Thornbridge’s aunt and uncle along with Anya and Mel Carran were doing all they could to calm their fellow citizens, but would it be enough? The people were listening to them, but that Abner fellow kept making trouble, and the younger returnees in particular seemed inclined to follow him.
She’d seen Ril persuade Jeppy to help him get the second horse around to Camsen and the others. Ril was a sharp kid, but Jeppy was a coward. He’d be no good in a fight. He’d been cowering on the wagon seat making no effort to protect the horses when she reached them and used her gift of controlling animals to force the horses to strike out against their would-be killers. As soon as those men were driven off and she’d mounted one horse, Ril had grabbed the reins of the other and led him back, away from danger and shouted at Jeppy, shaming the man into action.
Dark Star might be in danger, but with most of Pescatil’s returnees apparently here in town, if Lore had been the rider of the slaughtered horse, he was in far greater danger and might even have been killed. With that thought in mind, instead of turning back to the outskirts of town where the Carrans lived, she turned her horse toward the town center.
She passed dilapidated houses, some now occupied by people trying to make repairs on them, but most probably awaiting restoration by owners currently in the crowd around their wagon. Some of the residents shouted at her as she passed, but whether in greeting or warning, she didn’t try to discern. Lore could be a prisoner or lying injured in one of those houses, but she doubted it. The people who’d taken the horse and did who knew what to its rider were the same ones who’d attacked the wagon, though most of the crowd with them were merely curious bystanders. The industrious folks concerned with getting their homes in livable condition were more likely to be the incurious type who minded their own business.
Reaching an area where abandoned buildings had been stores and offices rather than homes, she slowed the horse and took more careful note of her surroundings. She spotted a weathered building bearing a faded sign that indicated it had been an inn. Maybe if things settled down, they could find shelter there. It bore no indication of being currently inhabited, but if the former innkeeper proved to be among the returnees, he might welcome guests who asked nothing more than shelter from the elements.
Might it be a place where Lore would have taken refuge? She considered dismounting and searching the place, but decided it would be unwise to leave her horse untended. She continued past it and a couple of other buildings to an unexpected sight.
An area for the most part overgrown with weeds had a walkway of paving stones leading from the street to the center of what must have been a park. The walkway was clean and free of weeds. Obviously someone had been tending it. And in the center of the park stood a large statue of a black dog.
Renni dismounted and led her horse along the walkway toward the statue, noting that the black stone from which it was carved was covered with fine cracks, and the tip of one ear was missing. This must be the statue that the murdering aspirants had smashed, meticulously reassembled from the fragments and repositioned on its pedestal with loving care. Something lay on the ground in front of the statue. Something white. A body.
Renni dropped her horse’s reins and hurried to it. She bent over the still figure, then knelt beside it and stared in awe at the familiar serene features. She had found Kyla!
Kyla’s face was unchanged. It still wore the serene expression of one peacefully asleep. However, someone had removed the dress that had been selected for her from her own wardrobe, a dressy gown that had seemed appropriate attire for her journey to enshrinement. That garment had become soiled due to her removal from her coffin and being thrown about by Thornbridge and his men. No doubt its condition had worsened more by whatever had transpired between then and now, when whoever had laid her here had arrayed her in a long white gown and had placed a wreath of wild flowers on her head.
Having heard the tale of how the people of Pescatil had come to worship a dog and had erected this statue to him, Renni guessed that Kyla had been placed here as an offering to the god the reassembled statue represented. Well, no one was in sight now, and she was no worshipper of a dog-god. Now that she’d found Kyla, she had the responsibility of taking her back to the wagon and returning her to her coffin.
Renni considered. It would not be an easy task to lift Kyla and install her on the horse. Furthermore, the horse was far from clean, having traveled a considerable distance on a dusty road. It did seem a shame to dirty Kyla’s pretty, new white gown. She needed to learn what the situation was now at the wagon. If Camsen could bring the wagon here, she and he could lift Kyla into the coffin without any damage to her dress.
Camsen, she mindsent, how are things there at the wagon? Is everyone all right there?
The answer came back with reassuring promptness. That young hothead Abner is still trying to stir things up, but the Carrans and Thornbridge’s aunt and uncle are talking sense into most of the crowd. Where are you? Have you found any sign of Lore?
