Deniably Dead (Arucadi Series Book 4)

by E. Rose Sabin

  After breakfast Anya refused to let her help clean up the breakfast dishes, so Renni joined Camsen in making last-minute checks to be certain supplies were properly stored. She also fed and groomed Dark Star before saddling him for the journey. He whickered happily as though anticipating the long ride that lay ahead.

  At last they were ready to start. Camsen took the driver’s seat, while Vic rode in the wagon, and Renni, on Dark Star, kept pace. They headed along the main thoroughfare, a continuation of the road they’d followed to reach the town and that would continue as the main road to Highport. They would follow it until they reached the road leading off it to wind toward Hillcross.

  Renni was thinking she would be happy to see the last of Pescatil when Ril came running toward them, shouting, “Master Wellner, Mistress Natches, wait!”

  Renni pulled on the reins, bringing Dark Star to a halt, and Camsen slowed the horses pulling the wagon.

  “I didn’t want you to leave without saying goodbye,” Ril said breathlessly. He looked up at Camsen, then stopped by Renni. “I have something for you. It isn’t much, just a shiny stone I found in the main square, but it might bring you luck.” He reached up to hand Renni a small object wrapped in a bit of white cloth.

  She took it with a smile, but he didn’t return the smile, and something in his intense gaze made her uncomfortable. “Is everything all right, Ril?”

  “Guess so,” he said, scuffing the ground with the toe of his shoe. “I’ll miss you and Master Wellner. And Master Kaplek, too, wherever he’s got to. I’m sorry about all the trouble I caused you.”

  “Well, everything’s turned out all right, and—”

  He shook his head and darted away before she could finish. Strange! Camsen set the draft horses back in motion and the wagon moved on, but Renni remained still. She looked at the small package. Curious, she unfolded the white cloth. Inside was a shiny black stone, roughly triangular with two sides joining in a sharp point and the third side slightly curved and rough.

  Suddenly she knew what it was. But why had he given it to her? For luck, he’d said. Hmm. Ril was a clever lad. Carefully she rewrapped the stone and slipped it into her saddlebag. Then she set Dark Star back in motion.

  The wagon had gone a considerable distance ahead, but that didn’t worry her. Dark Star could catch up quickly. Yet she kept his gait to a walk, deliberately holding Dark Star back, haunted by the feeling that something was wrong, and danger lay ahead.

  §

  Camsen felt great relief at finally heading away from Pescatil and toward their end destination. Hillcross would be about a four-day journey, far less than the distance from Port-of-Lords to Marquez, and a bit less than that from Marquez to Pescatil. The weather today was beautiful—cool fall weather with a brisk breeze that gave the horses a spring in their step. They’d been well fed the past few days, and the provisions Lore had sent included plenty of oats for their sustenance on the journey. Lore and Zauna should be able to join them at least a day before they reached Hillcross, and they could find lodging in Hillcross while they scouted the area for a place to construct Kyla’s resting place.

  He did wonder why Renni delayed talking to Ril, when she’d been every bit as eager as he to get started on this final lap of their journey. But of course on Dark Star she could easily catch up to the wagon, so he didn’t worry about her falling behind.

  He and Vic rode in companionable silence, directing the horses along the road past the last streets of Pescatil. Only fields now lay ahead of them on either side of the road. Most of those fields had been cleared since the Return, the strange event that brought the farmers back from the dead. However, ahead of them lay a field still overgrown with weeds and unharvested wild grain. As the horses clopped along, drawing even with that field, men of Pescatil poured out of it and formed a line across the road, forcing the horses to come to a halt. In the middle of that line Jac Thornbridge and his Uncle Race stood, armed with rifles pointed at Camsen and Vic.

  “What’s wrong, Jac?” Camsen called. “Why are you stopping us?”

  “Sorry, Camsen, but we can’t let you leave,” Jac called back. “We appreciate all the supplies you’ve brought us, and we bear you no ill will. Far from it—we value you too highly to let you go. Winter’s coming, and we need to be certain of having enough supplies to get through it. We aren’t asking you to become permanent residents of Pescatil, but we need to keep you with us until spring.”

