Most of the smoke around the campfire had already drifted off, as the remaining logs were consumed. With the rising moon, it became easier for them to see. A search of the camp revealed two Orlocks lying dead by the smoldering fire, with arrows sticking from their chests. About ten yards from them Collin lay on the ground beside the well, his head in Daniel's lap.
Daniel saw the expression on Mathew's face and quickly held up his hand. "He's all right, he just got thumped on the head."
Mathew and Father Thomas dropped to their knees beside them. There was a nasty bruise on Collin's cheek.
"What happened?" Father Thomas asked.
"We saw the others go into the woods after you. Those two stayed behind," he said, pointing to the dead Orlocks. "So Collin and I snuck up and shot them. We thought they were both dead, but that handsome-looking fellow on the left wasn't. When Collin got close enough, he bashed him a good one."
Father Thomas sat back and looked at Daniel.
"I told you I wasn't as good a shot as he is," Daniel said. "I'm never going to hear the end of this."
"I don't get it," Mathew said. "How did you—"
"Well, after it knocked Collin down, I shot it. .. twice," Daniel said.
"It would have helped if you shot him sooner," Collin groaned, opening his eyes. "Lord, my head feels like a horse kicked it. Are they dead?"
"I believe so," Father Thomas answered. "It seems I may have underestimated their numbers a bit."
"Umm," Collin said, pushing himself up to his elbow.
"Can you get to your feet? I would like to find a different place to camp for the remainder of the night."
"Fine with me."
Mathew and Daniel helped Collin up, making sure he was steady before they let go.
"I'm all right, stop fussing," Collin said, pushing their hands away. "I've had worse knocks falling out of trees."
'Trees don't hit back," Mathew observed.
Collin gave him a flat look.
"Were you cut anywhere by the Orlock?" Father Thomas asked.
"No. I don't think so, Father. Why?"
"The creatures carry disease with them. That is part of what you smell. A cut from one of their weapons or a bite can kill a man as surely as a sword can."
Collin gave an involuntary shudder at the thought.
"Well... if you are not cut and feel well enough, let's retrieve our bows, whatever arrows we can, and be gone from here as quickly as possible."
Mathew's legs felt like lead as the emotions of the last half hour began to drain out of him. He walked in silence with Father Thomas to where his bow was. Only one arrow was worth saving. The other snapped off in the bone and he left it there. Of all the things he had done in his life, he decided pulling an arrow from the body of a dead Orlock had to be the least attractive.
Something was bothering him. The episode with his vision was bad enough, but that wasn't it. The more he thought about it, the more certain he was that he'd heard the Orlock say, "There he is," as if they were specifically looking for him. That made no sense. Until just over a week ago, he had never even seen an Orlock. The only ther times he had been near them were at Thad Layton's farm and just before Giles had rescued him.
He remembered the scar-faced Orlock wanting to see his hands, which only added to his confusion. Nothing was making much sense at that moment. Considering the possibilities, he had to admit to himself that those comments might have meant any number of things. Nevertheless, they were extremely odd. Mathew thought about discussing it with Father Thomas, but appearing like a panicky fool was not something he was prepared to do right then, so he decided to say nothing and to give it further thought.
18
Elgaria, 20 miles north of Elberton
Lara Palmer pulled her cloak tighter around her to shut out the night chill and absently brushed some bits of grass from the front of her dress as she and Akin rode toward Elberton. She had always prided herself on having common sense, and riding through the night was plainly not sensible—it was dangerous. Still, few other options seemed available to them at the moment, so she resolved to make the best of it. Lately she had done a number of things that were less than sensible. Where she ever got the nerve to hold a crossbow on the king's constable, she would never know. But letting them take Mathew away was simply out of the question. Her uncle was an honest man who'd have argued and debated with Jeram Quinn, but in the end Mathew would have been on his way to trial in Anderon. As far as she was concerned, Berke Ramsey got exactly what he deserved and a trial was just so much foolishness. Everyone in Devondale knew it.
