Shepherd Hunted (3 page)

“Do I? Who are you? Who are you to me? Who am I to you? Do you even know what it is like to be this alone? For all I know, I am the last after you humans have hunted us. I should have gone with Tahd. At least then I could have a child and not be alone.” Her meadow eyes were lost to the conflagration. “That’s it! I need to have someone mate with me. Then I won’t be alone. That is what you want isn’t it?”

She stalked toward Timothy. Her hands unlaced the neckline of her blouse. Timothy grabbed her shaking hands. She did not pull away. She trembled.

“Stop it, Kit. I am not that kind of person. You need to calm down. It’s just a silly note from a silly book.”

Her gaze drowned Timothy’s sky. “Then why didn’t you tell me? Why did you hide it?” she whispered.

“I didn’t want you to be hurt.”

Kit shoved Timothy and turned away. “Just leave.”

Timothy hesitated. He let his arm fall. He had to do something, say something. Tears threatened his cheeks. No words would come. He heard a sob. He was not sure if it was hers or his own. He looked back at the woman silhouetted in the morning sun. The white tuft ears shook. Her tail wrapped around her.

He walked out the door. Her last words squeezed through the closing space.

“I’m sorry.”

* * *

Sister Tera passed a boy leaning against a building. Coughs racked his small frame. Ahead of him, several other boys waited. They stamped their feet and urged the coughing boy to hurry up. The boys jeered and laughed about how lazy the coughing boy was because he couldn’t run with them. The boy wiped his mouth, shouted a jeer of his own, and charged after.

Tera stepped around a pool of mead. At least, she told herself it was mead. The town still hadn’t completely recovered from the night of sin. A few barrels graced the sides of the streets, and the markets were quiet. Here and there drab, serviceable clothing of daily life replaced the rainbow festival costumes of the previous week. Tera, for one, was grateful not to be struck blind just by glancing at someone.

An old woman stopped and made the sign of the cross. Her face was a tangle of time. Sister Tera returned the gesture. “What can I do for you today?”

“Sister, if you would, please pray for my daughter. She is terribly sick.”

Tera looked harder at the woman. She realized the woman’s face wasn’t marked by time but by a hard life of labor. The brown eyes that pleaded from the tanned face were young.

“Let us pray for her now.” Tera took the tree-bark hands into her own. Tera preferred to pray with the people. She thought it odd how other sisters preferred to pray in private.

“Thank you, Sister.” The mother sagged and smiled.

“Use this to buy some medicine too. God likes to work through us.” Tera pressed a silver coin into the mother’s palm. The coin could buy several months of food or a little medicine. How apothecaries priced medicine was sinful.

The woman bowed. “Thank you, Sister!”

Sister Tera’s thoughts returned to Evelyn. The woman had skittered away early that morning, muttering nonsense. Where Evelyn found the money for the overpriced inn room Tera did not want to know. Evelyn spent part of the night cleaning the inn, much to the innkeeper’s dismay. Tera couldn’t understand the woman’s obsession.

The town needed moral teachings. How many wedding vows had been broken last night? Could a single fox demon spark such widespread sinning? Tera knew little about demons. Balwar said men were more dangerous. How could that be? What could a single fox do? Yet Tera remembered how the peace of the abbey had been shattered by the fox.

A hairy, bare-chested man hefted a barrel onto his shoulder. He gave Tera a respectful nod. She pulled her habit closer around her. She guessed the man’s muscles and fur kept him warm enough. She hurried past. A few brown leaves skittered and swirled around a young man plodding down the street. His brown hair, the same color as Evelyn’s, fluttered. His gaze bored into the cobblestones, and he wore an expensive, fur-trimmed coat. Tera pushed down envy. The coat looked warm. Where had Timothy gotten such a nice coat? She crossed the street and drew close. He didn’t react until she touched his shoulder and called his name.

Timothy looked up, eyes wet and distant. Tera didn’t see any trace of possession within them. But then, would she? Demons and possessed people were supposed to leave red in the eyes, but the fox’s eyes were green. Timothy’s eyes were the same color as his mother’s.

“Sister Tera. Still in town I see. Are you heading back home soon?” His voice sounded flat, broken.

“Maybe. Did something happen? Are you—”

“I should have told her,” he said. “I didn’t because I was afraid it would hurt her, but waiting made it worse.”