No, she sent back. I’ve found Kyla. She went on to describe her discovery.
Wait right there, he sent. I think we can get away soon and bring the wagon to you. With only one horse to draw the wagon, we’ll be slow, but at least the wagon’s a lot lighter now that they’ve taken all our supplies. And from what you say, we don’t have far to go.
Trust Camsen to see the bright side of their difficult situation here in Pescatil. She let the horse graze on the weeds in the park while she settled down on the ground beside Kyla to await Camsen and the others. She was worried about Lore, but she found comfort in seeing Kyla safe and unchanged except for the new apparel. That her body retained the firmness and soundness of a living person’s continued to astound Renni. What could that mean except that in some way and in some form Kyla did still live? She breathed a prayer of thanks to the Power-Giver, certain that it was he who had directed her here to where Kyla lay.
Footsteps coming up behind her alerted her that she was no longer alone. She jumped to her feet and turned to face this disturber of her solitude.
The short, stocky man hurrying toward her reminded her of a bull in the way his head thrust forward, with his shoulders squared. His heavily muscled arms, though held at his sides, ended in hands curved as though ready to grab her. “Who are you? What are you doing here?” he demanded as he reached her, his voice deep and menacing.
“My name is Renni Natches, and I’m waiting for friends. Who are you?” Renni responded, refusing to be intimidated.
His eyes narrowed. He glared at her. “Best you wait somewhere else,” he growled. “This here’s sacred ground.”
“I repeat, who are you?” Renni said, not backing when he took another step closer so that his face was only inches from hers.
He drew himself up proudly and announced, “I am Chon Iston, sculptor. I created this statue of our god. And I myself found all the pieces and reassembled the statue after the accursed ones shattered it. Who but I could have performed such a feat?”
“Impressive, but you missed a piece,” Renni said pointing to the missing ear tip.
“A single piece,” he said with a fury that sent spittle into her face. “I could carve a matching one, but I still hope to find the original piece. I’m convinced that Vito spared my life just so I could do the restoration. No one else could have done what I have accomplished.”
“And how does that give you the right to order someone away from it? You own this land?”
“No one has more right to it than I,” he proclaimed. “I have every right to protect this representation of our god from defilement by unbelievers. You do not belong here. I’ve never seen you before. You aren’t one of us.”
“If by ‘us’ you mean a citizen of Pescatil, no I am not. But I do have a right to be here. I came in search of the woman lying there, and now I’ve found her, and my friends and I will be taking her away.”
“No!” he roared. “I’ve prepared her to be a gift to Vito, a corpse representing
all those who died for his name and whom he has seen fit to miraculously restore. She is the perfect offering with which to honor him, and she may well be the key to bringing him back to us. You will not touch her!”
Renni stepped back. This was a mad man, and dangerous. Camsen, hurry! I’m in trouble, she sent.
We’re on our way, Camsen’s answer came. Had some trouble breaking away. What’s wrong?
Can’t explain. Just get here. No time to send an explanation. The sculptor advanced on her, murder in his eyes. She backed off, her hands up in a warding gesture.
“Look, my friends and I brought this woman here all the way from Port-of-Lords. She isn’t actually dead. We are taking her somewhere on orders from …” About to say, “a Dire Lord,” she hesitated, not wanting to antagonize him further and wary of how he might react to that revelation.
“From Vito!” he supplied triumphantly. “That proves it! She belongs to him!”
“So then, will he restore her to, uh, to consciousness?” she’d caught herself before saying “to life,” since she’d just declared that Kyla was not dead.
“No! Her death takes the place of theirs. Don’t you see?” He grew excited. “A stand-in, that’s what she is. I knew the instant I saw her that she was someone special. So pretty, she is. Young and beautiful. She’s meant for Vito. He’s taking her in exchange for all the ones who gave their lives for him.”
A chill ran up Renni’s spine. Something told her that in some way this crazed sculptor had hit upon a truth. It couldn’t be a coincidence that Pescatil’s dead had been restored at the same time Kyla had somehow come here. Kyla had come to her deathlike state by giving life to others. Was it—could it be—possible that she’d done it again?
