“Beautiful, with flaming hair and skin of the palest cream. How did you…?” the actor began to ask.
Father du Lac waved away his question as inconsequential. “Where can I find them?” She was so close.
“And how should I know where they live? I am but a wandering player,” the actor said with a truthful shrug, crushing her excitement momentarily.
The priest turned his eyes to the knight. “But you know where I can find them,” he said more than asked.
The man looked up at the knight again before returning his gaze to Father du Lac. “I might have seen them in pubs here and there.”
Nimuë wanted to growl in frustration. Getting the information little by little, piece by piece was becoming annoying. “If my man breaks your arm will you tell me what I want to know with a little more efficiency? Where? Which pubs?”
The knight pulled the man’s arm up higher on his back. But he remained annoyingly silent. Father du Lac gave his knight a small nod. The arm around the actor’s throat tightened, applying just enough pressure to make his face begin to turn red.
“Over on the other side of town. Near the southern gate,” the actor said in a strained voice, arching his back to relieve some of the pressure on his arm and neck.
At last! Father du Lac nodded. “Put him and his troupe into the wagon,” he directed the knight.
“Wait, you said you’d let us go!” the man protested.
“Ah, yes, I did. But I did not say when, did I?” the priest answered.
The man’s curses were shouted over by the knights who rounded up the acting troupe and loaded them into the back of the wagon.
Nimuë thought as she watched her knights do their work. Should she go immediately to find them or wait? She had them. She knew she had them. It was such a luscious feeling. They were practically within her grasp.
No. She would wait. They were probably in shock, poor dears. They had lost the sister they had only just found. They had a funeral to plan. No, there was no hurry to get to them. Bridget and Dylan would not be leaving any time soon. She would scour the area first, and round up as many “witches” as she could find here. There was no reason not to.
Within half an hour, the wagon was nearly full of Vallen. Aside from the actors, they picked up an artist, two healers, and a scholar offering to write letters for anyone with money to pay. Not too bad for a morning’s work and they still had yet to move toward the southern gate.
Father du Lac ordered one of the knights to give him his horse and take his seat in the wagon. “Take these witches up to Saerdbury immediately. Return with the empty wagon as soon as you can. I have a feeling we will be finding a good number more in this city.”
The knights did not look pleased to be sent out on the road so soon, but did as they were told. Tomorrow, Nimuë told herself, she and the other knights would move on to the pubs in the south of the city. There she would find Scai’s family; she was certain of it.
As she watched the wagon pull away, she realized that a good number of the men and women they had taken seemed to be quite powerful. Powerful Vallen. They would be perfect additions to her army.
With an army of Vallen she could easily take control of the country. No one would be able to stop her, and after tomorrow she would not have those children to interfere with her plans anymore.
Chapter Five
Home. Home. Home. The word echoed in my mind all through the streets of Gloucester.
It started when we passed through the Western gate and continued mindlessly as we made our way toward my house. My house! The only place I’d lived my entire life until Scai and Dylan arrived to take me away from everything I’d ever known.
Tears pricked my eyes as we slowly wended our way through familiar streets. People I knew nodded to me as we passed by, giving an odd look to the strangers amongst whom I rode. Strangers to them. Now family to me.
Scai dozed in Dylan’s lap. But as we got closer, he bent his head to whisper in her ear. She awoke with a start.
“Almost there, Scai,” Sir Dagonet said, giving her a little smile.
“Oh, good. I’m so sorry I’ve slept most of the way,” she said.
“You needed it,” I said.
“I’m glad you did,” Aron agreed.
Sir Dagonet was the first one off his horse when we rode up to the house. His hurry seemed to have calmed, happily. Either that or he’d gotten control of it. Aron was right there by my side, his arms out to help me down.
His hands were strong and warm on my waist as he lifted me down off the horse. I could have just leaned my head against his broad chest, closed my eyes, and been happy. But we’d learned our lesson from last time and kept a distance between us.
I was home! I wanted nothing more than to see my brothers, despite the lure of Aron.
Mindful of the fact that I was bringing guests, I entered the house through the front door instead of going in through the kitchen at the back of the house. As expected for this time of the evening, the entryway and drawing room were empty. Everyone would be in the kitchen eating.
“Please, make yourselves comfortable here for a moment while I find my brothers,” I said, motioning to the drawing room. My stomach was burning with anxiety, my head and heart pounding with excitement, but I took deep breaths and kept myself from running straight into the kitchen. I had to behave properly for Aron, if not Sir Dagonet and Dylan, but it wasn’t easy.
I tiptoed to the back of the house. Peeking my head through the door to the kitchen, I just stood there. I couldn’t breathe. A mixture of ice and fire burned through my veins as I stood looking at my family. Tears ran down my cheeks, but I couldn’t stop them, not for all the world. At least I wasn’t sobbing.
Nothing was more beautiful than seeing my family. All of my brothers and Thomas’s wife, Joan, sat around the table chatting. It looked like they had just sat down to enjoy their evening meal.
It was the most ordinary, wonderful, special thing I had seen in a very long time.
