The Lords of Valdeon (26 page)

The driver, who had mercifully landed in the grass, hobbled out from behind the wreckage. "Young hooligan! You’ve ruined the wool. Families depend on the money made from their woolies. Have you no concern for your neighbors?"

Seth knew exactly how hard the woolie farmers worked to get their wool to market. He'd spent many an hour at the Logan farm on shearing day. Forgiveness would not come after what he'd just done. Angry faces approached the scene. Behind them, a lone man ran between the pillars of the airship port with a musket over his shoulder. They were safe from his weapon for a time.

Constable McTavish raced toward them, puffing and red-faced. He let out a horrified curse as he stared at the mess. Pulling out his irons, he grabbed Seth's arms and slapped them on his wrists. The weight of the metal couldn't be compared to the weight of the angry stares from the crowd.

"Look what you’ve done. What would your good mother say, Seth McCloud? There’s no help for it. I have to take you in." Constable McTavish pulled him toward town. Seth hopped over pebbles and mud, trying to avoid sharp objects. The constable regarded his bare feet without much sympathy.

"You won’t need boots where you're going."

Chapter Twenty

Wool and wagon littering the row. Farmers and merchants calling for Seth's head. This day couldn't possibly get worse. Riley scrunched down behind the corner of town hall. Afternoon shadows made crisscross patterns across the dark blue door of the police station. The angry crowd of gawkers had finally moved on, leaving strained silence around the buildings. Seth had really made a mess of things this time. Every soul on Marianna had reason to want him punished. Even the two militia men holding Riley by the entrance of the Sea Steps had thrown back their catch. They were anxious to help corral the wild boy running around the row.

He'd stayed hidden, following the crowd as the constable paraded his prisoner through town square. People who'd known Seth his entire life were shouting for his removal from the island. Other eyes, strangers from what he could tell, were watching Seth's march to the police station too. He doubted their keen interest had anything to do with ruined wool.

The Haven Bay he'd known since childhood had become foreign. It was too exposed and dangerous now. He had to get Seth out of jail and into hiding somewhere. Maybe they could go to the northern farms for a while until things calmed down? He pulled out his purse and counted the coins they'd saved for their trip to the mainland. Two hundred credits, all he had in the world. He put them into the dirtied purse and stuffed it back into his waistcoat.

Two hands slapped down on Riley's shoulders. Convinced it was the militia or worse, he wiggled under their grip in a vain attempt to escape. Then he got a good look at the work boots and turned to see Tom grinning at him.

"You gave me a start."

"Aye, I'll bet. I can guess your plans, Little Whiskers." Tom crouched down beside him with a crooked smile.

"Seth and I have to leave Marianna. We don't have a choice."

"You do have choices, and the first you should make is talking this through with Dad. I used to be like you, Riley. The mainland was this exciting, faraway place I longed to explore. I couldn't wait to leave Marianna." Tom shook his head with a sad smile. "My adventure was exciting at first, but soon I came to realize the mainland is no place for Islander folk. You've no idea of the many terrifying things in the world. We're safe and protected here in the Isles."

Tom’s eyes stared passed him at the stone of the hall. "I was in a war. I never told the family, because I wanted to protect you all from it. The horrors man commits against man…"

His face was stone. Warm eyes had become ice. The once familiar voice turned gruff before trailing off into silence. What had happened to Tom Logan? He'd changed into someone the family didn’t recognize. In truth, Riley liked him much better this way.

Tom came back to himself at last. His lips forced a smile. "Go buy yourself a good time in Haven Bay, Little Whiskers. Come home late and get up early to work. If you set your mind to it, you can learn to handle the herd."

"And what about Seth? I won't abandon him."

"Listen to me, Little Whiskers." Tom gripped Riley by the arm and pulled him to his feet. "Seth has changed since his mother died. Now, stay still and listen. He has changed, and everyone sees it but you."

Riley folded his arms and gave Tom his sternest frown, but he couldn’t escape his brother’s firm grip. What was wrong with everyone? Seth McCloud was still the honest, kind person he'd always been. True, he was going through a rough patch, but Seth would come out of it.

"Paddy tells me Seth faced down a room full of sailors the other night in his common room. And he said Seth looked wild, half mad. He's headed for real trouble. I don’t want to see you hurt with him."

