A Twist of the Tale
Page 2
Chapter 2. A Family Reunited
Nar’Allia leaned forward; her shoulders hunched slightly, her arms spread out to either side, her wrists resting upon the handrail in front of her. She was in an expectant mood. She stood upon one foot whilst she rocked the other upon the toe of her boot. She continued looking out over the edge of the balcony that surrounded her home high within the trees of the great wood. She sniffed the air savouring the aroma of the deep forest that surrounded her. She lived in the heart of the vast woodlands that formed the continent-wide forests known to her people as Gel’Te’Ertenya. A soft breeze played on the air. She gently swept back some wayward fronds from across her face. Pinpoints of light skipped amongst the leaves, N’Ip’Chuk’s searching each other out, males looking for a mate. One landed close by upon the handrail, she looked at its gossamer wings buzzing sporadically in the evening air, they shimmered like a rainbow, the creature’s abdomen glowed brightly, ever hopeful to attract a female. The insect’s two long antennae stretched out behind it, each twice the length of its body. Its large eyes a multitude of faceted lenses, each refracting the light into a myriad of colours.
Nar’Allia giggled, she bowed low to the male N’Ip’Chuk and pretending she had a fan behind which to hide her blushing features, she curtsied low and said, “why kind sir, your advances are most mesmerising, but I’m afraid you really are not my type.” She laughed at herself. The N’Ip’Chuk buzzed, stretched its wings wide and took flight as if it understood and went to look elsewhere. Nar’Allia followed its erratic path with her eyes. But then she caught site of something else floating upon the warm air, a tuft of grey fur floating past, born upon the warm breeze. She turned and watched as it blew over her head and behind her, the gentle wind taking it up and over the roof of her house. She lent her lower back against the handrail now behind her; she let her feet slide slowly along the wooden floor, her back sliding down until her elbows rested on the handrail.
Her attention was taken by the lamp light shining through the door that she had just left open, she could make out the soft noises of her husband Lo’Rosse, playing with their young son D’Irune in the parlour room of the house, her mother and father’s house. But neither of her parents lived here any longer even though their belongings remained, as did the fondness of their memory. She sighed, she could recall as if it were yesterday the laughter of a time gone by, the thought made her smile. The smile was for the realisation that at least the house remained a happy one. Yes the pain of separation, the uncertainty and anxiety of not knowing was still there, memories of loss, these things always would remain. Yet many years filled with happier times had lessened the heartache of the unhappy ones, at least to an extent. She crossed her arms in front of her, not because of any chill wind, but more out of a need for some small comfort against her melancholy thoughts.
Nar’Allia stood and walked slowly, she chastised herself for her saddened mood. Her step picked up and she drew herself straighter holding her head high. As she walked she undid the apron that was tied around her waist to protect the material of her favourite dress beneath. She ran her hands across smoothing her many layered skirts ensuring that each fell neatly and tidily without the tell-tale creases of household toil. She didn’t wear such attire very often, normally she could be found in the deer skin breeches and sleeveless leather jerkin that most of her people wore, but this was to be a special occasion. She swung about twisting at her knees, gently watching the hemline of her dress swish to and fro. She tugged on the ribbon tying her bodice, adjusting the bow so it looked neater. Satisfied she rolled the apron into a ball and clasped it behind her in one hand hoping to hide it there.
She remained in idle thought, running the fingertips of her other hand along the smooth wooden rail at her side as she walked slowly towards the sloping wooden ramp that led to ground level. She was snapped out of her thoughts by the sound of a female voice. She stopped, smiled and looked in the direction from which the unmistakable giggling came from, she waved then brought her hand down quickly as she perceived the hand still held the apron. She decided to hang the apron over the rail and collect it later. She waved once again as two T’Iea strode through the village between the thick trunks of the trees into the light of one of the many lamps that lit the pathways criss-crossing the ground. The two newcomers waved in response. Nar’Allia smiled broadly; she remained standing at the top of the ramp and waited. As she did so she fussed with her hair, removed a clip, which she placed between her teeth as she gathered the wayward fronds before replacing the clip carefully. She didn’t have to wait long, for the two T’Iea appeared at the bottom of the ramp and started to walk up.
They both waved a hand in greeting as they approached. Nar’Allia smiled; she relished the sight of these two. Here where her half brother and sister, the twins, right on time as expected.