  Stunned, Camsen could only shake his head. He’d never expected this. “You know our mission. We have to reach Hillcross. We’ve delayed too long already.”

  “To bury a dead woman. You can bury her just as well here in Pescatil. Chon, our sculptor, will even carve a monument for her.” Jac kept his tone friendly, but he also kept his rifle leveled on Camsen.

  “I’ve told you she isn’t dead,” Camsen said, like Jac maintaining a reasoning tone. “One day she’ll awake—that’s what we’ve been promised and what we believe. But she must be entombed in a shrine built near Hillcross.”

  The line of men began to move, encircling the wagon. “I don’t want to use force to send you back,” Jac said. “We’re hoping you’ll go willingly. But we intend to enforce our request.”

  “I won’t go willingly.” For the first time Camsen showed anger. “You know if you shoot me, Jac, that will defeat your purpose. You want to ensure a continued supply of goods throughout the winter, but you won’t get them by killing me. And you won’t get them by keeping us in Pescatil by force.”

  “I’m well aware of that, but I think you won’t want me to kill Vic, who is not essential to our continued receiving of supplies, is he?” Jac shifted to point his rifle at Vic.

  At the same time, Camsen felt the wagon shake. Men were climbing into it!

  Now Race spoke. “We don’t want bloodshed, Master Wellner. I hope it won’t come to that. I know you to be a fair and reasonable man. Our offer to provide a tomb here in Pescatil for your friend in the coffin is sincere. But we do mean to take her hostage to guarantee your cooperation.”

  Kyla! They were going to take Kyla. Camsen jumped down from the driver’s seat and rushed around the side of the wagon, intent on defending the coffin and its occupant. He didn’t reach the back of the wagon. His body froze in midstride, bringing him to an abrupt halt. He’d forgotten that Jac Thornbridge had that power. He could not move so much as a finger, could not call up his own power, not even to mindsend.

  Jac walked toward him, holding the rifle to his side, and smiling. “You see, I don’t need this,” he said, indicating his gun. “Race is persuading Vic to vacate the driver’s seat. The men will take the wagon back to town, and you, Vic, Race, and I will follow on foot after we’ve given them time to reach town and stow the coffin and your friend Kyla in a safe place. You can go back to stay with the Carrans. They enjoy your company. And so long as you cooperate and keep supplies coming, no harm will come to the coffin or the body within it.”

  Race Thornbridge joined them, Vic walking in front of him, hands raised, the barrel of Race’s rifle in his back prodding him forward. Vic’s expressive face wore a terrible scowl. He might have tried to mindspeak to Camsen, but Jac’s power kept Camsen’s entirely suppressed. He could do nothing, and with a rifle at his back, neither could Vic.

  And where was Renni?

  §

  Renni’s intuition hadn’t led her astray. She had kept far enough behind the wagon that when it stopped, she reined Dark Star to a halt and soon saw the reason for the stop. She watched what looked like the entire male population of Pescatil encircle the wagon. Knowing that since she could see them, they could also see her, she turned Dark Star back toward Pescatil and rode a short distance to where she and her horse could hide within a clump of trees. She used her power to persuade Dark Star to kneel down so he could not be seen from the road, and she climbed a tree and stretched out on a branch from which she could watch the road but would not easily be seen.

  She didn’t have long to wa
it before the wagon rumbled past her hiding place, two men in its driver seat, and the horses moving at a slow pace to allow men walking beside it to keep pace with it. She didn’t see either Camsen or Vic, nor did she see Jac or Race Thornbridge. They might be walking on the far side of the wagon and thus be hidden from her view, but once the wagon passed she could look down the road after it, and see the walkers on that far side, and although she could see only their backs, she was certain that neither Vic nor Camsen was among them. They might be inside the wagon, held prisoners there, but out of an excess of caution she remained hidden well after the wagon had passed beyond her view.

  Again her intuition proved sharp. Trudging toward town came four figures: Camsen and Vic in the forefront, Jac Thornbridge beside them, and Race Thornbridge behind them holding a rifle. Rage welled up inside her. As kind as they’d been to these people, how could they do this? Jac wouldn’t even be alive if Camsen hadn’t taken pity on him after she’d had Dark Star attack him. She tried to mindsend to Camsen, but she could tell she wasn’t reaching him. She could send to Vic, but he hadn’t yet learned to shield, so it was too likely that Jac would hear anything she sent. She could only remain still until they, too disappeared into the distance.