“Her? You mean the demon?” Tera asked.

“She is not a demon, Sister. At least not that way. She is a lonely woman who doesn’t have a home to return to. She is a person who has had everyone fail her. Including me.”

“Timothy,” Tera said.
The fox seems to have lost its grip on him. Now is my chance.
“Foxes are demons. They are not natural!”

Timothy’s gaze skewered her. “‘And God made the beast of the earth according to its kind, cattle according to its kind, and everything that creeps on the earth according to its kind. And God saw that
it was
good. God saw everything that He had made, and indeed
it was
very good.’ Are you telling me, Sister, that God made demons too? What about everything being good?”

Tera fish-mouthed.

“Kit is not a demon. She is a person like you and me. A person I hurt.”

Tera grasped for words. Demons came from hell, but if Satan could create them…No. Such thoughts were blasphemy.

“There are no demons, Sister. The only demons are those we make. But it doesn’t matter.” He looked behind him. “After what I did, she won’t want anything to do with me.”

He trudged away, shoulders slumped.

Tera gathered her stricken thoughts and her habit before jogging after him. He looked so lost. What had happened? Did he see the truth despite not accepting the fox as a demon? Tera had to help him. Breaking the fox’s hold on him would weaken the demon. “You could go back to the abbey. Mother Mae misses you, I’m sure. Where is the demon?”

Timothy skirted a muddy puddle. A single leaf broke the amber mirror. He paused. Tera bumped into him and almost lost her balance. “If I go with you, will you leave Kit alone?”

“I can’t promise—”

“She is not a demon. Will you leave her alone?”

Tera said nothing.

“Meet me here in a few days.” He gestured at the burned out festival castle. Tera didn’t realize they were already in the square. “I need time to think and to say good-bye.”

“Tell me where it is, and I can help you.”

Timothy shook his head. “She is likely with him now. Better if she is.”

Him? So he doesn’t know where the demon is? That might be for the better, but I will need to get back to my search.

“Getting away from this filthy town will do us both good,” Tera said. She sounded like Evelyn! Tera would not abandon the town to the fox. With the depravity she’d witnessed at the so-called festival, the fox had many souls to coerce. Evelyn and Timothy could go home without Tera.

“Sister Tera?”

Tera molted her thoughts and smiled. “Certainly, Timothy. I will be here every morning until you are ready. We can all go home.”

“Home.” Timothy stared downed the street. “Not everyone has a home to go back to.”

She hesitated, feeling awkward. She never knew what to say. She lightly touched his shoulder. “You do…with us.”

He shrugged her off. “A few days.”

Tera resisted the urge to tackle him and drag him back with her immediately. But judging by the look on his face, she decided she might regret it if she tried. Not for the first time, she wished she was stronger. She left him standing there, a war raging on his face. Whatever happened looked to have freed Timothy from the fox—at least partially. She needed to find Evelyn. Perhaps together they could convince Timothy to join them against the demon.

Tera passed few other people on her way back to the inn. She rounded the corner and saw Evelyn sitting on the front steps of the inn holding a small girl. A woman dressed in a blue smock wrung her hands and paced. As Tera neared, she saw the girl’s small body spasm. Evelyn rocked the child. Tera was a poor judge of age, but she guessed the girl was four years old. The wet cough sounded bad to Tera.

“Thank you for this. No one would help us. What doctor would leave a poor, sick child?” the woman asked.

“Promise breakers. Filth.” Evelyn’s gaze focused on Tera. Her hand continued to smooth the girl’s straw hair.

“Sister, fetch me willow bark and hot water. A cup. Clean!”

Tera hesitated.

“Go!” Evelyn said. “And bring a packet of it.”

“Evelyn, I found Timothy. We need to—”

“I found Timothy.” Evelyn rocked the girl. “Now go! Willow bark and hot water.”

I can’t take her to Timothy like this.

“Where, Evelyn?” Tera asked. How could tree bark help this girl? The mother wrung her hands. She glanced between Tera and Evelyn.

“This dirty inn has it. Go!” Evelyn said.

Tera shook her head. People started to gather.

“Who would talk to a nun like that?” A man backhanded the air in Evelyn’s direction.