I took all of it in. The smell of the beef and vegetables they were eating, the deep murmur of their voices with the occasional burst of laughter, even the feel of the worn wooden door frame that I leaned against. Finally, I took in a deep breath and swiped away my tears.
“Bridget!” James spotted me. Within seconds I was surrounded by loving arms and exclamations of joy. And then I really did lose all of my self-control. I was blubbering—crying and laughing, hugging and snuffling into each and every one of my brother’s chests. There were too many bodies, too many arms, and many exclamations of “You should have told us!” and “I can’t believe you’re home!” and “It’s so good to see you!”
Finally, they all disengaged and Joan’s apron was swiped across my face before my sister-in-law herself enfolded me once again into her arms. “We are happy to see you; can you tell?” She laughed.
I, too, laughed even as I cried. “I think I could tell. And it is so wonderful to see all of you. Goodness, how I missed you. Oh dear.” The last was said as another burble of tears tried to escape. I swallowed it down hard and blinked so that I could get a good look at my family. “You’re all smiling like idiots,” I said, happier than I’d ever been.
They all burst into laughter and started to return to the table dragging me with them.
“No,” I said, resisting. “Scai and the others are in the drawing room.”
“Oh! Why didn’t you tell us?” Piers reprimanded.
Thomas grabbed me and held me tight for a moment as we were jostled by my brothers going out the door to greet the guests. Thomas and I followed.
“Welcome! Welcome!” Peter cried, entering the drawing room. With Thomas’s arm still wrapped around my shoulders and probably as stupid a grin on my own face as those I had just seen on my brothers, I joined the party in the drawing room.
There were greetings and introductions and the raucous noise of guests being made welcome. I caught a flash of worry crossing Joan’s face.
“Afraid we descended without a word of warning, wot, wot?” Sir Dagonet said, noticing it as well.
“Oh, no! I’m so happy that you’re here! It’s just…” Joan paused, her face reddening.
“I bet there isn’t enough food,” I supplied.
“No,” Joan whispered, clearly embarrassed.
“Not a problem,” Thomas said, taking things into control and giving his wife a smile. “What do you say, we all go over to the pub? They’ll have enough food for all of us and we can catch up there.”
“They’ll have enough chairs, too,” Matthias put in.
Just about everyone laughed. But I couldn’t help but notice that Dylan wasn’t joining in. He had a worried look in his eyes and his gaze kept slipping over to look at Scai, who was standing in the middle of the room with James’s arm around her shoulders.
“I don’t know that that’s a good idea,” he said, loudly enough to be heard over the laughter and chitchat that was going on somewhere else in the room.
“Why not?” Peter asked, turning to him.
“Scai…” Dylan began.
“I’m fine. I’m feeling so much better after sleeping almost the entire journey,” she said, cutting him off.
“I have a feeling Bridget managed a nap as well, so she should be all right,” Aron put in, looking over at me and setting alight a warm glow inside of me. I didn’t know if he was right or not, honestly, but the fact that he’d been watching made me feel good.
Thomas pulled away for a minute to take a good look at me. “You are looking peaked. What happened?”
Dylan quickly explained the events of the previous evening to near shouts of shock and fury from my brothers.
“I swear, if I ever get my hands on that…” Matthias started.
“You wouldn’t be able to do a thing,” Piers said, putting a damper on his younger brother’s outrage.
“Oh, yeah?” Matthias challenged.
“Yeah! None of us would,” Peter said quickly.
“No, we wouldn’t,” Thomas agreed. “If Scai, Bridget and Dylan haven’t been able to do anything about her yet, and they’re the strongest Vallen in generations, then none of us could either.”
“I’d better see to doing something for dinner,” Joan said, turning to go back to the kitchen.
“No, Joan, don’t. We’ll go to the pub,” I said, stopping her.
“Absolutely. Bridget and I are fine,” Scai agreed.
“You’re sure?” James asked.
“Yes,” we said in unison.
There was laughter at that, and then Thomas shrugged and said, “Very well, then, we’re off to the pub. We won’t stay late so that you girls can get to bed early.”
“Fine,” I grumbled, while secretly applauding the thought.
<><><>
“Tell us what you’ve been doing,” Peter said. He and his twin flanked Dylan as we all walked down the street to the local pub.
“Yes. Where have you been?” Piers echoed.
“You’ll hear all about our travels. I want to hear whether or not I’m going to have a new sister-in-law,” I said, coming up behind them, “or two.”
They laughed, embarrassment coloring their faces identical shades of pink.
“From Piers, perhaps,” Peter answered first.
“Peter hasn’t gotten up the courage yet, but I’ve made plans to ask Isabelle,” Piers said.
“Plans, but you haven’t asked her yet?” I teased.
My brother looked a little uncomfortable.
“He’s still dallying,” Peter said, laughing and giving his brother a shove from around Dylan’s back.
“Well, at least I’ve made up my mind to do it,” Piers said in his own defense.
We entered the pub in laughter and took over the back corner, pushing tables together. An order was put in for food and our friendly chatter filled the room.
For just a moment, I sat back, a little overwhelmed still, but happy beyond anything. A hand wrapped around mine.
“Considering what you went through yesterday, you’re looking well, if a bit thinner than when you left,” James said in his quiet, gentle voice, smiling at me from across the table.
