Finding the Way and Other Tales of Valdemar

by Mercedes Lackey

  “Kindly tell me more about Wylden. You knew the man well?”

  “Not all that well, your lordship.”

  “Yet from what I understand, he was seen numerous times in the company of your daughter. Is that correct?”

  Tolber flushed slightly. “Correct, your lordship. He was one of many young men who found my daughter beautiful.”

  The judge nodded briefly. “Aside from his seeking your daughter’s company, did you have anything more to do with him?”

  “Little, your lordship. He was an aspiring merchant who liked to think he could work with me.”

  “And did he?”

  “Every once in a while.” Tolber shrugged. “I’d send him on errands, have him meet with various traders who passed through Berron’s Bend.”

  Bred watched this exchange, puzzled by the merchant’s words. A quiet murmur ran through the room. Everyone in town knew Wylden as more than an errand boy. He and Tolber had worked together for several years.

  “Did you ever have cause to fault your dealings with Wylden?”

  Tolber hesitated a brief moment and shook his head. “Not really, your lordship. There were times when . ...” He spread his hands. “Sometimes he annoyed me, but nothing more than small problems that arise when people deal with each other.”

  “I see.” The judge leaned back in his chair, appearing to review what the merchant had said.

  Bred glanced at his accuser, torn between anger and a real growing fear. The whole town had been witness to Tolber’s ease in speaking, had listened as he’d put forward ideas and solutions to problems that arose in the past. Silver-tongued, some called him, and today he was living up to that reputation.

  “The prisoner has a temper,” Tolber said, unprompted. “As you can see, your lordship, he’s a big man. Strong, too. Years of working with the blacksmith has made him stronger than other men. He could easily kill someone and not show signs of it.”

  This time the murmur that ran through the room was louder. Bred felt his jaw tighten. A temper? Everyone had a temper. But since an early age, he’d learned to control his. Bigger, stronger than his year mates, he knew what damage he could do if provoked into unreasoning anger.

  “Have you ever quarreled with the accused?”

  The merchant appeared to think deeply before responding. “No, your lordship. But then I’ve had few interactions with him.”

  “You may be seated,” the judge said. “I may have further questions of you.”

  Perran rubbed his forehead and looked at the townsfolk gathered at the back of the room. From their expressions, the people of Berron’s Bend disagreed with what Tolber had said. That, in itself, was telling. He sighed quietly.

  “At this time, I will take statements from anyone who knows the accused.”

  A stir ran through the gathered townsfolk. Then the blacksmith stood.

  “I’ve worked with Bred for years, your lordship. He was apprenticed to me as a youth and I’ve never seen him lose his temper. Oh, he gets out of sorts like the rest of us, but not to the stage where he’d lose control.”

  The blacksmith sat and another man stood.

  “My name is Abend, your lordship. I live in a house next to Bred. He’s always been a good neighbor. Works long hours and hard, but he’s always available if anyone is in need.”

  Perran leaned back in his chair. One by one, men and women stood and testified to the fact that Bred had never been in trouble, had always been reliable. Though no one said straight out they thought him innocent of the charge brought against him by Tolber, Perran grew convinced a major piece of information was missing in this case. There had to be more to it than he could see.

  He glanced at Bred. The big man’s face had reddened in embarrassment. He obviously had no idea he was held in such regard. Yet Tolber’s accusation, along with the evidence found, weighed heavily against him and Perran was keenly aware of the fear that Bred attempted to hide.

  So much for a quick trial, evidence notwithstanding. Perran sat in silence, weighing his options. He could declare the case too convoluted for him to decide. If so, he would then be obliged to take Bred to Sunhame where he would be questioned by the priests, some of whom could probe a man’s mind to sort out the truth.

  Yet something held him from making that decision. He sensed an undercurrent driving Tolber’s charge against Bred and acknowledged his responsibility to get to the bottom of it. Even if it meant spending yet another night in Berron’s Bend.

