Return to Alastair (41 page)

He truly felt better on the way outside. Steadier. Without the pain of the poison or the swirling weakness. The remaining soreness was something he understood and could deal with well enough.

But still he tired easily. He could see Benn Trilett’s soldiers camped about the little cottage beyond the churchyard. He was halfway there when he stopped to lean for just a moment against an iron fence and noticed for the first time the graveyard nearby.

“This is where you buried Martica?”

“Yes, son.” It was the priest’s voice, though Tahn had not realized the priest had followed them outside.

“Where is my mother buried? Do you know?”

“Yes. She is here. Do you want to see it?”

The unexpected opportunity almost made him tremble. “Yes. I would. Please.”

Netta squeezed his hand, but he looked behind her to where Tiarra and Lorne were standing. “Sister, have you been to our mother’s grave?”

“When I was much smaller,” she said in a voice like a child’s. “Martica brought me. But I was never at ease here to come back as I should have.”

Tahn let go of the cane he held and reached his free hand to her. With Netta on one side and Tiarra on the other, he followed the priest through an iron gate and into the rows of stone. Vaguely he was aware of others watching him again. Trilett soldiers and more people besides, in the churchyard or nearby. But it didn’t matter. He was about to visit some piece of his mother’s memory, and he could think of little more than that.

Her stone stood by itself, smooth cut and weathered white. It bore her name, the year of her death, and the single word
murdered
, as though it had been chosen to do nothing but remind the town of their shame. Tahn was tense just looking at it. And there was something very much missing.

“What about my father? Do you know?”

The priest bowed his head for a moment. “Yes. I have looked into such things. There is a section, down the hill—we can’t see it well from here—where the homeless and the . . . the criminals were buried.”

Tahn took a deep breath. “Take me there.”

Tiarra’s hand tightened in his. He knew the tears in her eyes. But she didn’t speak. And he knew that she’d never gone there. That Martica would never have dreamed to take her.

It was not an easy walk, down the hill to the far corner of the cemetery where a dead tree had crashed upon the stones and the weeds rose high.

“Here,” the priest finally said. “I think it is this one.”

Almost hidden by a thorny briar, there was a grave marked only by a small uncarved stone. A simple rock that anyone might have passed over in a field and never realized it could bear any significance. He was nothing, that’s what this meant. To Alastair, Sanlin Dorn was nothing.

Tahn felt the tears well up and then break upon him like a sudden storm. He couldn’t stop. He held tight to Netta and Tiarra as the tears shook him.
It’s not right. It’s just not right.

“Tahn,” Netta said softly, but he couldn’t answer her.

Tiarra fell to her knees. She reached out her hand toward the little ugly rock that was choked by weeds but couldn’t bring herself to touch it.

Netta put her arm around Tahn, lending her support. He saw a reflection of his own pain in her eyes. “They should be together,” he told her when he had recovered himself enough to speak.

The priest turned and gave them a solemn nod. “They can be moved, if you wish it.”

For a moment Tahn couldn’t answer. Was it right, to disturb the remains? Karra Loble should not lie here in this forsaken spot. But would there be a place that seemed proper for Sanlin Dorn, in this town that had so long disdained him? “Netta,” he ventured the painful words, “do you think your father would let me take them to Onath?”

Her answer, so unhesitating, was almost like a balm. “I am sure he would. Oh, Tahn, I know it. They would rest together. And nearer you.”

He nodded to her. But it was Tiarra whom he leaned toward and took into his arms.

“I hated him,” Tiarra cried. “Even more than I hated you.”

“You only hated the lie,” he tried to tell her. “You never had a chance to know the truth.”

“Oh, God,” she said, weeping. “What must they have felt, in their last moments?”

“I pray God that they called on him,” Tahn said gently. “I pray that we see them one day.”

“M-mother . . . Mother was godly,” Tiarra said. “Martica told me.”

“And our father loved her.” He turned his eyes toward Netta. “She loved him. She would not have failed to tell him of God’s grace.”

