Warden (Book 2: Lure of the Lamia) (13 page)

“So that you’d know it had been done. That the problem had been resolved. So that you’d know something about us. That – just like normal people – we try to do the right thing. That we’re honest, kind, and decent. Surely that has some value.”

Errol crossed his arms, suddenly comprehending why Miabi was being so open and forthright. “You want something. What is it?”

“Perceptive, as always, Warden. What we want is no more than what we’ve always wanted – to be able to travel and conduct our performances in peace.”

Errol pondered this for a moment before he realized what she was asking. “You want me to keep silent. Not tell anyone what you are.”

“Yes.”

“I’m sorry, but I can’t do that,” he said.

She nodded, lowering her eyes in sad contemplation. “I understand.”

Chapter 22

Errol didn’t stick around to see the troupe off. There was an air of melancholy about the place as he left, and he couldn’t wait to get away. He went home and – once again – slept in, not waking up until roused by the mayor pounding on his door that afternoon.

It appeared that Chad had only suffered a broken arm and a few broken ribs; he would recover. When asked, the mayor had no news about Talia, but presumably this boded well, since word would have spread quickly had things turned for the worse. Hopefully she would recover with no ill effects from her episode with the golem.

As to the troupe, they had been gone by daybreak. Errol brought the mayor up to speed on what he’d learned about them.

“So they were literally a carnival of monsters?” Mayor Sterillo asked when Errol had finished his tale.

“They probably prefer the term ‘family’,” Errol said.

“As long as the lamia is dead, I don’t really care much.” Then the mayor added, in a conspiratorial voice, “Incidentally, where do you think they went?”

Errol shrugged. “I couldn’t even hazard a guess at this point.” Something in the mayor’s voice made him feel slightly uneasy. Still, the man’s son had almost been killed; wanting to know the location of those who had harbored the attempted murderer did not seem particularly unreasonable.

He and the mayor made small talk for a little while thereafter, and then the latter said his goodbyes and left. Errol debated going back to sleep, but – deciding against it – launched into his regular routine.

*****

There was only one place Errol intended to visit on his rounds that day: the Beverly farm. He wasn’t wild about the way he’d left things with Gale at the Messens’ home (but in his defense, he had been trying to track down a couple of monsters).

She was picking apples in their orchard when he arrived. Her mother had barely spoken a word to him when he showed up asking about Gale, merely pointed him in the proper direction. Once there, he went directly to Gale and told her everything that had happened. On her part, she didn’t say anything; she just listened until he finished speaking.

“So the lamia’s dead?” she asked when he was done.

“Yes,” he replied.

“And the bracelet you gave me was cursed?”

“No, not cursed. It was magical, and somehow that magic got activated and misused by Talia’s own desires.”

“So, cursed,” she reiterated. This time, Errol chose not to argue. “Anyway, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you the truth about the bracelet being missing right away. I just didn’t want you thinking I was so careless with something that you gave me – that it reflected how I felt about you.”

“It’s okay. I don’t think that knowing about it would have changed anything that happened.”

“Still, I should have said something.”

He stepped close and took her hand. “If it’s really bothering you, I know a way you can make it up to me.”

“Oh really?” she asked as he leaned in and kissed her.

A few moments later she pulled away, breathless, but smiling.

“I really need to finish picking these apples,” she said. “But if you’d like, you can stay for dinner, where you can start courting me properly.”

“Court you? What does that entail?”

“For starters, the next bauble you give me better be something you properly paid for or made with your own two hands!”

*****

It was later, after he had returned from dinner with the Beverly family, that he noticed something odd. Just in front of the porch and leading underneath it was a minute set of footprints, tracks one might expect to be made by a very tiny person. Oddly enough, they didn’t really seem to have a point of origin, appearing instead to have simply come out of nowhere – as if the person making them had materialized out of the ether or perhaps dropped from the sky.

Before he could scrutinize them in detail, the neigh of a horse pulled his attention away from what he was seeing, and he noticed two riders heading his way. After observing them for a few moments, he recognized them as Baro and Anru. At the same time, a weird compulsion made him step on the tiny footprints and surreptitiously wipe them out.

“Hello, Warden,” said Anru when he and his son were close enough to be heard. He looked haggard and withdrawn.

“Anru,” Errol said, acknowledging the man with a nod. “Baro.”

Frankly speaking, Errol was more than a little surprised by this visit. With their secret out, he’d actually never expected to see any of the troupe in his neck of the woods again (which was also the impression he’d gotten from Miabi). Presumably, whatever they wanted had to be important for them to still be hanging around in Stanchion.

Bearing that in mind, along with the notion that they might be feeling vengeful about the death of Tilbi, Errol kept his hands on his wand and dagger. He needn’t have worried, however. They were there for an entirely different purpose, although it was, indeed, important.

“You haven’t seen Berry, have you?” asked Baro.

“Berry?” Errol asked. “I don’t think so. Why? Is there a problem?”

“It appears that Berry’s cage was in the tent where you and my wife had your ‘discussion’ last night,” Anru said. “It’s my understanding that the tent collapsed at some point and lots of items were knocked over. Berry’s cage appears to have been one of them, and when someone finally thought to check on him, he was gone.”

“So, what makes you think I might know?”

“Berry rarely ever speaks to anyone, but he was downright chatty when it came to you,” Anru said. “We thought he may have sought you out.”

“I’m sorry,” Errol answered. “I haven’t set eyes on him since I saw him in your tent.”

Errol’s two visitors accepted this without comment. They spoke for a few more minutes, chatting idly about the troupe and its performances. Errol found it odd how they all – himself included – casually sidestepped any mention of Tilbi’s death.

After a while, Anru thanked Errol for his assistance and then left with his son. Watching them ride away, Errol couldn’t help feeling a certain amount of sympathy for them. It was bad enough that they had lost a sister and daughter, but they had also lost Berry, whom Errol now had no doubt was an invaluable treasure. Errol idly wondered if the homunculus planned to stay under the porch, or if he’d eventually ask to move into the house. (And if he did ask to move in, whether he’d be a good housemate.) No matter what else happened, the life of a Warden was certainly never boring.

THE END

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