  “It’s late afternoon,” he said into the silence. “We’ll resume this trial tomorrow morning. Vkandis support our endeavors here.”

  The crowd in the back of the room rose and began to file out the door. Perran had turned to speak to Tolber when he noticed the last person to leave—a small, slight man, head lowered, feeling his way with a long cane. The blind man. The one who had been in the common room when the murder took place. Interestingly, he’d not joined his neighbors when asked to speak about Bred.

  A sudden thought flashed through Perran’s mind. He rose, motioned for the two remaining townsfolk to take Bred back to the room where they had confined him. He gave a brief nod to Tolber and left, followed by his two guards.

  “Here’s what I want you to do,” Perran said to Levron, as the two of them sat in the guest room Perran had been granted in the tavern. “See if you can find the blind man. Bring him to me. I have questions for him that might shed more light on this case. I can’t ignore the evidence Tolber presented, that was seconded by the authorities the merchant brought to the murder scene. On the other hand . ...”

  “On the other hand,” Levron said, as Perran’s voice trailed off, “there’s something going on here beyond what we can see. And you hope this blind man might clarify things?”

  Perran nodded. “And, I’ll send a message to Tolber that I want his daughter to attend the trial tomorrow. See what you can find out about her. Surely someone in the household or a neighbor will talk.”

  Another night spent chained in the storeroom. Another night that held little sleep. Bred heard the approach of the men charged with taking him to the trial. He stood, smoothed his hair as best he could and waited. At least they fed him regularly, though his nerves prevented him from enjoying what he ate.

  The door opened and he nodded to the two men. He knew them only in passing, but they didn’t seem to harbor any hatred of him. He preceded them down the street, across the square, and into the meeting hall. Once more, the rear of the room was filled with townsfolk. The judge sat in his place behind the heavy table, the merchant again seated to his right. Only this time, Bred was amazed to see Tolber’s daughter sitting in a chair beside her father.

  Few people had seen her lately. Word came from Tolber’s house that she had been visiting a relative and had only returned several days ago. She was, by all accounts, one of the most beautiful young women in the region and certainly looked the part this morning. Clad in a loose-fitting dress, her hair gathered behind her neck, she sat motionless, her face rather pale.

  Bred bowed his head to the judge and took his chair.

  “The proceedings will begin now,” the judge said, his expression even more serious than the day before. To Bred’s eyes, the judge looked tired, as if he had not slept well. “By now, I don’t have to remind any of you of the severe penalty of being less than truthful. This trial is sanctioned by the laws of Vkandis Sunlord. Speak falsehood before me and the god if you dare.”

  A chill ran up Bred’s spine. The atmosphere in the room had changed from the day before. A terrible thought crossed his mind. Had the decision been made? Was he to be found guilty? He briefly closed his eyes. Vkandis, let it not be so. You know I’m innocent! Protect me now!

  “Merchant Tolber,” Perran said. “I realize this might seem odd to you, but I’d like to question your daughter today.”

  The merchant’s face went blank. Perran had noticed Tolber seemed somewhat flustered when he’d entered the meeting room, his daughter’s hand on his arm.
Now, he appeared even more ill at ease.

  “Of course, your lordship. May I present my daughter, Lysa.”

  Perran nodded at the young woman. “You may remain seated,” he said, “but I have a few questions for you. How well did you know Wylden?”

  “I—not all that well, your lordship,” she replied.

  Perran noted the quaver in her hushed voice.

  “Yet he was one of the young men who sought your company, was he not?”

  “He was, your lordship.”

  “I would imagine his death shook you hard.”

  “It did, your lordship.”

  “Let me remind you of the penalty of lying to me, Lysa. I want the truth from you. Not half-truths. Once again, let me ask you . . . how well did you know Wylden?”

  The young woman glanced at her father, her eyes gone enormous. “Better than I told you before, your lordship.”

