trees. Following the path, I quickened my steps. Without the sun kissing
my head and shoulders, the air grew almost cold. I laced up the front of my
leather jerkin while Elsu shifted uneasily on my shoulder, wings partially
spread. Once I stopped adjusting my clothing, Elsu stroked my ear in thanks and
settled back onto his perch.

“Sorry, Elsu,” I whispered, not willing to break the quiet
around me. I reached up to stroke his chest in return.

The branches were low. I held a few of them aside so that we
could pass, mindful of the falcon’s head rising above my own. Within minutes,
we stepped from the crush of foliage into the clearing. Deep green shadows
broken by speckles of morning sunlight filtering through the canopy above our
heads greeted us, inviting us to explore their hidden depths.

I circled the area, careful not to disturb the ground cover
more than necessary. If Tourth returned to this place in the near future, I
didn’t want it to be too evident that I visited in his absence. Spotting a
perfect perch halfway up one of the trees, I decided that would be where I
would spend my morning devotional. I signaled Elsu to leave my shoulder. He did
with a flurry of wings and a slight rebuke at being shooed away so soon.

After a quick climb, I settled on the branch. Pressing my
back against the rough bark of the tree, I balanced there. Elsu settled two
branches above me. Taking a deep breath, I closed my eyes and began to prepare
my heart.

“Almighty God, thank You for Your grace. Its depth and width
are unbounded. Without it, I would be lost. Please, Father, open Tourth’s eyes
to the overwhelming abundance of Your love and mercy. Show him that You can
heal the deep pain within him. You are a God of forgiveness, not just of
judgment.

“Have I pushed him too hard?” Remembering his anger from the
night before, I frowned. “Please guide me, Father. Put the words in my mouth
that will penetrate his defenses and bring him to You. Use my actions to speak
for You. I am Your vessel. Please use me.”

I turned my thoughts to the preparations going on back at
the castle, the work and the plans to reclaim Tourth’s title and authority. I
prayed for success, asked for wisdom, and pleaded for the men and women of the
valley. After spending time petitioning on behalf of each of my siblings, I
closed my prayer with a final plea for help.

I woke to voices out in the courtyard. Rolling from my bed,
I grabbed my sword and was halfway to the door before I realized that the
voices were raised in teasing banter, not alarm. I suddenly remembered the
events of the night before and closed my eyes against the recollection.