Come Back to Me (38 page)

"No," Dragon said slowly, "they don't. You say the cabinet was broken into?"

"It was opened. There was no damage to the cabinet itself but the lock is hanging apart."

"Where is the key?"

"Right here." She held it up.

"Have you had it with you all day?"

"Yes, along with all the rest of them. You know Magda gave me the keys right after I arrived here. At night, they are near my clothes in our lodge. During the day, they are right where they are now." A sudden thought occurred to her. "Do you think someone could have come into our lodge while we slept?"

Again, Dragon looked at her. Slowly, he shook his head. "No." He said nothing more but he really didn't have to. She had known the moment she spoke that it was impossible. With his warrior's instincts, he would have come awake at once if anyone entered the lodge. He slept with the Moorish sword right beside the bed. An intruder might well have been hacked to pieces before he could get more than a step inside.

"Then there must be another key," Rycca said.

Dragon shrugged. He turned to Magnus, who was standing nearby, and gave instructions for the injured man to be carried back to the town, then he set off toward the stronghold. Rycca had to run to catch up with him. Neither of them spoke again until they were in the kitchens, looking at the damage.

"Give me the key," Dragon said, holding out his hand.

Rycca obliged immediately although she found herself a little clumsy, having difficulty getting the large iron key off the ring that held it and a dozen others.

"Are you sure this is the right one?"

"Yes. See, it has this little nick right at the top."

He saw and nodded, then fitted the key into the lock. It turned easily. "It's the right key," Dragon said.

"I know that. I opened the cabinet just yesterday."

"Are you sure you relocked it?"

"Yes, of course I am." When he still appeared unconvinced, she added, "The lock is large and heavy. I could hardly leave it undone and not notice. But even if I had somehow, Magda or one of the other women would have seen it and told me."

"They have given you no trouble?"

"Absolutely none. Everyone has been very kind and welcoming." Everyone save Magnus, about whom she still harbored doubts. Yet could she not bring herself to speak of this to her husband.

Especially not when his features were whipped free of any expression and his eyes shuttered.

Alarmed, Rycca said, "Dragon… I swear to you, I did not—"

He held up a hand. "Enough. You are my wife. Yet are you also mistress of Landsende. It is your responsibility to properly safeguard that which is within your domain."

"I know that but—"

"You must have mislaid the key."

"No, there must be another key."

"Were there one, I would know of it."

"Then there has to be some other way to open the lock."

"It is true… I have heard that some locks can be opened with very narrow picks. But," Dragon added quickly, "it takes special training and skill to do that."

Rycca's shoulders began to sag but she caught herself and straightened immediately. "I am sorry to have brought trouble into your home. It is the last thing I wanted."

Her husband sighed and wearily ran a hand through his hair. She saw then that he was tired, was as everyone else, after four days of unrelenting labor. More gently, she said, "I truly am sorry, Dragon. But I don't know what is happening here and it's beginning to frighten me."

He nodded, his manner softening, and touched her face lightly. "We will find out who is doing this, Rycca. I promise you that. In the meantime, keep a close eye out and tell me if you see anything—or anyone—odd."

She assured him she would do so, then stayed in the kitchens to sweep up the remains of the spices while he went to speak with the men on the watchtowers. He returned as she was finishing.

"They saw nothing, as we expected, but they will be watching now."

For the moment, it was all that could be done. The harvest was no time to begin seriously looking for whoever was causing the disruptions at Landsende. But once it was done… Dragon's face turned grim. Once it was done, he would find whoever had dared to cast suspicions upon his wife. Find and punish.

For three more days the people labored to bring in the bounty of the golden fields. Rye and wheat were bundled into tall stacks to dry, aided by clear skies and a steady breeze. Soon the mills would be grinding and the barns rilled with fodder for the sheep and cattle being brought down from the high pastures. Ale and mead would be brewed, mattresses stuffed with fresh straw, and poppets made for the children from the last stalks. When all was done, the feasting would begin. It was the thought of that, and of the comfortable, well-fed winter to follow, that kept people at their labors even as weariness began to dog every step.