Seth had fought off strangers on his own? He hadn't mentioned it on the wharf. Secrets. Seth's life seemed full of them. Riley had noticed the change in his friend. Tom was wrong there. Sometimes when he'd catch Seth brooding, a strange sort of barely contained rage hung about him. It seemed to grow stronger as the days passed. What had happened to the shy, polite-to-a-fault boy he'd grown up with?

"I can't leave him in jail."

"No, I suppose you can't."

Riley gave his older brother a grateful nod. A welcome bond formed between them, eldest to youngest. It was a bond he shared with Seth — more than mere friendship. The words wouldn’t come to describe it. Riley supposed he would trust Tom Logan with any secret he had after today. Tom had come back a wiser man, but he was dead wrong about Seth. They all were. Riley wouldn't abandon his best friend, no matter what anyone believed.

"I've got to get back to help George load the dry goods."

Tom gave Riley's shoulder a final squeeze and walked back toward the market. He was grateful his eldest brother hadn't tried to stop him from rescuing Seth. It hurt a little he didn't stay to help. Their dad had been right all those weeks ago. Seth was alone in the world, but he still had one friend left. Riley wouldn't let him down.

A loud bang brought his attention back to the police station entrance. Shuttering on its hinges, the door vibrated in blue streams. Fergus McCloud marched out of the jail, hands behind his back and robes billowing around him like an angry storm cloud. Constable McTavish, face flushed with anger, marched after him. He grabbed the headmaster's arm and spun him about. Low, angry words were thrown in a rush. Riley was too far away to hear the exchange, but he could guess at what was being said. The headmaster yanked his arm from Constable McTavish's grip and limped away in furious strides. The constable stared after old Fussbottom with obvious hatred. He headed back toward the station. Stopping at the front door jamb, Constable McTavish gripped its edge so tightly Riley thought the wood might crack.

"Where’s Seth, Constable?" Riley asked, crossing the distance between them.

"The stubborn fool is leaving young McCloud behind bars." He gave Riley’s face a good long stare. "You can go on home. The elder has his troublemaker behind bars to 'pay his debt to society' as he puts it."

"And after he saved Jamie. I don’t suppose you’d let him out? Maybe release him into Dad's care?"

Constable McTavish shook his head. "No, Elder Newcastle would never allow it. Won’t even listen to his son’s account of what happened. Wish I’d let young McCloud go this morning. Our chase through the wagons was partly my fault. The boy has enough trouble in his life."

Riley nodded. Elder Newcastle had taken a dislike to anyone bearing the name of McCloud. He took every opportunity he could to put a bur in the family’s boot. Seth’s accident had cost the Newcastles a sizeable amount of profit today. It appeared the elder was intent upon getting his revenge this time.

"How much money will it take to get Seth out?"

The constable rubbed at his bushy mustache as it dropped downward. "The elder wants one thousand credits, but I supposed I could manage with five hundred."

It was a fortune! Riley walked dejectedly out across the town square. They had two hundred saved up between them. It had taken years to gather what only yesterday had seemed a good amount. Poor Seth. Riley couldn’t leave him in jail alone. He stuffed his hands in his pockets and sank down on a bench to think. Who would loan him the money? Not many people in Haven Bay had three hundred credits hidden around the house.

"Paddy!" Riley snapped his fingers.

Racing down Main Row, he didn't stop until he came to the pillars of the airship port. They'd cleaned up the wool and wagons while he'd lurked outside the police station. No one was about. Piles of fresh fencing lined the old barrier next to the entrance of the Sea Steps. They'd be closing it up soon. He gave a quick scan around to make sure the coast was clear, and then stepped onto the platform.

Seth’s boots were still propped against the cliffside. Unfortunately, they were on the wrong side of the gap. An unaccustomed anxiety sent his nerves twitching. He'd gone across the gap a thousand times. Of course the last crossing had been under musket fire. Gritting his teeth against the fear, he stepped upon the beam.

Riley stayed close to the rock face and leaned over from the safety of the side beam to grab the boots. Seth's stockings had been swept away by the wind hours before. He buckled the boots together and propped them on his shoulder. The trip back to the platform seemed much longer now that the winds had picked up to strike the cliffs. Most likely there would be no more climbs down the Sea Steps for him.

