Return to Alastair (8 page)

“What do evil men do when they carry off a girl? I couldn’t say! But I pray God they don’t come back.”

“What did they want? What did they say?”

Tiarra set the lamp on the table and helped Martica to lie down again, realizing that she’d hardly heard her cough since that stranger Lucas had been there.

“He probably knows your mother had jewelry. He probably came to claim it for himself.”

Tiarra felt suddenly hot inside. “Is that what he said?” She could scarcely believe it, despite all she’d been told about him. Would he really come back here for that? Only for that, after all this time? But she remembered something suddenly, and it made her doubt. “Martica, you told me they took her things and you never saw them again. He would remember that. Why would he think there is more? Why would he come?”

“Child . . .” Martica hesitated. This was all too close now, and she was afraid. She had recognized Tahn Dorn immediately, though it had been so long and he’d been so small. Why would he come, indeed? He was asking about the day of the hanging. He was looking for someone to tell him about it. And she was afraid, lest he discover Tiarra and take her away with him into the life he’d inherited, the lawlessness their mother had loathed. “Child,” she repeated, “I didn’t tell you true. There were a few pieces they didn’t take back then. You didn’t see them because they had to be sold as you grew, to provide for you.”

Tiarra was looking at her with an unreadable expression. “I’m sorry. Your mother would have wanted you to have them, but I had no choice.”

“
You
sold them, Martica?”

“There were only a few pieces left. That devil your father really did make off with the rest.”

“Then my brother’s come for nothing.”

“Let’s hope he realizes that quickly.”

Tiarra forced a smile. “You were bold to them. I didn’t know you had the strength to be up so long.”

“I’ve been up more today, even while you were out.”

Tiarra sat quietly for a long time, and Martica tensed, wondering what the girl was thinking. No one in the neighborhood talked of that shameful, long-ago day. No one wanted to speak of their part in it to the girl who was left behind. Tiarra had only Martica’s word for what she knew. And everyone had wanted it that way.

“I would have liked to have seen something that was my mother’s,” Tiarra finally said.

Martica sighed. “Perhaps there’s a way. I sold one piece to Mrs. Ovny, Tiarra. I will go and ask her if she has it still and if she might show it to you.”

Mikal’s mother had a piece of her mother’s jewelry? Tiarra scarcely knew what to think of that knowledge. Perhaps she could reclaim it. Surely she could. The things Martica had said about her mother were precious, like a treasure she could hold inside and draw from when the world made her feel utterly useless. To have something that had been her mother’s would be a priceless gift. She leaned and hugged Martica, who suddenly coughed. “Thank you for telling me,” she said. “Let us hope my brother does not learn it.”

7

T
ahn and Lorne found a room for the night and settled down to sleep with few words between them. So far, they’d found no one willing or able to tell them much of anything. Tahn had especially searched for that painted house. And the old woman remembered him, that seemed clear. Lorne knew her reaction to them had pierced Tahn, but Tahn wouldn’t talk about it. He’d only said they would try again in the morning. They would keep asking around until they found someone to tell them about that day.

Tahn lay awake long after Lorne slept. The old woman had been afraid. She knew who he was, he had no doubt. And it made him wonder.
Dear God, what did I do to put such fear in an old woman’s heart?

He rolled over, remembering the crowd again. Lady Netta had been horrified when she learned what had happened, as though there were nothing that could possibly justify such treatment of a child. But he’d never been sure. Inside he’d always held a dark shame, an overpowering feeling that it must have been his fault. And the woman’s fearful shouts seemed to witness to that.

“My Lord,” he prayed, “you’ve given me so much mercy. I’ve asked for so much. And you’ve not failed to forgive. Help me learn the truth here so I can clear my heart before you again. I don’t know the woman’s name, but give her peace, Lord. Help her to rest well without fear of me in her sleep. I did not come here to be a trouble to anyone.”

He knew someone had run up to the old woman when they left. He’d heard the footsteps and a murmur of voices behind him. But they had a right to be left alone.

Sleep came hard that night. And he dreamed hard, for the first time in a long while, of Samis’s whip and the cold clank of his locking door. He saw the sword in his own hand drip with blood again and again and the poison of it filling his soul. He saw a man named Karll fall before him, the life draining away. And he knew he would have turned that sword on himself were it not for his terror at the flames that awaited him.

Samis’s raging face possessed his dream, and he shook, a little child living in fear. But suddenly someone was holding a lace kerchief over his wound and speaking words of peace. Netta. The dear Lady Trilett. She touched his hair. And he rolled awake.

For a moment the blood of his past overwhelmed him again. But Netta had said that God sees only the blood of his dear Son, washing away the sin forever.

He sat up with a question suddenly in his mind.
Have you forgiven yourself?
Lord Trilett had asked him that once. And he was still never quite sure of the answer.

“You all right, Tahn?” Lorne was suddenly sitting up beside him, looking strangely pale in the darkness.

He sighed. “Yes. Did I wake you?”

Lorne was quiet for a moment before answering. “No. I was dreaming of fighting again. And Samis.”

Tahn shook his head. Was it a poison in this place? “Thank God for Jesus,” he told his friend.

Lorne nodded. “Does it ever bother you still?”

It wasn’t easy to know how to answer. And then it came to him. “I think there are two valleys in my mind, Lorne. In God’s, I know all is well. But in the devil’s dark valley, the burden is cast at me again, and I would despair of myself. I thank God I am free to live in his valley and not claim the other.”

“The devil keeps trying, though, doesn’t he?”