“Look at the kid. Poor thing,” an old woman said.

“The doctors are leaving town. Isn’t that odd? Right after the festival too.”

“Good riddance. They take your every copper and then tell the coffin maker you are coming.”

Tera slipped around Evelyn and silenced the chatter with the heavy inn door.

Master Giffer sat behind his desk, looking haggard. Wide shoulders made the man look more like a blacksmith than an innkeeper. The poor man didn’t know what to think of Evelyn after she spent most of the night cleaning. Giffer wavered between pleased and disturbed, mostly disturbed. Tera suspected only her habit kept them from being thrown out.

“Master Giffer, would you happen to have any willow bark and hot water?”

“What is that woman—willow bark, Sister? I can make you willow tea. There is no need to do that yourself.”

Close enough
. “That would be nice. A little willow in a packet too please.” Tera had no clue what Evelyn had in mind, but it was best not to agitate the woman.
Maybe she will become lucid enough that we can talk to Timothy.

“Of…course. The innkeeper looked beyond the empty common room and at the entrance.

“I have no idea what Evelyn is doing. I am sorry for all of this,” Tera said.

“No, no. Nothing to be sorry about, Sister. You two are…unique guests. Having you under my roof is an honor. Now if you will excuse me.”

A few moments later, Tera stood outside with a small paper packet of powder and a steaming teacup. The tea smelled bitter. People had gathered closer to Evelyn.

“Smoke drives out illness. We are dust and must return, but that doesn’t mean soon. There is much to do,” Evelyn said. Heads bobbed with thoughtful expressions.

Why are these people listening to her?

“Here.” Tera pushed the tea and packet at the woman.

Evelyn touched the steaming cup against the child’s lips. “Drink. Yes, like that. Slow.” The girl coughed and sipped. Evelyn met the mother’s eyes before sweeping the small gathering. “God punishes oath breakers, and we all break our word. But he is merciful and keeps promises.” Evelyn shoved the packet at the mother. “Make tea. Clean tea from this. I make no promise that she will live. I will not dirty my mouth.”

“What can I do to repay you?” the mother asked.

“Stop sinning. Spread the word. Judgment comes,” Evelyn said.

The mother clutched the packet to her chest. “Thank you. I will. You are a good person. Anything to save my baby.”

The girl seemed to be breathing easier. People jabbered among themselves.

“Look at the girl. The woman must be a saint to stop that coughing so easily.”

“Nonsense. She—”

“Mommy?” The girl opened her eyes and reached for her mother. Evelyn slapped the hand.

“Drink first, girl.” She put the willow tea to the girl’s lips.

“My own kid is sick. Maybe I will try this smoke trick.”

“She isn’t asking for money at least. All the hucksters want it up front.”

“Evelyn?” Tera asked.

The hazel gaze was distant. Evelyn tilted the cup before laying it aside. “Good boy, Timothy. You drank it all. Run along. Your father’s waiting.”

Evelyn set the girl on her feet. With a cry, the girl’s mother scooped her up. The girl wheezed, but those terrible wet coughs were gone.

“A miracle!” the old woman said. “When my daughter had those coughs…”

Tera guessed it was something in the tea that did the trick. Although she knew a doctor giving a proper bloodletting would do the trick too.
As long as I’m not the one under the knife.

“Evelyn, I saw Timothy—”

“Be back in time for supper, Timmy,” Evelyn said. She stood and climbed the stairs toward the inn door. She seemed no longer aware of the people around her.

Tera swallowed her words. Tera knew the woman well enough to know it was useless to speak with her when she was in a spell.
I hope Timothy will stay away from the demon.
Tera ignored the urge to seek the man out and find the demon. Patience was her greatest weakness, but she had to trust God. He led her here to be a part of divine justice. The demon couldn’t remain lucky forever. She smiled at the people before following Evelyn. The handful of men and women argued among themselves. Their gazes locked on Evelyn’s back.

“Be on time, my Timmy. I am making deer-stuffed pie tonight,” Evelyn said.

“Thank you!” the mother called. “Thank you.”

Timothy nodded at the bored militiaman for the sixth time. Timothy’s legs and body ached, but walking helped his nerves. Honheim’s outer walls were a good circuit to walk. The chill air on his warm face helped him stay distracted. He had to keep his mind distracted. No. What he really needed to do was speak with Kit and apologize. He forced his legs into another circuit around the city. The sound of approaching hoofbeats came over the stone walls.