Netta nodded, and the gesture heartened Tahn enough to smile up at her. “We will move them. But we have reason to hope that they are holding hands in heaven.”

It was a long while before Tiarra could rise to her feet and leave her father’s grave behind her. Tahn wiped at her tears and then held her hand as they walked back up the hill toward the other graves and the churchyard. He was surprised to see so many people standing as though they waited for him.

“Have you yet addressed the town?” he asked the priest, not knowing what to expect.

“Not a large group. But I have told the truth to all I could. Some resist it. But I think most have known in their hearts already. No one who heard has ever been able to forget your screams, son.”

Tahn stood stark still and looked over the faces. No one laughed, or shouted, or glared at him with snarling accusation. He should go toward them. He should say “peace be with you” and then join Benn Trilett’s men where he belonged. But he couldn’t get his legs to move.

The priest must have realized his discomfort. “Do you want me to send them away?”

“Why are they here?” Tiarra asked. “Are we such gazingstocks?”

No one answered her. And Tahn did not answer the priest. Slowly, he coaxed his legs to obey him. He let go of Netta’s hand and Tiarra’s and stepped forward, just a few steps at first, but he willed himself to keep on. He knew Netta followed, and his sister and the priest. And Lucas and Lorne stood nearby. Trilett guards watched the scene, and yet he felt alone.

He neared the faces one difficult step at a time. No one moved. They all seemed like statues except one little boy with wavy black hair and a dirty, smudgy face. That child peeked at him between iron fence rails, first beside one rail and then another. He stretched up as high as his little legs could take him and then scrunched down again and looked at him sideways. Tahn turned his eyes from the other faces and watched that boy. So alive and full of his own world. He couldn’t have been more than five years old.

As Tahn reached the fence, the boy bounced on one leg and stared at him. A nervous mother tried to pull the child away, but he would not be pulled. Instead he leaned into the fence rails, squeezing himself almost between them, and reached his hand in Tahn’s direction. A strange murmur rose as Tahn lowered himself to a squat and put out his hand to touch the child’s.

“What is your name, boy?” Tahn asked as the child’s mother leaned down and tried again to pull him away. Tahn lifted his eyes to meet hers, and she stopped.

“Lucas,” the little boy answered.

“I have a very dear friend by that name.”

“But I never see’d you before,” the boy replied.

“There must always be a first time,” Tahn told him, “for friends to meet.”

“Do you live here?”

“I used to. For a short time.”

“What’s your name?” the boy asked him.

“Tahn Dorn.”

“That’s a funny name.”

“Well. It seems to fit me.” He stood and turned his eyes for a moment to the other faces.

An old man started toward him. There was something familiar about him that Tahn could not place. There was no malice in his eyes, but Tahn turned away toward the Trilett men.

“Wait, sir,” the old man called.

Tahn closed his eyes for a moment and stood very still. When he opened them, Lucas and Lorne had both come nearer. And the priest was beside the fence rail. Tahn turned himself again to look upon that old man and all the rest of the faces. He didn’t know what he could say. He didn’t know what they wanted. “Peace be with you,” he managed to speak, and to his surprise the words were echoed by at least two voices in the crowd.

“Anain told us what she did,” the old man said. “And that Benn Trilett would have hanged her but you wouldn’t let him. Tell us why, boy! Let us hear it from your own lips.”

He bowed his head. “Is it so hard for you to think of forgiveness? That I might simply want the pain to end?”

He turned away, feeling overcome. He reached toward Netta, and she hurried to his arms.

“I have something that’s yours,” the old man said. “I should have given it to your sister long ago. But my wife feared people would call me a thief, or even say I killed your mother for it. I think she knew all along that it wasn’t Sanlin Dorn.” He reached into a large pocket and drew out a necklace of pearls, shimmering white.

Like teeth all in a line
, Tahn thought. This was one of the necklaces his mother had given him just before he hid beneath the dusty old rug. His dreams had been real. And this was the rug maker.