  Then she climbed down from the tree and let Dark Star rise. She mounted him, rode across the road, and through the fields, avoiding the road and heading toward Maya’s house. It wouldn’t be safe to return to the Carrans’ home. She had hidden the key to the locked house in the place Maya had indicated. She could get it and find refuge in the place while she determined what to do.

  How long would Jac leave Camsen powerless? What did the townsmen hope to accomplish by this act? She needed answers to those questions in order to develop a plan of action. Ril could probably answer the second question, but she couldn’t get to him without alerting Jac to her presence. And she could not use Dark Star to attack him as she had before, because he would be on his guard against that tactic. His power was far greater than hers. She would have to find a way to defeat him and the other men without the use of power. Unless … they hadn’t taken the time to train Vic in the use of power. Camsen had planned to do that on their journey to Hillcross. They knew Vic had the power to kindle a flame. Could he also throw fire, like Camsen? Not necessarily, but Camsen intended to explore that possibility along with the possibility Vic had other powers he was as yet unaware of.

  Jac couldn’t possibly keep Camsen powerless for long. That would drain his own power over time. But he would probably hold him prisoner somehow. Would he do the same for Vic? She’d noted that people tended to underestimate Vic, either ignoring him or treating him as though he were stupid just because of his inability to speak. However, Jac knew better; he knew Vic could mindsend and receive. Did Jac know of Vic’s ability to start a fire? She didn’t think it had ever been mentioned in Jac’s presence. Even if he didn’t know, Jac wouldn’t make the mistake of underestimating Vic, but he might treat him more leniently than he would Camsen simply because he would seem to represent less of a threat to someone of Jac’s power. So one thing she resolved to do was try to get Vic out of the hands of his captors and bring him to her side.

  The other thing she intended to do was to have a chat with Chon Iston, the sculptor. She didn’t know whether he’d been among the group of men who’d assailed the wagon. She hadn’t seen him, but it had been a large group, and she couldn’t be sure who was there and who wasn’t.

  She also recalled how during breakfast, Anya Carran had been voluble and pleasant as always, but Mel had maintained a gloomy silence. She hadn’t seen him in the group. Had he known about it and refused to participate? And had Anya been kept in ignorance of the plot? If so, what about the wives of the other men? Could this be largely a male scheme? That was another possibility she intended to pursue, though with due caution. Whatever happened, she had to remain free, which meant that she had to stay well away from Jac Thornbridge.

  Using a roundabout route that kept her well away from any homes, she finally reached Maya’s place. It had the same abandoned look it had always had, and she saw no evidence that anyone had come snooping around in Maya’s absence. She rode around to the back and dismounted. After finding a place to tether Dark Star where he would be unlikely to be spotted by prying eyes, she retrieved the hidden key and let herself into the house. Nothing to do now but wait awhile to give the men time to return to their homes after doing whatever it was they intended to do with Camsen and Vic and with the wagon and its contents, especially of course, Kyla in her coffin. She didn’t think they intended harm either to Camsen and Vic or to Kyla. What would be the point?

  Unless Chon Iston had returned to his desire to sacrifice Kyla to Vito. That possibility gave her chills. She determined to seek out the sculptor just as soon as it seemed safe to do so.

  §

  Lore awakened and looked around in confusion. The light streaming in from the window told him it was late morning. This wasn’t the room he’d been staying in. And why had he slept in his clothes? He needed several moments to bring back the memory of the events of last evening.

  They had just begun to come back to him when Zauna entered the room. “Oh, good. You’re awake. I thought you might sleep all day. How are you feeling?”

  “A bit groggy. Trying to remember why I’m in your room instead of my own.” As soon as he said it, he remembered. Maya. The dying man. The difficult transport. “Did I pass out after I got Maya here? I did get her here, didn’t I?”

  “That you did, and you did not pass out until you hit the bed. Fortunately, as I certainly couldn’t have carried you in here.” She smiled.