  “How much better?”

  An anguished expression crossed Lysa’s face. “He was courting me, your lordship.”

  “I see. And how did your father take this?”

  “He wasn’t pleased, your lordship.”

  Tolber stirred in his chair. “I don’t see how this has any bearing on the murder, your lordship.”

  Perran fixed the merchant with what he hoped was a chilling look. “You’ve not been given leave to speak, Tolber. I’m questioning your daughter. She’s already lied once or, at best, shaded the truth. Do you have any objections to my authority?”

  The merchant’s jaw tightened. “No, your lordship.”

  “Then I’ll proceed. Lysa,” Perran said, pitching his voice to a softer tone. “I have reason to believe you and Wylden had plans to marry. Is this true?”

  The young woman nodded, seeming to have lost her voice.

  “And your father forbade you?”

  “He did, your lordship.”

  “Did you continue to see Wylden?”

  Lysa darted a quick look at her father. “I did.”

  The merchant stiffened in his chair.

  “Was he angry when he found the two of you continued to see each other?” Perran continued.

  Now tears started in Lysa’s eyes. “He was, your lordship.”

  “Did he ever say anything to you about seeing Wylden again? That you would be punished if you did?”

  Lysa raised a hand and brushed the tears from her eyes. She glanced at her father, but he sat staring straight ahead, his own face gone pale.

  “He vowed to punish me, your lordship. But I loved Wylden. I truly, truly loved him. And when he died . ...”

  “I’m sorry for your loss, Lysa, but a man’s guilt or innocence will be proved today. Did your father ever say anything to you about punishing Wylden?”

  “No . . . not in words.”

  “You mean?”

  “It was the way he looked at Wylden, your lordship.” Lysa now stared straight ahead, no longer making an effort to exchange glances with her father.

  Tolber stood, his face gone from pale to flushed. “I must object, your lordship. This has nothing to do with the case!”

  “Sit down!” Perran snapped. “Not another word from you until I give you leave to speak! Do you understand me?”

  “I do.” The merchant took his chair again, his lips thinned.

  “Lysa,” Perran said, “think back to the night of Wylden’s murder. Was there anything odd going on in your house?”

  She shook her head. “I wouldn’t know, your lordship. I was in my room all evening.”

  Perran nodded. “Thank you, Lysa.” He turned his attention to Bred. “I have a few questions for you.”

  Bred stood, chains rattling.

  “Was there anyone in the common room at the tavern the night you claim you fell asleep on the table?”

  The big man shook his head and then looked startled. “I almost forgot. There was, your lordship. Evin, the blind man who lives in the tavern. He’s the tavern owner’s brother.”

  “How long has Evin been blind?”

  “He was born that way, your lordship. Everyone in town knows him. He’s always in the tavern. I guess that’s why I nearly forgot he was there. Being blind, he doesn’t get around much.”

  Perran leaned back in his chair. Now things were falling in place. He only needed one more piece of the puzzle to make it whole.

  “Will someone escort Evin forward?” he said.

  The townsfolk in the rear of the room stirred. One man stood and helped the blind man make his way to a chair that had been placed next to the prisoner.

  “Your name is Evin, correct?” Perran asked, once the blind man had been seated.

  “It is, your lordship.”

  “And you’ve been blind since birth?”

  “I have.”

  “Do you spend much time in the common room of the tavern?”

  “I don’t walk around that much, your lordship. It’s comfortable there and my brother looks after me.”

  “Do you know many of your neighbors? Other townsfolk?”

  The blind man nodded. “A lot of them frequent the tavern.”

  Perran glanced at Tolber who was staring, wide-eyed, at the blind man.

  “Would you recognize any of them if they were near you?”

  “I believe I would, your lordship.”

  “This is outrageous!” The merchant grasped the arms of his chair. “How can a blind man know who’s near him?”