She admired the feminine grace of Solvienne, she also felt a little envious at her sister in her long velvet cloak trimmed with golden thread. The hood lay over her shoulders and down her back, the fur that surrounded the edge made a fawn coloured collar around the pretty long neck, her hair styled and tied elegantly high upon her head, a human style perhaps? It was not a style to be seen amongst T’Iea kind, at least not here in the great wood. Nar’Allia noticed Solvienne’s hair sported many pearl-topped golden pins, very unlike her own plain metal pins made by the local metal smith, a person more used to making arrow heads and door hinges, yet he had done his best. A silver circlet lay across Solvienne’s brow and around her head, the fine workmanship of the intertwined silver wire, now that was recognisably T’Iea. Her elegant hands within doe skin gloves held the hem of her long cloak away from her feet and knowing Solvienne, probably the hem of a fine silken gown beneath. Then there was Solvienne’s alabaster complexion, whereas Nar’Allia’s sun-darkened skin showed her as spending much more time beneath the sun and sky than her little sister. Nar’Allia always felt a little - what was the word, rustic perhaps? Yes, a little backwater rustic when compared to the wardrobe that Solvienne had at her disposal. But then her younger sister had always hankered after such finery even at an early age, whereas Nar’Allia had swapped old sackcloth, bare feet and worn leather for the utilitarian deerskin garb of the people of the T’Iea’Tarderi – the Wood T’Iea.
A flash of light caught Nar’Allia’s eye bringing her thoughts back to the present. A ring glinted on Solvienne’s finger, Nar’Allia could not see the detail of it from this distance but this ring she knew well, an ornate ring that had set upon it a single green gem set within a clasp fashioned in the form of a wolf’s head, the green gemstone set within the wolf’s open maw. Nar’Allia smiled as she thought how her half-sister Solvienne had taken to town life, how she loved the finery, the parties and social events that filled her waking hours. Solvienne in typical character loved the fashion, the small talk and the lavish dinners. She loved the elegance of the old ways, the ways of the T’Iea’Denarin, the High T’Iea, the products of a culture at the very height of prosperity and elegance. Alas now gone for the most part, faded into history, forgotten by the more recent generations. But Solvienne had rediscovered it, there in Amentura where she spent the majority of her days. There in the big house above the town, nestled in amongst the rolling hills looking down upon the harbour and the vast Trad Ocean beyond.
Nar’Allia smiled and after hugging Solvienne kissed her sister on the cheek, “well met my little sister, you look well, obviously Amentura is having a good effect upon you. Apart from the eyes of course.” Nar’Allia laughed; she couldn’t help herself, when she was in the company of these two she always felt years younger, a much younger woman again. Her cares seemed to fall from her, life with her father and mother returned as deep fond memories as she stood there once again hugging her sister. Solvienne smiled as she withdrew from Nar’Allia’s embrace, her deep blue – within – blue eyes a sure sign amongst the T’Iea community, marking her as one having worked and experimented extensively with arcane sciences for lengthy periods of time.
Thorandill’s words gave Nar’Allia a jolt. Awakened old memories of her own. Nar’Allia had been there once, long ago. She had to admit the place was beautiful. She had thought the house and its gardens wonderful, the things they contained even more so. It had all taken her breath away the moment she had first arrived with her stepmother Minervar all those years of man in the past. But Nar’Allia’s expression darkened as did her thoughts, she agreed with Thorandill, the house although it held much, also played host to many things, secret things, reminders of times gone by, ancient memories not only of those who had lived there, but also mysterious traces of a past long lost. The very walls seemed to whisper things, her wayward imagination perhaps, but never the less the house still exerting influence upon those who entered. One memory in particular overshadowed all the beauty and excitement of the house, it made Nar’Allia loathe to return.
Nar’Allia shrugged off these thoughts, her eyes turned to inspect Thorandill, her half-brother. Unlike his sister, he on the other hand, remained a T’Iea’Tarderi, in every truth. He, like herself was slightly rougher around the edges, prone to mischievous acts, an admirer of the artisan and the fighting skill of the T’Iea, rather than Solvienne’s preferred attraction to their races artistic and academic prowess. Thorandill wore travelling cloths, the attire of the military, somewhat functional rather than fashionable.