Her heart gave a tug again at the thought of Bran Lewin, and when she thought about Mathew's loss, the pain was almost more than she could stand. It was all so horribly unfair. He had looked up to his father so much, and they were both so close to each other, which made matters even worse.
Lara didn't remember much about Mathew's mother. She was not quite four years old when Janel died. From the two pictures she had seen, it was obvious that Mathew resembled her a great deal. One was a small charcoal sketch he kept in his room, and the other was an oval-shaped painting a traveling artist had done just after she and Bran were married. Lara guessed that Janel had been twenty or twenty-one in that painting. Out of curiosity several years before, she had asked her mother what Janel was like.
Quiet, reserved, and strong-minded when she had a need to be, her mother told her. The description made sense since children tended to take after their parents.
When Mathew smiled, it was so warm and genuine. Her annoyance over his suggesting that she not come along had vanished several days ago, replaced by a worry for his safety. He could be so insufferable when he was trying to be noble. She was able to take care of herself just fine, thank you. Her mother once pointed out that men could be very annoying, and Lara had to admit that there was a great deal of truth in the statement. On top of everything else, Mathew hadn't even apologized to her yet for suggesting she shouldn't come with them when they left Devondale. It accounted for their lack of conversation recently. He could be stubborn at times, as she well knew.
An owl hooting in a tree close by caused her to jump. Akin looked into the trees and gave her a reassuring smile.
"It's an owl," he said.
"I know. It's just that—"
"I'm worried about them too, but we'd best keep going. Father Thomas said we should reach Elberton in four or five hours. That should put us there before midnight."
Long moments passed before Lara spoke again. "Akin, can I ask you a question?"
"Certainly," he said, turning in his saddle toward her.
"You didn't have to be here, you know. Why did you come?"
"Well... Father Thomas is my priest. And when Fergus came and told me that he needed us, it seemed like the right thing to do."
"Just that?"
"That... and the fact that I've known Mat—and you, for that matter—since you were both children. What was happening back there wasn't right. I'm no lawyer, but I think I can tell the difference."
"You think Mathew did the right thing, then?" she asked.
Akin didn't answer right away. "I didn't say that. I've thought about it a lot over the last few days, and the truth is I'm not sure. I don't know what I would have done under the circumstances had it been me. Fergus thinks Mat is right.. . but it's not an easy question."
"I know," Lara said. She felt Akin look at her in the darkness and went on. "At the time, everything seemed so clear, but now . . . I've never been a criminal before."
"Neither have I. At least I'm in good company," Akin said, reaching over to squeeze her hand. "Things have a funny way of working out. It helps if you believe that."
"Do you think Mathew will go to jail?" she asked. "You know, he wants to go back and give himself up."
"I know," Akin said. "He spoke to me about it a few days ago. It might not be a bad idea to get it over with. I can't imagine a jury convicting him of murder, but as I
said, I'm not a lawyer. Generally, the further away I stay from them, the happier I tend to be. Do you agree with what Mat wants to do?"
Little else had occupied Lara's mind since she learned from Collin that was what Mathew was planning.
"No," she said thoughtfully, "but something has to be done. The problem's not simply going to go away by itself, and I don't think Jeram Quinn is about to forget what we did either. I suppose I'll deal with the situation when it comes up. I trust Father Thomas, so I'll wait and see what happens. I don't know if it was a mistake for us to leave or not, but like you said, it seemed like a good idea at the time."
"Along with the fact that you care for Mat?" Akin teased.
Lara felt her color heighten. "Does it show that much?"
"Only in the last year or so when you started wearing dresses instead of your brother's clothes all the time. It's a nice change, though," Akin said, squeezing her hand again.
She put her hand over his and squeezed back. "They'll be all right, won't they?" she said, looking over her shoulder.
