Tahn (29 page)

With painful effort, Tahn turned his face to the new voice. It must be the lady’s father. “Yes, my lord. But … but I never got to properly tell her.”

The priest put a hand again on his shoulder. “He is troubled for your safety, Benn.”

“I heard.”

“And he has a heart for the orphans, truly, as Netta said.”

“You do not need to sell him to me, Father,” Benn said gently. “He can speak for himself.”

Tahn looked up at him and swallowed tensely. The Trilett patriarch had a right to be suspicious of him. “It’s all right, good priest,” he said. “I need to face him.” He struggled to sit up but collapsed back in pain, suddenly ashamed of his weakness. It plagued him that he could not give Netta’s father the courtesy of a bow. “Forgive me, sir—”

Benn walked toward them. “Please. Rest easy.” He knelt at Tahn’s side. “You trouble me, troubling yourself so. You have no cause for concern from me.”

“God has touched you, son,” the priest added. “Let him give you his peace.”

Tahn closed his eyes, wondering at them. How could they speak to him this way? He could have expected any number of things, but not their acceptance.

“Did he wake up yet? Is he all right?” It was Vari, and Tahn opened his eyes to greet him. The youngster smiled immediately. “Don’t tell us it was foolish,” Vari said. “You’re worth every risk we took.”

Tahn had to return the smile. “You were worth the risk back then, friend. No matter what I said. But I don’t know how you got me out of that crowd.” He paused to catch his breath. The weakness seemed suddenly consuming, but he fought it. “Surely … a miracle …”

“We will explain it,” Benn said. “In time. Can we bring you food?”

“No.” He took a deep breath. “But please … post a watch.”

“The villagers have done that for us,” the priest said. “Trust now.”

“Villagers?” He turned his eyes to Lord Trilett, remembering the cries of the crowd.

“They are your friends now,” Bennamin told him. “Though I understand that would seem a miracle to you. We told them you saved my daughter’s life. They are indebted.”

It was an amazing thought. Too much to take in. “More water,” he asked. “Please.”

“Of course,” Father Anolle said, and began to lift him. But Tahn moaned with the pain of the movement and sunk in the priest’s arms. “Benn,” Anolle whispered as he lifted the water, “he’s so weak. We’ve got to let him rest.”

“Yes.” Benn stood and extended his hand to Vari. “Come with me, son. Father Anolle will care for him.”

Vari glanced at Benn but turned to Tahn again. “You’ll be all right if I go?”

Tahn nodded. “Sleep.”

“Yes, sir.”

They left together, talking in low voices. Tahn coughed, and the priest eased him carefully back down to the blankets.

“You also should try to sleep now,” Father Anolle told him. “That is the best way to regain your strength.”

But his mind would not rest. “Long ago Samis saved my life,” he said, his voice barely audible. “Why does he value it so little?”

“Shhh—”

“I would have died in Alastair. It would have been better, in some ways—”

“Peace, now.”

“I don’t know what Rane did with the whip. I’ve been glad not to see it again.” His voice broke, and he struggled with the words. So weary tonight, so sore. But he couldn’t let it go. “I—I felt it more than once by Samis’s hand. But the little ones must never—”

“Holy Savior hold you,” Anolle said and touched his head. “Son, you need to forgive the man.”

Tahn started shaking again. “I can’t. Not yet.”

“Peace, then,” the priest said gently. “Our Lord will give you all the time you need. Sleep now. God be with you in sleep.”

Tahn closed his eyes and let the priest’s soothing words flow over him. Peace. Indeed there was peace, knowing he would never be alone. The priest had said God would protect them. Surely it would be so. And Samis would never touch them again. Father Anolle was praying, but the words slipped past Tahn as he drifted away into calmer dreams.

20

I
t was almost sunrise, and Samis was running his horse toward Jura with smug satisfaction and money in his bags.

The old baron had been easy to better. The best part of it had been when he’d seen that his own son was privy to his blood. That was, after all, why Samis had agreed to the young man’s scheme. Just a fight would have provided no such cruelty. Better that the baron die knowing his disgrace, knowing that he was despised by his own heir.