I just nodded, the lump in my throat making it impossible to speak. I tried anyway. “I’m happy now.”
My answer had him looking concerned.
“It’s all right. It’s just not easy travelling so much, chasing after Nimuë. And when we actually catch up to her, it’s never pleasant.”
“I can imagine that it’s not,” Thomas said, joining in our conversation.
“Scai told us that you’d met with her a number of times already,” Matthias said.
“Twice yesterday, don’t you know?” Sir Dagonet nodded.
“But she’s still not defeated?” James asked, looking around the table.
“No,” Dylan answered shortly.
“She keeps managing to escape,” Scai put in.
“And we just barely escaped with our lives last night,” I said. “But we’ll keep trying.” For once, I wished Dylan was channeling my emotion because I was content and he was beginning to get that look in his eyes that said that he was shoving away his emotions. It must be anger. I knew he didn’t want to be here. He was trying to be patient with me and Scai and Sir Dagonet’s odd feeling that we needed to be here, but it was easy to see that he was eager to get back to our quest.
“I’m sure you’ll find her, and you’ll defeat her as well,” Peter said.
“Do you have a plan?” James asked.
“No,” Dylan said, a frown flitting on and off his face.
“Not as yet,” Sir Dagonet said at the same time. “Not to worry. They’ll know what to do when the time comes, wot, wot?”
A look of worry passed among Scai, Dylan, and me. We hadn’t made any plan or thought about exactly how we were going to defeat Nimuë. So far, she’d managed to escape from us every time—or us from her.
“There has to be some way to pin her down,” I offered.
“She keeps escaping from us,” Scai nodded.
“I guess we’ve just got to bombard her with enough magic that she’ll crumble beneath our power,” Dylan answered. His eyes widened for a moment and he took a quick look around to be sure no one sitting nearby had heard his words.
“It’s okay. It’s a Vallen pub,” Piers said, noticing Dylan’s sudden nervousness.
“Really?” Dylan asked, intrigued.
Thomas nodded. “We’ve got a good-sized population here—enough for us to have a number of businesses just for our own community.”
“That’s impressive,” Dylan said, nodding and almost smiling for the first time since we’d entered the city.
“It is nice,” Matthias agreed. Other heads around the table nodded in agreement.
“Where do you think you’ll be able to corner her?” Matthias asked.
Dylan frowned. If he’d been associated with fire, I was sure there’d be sparks coming from his eyes. “We had been going to go to Saerdbury to find her. We think she was rushing there this morning.”
“But we needed to come here first to see to Scai and Bridget’s health,” Sir Dagonet put in. I wondered if he was deliberately not mentioning the feeling he’d had. I exchanged a look with Scai, who gave a little shrug.
“This won’t be a long stay,” Dylan added in almost clipped tones.
My brothers nodded, understanding how important it was that we continue on.
“So, Aron, we know Dylan is associated with the element of water, Scai with air and Bridget with fire, are you earth?” Joan asked, smiling across the table and clearly wanting to change to a lighter topic.
Aron shifted in his seat and looked to Scai for help. I wished he’d looked to me, but I could understand that he felt more comfortable getting help for an awkward question from his childhood friend.
“Aron’s not Vallen,” Scai said. “He and I grew up together and were so close that after I was accused of being a witch, people began t
o wonder if he was, too.”
“It became a little uncomfortable,” Aron said.
“Oh, dear,” Joan commiserated.
“So you’re not Vallen at all?” Matthias asked.
“No.” Aron seemed embarrassed by the admission.
I’d never thought that someone could be uncomfortable not being Vallen. Usually it was the other way around.
“Neither am I,” Joan said.
“Really?” Aron asked, leaning forward.
“It’s not something we really talk about,” Matthias said, his eyes shifting among our brothers.
“We’re not embarrassed by it,” Piers said, frowning at our youngest brother.
“It’s not an issue,” Peter put in.
“Well, it is,” Joan admitted. “A little bit. But they’re all very kind and don’t hold it against me.” She laughed.
“But it’s all right, then? That you’re not Vallen, but your husband is?” Aron asked. He seemed intrigued at this idea. I couldn’t help but wonder why. A tiny ember sparked to life in the pit of my stomach.
“Oh, yes,” Joan answered.
“There are a number of Vallen who marry non-Vallen,” Thomas said.
“But then, what happens to your children? Are they Vallen or not?” Aron asked.
Joan’s cheeks pinkened. “We have yet to be so blessed.”
Heat from that little flame suffused my cheeks. Why was he so interested in Vallens marrying non-Vallens? I didn’t dare let my mind go to where that question was naturally leading. I didn’t dare hope that we might someday want to explore the idea further.
“Children of mixed marriages usually have some powers, but they’re not as strong,” Peter answered after an awkward moment’s silence.
Aron nodded and seemed about to ask another question when Dylan’s angry voice carried across the room. “Have you no respect for others?”
I looked over to the taps from where his voice had come. I hadn’t even seen him get up and go to the bar, but there he was facing a man I didn’t know. What made me even more nervous was that Dylan’s right hand was on the hilt of his sword.
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