The sound of wheels clattering over rough ground alerted her. The wagon? She looked around, saw no wagon. In the direction opposite to that from which the wagon would come, a tall man approached trundling a wheelbarrow. As he neared, she saw that the wheelbarrow was filled with dry branches and old scrap lumber.
“Ah, my assistant is here with the kindling,” the sculptor announced, and to the assistant he said, “Pile the wood neatly around the sacrifice, Vic. Looks like you’ve brought more than enough to get a good blaze going.”
“You’re going to burn her?” Renni shouted. “No! You can’t!”
“Oh, but we must.”
The assistant proceeded to take wood from the wheelbarrow and place it carefully in front of Kyla. He seemed to be taking great care in arranging it, starting with the larger boards and placing the dry branches on top of them, not in a single pile but in several piles that would encircle Kyla’s body.
Renni dashed around Iston and shoved at Vic, trying to push him away from the wood. The tall man leaned down, grasped her shoulders, and easily lifted and swung her back, out of his way. His strength surprised her, but she noted that thin though he was, ropy muscles corded his arms.
“I’d suggest you not attempt to interfere again,” Iston said. “Vic can’t speak, but he can hear just fine, and my next order to him will be to grab you and tie you to a tree if you try to stop our sacrifice. That’s what the local boys did to the other stranger that came nosing around here—left him tied to a tree, more’n half dead. He wasn’t a fit sacrifice to Vito, so I left him be. Next morning he was gone. Probably died during the night and someone took him off to bury him. No way he could have got free by his own power.”
He had to be talking about Lore. But had he died as the sculptor believed? She found it hard to believe, but she couldn’t think about it now. She had to save Kyla!
If only she had Dark Star here instead of the wagon horse. She could probably bring that horse to her easily enough, but could she force it to attack these two men? It was a placid, plodding beast, without much spirit. Already tired from pulling the wagon a considerable distance, it would not react well to being urged to throw itself against these men.
Camsen! She sent the loud, desperate call. Hurry! They’re getting ready to set Kyla on fire!
Vic dropped the bundle of wood he had just lifted from the wheelbarrow and stared at her, clapping his hands to his head.
Could he have heard her mental call? Iston certainly had not. “What’s wrong, Vic?” he asked, frowning. “Get on with it.”
But Vic continued to stare open-mouthed at Renni. Taking a chance, she sent a softer query directed to him. Did you hear me?
His eyes widened still more. He nodded vigorously. He had heard, no question. He must be gifted!
Iston said you can’t speak, but can you use mindspeech? she sent, ignoring Iston when he urged Vic to complete his task.
Vic’s scrunched his forehead. His eyes closed; his fists clenched. Mindspeech? Can I?
The sending was tentative, apparently more a thought to himself than an attempt to communicate. It was clear to Renni that this was for him a totally new possibility. Yes, you can. You just did, she sent back.
His eyes popped open. I speak? He gazed in wonder first at Renni, then at Iston. I speak!
Yes, but only to me. Not to Iston. He can’t receive your sending because he isn’t gifted.
Gifted? His gaze shifted back to Renni. What is gifted?
“Vic, what is the matter with you? Have you lost your mind? Finish arranging the wood, and set the fire,” Iston snapped. “Or do I have to do it myself?”
With no time to give Vic a full explanation of giftedness, Renni could only send, It means you have a special ability most people don’t have.
You shouted in my mind. Called Camsen. Who or what is Camsen?
Before Renni could send back a reply, Iston gave her a hard shove. “I don’t know what you’re doing, but you’re doing something to Vic.” He grabbed a heavy board from the bottom of one of Vic’s carefully arranged piles, disarranging the pile. He swung the board at Renni. She dodged and it only grazed her shoulder, but he drew his arm back for another swing.
No! Vic’s mental shout rang through Renni’s head. Vic launched himself at Iston, grabbed the shorter man by his arms, and yanked him away from Renni.
As the echo of the mental cry died away, Renni heard wagon wheels and turned to see Camsen driving the wagon straight toward them, its wheels making ruts in the ground on either side of the paving stone path as the single horse plodded right up the middle of the narrow walkway.