Nar’Allia took his hand and standing on tip toes, she reached up and hugged him, he made to withdraw, but she just hugged him all the tighter, she giggled, “so then the house gives you the creeps eh? Well, little brother and you a T’Iea warrior, you do surprise me.” She took a brief sideways glance towards Solvienne then continued. “Perhaps then you don’t know how to use that blade you have slung at your hip eh? But don’t worry Thor you always have Jonas to take care of you.” She smiled a mischievous look upon her features as she winked at Solvienne.
Thorandill frowned deeply and pursed his lips he narrowed his eyes as he looked at the two women and said, “bah that old brawler? I can best him any day, you see if I can’t!”
Nar’Allia thought briefly of her time in Amentura, how Jonas had taught her the art of swordplay. But that was a long time ago; she hadn’t had any need for that particular skill in a long time. Perhaps she wished that she never would.
But both Nar’Allia and Solvienne burst out laughing, for Thorandill true to expectation still rose to the slightest teasing, it further reminded Nar’Allia of their younger years together growing up in the forest. How poor Thorandill being the only brother with two sisters had been the subject of much jesting and leg pulling.
But both the twins had busy lives now, responsibilities elsewhere, but never the less, it was good of the two of them to come when Nar’Allia had invited them. She appreciated their taking time out from busy lives to attend these gatherings, to keeping alive the memories of a former time.
Nar’Allia grasped hold of Solvienne’s arm and the two women mad their way slowly up the ramp, laughing and giggling as they walked.
Thorandill scowled after them, for he knew, as always, he had stumbled blindly straight into their baiting. But his face brightened and he couldn’t help chuckling. He walked after them at a brisk pace, “bah! Enough you two, will you never change?” He ran in front then playfully bent low, he grasped Nar’Allia behind the knees and picking her up from the floor, he slung her unceremoniously over his shoulder and proceeded to walk up the ramp.“ I hope your table is as rich as your wit Narny, the journey from Amentura has left me in a frightful hunger and thirst.”
“Put me down! You, you ….” Nar’Allia beat gently upon his back with the flat of one palm.
Solvienne was in fits of laughter as Thorandill gently lowered Nar’Allia back onto her feet.
Nar’Allia was going to scold him, but the look on his face as he stood there arms folded with a defiant expression combined with the fits of laughter coming from her sister made her smile. She shook her head looking up at him through her eyebrows. Then she turned and slipping in between them both, grabbed one arm of each and led them up the remainder of the ramp, across the walk-ways and in through the open front door of the house.
Lo’Rosse jumped up at their entrance. He smiled broadly and hugged Solvienne. “Ah, as stunningly beautiful as ever I see milady.” He bowed low with a flourish of his hand and remained that way until Thorandill said, “bah, stand up you fool, will you, like your wife, also never change?”
Lo’Rosse wagged a finger in Thorandill’s direction making a clicking sound with his tongue while he shook his head slowly, “respect towards a lady is paramount, you should learn that Thor, for it is good advice, or is it your desire to remain a bachelor the rest of your days and dream of your battles and of honour.” Lo’Rosse playfully thumped Thorandill on the shoulder and then said, “by the Maker Thor, get yourself a good woman, someone to care for you during the long years.” He winked at Nar’Allia who scowled at him, but there was soon a smile on her lips. Then he poked Thorandill in the ribs repeatedly and said, “whatever do they teach you soldiers in the legions these days?” He shook his head, laughed, then threw one arm around Thorandill’s neck and hugged him close. “Come, T’Thorandill let’s slay that soldiers thirst of yours with an ale or two my friend.”
As Thorandill passed Nar’Allia he threw something at her, “I believe this belongs to you Narny.”
She just had time to bring up her hand in a reflex action and catch the apron that had been flung at her.
Nar’Allia rolled her eyes at Solvienne who giggled.
Solvienne, after removing her travelling garb, strode over to where little D’Irune sat; he held up both his arms a smile on his small face. Solvienne bent with a rustle of fine silk and lace and picked him up, she touched her forehead to his and said, “greetings my little cousin.”
D’Irune grasped her around the neck tightly and chortled, “Sovi, Sovi.”
Still holding him Solvienne moved over to a chair and sat with D’Irune upon her lap. He made to grab her hand, but she kept moving it out of the way as they both giggled. Then she held her hand clenched fist up and D’Irune’s eyes widened in anticipation. She suddenly flung her hand up and opening her fingers many small flower petals fluttered high into the air. D’Irune raised both his arms high, reaching wildly for them as he giggled in delight.