Banners streamed behind a brave procession of red uniformed soldiers. They jogged in file with muskets resting on their shoulders. Rich, eye-jarring fabrics covered wagons that creaked behind the neat ranks. Blinds kept Timothy from seeing who rode within. He rejoined the saluting militiaman at the gate.

“What is going on?”

“Pricked if I know. That is the Lord Heim.” The man stood stiff.

Timothy frowned. “I thought Ealos and merchants ran the city.”

“Outsider, eh?” The man relaxed as the last wagon passed. “The merchants may pay my wages, but it’s Lord Heim who calls the shots. All those soldiers of his are trained men.” He shifted his halberd. “I am just for show, shamed to say, and for knocking heads when louts get drunk.”

A knot of uniformed men passed through the gate and stopped. The militiaman stiffened further somehow. Timothy tried to fade into the background.

“This gate is to be closed until further notice,” the soldier said. His leather face hardened. “This gate is now under my command.”

The militiaman saluted. “Sir.”

The soldier jerked a thumb. “Inside. Now.”

What’s going on?
Timothy swallowed at the dark look the soldiers shot him. The gates banged closed, locking the militiaman and Timothy inside with the hard-faced soldiers. Timothy and the militiaman moved away.

The militiaman scratched his scalp and then shrugged. “Pricked if I know. I am going for a pint. Care to join me?”

“No, thanks.” Timothy waved the man off.

“Suit yourself.” The man shouldered his halberd and ambled away.

Timothy took the opposite street, frowning to himself. The city was quiet other than those soldiers. It had been quiet since yesterday. He wondered if perhaps it was a custom to have a period of silence after such a rowdy week. It had been—what?—two days since he messed up with Kit. He had spent two nights in cheap, rundown inns. He passed through the market. A few people browsed the stalls. Their drab clothing looked strange after the week of bright festival clothing and costumes.

The scent of honey rolls pulled Timothy toward one of the stalls. The merchant smiled, a mere twist of the mouth. Exhaustion pulled at the man’s eyes. Timothy welcomed the cold wind against his face as he glanced at the hard breads and rolls spread on white cloth. The merchant pulled his goatskin coat closer about him. Timothy’s fur coat kept the wind out—the coat Kit had bought.

Kit. He had to apologize. She was right. What he did was terrible. He should have told her back when he first found the account in that book. He wished he hadn’t found the account at all. Timothy took a deep breath and coughed.

The merchant leaned back. “You are not catching are you? Stay back from me anyway.”

“Huh? I wanted to buy a honey roll.”

The merchant gestured but kept his distance. “Take it and leave the money on the table. Just two pence. Take it and go.”

“Did you see Lord Heim pass through? Do you know why they were in such a hurry?” Timothy laid Kit’s money on the stall, selected the roll with the most honey, and took a bite. Melanie’s tasted better.

The merchant relaxed but still stayed well back from Timothy. “I’ve heard only rumors. Rumors enough to make me want to close shop and get out of town. Rumors people don’t want to utter unless true. Methinks people are waiting and hoping rumor is all it is. I think today will be my last day. I’ll not be waiting for that.” He shivered.

“Rumors?” Movement pulled at the corner of Timothy’s gaze. What he saw felt like ice splintered Timothy’s chest. The merchant said something, but Timothy didn’t hear.

Kit stood across the square, wearing a fur-lined hat. Her hair cascaded in small red rivulets, and she laughed behind a delicate hand. Trent, dressed in full crimson with shined black boots, posed. He paraded a floppy green hat spiked with a black feather. Timothy couldn’t quite hear what the man was saying. Kit laughed harder and lightly touched Trent’s ruffled chest. She glanced in Timothy’s direction.

Timothy found himself vaulting behind the stall counter.

“What are you doing?” The merchant fell backward. “Get out of here.”

“I don’t know what I am doing.” Timothy felt foolish. His warm face grew hot. He ignored the merchant’s protests and peeked over the counter. Kit and Trent stood at a stall that sold river stone jewelry. Kit pointed at one.

“Get out of here now before I call the watch.” The merchant backed against the wall and breathed through a kerchief pressed to his nose.