Samis lifted his arm to wipe the sweat from his brow. Once again, his heart pounded heavily in his chest. Such a hot night! He pulled at his collar.

“Slow down, Leviathan.” He reined in his horse and pulled a bottle of liquor from his coat. He chased one long drink down with a second one and looked at the fiery glow in the east. The trees blurred together in the orange haze, and he was suddenly dizzy.

“Hold, Leviathan.” The horse obediently stood still as Samis looked down at the liquor in his hand. Drink had never affected him so. But he could barely discern the shape of the bottle. And he could barely keep himself in the saddle. The very ground now was swirling. The bottle dropped from his hand, and he clutched at the saddle horn and tried to dismount. But before he knew how it happened, he landed hard in the dirt.

Hours later at their appointed place, Lucas stood among a restless band of warriors.

“Where is he?” Donas was the first to ask. He stood taller than most of them and was one of the oldest.

“I already told you what I know. He went to see the baron.”

“Maybe he’s been bought again. Maybe they’re drunk together and stuffed with a feast.” Donas had a look of utter disdain. “And we hurried here without taking time for breakfast.”

Lucas pulled a biscuit from his pocket and tossed it to him. “Here!” The others were watching him, and he was not comfortable with that. “He was in no mood for feasting,” he told them. “He would sooner kill the man.”

“Maybe the baron has killed him, with his soldiers,” offered Toma, a dangerous sixteen-year-old.

“We should be so lucky.” It was Lorne who dared such an opinion, and everyone looked at him. The quiet teenager did not back down. “Who would mourn him?” He turned to Donas. “Would you? He paid my father a scrap of money for me and told him his son would become a worthy soldier. Sure, he gave my family one less mouth to feed, but they don’t know the shame he’s brought them!”

“Bold words from such a timid little devil,” Donas answered him. “You’ll be bowing to him again as soon as he comes riding up.”

“No. I don’t choose to be here to find out what’s delayed him.” Lorne stood and started walking for the horses.

“Leaving’s not the smartest thing to do,” Lucas told him. “Look what happened to Tahn.”

“That’s the point,” the young man answered. “He’s one of us. We have nothing against him, no reason to want him destroyed. We’re just slaves. And the Dorn is the smart one. He’s still alive, after all. I think leaving’s the only option. Hunt me if you want to. I don’t care anymore.”

He went to the horses and took the reins of his own.

Toma stared at him and suddenly smiled at his boldness. “You’re right,” he declared. “What will the old man do with a lot of us missing? Let him search! We can overpower him if we have to. By now we know how he thinks. I’m coming with you.”

“I’m going to find my family,” Lorne told him. “Maybe I can find decent work to help them, if they’ll have me.”

“Joram, right?”

“Yes.”

“There’s got to be women in that town.”

Lorne gave him a hard look but said nothing.

“Anybody else man enough to be your own man?” Toma challenged the others.

“You’re crazy,” Lucas told them.

But Donas suddenly laughed. “No we’re not!
We’re
his strength! He relies on us to keep each other in line. We’ve all expected the rest of us to do what he says. But if we go our own ways, he’s got nothing.” He laughed again. “I’m going to Tamask. There’s a barmaid there who’d be tickled to see me again.”

“Even if all of you go, he’s still got Dothe and Mattius. And the three we left at Valhal,” Lucas warned. It seemed foolish, but he felt he must try to hold them together. It was the only life he knew.

“They’ll be awfully busy dealing with the bunch of us and Tahn too,” Donas maintained. “I’ll take my chances.”

“Does your pledge of service mean nothing?” Lucas asked, knowing it was too late to stop them.

“Are you kidding?” Toma scoffed. “You think your life means anything to him? Why should we care about our word?”

“It wouldn’t take him long to hire more men,” one of the others said. “Maybe we should wait till we know what happened.”

Lucas faced Toma and Donas. “He’ll be here soon enough or send one of the others with new orders. We should stay and do what the master says. You make trouble if you do otherwise.”