When the last sheaves of grain were finally gathered in and the fields laid bare, a tired cheer was raised. People began packing up their blankets and pots, all the provisions they had brought out into the fields to save themselves walking back and forth. In threes and fours, families walking together, they trudged back to the stronghold and the town.

Rycca walked along with Magda and the other women. Despite their assurances, she had insisted on staying in the fields, helping with the cooking, and taking her turn carrying water skins to the thirsty workers. True, she had scorched the chickens she tried roasting on the spit over the fire, and she had probably spilled as much water as ended up drunk, but at least she had tried. When the next harvest came around in a year, she promised herself, she would be better able to manage.

By the time she reached the stronghold, Rycca felt unaccustomedly exhausted. More than just the fatigue of hard work was affecting her. Her step dragged as she entered the lodge. Dragon was still off somewhere with his men. She paused just long enough to wash her hands and face in a basin of cool water, then tumbled onto the bed and slept almost instantly.

It was evening when she awoke. She lay for a little time on her back staring up at the slanted roof of the lodge. It was home to her now, so she thought, as she had never known home to be. The ease with which she had become part of Landsende still amazed her. She had settled into it as a bird into the nest, glad of the refuge after a stormy flight.

Or was she deluded?

"You saw nothing of these… ?" Dragon had asked her about the burrs, as though she could conceivably have placed a blanket containing them on a horse he—or anyone else—was about to ride.

"You must have mislaid the key," he had said, as though he took it for granted she was a careless housewife. Better he think that, she supposed, than that she had opened the cabinet herself.

He had accused her of nothing, she realized. His only reprimand had been to say she must safeguard what was in her domain. This she knew, but how, exactly, was she to do that when someone seemed intent on upending her?

With a sigh, she rose from the bed where she felt more inclined to stay and sleep away the shadowed night. Instead, she splashed water on her face again but failed to find in it any hint of ease. Leaden-spirited, she left the lodge and went to the great hall, where she knew supper would shortly be laid.

It was a simple meal, prepared without spices, and word of that lack had clearly spread among the people. Several glanced at her when she came in, then swiftly looked away again.

She took her seat beside Dragon but he was deep in conversation with Magnus and said little to her during the meal. It was not over soon enough. When the last dishes had been served and the ale brought around again, she murmured her excuses. He rose as she stood.

"Are you all right?" he asked. She thought him belatedly aware of her and put the notion aside as unworthy.

"Fine." She mustered a bright smile, felt its falseness, and let it fade. "Merely tired."

She went from the hall feeling his eyes on her back.

For all that, scarcely had she crept into bed than sleep overtook her again. She woke very slightly in the night to feel her husband gathering her into his arms. Sleep claimed her once more and she did not stir again until day.

Not bright day but muted, softened day in which all sight and sound were blurred. Fog had rolled in during the night. There were misty days in Mercia but nothing like this thick, all-enveloping whiteness that seemed to erase the world. The gulls were silent, roosting somewhere, and the absence of their familiar calls made the quiet more sharp.

Rycca went out into it dazed and made her way by memory and touch until she reached the kitchens. Magda was there with the women who assisted her. They greeted their mistress with calm cheer.

"The porridge is on," Magda said and offered a bowl heavily laden with honey and cream. Rycca ate it greedily. She could have managed more but restrained herself from saying so.

Instead, she asked, "How does anyone find their way in this?"

Magda laughed. "Not well, my lady, that's for certain. Thanks be there is little enough to do this day."

The women nodded, glad of their own ease after the grueling work of the past week. Rycca lingered a little time with them but she still sensed they could not relax fully in her presence, too aware of her status as the jarl's wife and her difference as a foreigner. Before long, she left them and set out to find the stable.