  Perran allowed a small smile to touch his lips. He motioned and one of his guards stepped forward. “Another outburst from you, merchant, and you run the risk of arrest for disturbing the proceedings of this court! Do you understand?”

  Tolber shrank back in his chair, now decidedly pale.

  “All right, Evin. Let’s you and I test your claim.” He gestured to the back of the room. “I want a number of you to come forward. Do not, I repeat, do not give your names.” Several men and women came to stand at the blind man’s side. “Now, one at a time, say something to Evin.”

  An attractive, older woman spoke. “It’s a sunny day, Evin. If you went outside, you’d feel the warmth of the sun.”

  Perran nodded. “Do you recognize who spoke to you, Evin?”

  “I do, your lordship. It’s Widow Alyn.”

  “Is that your name?” Perran asked.

  “It is, your lordship.”

  “Now you,” Perran said, pointing at a man who stood next to the widow.

  “Evin, you really should get out more. I’d help you walk the streets if you want.”

  “And who is that, Evin?”

  “Donton, your lordship.”

  Perran glanced at the man Evin had named as Donton. “Are you Donton?”

  “That’s my name, your lordship.”

  Perran gestured at the next person. Once again, Evin proved easily able to identify the speaker. And the next, and the next after that.

  “You may return to the back of the room,” Perran said. He waited until the townsfolk had returned to their places. The meeting room grew so hushed the sound of the birds outside seemed loud. “Now Evin. I want you to think very hard. The night of the murder, where were you?”

  “Sitting in my usual corner, your lordship. I’d not been able to sleep that night, and had made my way to the common room. Sometimes, when I can’t sleep, I go there. I thought if I sat quietly for a while, I’d grow drowsy enough to fall asleep.”

  “Tell me what happened that night.”

  Evin drew a deep breath. “I ask for protection,” he said in a small voice. “I’m afraid what I say could get me in trouble.”

  “Protection? You have it. As for trouble, you understand you might be in more trouble if you withhold any evidence in this trial. Speak freely, Evin. No one will hurt you.”

  “As I said, your lordship, I was sitting in my usual corner. It’s out of the way so people don’t trip over my cane. I heard someone snoring and guessed it was a customer who’d passed out earlier. My brother doesn’t throw them out, you see.
He’s not that sort. He just lets them sleep it off.”

  “And your brother was asleep?”

  “He was.” Evin shifted in his chair. “Well, the snoring became loud enough I knew I’d never get to sleep. A while later, I heard someone come into the common room.”

  “What about the bell that would alert your brother that a customer had entered his tavern?”

  “It didn’t ring, your lordship. For some reason, it didn’t ring. I guess the cord that holds it against the door had broken.”

  “Did only one person enter the common room?” Perran asked. A quick glance at the merchant revealed Tolber’s face gone pale as parchment.

  “No, your lordship. Another came in directly after the first.”

  “And then what happened?”

  “The two of them started arguing. They weren’t loud at first, but got that way.”

  “Could you hear what they were saying?”

  “Not all of it. One man kept saying, ‘Don’t!’ He just kept saying, ‘Don’t, don’t!’ And then . . . .” Evin’s voice trailed off. He swallowed. “I heard the sound of a scuffle. A grunt. Something heavy hit the floor. And the second man to come into the common room said, ‘That’s what you deserve!’ And then, that man walked over to the table where the customer was sleeping, stopped and quickly left the common room.”

  “And would you recognize the voice of the person who left? Of the man who kept saying, ‘Don’t?’ ”

  Evin squared his shoulders. “I would, your lordship.”

  Bred sat transfixed in his chair, hardly believing what he was hearing. For the first time in days, his heart beat faster but this time not in fear.

  The judge leaned forward, his face gone perfectly still. Bred could hear the audible breathing of the merchant, who sat as if paralyzed. His daughter held her hands before her mouth, her eyes dark with emotion.

  “I want you to tell me whose voices you heard. Who was it said, ‘Don’t, don’t’?”