“You’re cowards!” Toma yelled. “Be his slaves if you want! But if you tell him where we’re headed, I’ll kill you myself.”

He mounted. Lorne was already riding away from them in silence, and Donas and eight of the others were soon on their horses as well.

A man called Kent looked over the line of men who hadn’t moved. “We’ll be our own from this day on,” he said. “Let us respect each other’s choices because we’ve been brothers. We will not turn and fight you. You will not give chase and fight us. Let the man die who doesn’t abide in that.”

They rode off, leaving Lucas and the others standing and staring after them.
Now what?
Lucas wondered.
Samis charged me to gather the men. He could ride in any minute, and here I stand with some of them gone. Toma said we were cowards. But I am the brave one, staying here to face him this way.

The men around him were silent. He knew that none of them really loved the master, but many had enjoyed at least part of their tempestuous lifestyle, riding about for secret schemes and exhilarating fights, inspiring dread and awe. He shook his head. Things were changing, and he couldn’t be sorry. But he wondered if the future might not be even worse.

It was evening before a rider finally neared them. Some of the young men watched from a hill. They had no trouble recognizing Samis’s big coal-black stallion, the envy of many a horse lover among them.

“It’s Leviathan, all right,” one of the warriors said. “But the rider doesn’t ride like Samis.”

“He’s hurt, you idiot!” chided another.

Lucas looked at them and then at the approaching figure. Could it be possible that Samis had taken the poor end of a fight? But if it were so, how had he gotten out alive? Lucas scrambled down the slope and hurried to meet the master.

Samis seemed slumped in the saddle. He must have been wounded. Lucas took hold of Leviathan’s bridle and led him among the other horses.

Samis was studying him oddly. “Which one are you?”

Lucas turned and stared at him. Which one? Something was very wrong if he could not tell who stood before him. “Sir! What happened? Where are you hurt?” There was no blood on him anywhere, but he had a deathly gray pallor so unlike his usually robust complexion.

He knew the other young men were gathering behind him and, strangely, he wished they wouldn’t. It didn’t seem right to have a strong man’s weakness suddenly on display.

“Lucas!” Samis spit out. “Help me down!”

He jumped to help him, glad to be recognized. Maybe he’d been in a shadow or something. “Where are you hurt?” he asked again.

“Sore from the fall, that’s all,” Samis grumbled, the words coming slowly. “Bring me a drink!”

All the men were staring at him as Lucas brought him to the side of an old stone building and helped him sit on a log. He leaned back weakly and eyed the men.

“Did you fight the baron?” one of the warriors asked.

Lucas could see the restlessness in their faces, the lack of pity, and especially, the lack of fear.

“I killed the snake!” Samis boomed. “Got paid well for it too. His own blood. Long live the scheming baron. Hah!”

The words made little sense to them. Who would pay him? Long live the baron? The one he said he’d killed? Samis had never looked old like this before. What was he talking about? Even his voice was strange, as though forced with great effort.

“What happened, sir?” Lucas asked as he held the water steady for him.

“Lionell,” Samis said and coughed.

“Lionell Trent?” Lucas asked. “He hurt you?”

Samis narrowed his eyes and swore under his breath. “He paid me to disgrace his father. He’ll say it was suicide.”

An amazing turn of events. His words were understandable now. But it was no explanation for the shape he was in. He had started sweating suddenly, though he sat still and the evening bore the crisp cool of autumn.

“Are you ill?” one of the men asked bluntly.

“I’m fine!” he roared, though he should have known they wouldn’t believe him. “Let me get some sleep!”

“Get his bedroll,” Lucas commanded.

The other men just looked at him for a moment. Finally one of them went to Leviathan for the pair of blankets Samis carried.

“Let me get you inside,” Lucas was saying. “It could rain again.”

He started to pull him up, but Samis shoved his arm away. He stood and walked on his own, but he was limping. Lucas followed him inside and watched him select a spot in the abandoned shell of a great stone house.