Timothy slithered around the stall. He slid behind a wagon loaded with oak barrels. He could make out Kit and Trent’s legs from under the wagon, but he still couldn’t hear them.

What am I doing?
Timothy felt light-headed. His heart slammed against his chest. What was Kit doing with Trent? She isn’t! Could she be? Is he? His mind raced in every direction. He had to hear what they were saying. He crept closer. He dove behind an empty stall.

“A beauty such as you,” Trent said.

“If only you saw me in the river gathering stones. I was such a beauty then, I am sure, with my skirts hiked and mud to my knees.”

“I count the mud lucky.”

Timothy peered around the stall. Trent held Kit’s hand. The peacock bowed. “Beauty is more than appearance. Although you look ravishing without that silly costume. You would make a wonderful business partner. I would be honored if you were mine.”

“Is it me or the source of my stones you would be honored to know?” Kit asked.

“In all honesty, both.” Trent flashed a smile and kissed Kit’s hand. Kit’s eyes narrowed.
Couldn’t the man see Kit was insulted?

Timothy half climbed over the stall before he realized what he was doing. Kit glanced over. Timothy fell back, and his head bounced off the cobblestones. Lights flashed in his vision. He lay on the cool stones. Nausea and foolishness roiled his stomach.

What am I doing?
His chest ached. He wiped his eyes, hoisted himself up, and peered over the counter. A few people wandered past Timothy’s view, and it took a moment for him to find Trent and Kit again. Kit glided with her arm through Trent’s. Timothy forced his clenched jaw to relax. Kit looked over her shoulder. Her shoulders sagged, and she shook her head.
Why?

Timothy sat in a daze. How could he apologize now? What difference would it make? It wouldn’t be long before Kit punished Trent for his insults on her tail. The thought of Trent seeing her ears and tail made Timothy dizzy. Trent had wealth and looks. He could see Kit home better than Timothy could.

And yet.

Timothy bolted up. An elderly woman squeaked and dropped her basket. Timothy laid a hand on his hot forehead, and his cheeks burned.

“I am an idiot,” he said. But he followed after them anyway. Why, he could not answer. He fell in behind a man lugging a barrel over his shoulder. Timothy peered around the man’s wide back.

Trent wrapped an arm around Kit’s shoulders.

Timothy stumbled into the worker. The barrel slipped and crashed. The man cursed.

Kit looked back.

Timothy dove into the mouth of an alley and gasped for air. He had never felt like this before. He had thought that all he had to do was apologize and everything would work out.

Kit already had things worked out.

What else could he expect? He had betrayed her. He had kept the murder of her home a secret. How would he feel if things were reversed? The same as Kit: betrayed and alone. Friends did not keep such important things from each other.

Some friend he was…and he had thought he could be more?

“Stop stalking and get over here, husband.” Kit’s voice grabbed Timothy’s ears. “I know you are over there. Join us.”

Timothy took a breath and left the protection of the alley. Trent and Kit sat on the edge of a fountain jutting from the side of a grand building. The columned face glittered in the sunlight, and a sign creaked in the wind.

Timothy’s stomach sloshed.

“Why, husband, what have you been doing? You have dirt all over your face.” Kit shook her head. “No matter. You do what you want regardless of my feelings.”

Timothy wiped his face on his coat sleeve.

She laid a hand on Trent’s arm. “Master Mohmed was just trying to convince me to join him on a business outing.”

“Please call me Trent. All my closest friends do. My…associates have told me now is a good time to try business at the town of Porez.” Trent met Timothy’s gaze, and he laid a hand on Kit’s. “Your wife is quite astute in business, Master Clarke. As astute as she is beautiful.”

Kit arranged her skirts, letting her leg brush against Trent’s. “If only my husband paid me the same attention as you, Master Mohmed.”

Distant shouts drifted on the air. Trent’s smile wavered. He looked about. Kit’s hat lifted.

“I am sure he thinks the same as I do for you. Business demands promptness. We need to leave today lest the deals I know of cool. You will make a wonderful partner.”

Timothy’s hands clenched. A stride would be all it would take. The man would not see it coming. Timothy was not a fighter, but Trent never wrangled sheep. Timothy could remove that hand from Kit. A smile tugged at the corners of Kit’s mouth, and he hesitated. What did she find funny?