Camsen brought the horse to a halt and leaped down from the driver’s seat. He rushed toward Renni. Vic, still keeping a firm hold on Iston, sent the question, Camsen?
“Yes, Vic. This is my friend Camsen.” She spoke aloud, but then switched to mindspeech to add, He is gifted too, and will hear you when you speak mentally.
And so will I. The sending came from Thornbridge, who to Renni’s surprise, must have come down from the wagon and was now limping toward them. Ril followed him, looking utterly bewildered. The boy gasped when he spotted Kyla’s still form at the base of the statue.
Unsure of how to react to Thornbridge’s presence, Renni directed her mindspeech to Camsen and Vic. Camsen, Vic is mute but not deaf. He just discovered he could use mindspeech. He hasn’t had time to get used to the idea.
Iston wrenched free of Vic’s hold and turned on his assistant. “Have you gone mad? Attacking me? Refusing my order? You fool!”
“Master Iston, now that my friends are here, we will be reclaiming the woman you were about to burn,” Renni said. She did not think of Thornbridge as a friend, but since he’d come with Camsen and had made no threatening move toward her, this wasn’t the time to differentiate.
“Master Iston, you’ve done a remarkable job of restoring the statue,” Thornbridge said, addressing the sculptor calmly despite the fact that the man was almost foaming at the mouth in fury and once again brandishing the heavy board.
“Master Thornbridge! I haven’t seen you in years, and now here you are with these interlopers, these infidels. I was about to make a sacrifice to Vito, when Vic here went crazy. I demand to know what’s going on.”
> “Is she your planned sacrifice?” Thornbridge inquired in the same level tone, pointing to Kyla.
“That’s right. I took her away from three men, returnees, who were digging a grave to bury her. I saw how pretty she was and looking so fresh I wasn’t sure she was dead. She’s the perfect sacrifice we need to bring Vito back to us.”
“But she belongs to these people,” Thornbridge said. “They have her coffin there in the wagon.”
“Then what was she doing here in town getting buried?” Iston glared at them all. “I found her, so I have a right to give her to Vito. It’ll consecrate the statue I worked so hard to restore.” He whirled toward Vic. “Vic, get those piles lit. Now!”
Seeing Vic’s distraught expression, Renni sent, Don’t do it!
Vic’s look turned pleading. He says we have to give her to Vito to thank him for restoring the massacre victims. I don’t know if that’s really what Vito wants, but I work for Chon. I have to do what he tells me. Nobody else will give me a job because they know I can’t speak, so they think I’m stupid. Chon thinks that, too, but I’m strong and I can help him lift the big stones he uses for his sculptures.
“Well, what are you waiting for? Get that fire lit,” Chon Iston snapped, moving toward Vic with the board.
Like a frightened rabbit, Vic jumped to the edge of the piles of kindling and bent toward it. Renni couldn’t see what he did, but when he straightened and moved aside, hungry flames crept through the dry branches and leapt upward.
Step aside! Camsen’s sending to Vic reached Renni as well. Camsen raced toward the flaming sticks. Renni dashed around Vic and jumped over a pile just beginning to smolder to reach Kyla’s feet, while Camsen braved flames to reach her head and shoulders. The flames were coming perilously close to Kyla’s gown. If that caught fire … They couldn’t let it, that was all.
Iston shouted, “Stop them, Vic!”
Thornbridge lunged forward and grabbed Vic’s arm. At the same time, he turned his face toward Iston. Vic didn’t move, and neither did Thornbridge. Renni saw this in a quick glance while she bent to grasp Kyla’s feet. She and Camsen lifted Kyla, held her above the flames, and Camsen backed, kicking away the pile of branches behind him, the flames not having yet reached that side. But as Renni did her best to gather in Kyla’s long gown and keep a firm hold on her legs, she had to pass along the front of the pedestal while the flames roared upward from the piles in front of Kyla. She felt the scorching heat, held her breath against the smoke blowing toward her, and willed Camsen to move faster. Though neither Vic nor Iston made any move to stop them, the fire came close to winning the race. It would have, had not Ril jumped over the flames to land behind Renni and kick the burning branches away from her.
Deniably Dead (Arucadi Series Book 4) Page 20
