Set in Stone (10 page)

Chapter 8

The kitchen burned.

Connor blinked a few times as his eyes slowly focused on the floor as it slid past. His body felt numb, but he was pretty sure he wasn't trying to move.

Shattered boxes and crates lay strewn across the floor with pots and pans, while entire cabinets lay in splintered, burning piles. Chunks of pink marble, many of them still burning, glinted through the heavy smoke from where they were wedged into every possible nook and crevice.

Everything burned. Spices from broken jars filled the room with a wild aroma, mingled with the smoke and overpowering stench of charred wood. His ears did not seem to be working, so an eerie quiet cloaked everything.

Connor twitched, and only then realized why the floor was moving. Hamish had been dragging him by the wrists. As soon as he moved, Hamish dropped him onto his back and crouched beside him.

Through a fit of coughing, Hamish said, "I thought you were dead." His voice sounded like he was talking underwater.

"I am."

"You're heavy. Can you walk?"

Connor nodded. Feeling began to return, and he felt weak, but amazingly intact. "What happened?"

"The oven exploded."

Hamish pulled Connor to his feet and started dragging him toward the outer door that burned like a torch.

"Wait. Aileen."

Hamish glanced across the room. The door leading to the basements was just gone. "I forgot."

"Go help her. I can make it."

Hamish nodded, sprinted across the room, and disappeared down the stairs. Hopefully Aileen was all right.

A fall like that really hurt. Connor knew from experience.

He paused for a second and looked toward the formal dining room where he'd last seen Lady Isobel. She might be badly burned, but that entire wall was engulfed in flame, and he could not make himself risk it. Not for her. Not today.

He kicked the burning outer door, leaped the debris, and staggered outside, coughing.

Connor looked up to find Lord Gavin and his bodyguard, Bruce, running toward him past the stables. Well, Lord Gavin tried to run, more than Connor had ever seen. Never a tall man, the lord of Alasdair already stooped far over when he walked, looking even older than his fifty-odd years. His gray hair and heavily-lined face added to the impression that he was far older than his wife.

"What in Tallan's name is going on in there?" Lord Gavin shouted.

Bruce reached Connor first and asked worriedly, "Where's Aileen?"

"She fell down the basement stairs." As Bruce moved toward the kitchen door, Connor held him back. "The kitchen's burning. Hamish is with her. He'll bring her out the other end."

Bruce's tension eased. Aileen was his wife, and he doted on her almost as much as he did their young daughter.

"We've already ordered a fire team, and people will come from town to help. We'll get it out soon."

Connor breathed his own sigh of relief. If the fire weren't contained soon, it could easily threaten the rest of the manor. He and Hamish were in enough trouble already.

Lord Gavin reached them, panting from the unaccustomed exertion. "What happened in there, lad?"

"The Heatstone oven sort of broke," Connor said cautiously. One did not lie to the lord, but if he handled this carefully, perhaps Lord Gavin would not question them too closely, and assume things were not their fault.

That thin hope died a gruesome death as Lady Isobel staggered around the corner of the manor, leaning heavily on her daughter, Moira.

Lady Isobel looked like some wraith from one of Bruce's stories. Her frilly dress was charred and ragged. Her eyebrows had burned completely away, along with most of her hair. Her eyes stood out against her blackened, furious face.

Lord Gavin followed Connor's gaze and, at the sight of her obvious rage, he slipped a pace behind Bruce.

"Seize that miscreant," Lady Isobel shouted from twenty paces away, pointing one claw-like hand at Connor.

Bruce took Connor's arm and whispered, "Stones boy, what have you done?"

Connor only shook his head. He had to think his way out of this. There had to be a way to explain it. Lady Isobel hadn't really seen what happened.

"Murderer," Lady Isobel shrieked as she drew closer.

"Mother, no one is dead. He can't be a murderer," said Moira.

Connor willed a silent thank you to her. As much as he hated Lady Isobel, he felt the opposite for Moira. She might not possess the same heart-pounding beauty as Jean, but she was a good friend.

Where Jean was slender and supple, with a long, graceful neck and heart-shaped face, Moira's figure was fuller, with an honest, oval-shaped face. Her dark hair and hazel eyes attracted Connor as powerfully as her quick mind and adventurous spirit.

Lady Isobel waved a dismissive hand toward her daughter, "Don't interrupt. That boy tried to kill me."

"I did not," Connor blurted out as Lord Gavin turned a steely glare on him.

"Don't you lie to me, you worthless Linn," Lady Isobel shouted. She advanced on him, and only Bruce's strong grip on his shoulder kept him from bolting.

For a second, he thought she meant to strike him, but instead she only thrust an angry finger under his nose. "You spiteful, deceitful boy. You destroyed my beautiful oven and burned my kitchen after all I've done for you."

Connor blinked a couple of times at her audacity. The rage he'd felt for the past hour at the theft of the oven had largely dissipated, but now ignited afresh. He wished he could shout back at her, but that would just seal his fate.

"Now Isobel," Lord Gavin said placatingly. "Let's learn the details . . ."

"Don't you 'now Isobel' me," she snapped. "I will see justice done here today."

She spun back to Connor and said in a ringing tone, "For your crimes, I name you Connor Daor-Linn Gavin."

Moira gasped, Lord Gavin blanched, and Bruce's hand shook on Connor's shoulder. For Connor, the words drove into him like daggers and he staggered back a step. She named him slave, Daor to Lord Gavin or, more precisely, to her.

No, it wasn't impossible. Tomorrow he would reveal his Curse, gain Patronage. Tomorrow his life would change.

He could not help but blurt out, "But, tomorrow is the Sogail."