Nar’Allia smiled at this vista of domesticity; she also admired the silken gown that Solvienne wore true to her expectations. She sighed and then left to go to the kitchen and check on the meal that was cooking. As she stood outside she called through, “I trust the journey here was uneventful Solvi?”
“Yes, much the same as always,” Solvienne shouted back. Then wrinkling her nose she smiled at D’Irune and whispered, “it’s also wonderful to be here, back home in the great wood. But don’t let on to your mother eh?” The words trailed off for Solvienne remembered something, a feeling that something was amiss, but she couldn’t put her finger on what. She remembered looking at the hedgerow on the edge of the town, the patch of fur she had found snagged on the bushes, but D’Irune tugged on a gold pin that pulled on a lock of hair, she cried out “OUCH”, then she tickled his ribs in revenge, he screeched excitedly. The slight uneasiness was soon forgotten and the conversation continued as Nar’Allia remained stirring and fussing over the various things cooking in the kitchen.
An hour later and the family sat enjoying the food before them. Laughter and jollity billowed from the table as they ate and drank. Solvienne described some of the latest discoveries she had made in the house in Amentura, she also told of her decision to open some of the house to the town’s folk in an effort to improve relations with them. She was successful in that many in the town now came to knock upon the door t
o seek medicinal aid or other advice. She also told excitedly that she had started a small school for the local children. She told how she had engaged the services of a young human woman who was a trained teacher and this act had helped massively with allaying fears and prejudices that some of the human population held for the old house and its occupants up on the hillside.
Thor saw an opportunity to get his own back, so he goaded Solvienne, “so, they no longer call you the wicked witch on the hill then eh?” He laughed at his own joke, “you’ve given up turning them into toads? Ah, then perhaps you’ve taken up stealing their children away for your evil experiments eh?”
Solvienne scowled at him.
He leapt up from the table feigning great fear, “nooooo, don’t change me into anything horrid.”
Solvienne decided to ignore him.
They chatted on. The men, after refreshing their tankards returned to where the women sat. Nar’Allia sort the hand of her husband who sat next to her. She squeezed upon it and Lo’Rosse smiled at her, “happy that the family is re-united Narny?”
She smiled, she was happy yes, but a melancholy feeling within her rose once again as her thoughts returned for the two who were missing. Two whom she loved dearly. Firstly, her father Iolrreas and also Iolrreas’s wife Minervar, her stepmother, she had not seen either of them in a long time. Minervar had gone missing whilst they had both been living in the house in Amentura; Nar’Allia remembered the shock and horror that day she had disappeared. She had resolved there and then to try and find her stepmother. Whatever it took she had to try. Not wanting to delay the start of her planned search any longer than necessary, Nar’Allia had written to Iolrreas telling him that Minervar was lost. Unbeknown to her at the time, he took the news badly, far worse somehow than she perhaps would have expected, she knew now of course that what she expected was born from an inexperienced mind and not from the experience of reality. No amount of love or attempted distraction had really cured him of his grief and he had left to look for his lost love. He announced one day during Nar’Allia’s absence in this very house where they now sat, that he was going to look for his lost wife. No amount of arguing on anyone’s part, or trying to persuade him from this decision had worked.
On Nar’Allia’s eventual fateful return home she had learnt that no word from Iolrreas had been received. They had not seen or heard of him since the day he had left. Nar’Allia blamed herself for not being there, blamed herself that she failed to stop Iolrreas from leaving. She was also angry, for deep down she resented her father’s leaving before she had managed to return home, she felt he had deserted her, yet she hated herself for feeling that way.
That knowledge, that guilt, along with the remembrance of Minervar was why Nar’Allia held these family party’s once every turn of the seasons, a reminder that out there somewhere there was still a chance that both Iolrreas and Minervar yet lived, for Nar’Allia would not believe them gone until she had absolute proof of their passing from this world. Nar’Allia shook the thoughts from her mind, she sipped on her glass of wine, then replacing the goblet carefully upon the table in front of her, she stood. As she did so the room went quiet and all eyes turned towards her, for each knew what it was she would say.