"I hope so. Father Thomas is a strange one, but he seems to know what he's doing. He certainly knows more about those creatures and the woods than I do. Now that I think of it, he seems to know about a lot of things," he said, scratching his head. "I suppose if the Lord's going to listen to anybody, he's got a better chance of getting through than most."
Lara smiled in spite of herself.
For the next hour Lara did her best to think of anything other than what might be happening back at the campsite. Under other circumstances she would have thought it a beautiful night, but her heart continued to beat quickly with every step the horse took. After a while she realized she was gripping the reins so tightly that her hands hurt.
Calmly, she told herself. Calmly.
"Collin told me that you've been to Elberton before," she said. "Is it very much different from Devondale?"
"Very much indeed," Akin answered with a laugh. "Not at all the sort of place a young lady like you should be alone in."
"I've been to big places, like Gravenhage, you know," she sniffed. "I don't see how this could be much worse."
Akin chuckled again, but catching the lift of her chin out of the corner of his eye, he quickly went on.
"I meant no offense, but Elberton is nothing like Gravenhage. It's a collection of streets, mostly—no proper town square at all. The dock area where the boats going down the Roeselar put in is mostly a place to avoid after dark. They boast the distinction of having not one but three different taverns. The last time I visited, it was easier
to get into a fight there than to order a drink. It seemed the cutpurses and thieves outnumbered the citizens."
"Really?" Lara said, taken aback. "Why doesn't their council do something about it? Decent people shouldn't have to put up with things like that."
"The officials were generally more concerned with lining their own pockets than anything else, unless things have changed . .. which I doubt very much. Most of the scum from the river has always seemed to wash up there."
"Well, I hope they have a decent inn. I haven't slept in a bed in eight days, and if I don't get to take a proper bath soon . . . well, I won't be fit to ride with."
"Actually, as I recall, their inn is a fairly nice one. Most of the travelers who come downriver to trade stay there. It's called the Nobody's Inn."
"You're not serious?" Lara said. "What a name."
"I am," Akin answered. "It was kind of a local joke. An outsider would stop someone in town and ask if they could recommend a good place to eat or stay, and people would reply 'Nobody's Inn.' You'd usually get a lot of confused stares."
"Well, I think it's silly. I hope you didn't do such a thing."
"Uh... I think we should be there shortly," Akin replied. "If you look ahead, you can actually see the sky is brighter just above the treeline. Most likely, those are the lights from Elberton."
Lara was aware that he had changed the subject without answering her, but she chose not to pursue it. Instead she asked, "What were you doing in a place like Elberton, if it was as bad as all that."
"Believe it or not, there is a guild hall there. I served as an apprentice for a year—as did my brother, and my father too ... when he was much younger, of course."
"A guild hall, really?"
Akin nodded. "The silversmith hall's over five hundred years old," he told her. "At one time Elberton used to be a lot bigger. When Tyraine came into its own as a commerce port, Elberton began to lose a lot of its trade and fell on hard times, but the silver guild stayed and so did several others. With the prices in Tyraine going up each year, our neighbors in Sennia—who are a most resourceful people, by the way—were only too happy to make the trip across the Southern Sea to trade. They could resell whatever they bought here for a handsome profit back in Barcora."
"I see."
Lara's own father ran a dye and leather shop in Devon-dale, and having helped run it since she was little, she was no stranger to the commercial practicalities of business.
"I'll feel better once we get there," he said. "I've no liking for being out on this road at night."
"We didn't seem to have much choice," Lara responded glumly.
Though they continued their ride without further conversation, she noticed that Akin tended to watch roadside shadows more carefully than before. Fortunately, they covered the last few miles without incident.
Elberton was very much as Akin had said it would be— just a collection of streets, mostly deserted at that hour of the evening. On the outskirts of town the few people they did see watched them suspiciously and hurried on their way, not wishing to have any contact. Ahead of her and to the east she could see the Roeselar flowing quietly by.