“He likes the pain in the world. He wants us to not only feel it but cause more of it.”

“He’ll never have me again,” Lorne declared. “A night like this, when I dream, I’ll just use it to thank God all the more.”

Tahn smiled. He looked out the tiny window with sudden confidence. “The sun will be up before long. God will guide us today. We will find something before it is gone down again.”

That afternoon, Orin Sade had filled himself at his brother’s tavern and was on his way home. By then he’d heard about a stranger who had come asking about Sanlin Dorn, though not by name. Orin was one of many who remembered the day they’d hanged Dorn, and he was no more anxious than anyone else to talk about it, especially if the stranger was Sanlin’s son. There’d been tales of the boy surviving to become just the deceiver and more of a fighter than his father had been. A man like that could be seeking vengeance, and Alastair would have good cause to fear.

He saw them first as he was crossing Market Street. Just two men and their horses. One he might have seen anywhere and never batted an eye. But the other! No wonder people were nervous. He had the look of Sanlin Dorn about him. The same wavy hair and the same dark eyes. The same strength in the way he moved that made people want to stand clear. It didn’t matter that he seemed smaller. It was like being in the presence of a ghost.

Orin could see the old weaver shaking his head and the strangers beginning to move on. But then the dark one looked up, directly into his gaze. He nearly choked. It wasn’t just a casual glance. And the stranger was definitely Sanlin’s son. He didn’t turn away, he didn’t even move, as though he were waiting for Orin himself to bridge the distance between them. Orin’s heart pounded. What could a mite of a boy remember about that time? He greatly hoped it wasn’t much. But he saw the young Dorn say something to his companion, and they both started in Orin’s direction. It was more than he could take. He turned and fled.

“Magna!” he shouted as he neared his yard. “You know nothing! You haven’t seen me! You hear me?” He ran past her and headed straight for the old horse behind the house.

But she ran after him and caught his arm. “You’ve been drinkin’ again, Orin Sade, and it’s makin’ you crazy! There’s nobody at all behind you!”

“You just haven’t seen him yet! He’s comin’, all right. It’s Sanlin’s boy come back. Magna, let go of me! There’s no tellin’ what he’ll do!” He jerked away from her and grabbed frantically for the bridle that hung on a post.

He climbed through the rail of the fence and started for the horse, but the mare knew his anxiety and wasn’t eager for him in that frame of mind.

“Sable, you blasted horse leather! Stand still!”

“Orin, are you sure?” Magna tried to calm him. “Maybe it was someone else.”

“It was him. It was him, you’ll see. You tell him whatever you have to. Tell him we didn’t live here then.”

Magna looked back in the direction her husband had come. There was one rider. A handsome young man with short blond hair.

“Orin—you’ve been drinkin’. Did he even talk at you?”

He didn’t try to answer. He had the rope on the horse’s neck and was fighting to set the bridle straight.

“You gonna ride her barebacked?” his wife questioned.

“There’s no time,” he said. He thought he saw a shadow, something move by the house, and it made him near panic. “Get out of here, Magna,” he said. “Go to your cousin in Joram.” He tried to mount the horse, but his tension was making her skittish. And suddenly, the dark-haired stranger appeared in full view, ahead of him, beside the grape arbor. Magna Sade screamed.

“Please,” the stranger told them. “Don’t fear me! I just want to talk to you.”

“Leave us!” Magna pleaded. She fell to her knees. “God have mercy.”

Tahn didn’t move. Samis had counted it a pleasure to be feared. But it cut at Tahn, and all the more because he didn’t understand. “I won’t hurt you,” he told them. “God is my witness. Good people, please. Just let me ask you questions.” He fought back his own tense emotion and gestured to Lorne not to get too close. It would only make matters worse for them to keep drawing in on the frightened couple.

“You got no reason to be here!” Orin shouted. “Leave us alone!”

Tahn lifted his hands. “I’m not armed. And I’ve not come to hurt anyone. But you know me—I know you do! Please tell me what you know. I was here as a child. With a man I barely remember. I need to know what happened. I need to know if I have kin.”

Magna looked up at her husband. “He was little, Orin. Maybe he truly don’t know.”

Orin shook his head. “You can’t believe him. He aims to see what we’ll say. He aims for us to let him get close.”

“What’s to stop him gettin’ close if he chose to, anyhow?” she asked. “He could have rushed at us. He could have had you in the dirt by now.” She stood to her feet and looked Tahn over carefully. “What’s your name?” she called.

“Magna, shut up!” Orin demanded. “We’ve got to get away from him.”

“I’m Tahn Dorn,” Tahn answered the woman. “The man behind you is Lorne Graise. We’ll not harm you. Our Lord Christ is witness to the words that we’ve come only for information. Please help me.”

“What if he really don’t know?” Magna questioned her husband. “What if he’s tellin’ us God’s truth?”

“What if he’s not?”

“What’s your pa’s name?” Magna called out to him again.

“I don’t know, lady.”

“Who was your ma, then?”

Tahn could only sigh. “I don’t know. I remember a man was hanged, and I believe I had been with him. But I know nothing before that. If you could tell me anything more, I would owe you my gratitude. Please. Do you know who he was?”

Magna stared at him in silence.

“We can’t tell you anythin’!” Orin shouted. “We know nothin’ of the kind! Go away!”

Tahn bowed his head. People knew what happened. That was obvious. But no one would speak of it. What terrible thing had made this town so afraid? What kind of a monster had the man been? And himself so young. Was he a monster too?