She looked at each of the assembled faces sitting around the table. “Welcome everyone into our father’s house, thank you once again for attending this small reunion. For yet again we gather here in hope. I regret this meeting is again tinged with some sadness; for once more I have no news, no words of hope, no revelation that we may yet be reunited with them. Yet this is why we meet. To remember and to thank. But also to pray for safety and their eventual return to us.” She steadied herself by taking Lo’Rosse’s hand in hers. She lowered her eyes as she said with a sigh, “it has been many years of man since Minervar’s disappearance and our father’s leaving,” here she paused, but before she could continue she was startled by a knocking at the door.
Thorandill rose, “I’ll get it,” and leaving the room, went to answer as the knock sounded once more.
Nar’Allia waited, she knew who it was who had just arrived, the last remaining guest who regularly attended these events. Nar’Allia smiled in confirmation of her thoughts, she could hear voices in the outer room, she turned just as Thorandill re-entered the room leading an elderly woman by the arm. Solvienne gave a squeal of delight and rising from her chair carried D’Irune with her and rushed over to the newcomer, after hugging the woman who had just entered she led her to an empty seat at the table.
Once seated the womn removed her head covering and there revealed were the features of an old and very respected friend of the family. Eyes meeting across the table, Nar’Allia smiled at the old T’Iea’s grinning face and said, “hello Solin,” then in a more formal welcome she added, “welcome my lady to our table.”
“Why thank you Narny. But there is no need to stand on ceremony, we are all friends here. Oh! By the way, before I forget, I think this belongs to you?” Solin had a leather bag upon her lap, she untied the drawstring and opening the bag reached in and removed a leather bound book. She reached across the table, “I keep meaning to return this. I did mean to give it to you when we had tea yesterday, but alas this old mind of mine, failing as it is, forgets such things these days.” Solin tapped the front of her temple with a finger and sighed.
Nar’Allia reached across and took the book and with an amused frown upon her face she replied, “Solin if your mind is failing you, then in comparison I must be but a complete witless fool.”
Solin smiled at the table and then looking up winked at Solvienne. But before any more could be said Solin, still with her eyes set upon Solvienne, said, “ah, my child, it is good to see you, we must speak later perhaps for I would hear much of your work and also ask after my old house and household for I miss it daily.”
Solvienne bowed and replied, “of course my lady, at your pleasure as always.”
Nar’Allia took up the book Solin had given her, she briefly looked at the books cover, the title read ‘Nu’Er'Etalle’ then standing she went out of the room to replace it upon the book shelf that stood beneath the stairs. As her fingers lingered upon the spine of the book her thoughts turned to the newcomer sitting at the table, the lady Solin De’Teinde. Solin had marvelled at Solvienne’s capacity of learning and the natural skill she exhibited. Solin and Nar’Allia had often discussed it. Solin had been in her element teaching the young girl. Solvienne had mastered much of the arcane arts under the early tuition of Solin. Nar’Allia was reminded often of a picture she had once seen of Solin’s younger days, when she too was learning. She had been a privileged student in the halls of knowledge, in the great and ancient school of the De’Et’Niale’Ternaven in the ancient T’Iea capital city of Ter’Hadsnefel. Solin had pronounced on many occasions how Solvienne would have easily been accepted into those halls of learning at an early age, for she exhibited all of the raw skills necessary to convince the High Concordium Maestri of her capabilities in learning and her speed at mastering that which she was taught.
Nar’Allia thought once again of Solin’s house in Amentura. Solvienne had just returned from that same house. The house held many interesting books and manuscripts and items of ages gone by. Solin in her time was famed across the T’Iea world as an inspirational academic; she had travelled widely gathering all sorts of artefacts and documenting everything. In deed she was the author of so many books that the house in Amentura hardly held all of them.
Nar’Allia shook herself and turning went to return to the others seated at the table. As she walked she remembered how Solin had provided an escape, a breathing space when Nar’Allia had needed one. Solin was an old friend of her stepmother’s and now to her also. But she still didn’t know everything there was to know about Solin. The elderly woman was always full of surprises, she knew far more than she let on most of the time. Of that Nar’Allia was sure. Solin’s involvement in this tale started from the very beginning. Her imprint was upon everything
somehow. Nar’Allia had wondered about this many times. Whenever Solin turned up, something was going to happen of that you could be sure. The strangest thing was that this something didn’t always happen immediately, but may take some time to manifest itself. Nar’Allia always had a slightly uneasy feeling that Solin somehow controlled things. Influenced events, even though these events could not be traced directly back to her. It was an inexplicable thing. The good part was that all these things seemed to work out in the end. Secretly Nar’Allia hoped that Solin would pull one final trick out of her bag and make Minervar and Iolrreas reappear suddenly as if they had never been away.