"The docks are at the end of this street." Akin pointed. "You can see some of them from here."
"Yes," Lara answered. She was about to say something else when she stopped in mid-sentence, wrinkling her nose at the air. "My goodness, what is that awful smell?"
Akin sniffed the air and made a face. "I imagine that's the tannery. Their guild is located at the far end of the docks, if I recall correctly. Most days, it isn't so bad. Assuming the wind's blowing downriver, that is. The wool quarter is over here to our left."
A collection of shops, all closed for the night, bore signs that advertised everything from shirts, cloaks, and
dresses to pants and blankets. They ran one after another along the narrow cobblestone street opposite them. The street lamps cast warm yellow globes of light on the ground.
Eventually they passed a quaint-looking house with a red light hanging outside it. Two girls, whom Lara guessed were just about her own age, stood outside wearing dresses with bodices cut so low they made her gasp. She thought both would have been very pretty if they weren't wearing so much makeup. One of them, a blonde, smiled pointedly at Akin, looking him up and down him as they rode by.
"Do you know that girl?"
"Oh . . . ah . .. not really," Akin said, blushing a bit.
"Well, she seemed to know you. I've never seen a dress cut so low," Lara told him, dropping her voice. "I don't see how anyone could go out in public like that—and the way she looked at you. What if their parents were to see them?"
"Actually, I don't think their parents live in Elberton," Akin said, glancing back over his shoulder.
"Really?" Lara said, mildly surprised as she mulled over the concept of young ladies living apart from their parents. "Do they belong to one of the guilds?"
"Hmm... I wouldn't think so." This time it was Akin's turn to digest a new concept.
They rode along quietly for a few more blocks before Lara asked, "Akin, what kind of house was that?"
"Well, you see, it's, ah ... a little difficult to explain," he said, not meeting her eyes. "In certain towns it's referred to as a house of—"
"Never mind, Master Gibb. I can guess the rest." Lara sniffed reprovingly.
Akin let out a deep breath
and seemed to take a good deal of interest in adjusting his horse's bridle for the next few minutes.
Seven streets later they rode up to the Nobody's Inn. They had barely dismounted when a man came out of the stable directly across the way to take their horses. While Akin settled on the price, Lara looked up at the building. It was considerably larger than Devondale's Rose and Crown, with a double roof and flower boxes on the windows. The roof was made of long rounded red tiles. Through the large window at the front, composed of separate leaded glass panes in a latticework pattern, Lara could see quite a number of people seated around the common room.
No one paid them much attention when they entered the room. A minstrel was seated on a stool by the fire, strumming a mandolin. He was in the midst of an old familiar ballad about the deaths of Catrin and Rolan, two young lovers who threw themselves into the sea. When he concluded, the audience clapped appreciatively and called for another song.
Lara looked around the room, taking in all the new sights. Cheerful yellow curtains framed the windows, in sharp contrast to the dark wood. Flags from Elgaria, Sen-ma, and another that Lara didn't know, hung above the fireplace over the minstrel's head. The floor was made of wide wooden planks covered in sawdust, and there were paintings of river scenes and boats hanging on the walls. It gave the impression of comfort without pretense.
"I'll be back in just a moment," Akin said to her. "I left my violin case in the saddlebag. Wait here for me."
Lara nodded and went over to sit at one of the tables.
In the corner, a well-dressed man and woman glanced at her briefly and returned to their drinks, not bothering to acknowledge her smile. Three rough-looking men dressed like sailors, with tattoos on their arms, turned in their seats and looked her up and down with something other than just passing interest. Although their attention made her uneasy, she resisted the temptation to avert her eyes and returned their stares before they looked away.
On the opposite side of the room a pretty serving girl, smartly dressed in a white apron, poured a pitcher of ale for two men and their lady companions. The green cloaks and gold braid the men wore marked them as
Mitchell Graham - [Fifth Ring 01] - The Fifth Ring (v1.0) Page 19