She snorted. "Not for you. Tomorrow my husband rescinds Teagair for you, and you will serve me to pay for your crimes."

The world seemed to tilt under Connor's feet, and he swayed. Would they really break him away from his family and make him slave? This could not be happening. He glanced to Lord Gavin for help, but the weak-willed man looked completely cowed by his wife and ready to lay blame on Connor.

Lord Gavin waved a hand. "Bruce, lock him in the turnip room until after the Sogail."

As Bruce started pulling Connor toward the far corner of the manor, he couldn't help crying out, "Please, don't do this! It was an accident."

Lady Isobel snorted in reply.

"You don't understand," he begged and dragged against Bruce's arm. "I have to go to the Sogail tomorrow."

"You should have thought of that before you tried to kill me," Lady Isobel said. "Away with you."

"No, wait!" Connor protested, fighting against Bruce. "You know this is wrong! Isn't stealing the oven enough?"

"I didn't steal it," Lady Isobel shrieked. "I confiscated it."

Lord Gavin said, "My dear, the boy does have a point."

Lady Isobel rounded on her husband and screamed, "Don't meddle, Gavin! He broke my precious oven! I will own him!"

Connor tried to protest again, but Bruce whispered, "Stop it, lad. She's in one of her moods, and you'll only make it worse."

"You can't do this to me," Connor begged as Bruce towed him back to the southeast corner of the manor.

"Who said I was?"

He looked up to meet Bruce's blue-eyed gaze for the first time. Bruce looked sad, as well he might. He knew all too well the hardships of slavery. He'd been a free Linn once, a great soldier if one could believe the stories.

Bruce winked. "All right, lad, now's the time."

"I don't understand."

Bruce rolled his eyes. "Struggle."

Connor frowned at the cryptic answers, but tugged at Bruce's arm anyway. He was unprepared when Bruce gave a great cry and staggered back three paces before collapsing to the ground.

As Connor moved to help him, Bruce glared and said, "Don't be daft, boy, run!"

Connor glanced back toward Lord Gavin just as Bruce gave a great moan and shouted, "Oy, the boy's gone and broke my leg."

Lord Gavin shouted, "Now hold on there," but Connor was already running.

As he rounded the end of the building and bolted for the road down toward town, Lady Isobel's voice rang out loudly, "Guards! After him. Bring me that slave!"

None of the guards were even outside yet. They were probably helping the servants fight the fire. Connor ran hard, but as he passed the manor's main entrance, Hamish stepped into the door.

"What's going on?"

Not slowing, Connor shouted, "Get back. Go take care of Aileen."

"She's fine."

"Just go. And if anyone asks you, just tell them it was all my fault."

He did not wait for an answer, but poured on the speed and sprinted down the long road toward Alasdair. He had to get home. His parents would know what to do.

In the distance, he could see a crowd of people pouring out through the upper gate and running toward him. The sight slowed him for a second.

How could they know he was a fugitive? And worse, why would they be so eager to help Lady Isobel?

Then the truth dawned on him and he glanced back. A dense column of smoke rose from the manor house. The townsfolk were responding to the threat of fire.

As Connor neared, people started calling out questions. Connor shouted, "The kitchen's on fire. They need help."

He pushed past the first ranks of villagers without slowing, and then caught sight of his parents in the press. A wave of relief washed through him and he ran to them.

"Connor, you're a mess, what happened?" Lilias asked.

"Is the fire bad?" Hendry asked at the same time.

"Never mind the fire," Connor said and drew them aside. A few people glanced their way, but no one stopped to listen.

"What's happened, son?" Hendry asked.

"Hamish and I sort of broke the oven."

When he paused, his father said, "That's not everything is it?"

Connor shook his head, took a deep breath, and added in a rush: "We kind of set fire to the kitchen and burned Lady Isobel."

"You didn't!" Lilias exclaimed.

"We didn't mean to, it just sort of all happened."

"I bet she's angrier than a grounded pedra," Hendry said.

"Worse. She named me Daor."

His parents paled at the news, and Lilias snarled, "That black-hearted pedra spawn."

"Watch your language, love," Hendry said out of habit as he glanced back toward the manor. "This is serious."

"She wants to lock me up," Connor continued. "What am I going to do?"

"For now, find a place to hide," Hendry said. "Soldiers coming."

Connor followed his gaze and noticed two of Lord Gavin's soldiers rushing down the hill toward them. A third appeared behind, mounted on a draft horse.

He turned to run, and his mother said, "Not at the house. They'll be sure to check there first."

"Don't worry," he shouted over his shoulder as he bolted for the gate. "They'll never find me."

"Wait until dark," Hendry called after him.

Connor did not bother to reply. He raced through the gate and darted to the right so the wall concealed him from the guards' view.

He threaded his way through Alasdair fast. The streets were all but empty, with every able-bodied hand already running to help fight the fire. Everyone else was still up at the quarry or down at the Powder House.

Laid out in a grid pattern, the streets of Alasdair would make it all too easy for the guards to sweep the town looking for him. Connor moved two streets to the right and then turned left down a main cross street.

As he ran, he considered his options. Several possible hiding places came to mind. As children, he and his friends had played find-the-devil and many other games that forced them to find all the best hiding spots. He doubted the guards knew the town half as well.

His best bet was the flood-under passage, but it lay on the downriver side of town, and the clatter of hooves on granite roads declared that the mounted soldier had reached Alasdair. So he bolted down a narrow alley between two shops, shimmied over an aged woodshed that would collapse if it were ever fully emptied, and climbed through a dust-covered window in the back wall of a maintenance barn behind the town council offices. The window was supposed to be locked, but the lock had broken years ago.