“I didn’t know who you were at first,” the man said. “I didn’t find this till after you’d gone.”

“There was another,” Tahn said softly.

“I found no other,” the man said quickly, fearfully. “I would have told you if I had.”

“It’s all right,” Tahn told him. “I might have dropped it anywhere.”

“Please take it,” the old man said, holding out the necklace. Tahn let it rest in his hands. “Why didn’t you sell it?”

“I was afraid. Of being blamed. Not everyone believed what we were told. But it troubled me, when I heard what happened. You’d just been at my shop . . .”

Tahn nodded. “Thank you. For returning this.”

But the old man wasn’t finished. “I didn’t know about the Ovnys’ necklace. I didn’t know what they did to you until afterward. I might have saved all that trouble if I returned this to your sister sooner.”

“Never mind that,” Tahn told him. “It’s done.” He thought of his mother’s gentle hands, her urgent voice as she gave these pearls into his care. They were to pay for passage somewhere, for some new life they were never to know.

One of the Trilett men approached Lorne hurriedly. “Do you know a man named Jonas?”

“He rode with the bandits against us,” Lorne answered. “Is he in town?”

“He’s come with a warning. I left him waiting with our men. He asks to talk to you.”

“Not more trouble,” Netta sighed and held to Tahn’s hand tightly as Lorne went with the man.

“Until we’re away from here, my lady,” Tahn told her, “I would have to expect it from them.”

A tall young man spoke out from the crowd. “If you have peace for us, I will help you go in peace.”

Tahn turned his head. “Who are you?”

“Tine Wyatt. My father hanged your father.”

Tahn knew there was challenge in his words. The deed had been done by a crowd, and at the baron’s bidding. But this young man offered no excuses, no explanations. He wanted a reaction, plain and simple. “What manner of help?”

“You don’t seek justice?”

“The baron who set all in motion is dead. And judgment belongs to God.”

“My father is also dead.”

Tahn almost turned away. “I am sorry for your loss.”

“Mother sent me to find out,” the young man told him. “She wanted to know which of the things we hear of you are true.”

“Tell her I want peace.”

The young man nodded. “Sir, if that is so, my friends and I, and any we gather, could ride with your men. We will see you safely away from our countryside. It would be just a small token.”

“Go and tell the Trilett soldiers,” Tahn told him. “We would appreciate a token of peace.”

Tahn did not return to the little cottage. He would let the women and the babe have it back. Instead, he laid himself down on a bedroll among the Trilett guards he’d come to know. He would rest just a while, as Benn and his men decided their best course. Then they would all rise to return to Onath. Lucas came and sat beside him.

“Do you need to sleep, brother?”

“No. I don’t want sleep.”

“Jonas brought word of a plot between Burle and the baron’s captain. They lie in wait for us on the road to the south.”

“Did he say why he tells us this?”

Lucas shrugged. “He is tired of being a bandit. Of attacking people. Especially you.”

“Well,” Tahn answered quickly, “may such thoughts infect the rest of them.”

“Indeed,” Lucas agreed. “Your world changes. And not for the worse.”

Tahn looked long at him. “Friend, are you coming with us?”

Lucas shook his head. “You don’t think I’m needed here?”

“I don’t think you’re safe here. Despite the turn of some hearts. Burle is too near, and he hates you.”

“Burle has always hated me,” Lucas admitted. “And I have always survived.”

“But what holds you here?”

“The church. The people who understand so little of God’s heart. The street children, Tahn. You can’t take them all with you.”

He sighed. “Then almost I would stay.”

Lucas looked stricken. “Why?”

“Because you were my first friend.”

Benn watched Tahn and his friend talking as he considered the options before them. They could ride into a fight and expect that their numbers would serve them well. Or they could go another way, swiftly, before the bandits had time to put themselves in the path. But there might be some watching every way out of Alastair. There was no surety they wouldn’t encounter bandits in any direction.