Nar’Allia became aware that she had been looking at Solin whilst these thoughts went around her head. To her surprise the old T’Iea was looking back at her intently, a slight smile upon her face, as if she knew what Nar’Allia was thinking. Solin’s blue-in-blue eyes seemed to pierce into Nar’Allia’s inner being to the extent that she had to turn her eyes from Solin’s gaze. She sat back down next to Lo’Rosse, she was dimly aware that he was speaking, but his words she did not hear. Instead she looked at her hands resting on the table and her thoughts returned once more to her memories.
Solin had persuaded Minervar and Nar’Allia to travel to Amentura, to be some sort of custodians of her house and its contents. Nar’Allia remembered how her father had encouraged them to go. Nar’Allia had revelled in the freedom that the trip had given to her. It meant escape from the pressures that had been placed upon her at that time. Escape from the responsibilities that she perhaps had placed upon herself. Gave her space to think and learn, at least for a while, space to experience something new and different. But that was all to change the day that Minervar had disappeared. They had found a mysterious key hidden away; Minervar seemed to take on the mystery of the key as if it where her life’s work. On discovering what the key was for, she had inserted the key into a secret lock and then without explanation suddenly disappeared. That simple act had plunged Nar’Allia into an adventure of such vast extremes that she still couldn’t believe that she actually undertook the tasks that had unraveled before her. But she had, and now she regretted that she was ultimately unsuccessful, for they had failed to rescue Minervar. They had found her, only to lose her once more. Nar’Allia had returned to their woodland home in despair.
In the years that followed, Solvienne had trained with Solin as her sponsor; eventually she had learned most of what Solin could teach her here in the great wood. Solin had sent her to Amentura, to her house and library to study there. Solin though had remained with them in the great wood. She had said it was her ideal place of retirement.
As for herself, well, Nar’Allia had married Lo’Rosse. The twins had gone their separate ways. She was now alone in the house, she felt bereft of all ambition, perhaps the adventures she had experienced had left her a changed person, one who was happy to finally bend to the will of others. More than anything she needed companionship, a shoulder the cry on, for the wounds of her loss were still raw. All her old fears seemed to become insignificant and subsequently been forgotten and following the disappearance of Minervar and her father she seemed to have lost some of her independent ways. Given in perhaps to the wishes of others. Perhaps the fight had gone from her. Lo’Rosse, well he offered security, offered her love, of these she was sure. She often thought that perhaps she sort her lost relationship with her father within him, sometimes she feared that by marrying Lo’Rosse she had taken the easy path. She still, even now, wanted desperately to find Minervar and her father once more, yet she was also in fear of failure, letting her family down once again. With Lo’Rosse and now little D’Irune she had an excuse not to take up adventuring once more if she didn’t want to, she felt she had that option and no one would blame her for it. Yet there was something that remained within her that she could not share with her husband, something that she kept locked away within her being, something that she would not let him share, keep him from sharing in the burden of it. For it gnawed away at her very being, always demanding some subconscious attention, sometimes boiling over into her everyday thoughts and demanding of her attentions. This troubled her greatly and even though Lo’Rosse said nothing, she knew it troubled him also.
The meal went on into the evening, much talk and laughter prevailed. Then once again the sound of a knock was heard upon the wooden door. At first no one heard it above the noise of the table. But Nar’Allia eventually excused herself saying, “strange, now who would that be at this time.” She rose and left the room shutting the door behind her to lessen the noise of jollity whilst she answered the door. The door was opened and there before her stood an elderly human male, he was leaning upon a staff, he looked into her eyes and smiled. The face was old, wrinkles criss-crossed his features, his hair was white and although long it was thinning and tied back in a topknot that hung down his back, but the eyes remained a bright light blue. Nar’Allia looked at the old fellow, she stared into those eyes, something in her memory was jogged, reminders of a time and place far away, memories of a very different time in her life. She gasped, for she recognised that face, although she had not seen it for many years of man. She uttered under her breath, “by the Maker, Alonso?”