  “Have you checked on Maya?” He refrained from asking whether she’d succeeded in healing the man, too afraid of what the answer would be.

  “No. I couldn’t. She still has the door locked. I didn’t want to knock, figuring she’d open it when she was ready."

  “I have the room key. I’ll check on her. I need a change of clothes anyway.”

  “What you need first is a good, big breakfast.” Hands on her hips, she gave him a stern look. “You totally depleted your power, I’m sure, and you won’t get it back until you’ve had a good meal and more rest.”

  “Maya will need a good breakfast, too. I’ll let you order for both of us after I’ve looked in on her. I need to know whether we have a living man or a corpse to deal with. Until I know, I can’t eat a thing.” He sat up, suppressed the wave of dizziness that brought, and got shakily to his feet. He felt for his room key in his pants pocket, found it, and drew it out. “I’ll only be a minute or two, Zauna.”

  With that promise, he headed for the door, opened it, and crossed the hall. He inserted the key in the lock with shaking hands, due in part to his continued weakness and in part to fear of what he’d find in the room. The lock clicked, he turned the knob, opened the door, and stepped inside.

  Maya covered her naked body with a sheet and sat up in bed. The man lay beside her, asleep but not dead. With great relief, Lore noted the steady rise and fall of his form beneath the sheet. He also took in the bloody shirt that lay on the floor along with the rest of the man’s clothing. How she’d got them off him, Lore would never know.

  “You did it!” He had no intention of questioning her methods.

  She nodded with a smile.

  “Zauna’s going to order breakfast. I know you’ll be hungry. How about him? Will he be ready to eat? Can you wake him?”

  “Give me a bit more time,” she said. “I do need food, and he will too. His shirt’s ruined. Do you have one he can put on? And I’ll get dressed, but don’t forget, you promised me new clothes. And I wanna see what this town’s like. Nothin’ like Pescatil, I hope.”

  “Well, it’s bigger and has shops and stores and some bigger buildings,” he told her. “I’ll take you around later. First, a big meal. So get dressed. It’s late. We’ve missed breakfast here. I’ll have to see what Zauna can get us.” He went to the closet, got out his clothes and then,
from the dresser drawer pulled out a shirt he’d bought for himself and hadn’t yet worn. He handed it to Maya. “He can wear this if it fits him. But will he even be able to get out of bed?”

  At that moment the man groaned and his eyes opened. He looked around and his gaze settled on Maya. “I thought it was a dream,” he mumbled. “Or am I still dreaming?”

  “No, love, you’re awake and alive and we’ll soon get something to eat,” she said, turning to stroke his forehead. Color had come back into his face. “Just rest until the food comes,” she told him, pressing his eyes closed.

  “I’ll see about ordering,” Lore said. “He can stay in bed, but you get dressed now.” Taking his fresh clothes, he headed back across the hall.

  §

  Several hours later, after consuming a gigantic breakfast and resting some more, Zauna and Lore met with Maya and the young man whose life he and Maya had saved. Zauna was amazed to see how improved that man seemed to be. Though Lore had told her that Maya had unusual healing ability, she hadn’t expected such a rapid recovery.

  The young man, who introduced himself as Rogar Simonton, explained what lay behind the altercation that led to his attempted flight and the stabbing that came so close to ending his life. Like them, he was a stranger in town, having been born and reared in Carey. His parents had wanted him to settle down there, but he’d grown restless, wanting to see more of the world. He’d traveled the short distance from Carey to Harnor by train, and then on impulse took the river steamer to Highport, intending to stay only a day or two, then go back down river all the way to Yondley, the capital of Southpoint Province. Much as Lore had, he’d gone for an evening stroll along the river, and there he’d been accosted by two men, who’d demanded his wallet. He’d refused until they threatened him at knifepoint, then reluctantly handed over the wallet, containing all the money he’d saved to make this trip. Laughing, they’d departed, but he’d trailed them from a safe distance and saw them enter the bar. Thinking that a stroke of luck, he went in and loudly accused them of stealing his money. An older man seated at a table near where he was standing shook his head and said, “Careful, young fellow. That’s the son of the Peace Officer captain in this town. Don’t mess with him.”