“Today? Oh, I cannot leave without my husband. He is a fool, but he has his moments. He insists on staying in the city. Why, he even hasn’t slept in our room these last few nights. So busy he is.”

“These are cold nights to sleep alone,” Trent said.

“Yes, quite cold. A large bed gets icy when a husband is away. But he does work so!”

“Of course. Your husband—”

Kit skewered Timothy with her gaze. “Likes his business secrets, as does his wife.”

“I have learned wives are better at holding secrets.” Trent squeezed her hand, and Kit grimaced. Trent cocked his head and looked at Timothy. “I wonder what secrets your wife holds from you.”

Kit’s gaze locked on Timothy as if she expected something. He didn’t trust himself to speak. It was all he could do not to smear the peacock all over the street. Not even Tahd made Timothy feel like this. He felt disgusted at his rage. That disgust seemed to stoke the fire even more.

“I am not so fortunate with women. Certainly never with one as lovely as you.” Trent flourished his free hand.

“Many men do not know what they have until she is gone. Many women too for that matter. I like to think a marriage does not exist if trust is betrayed by either the man or the woman,” Kit said.

“I agree. Marriage is like business. If trust is lost, a merchant had best resort to begging. A man no one can trust,” Trent looked from Timothy to Kit and back again, “is no man at all.”

“Trust is such a fragile thing and so easily lost by anger.” Kit glanced at Timothy and looked away.

Timothy turned without a word. He trembled. The distant shouts seemed to be more frequent.

“I trust we will leave this afternoon? We must leave.” Trent’s voice quivered.

Kit called after Timothy, “Where are you going, my husband?”

“Do what you want.” Timothy didn’t care how harsh he sounded. He had never wanted to kill another man until now. Instead, he ran. Running was better than spilling Trent’s brains over the cobblestones. Timothy ran blind, toppling people. He dashed into another alley and slowed, leaning against the wall. The stone felt cold against his hand. He grasped for calm. Timothy felt like a cup overflowing with more being poured in.

Kit was gone.

But why should she not be with Trent? The man had money and intelligence. He seemed a match for her. Timothy failed to match wits with her most of the time. Why should she want a failed shepherd and dullard scribe? Trent could hire guards. Even with the money they—Kit—earned from the river stones, they could not do that.

She was better off with Trent, safer.

Fatigued dragged at Timothy. It was too much. Sweat slid under his coat despite the cold. It was a warm coat. Timothy closed his eyes and forced down nausea. Sweat slicked his forehead now, and exhaustion pulled on his eyelids.

“I really am pathetic.”

He slipped down the brick wall and rested his forehead on his knees.

* * *

Shouts shattered Timothy’s sleep. He jerked awake, feeling more tired than when he had sat down. The sun’s rays held red.
How long did I sleep?
His body ached, but he forced himself to stand. Waning evening light filtered through the buildings. Moping didn’t help anything. He needed to get his stuff from Melanie’s and go home with Sister Tera. It was finished. Timothy didn’t want to break his promise to Kit. His mother’s voice echoed in his mind, but there was nothing for it now. It was time to go home.

Timothy stumbled around people, only dimly aware of people filling the street. Distant shouts seemed to urge the people along. A couple saw Timothy and crossed to the other side of the avenue. They wore scarves over their mouths and noses. Timothy didn’t know how they could stand wearing such heavy clothes. He opened his coat to let the air cool his soaked shirt. He still felt lightheaded, but he knew it was only his nerves causing that.

Someone jostled him. People strained at small carts loaded with furniture. Many more raced past with overstuffed bundles strapped to their backs. The crowd increased as people trickled in from the side streets. The surge caught Timothy up and moved toward the eastern gate. A dim part of his mind wondered what was going on. The rest of him felt like wool stuffed with dried mud. He wiped his sweating face and followed the crowd. His mind wandered.

Even as a child he had felt alone, except for Aunt Mae. Evelyn couldn’t remotely be called a mother. There had been no other children in the abbey. Books and sheep. Those were Timothy’s friends. Well, there was Kyle later on.
I hope Kyle is all right.
He was sure Kyle managed to escape from that mess back at Fairhaven. Likely he was happily grumbling about his marriage with Henrietta.