Were it not for the whinnying of the horses, she might have stumbled in circles and gotten nowhere. As it was, she almost walked straight into a wall before she realized she had arrived. Feeling her way to the door, she went inside. Lamps had been lit against the fog-shrouded gloom. The horses were all still in their stalls. They were unaccustomed to such restraint except in bitterest winter and it left them uneasy.

Rycca fussed over Grani and Sleipnir. Caring for the horses took her away from her own uneasy thoughts. She groomed them both and braided their manes, gave them fresh water and grain, and treated them to apples. They tried hard to persuade her to let them go out, butting up against her, nuzzling her with their warm noses, and generally making sweet pests of themselves, but she stood firm.

"Be patient. When the fog lifts a little, I'll take you to the paddock. But not quite yet."

They nickered in protest but settled down quickly enough when the apples appeared. She left them and went to the other side of the stable, where the geldings were kept. The mares were in another building altogether. There she began forking hay into the stall of a sturdy chestnut who tossed his head and was pleased to accept an apple.

The busier she kept, the better she felt. She had a problem, the string of incidents that seemed to point to her, but she would work it out. She was a truthsayer, after all. She would find a way to discover who was responsible.

Not Magda, she was already sure of that. Besides the woman's guileless manner, like smooth milk in a pail, Magda had been in the fields all morning when the spice cabinet was robbed. Rycca had seen her there for herself. Nor did she believe for a moment that Magda could have emptied out the barrel of salt and replaced it half with sand in the time that would have been needed.

Magnus, then. That seemed a far likelier possibility.

She had felt his lies from the beginning and knew full well he did not want her at Landsende. But would he truly risk angering his jarl just because of that? To what end, and why?

Her head began to ache. She gave up cleaning the stalls and leaned up against the door of the stable, looking out into nothingness. Morning aged, the sun rose higher, yet the fog was as thick as ever. With a sigh, she turned to go back inside.

Just as she did, there was a movement behind her and to the left. She had an instant to sense a dark, looming presence swiftly closing on her. Before she could even begin to react, a hard hand slammed down over her face as a steely arm wrapped around her waist.

Shock roared through Rycca even as she struggled fiercely. She clawed at the hand over her nose and mouth and at the same time kicked out, trying to do as much damage to her captor as possible. Panic threatened to grip her as she realized that she could not breathe. Her lungs burned for air as her senses whirled. Just as her head sagged, an instant before the light vanished from her eyes, she found herself staring at two serpents intertwined, each devouring the other. She fought desperately for consciousness but a dark vortex loomed before her. Helpless, she fell into it.

DRAGON WAS DOWN IN THE TOWN WITH A GROUP of his men, helping to pull a merchant vessel up onto the rocky strand. The damned thing was taking on water and had to be beached lest it sink. Such a task was hard enough in any circumstances but the fog made it almost impossible. The men could scarcely see one another or the vessel. Yet they had managed to get strong ropes around it, several stalwart lads going under the hull to secure them. Enough brute strength and the job would be done.

"Heave!" Dragon yelled into the fog and added his own great strength to the pull on the ropes. The vessel nudged a few more inches out of the water.

"Heave!" Backs straining, muscles bulging, bodies streaked with sweat despite the cool morning, the men moved as one. A few more inches.

"Heave!" Water gushed out of the hole near the bow as it emerged into the air. Men rushed behind the vessel to push it as the rest continued pulling. In two hours from the time they had begun, it was done.

Dragon dropped the ropes that had worn grooves in his shoulders. No vessel had ever been lost at Landsende, not even in the sudden storms that could sweep down out of the north without warning. Merchants coming there knew they could count themselves, their cargo, and their ships safe. He wasn't about to let anything change that.

Yet neither was he about to hide his ire from the hapless Gaul who tried to sputter his thanks.

"Look there," Dragon said, pointing to the hole in the bow. "That wood is practically rotted through. When was the last time your hull was pitched?"

"Alas, lord, I am but a poor man and—"

"You will be when you find yourself without a vessel. You will lay up here for the next week and let my men see to what repairs are needed. Understood?"