Keeping low beneath the pillars, he stayed to the side of Main Row until he was well away from town. He kept to an inconspicuous pace and headed west. Paddy’s pub wasn’t far. He could borrow the money and be back at the police station to pay Seth's bail by suppertime. A few months of working in the evenings would repay their debt. It may even be exciting being paid to spend time around travelers from different lands.

Music and chatter from the pub buzzed on the breeze. Riley flew up the wooden stairs and through the doors to the common room. It was crowded with men hooting in time to Old Ned’s fiddle. Elbowing his way through revelers, he pushed his way toward the bar. Teb stood behind the long wooden island in a sea of noise. Practiced hands poured drinks for the patrons. Paddy had left him on his own.

Riley waved his arms to catch Teb’s attention. It took several minutes for Teb to work his way to Riley's end of the bar. He'd had his hands full, taking orders and laughing at bad jokes. Each tankard robbed Riley of another hold upon his temper. Seth was locked in a tiny cell with no means of escape. What if one of those killers had gotten himself arrested on purpose or pretended to be a visitor? He had to get his friend out of Haven Bay tonight.

"Well, didn't expect to see you this evening, Riley." The young man gave him a nod as he leaned against the bar.

"Where’s Paddy? I need to speak with him."

"You’ll have to wait a while. He left this morning for Larkspur to pick up some supplies. Won’t be back for a week."

Hopes dashed, he moved back outside in the late afternoon sun. Mum would be ready to serve supper by now. He’d definitely get a good tongue lashing for being this late. Sinking down on the bottom step, he put his chin in his hand. What would he do now? Perhaps he could go to Emma? She might have their household money. No, they couldn’t pay it back before old Fussbottom noticed the money missing.

Two sailors walked past him, speaking in their strange tongue. Seth probably knew the language. He seemed to collect languages as a hobby. His best friend was as clever as they came. If their situation had been reversed, no doubt he would have Riley's bail by now.

His thoughts drifted to the Valdeonian warrior who'd saved Seth next to these steps. He'd been quick enough to lend aid before; perhaps Leo would be willing to part with the extra credits now? He took a deep breath and pushed away from the steps. It wasn't in his nature to beg — especially from a complete stranger, but for Seth's sake he'd try.

Chapter Twenty-One

It was a fair walk to the McPherson Farm from Paddy’s. Riley crossed the Main Row, hopping over the short stone fence into the fields. His boots stomped over the soggy ground as he headed north. The McPherson Farm was the last property on Farm Row, before it headed away from Haven Bay and journeyed toward the northern farms. His legs were aching by the time he shuffled over the stone fence and landed on Farm Row.

Crumbled stone pillars marked the entrance. Riley shook his head, hoping this Leo wasn't a complete fool. Some deceitful thief had let the McPherson Farm to the two foreigners. Abandoned by its original owners years ago, the land had become overgrown with weeds and wild. A farmhouse and barn stood at the south end of the fields. Unkempt and vandalized by weather, neither was fit to house a stray dog.

Passing between the crumbling stone markers, he marched up the narrow lane, climbing the steep hill toward their farmhouse. Its surface had been grated smooth by horse and hitch. Weeds and overgrowth had blocked half the road for as long as Riley could remember. Now the shrubs were nicely trimmed away from the lane, and not one weed popped its head out of the dirt. This Leo had certainly cleaned up the place.

He stopped at the top of the hill. Rubbing the back of his neck with a sweaty palm, he gazed down upon the farmyard. Smoke puffed from the chimney. In the distance, an axe chopped firewood. He moved closer to the farmhouse, keeping to the cluster of trees along the hillside. The chopping stopped abruptly. Riley wondered if the man was going to his supper. A full stomach would make him more agreeable to a loan.

Stepping around a large tree in hopes of getting a better look, he tumbled into a man kneeling beside the trunk. The man rolled to his feet and turned on Riley with sword drawn. Another intruder jumped out of the thicket to Riley's right. Dark brown cloaks hid their bodies in the autumn dusk. Golden rings swung from piercings in body parts not meant for such things. Hideous black tattoos swirled in painted bands across their faces. Each design aimed at terrifying their victims. Amity raiders! How had they come to be this far inland without the militia seeing them?