The Weeping Books of Blinney Lane

by Drea Damara

  “No, it’s not that,” she answered, wringing her hands. “Richard left Blinney upon our return due to his shame over what had happened, and he never returned. Vasimus would understand that I had to stay in Blinney.”

  “Why then? Why not bend your lover’s ear about how this war you’ve only glimpsed sickens you?”

  “Ranthrop, I have been gone almost twenty years. I don’t know all that has happened between the two of you. I cannot ask Vasimus to end a war if I know you have no intention of ending it as well.”

  “Me? I wouldn’t be in this war if it weren’t for Vasimus!” Ranthrop threw his arms up. “You must know that! If only Vasimus knew that I too grieved. I have ached over Deronda’s fate. She did not deserve what happened to her. I killed the man who strung that arrow myself.”

  She winced upon hearing that he’d disposed of the man who killed Deronda. “But Ranthrop, do you not think there would have been war if that arrow had hit its intended target?”

  “Your brother deserved to die for coming between the promises of others! Look at what it has done to the people of the Southlands! We could have been united with the North through economies and agriculture. Were there ever an army beyond Farwin Wood to come through now, both of our houses would be wiped out because of what your brother started!” Spit flew from his mouth as he ranted.

  Sarah glanced at Varmeer who looked painfully from her to Ranthrop. She could tell the man knew she spoke reason, although Ranthrop didn’t want to accept it. She remained silent, hoping he would come to his senses. Finally, he stopped pacing. Hands on hips, he inhaled gruffly and looked at her.

  “I demand you request of your brother to meet me for a public duel. If you promise to honor this request—I will declare peace if Vasimus will.”

  “Ranthrop, I would honor your request, but I do not see my brother. I did not lie when I told you he has left Blinney. I don’t even know where he is,” she lied. He was somewhere in Europe, she knew that, but she wasn’t about to explain cell phones to this guy. “If he had stayed in Blinney, I would have returned to Vasimus,” she added, admitting that part very well could have been true of a younger version of herself.

  After a bout of muttering under his breath and shaking his head, Ranthrop said, “And now you leave me no choice to see if you are telling the truth, for you know I cannot keep you here. Are all Allisters this conniving?”

  She was growing impatient with the slurs about past sins. “Ranthrop, I am only telling you what we both know will occur if I do not leave here. As for my brother, I am sorry he came between you and Deronda, but she would not have loved you if you had killed Richard. He was a coward for not facing you, and I am sorry your heart was broken, but you were a fool for not allowing her to love whom she wanted. How would she have felt about you if you’d killed my brother? What has become of Farwin Wood is the result of the vengeance of two men who could have altered this history by simply accepting both their losses for their people’s sake.”

  Ranthrop’s fists clenched. “Life has always been more difficult here in the South, Sarah. My father was fearless—an admired ruler for resolving those challenges that come with life in the South. He left large boots to fill. It was my duty to defend my honor. If I had not, how would my people respect me as a leader? Would I not have appeared weak to let the smear of a broken betrothal go without reparation?”

  “I will make it known to Vasimus that I am alive. I will speak to him as an offer of reparation to you for what you have suffered, but know this: respect from your people will only come if I carry with me your promise for peace to him as well.”

  Ranthrop stepped back down the stairs of the mezzanine and stood before her. “You may carry with you what you want, but promises not trusted are worthless. However, you’d best hope that, in learning I did not cause your death, your former lover is as reasonable as I. You’re lucky the years have been kind to you,” he said, eyeing her up and down. “Let us hope it sways him in his decision at the sight of you. My men will take you to the edge of Naublock, and from there you can return to Oedher alone.”

  She stood in shock at his submission for her safe release, yet he still had not answered her request. She still had not seen Shelby. She watched him look at her with cold eyes. He was watching her squirm in worry.

  Finally, he called to Varmeer, “Get the girl.”

  RICKY RUBBED his face as he sat on the edge of the bed. His head felt foggy as he looked around the castle-themed room and realized that last night was not a dream. Steadying himself, he rose from the bed. He wasn’t looking forward to turning twenty-one if this would be the result of a hangover.

  “Beetleburry,” he muttered. “It better not be made out of beetles.”

  He hobbled toward a dresser with a large bowl and pitcher on top of it. He vaguely recalled the sound of the woman named Netta coming in earlier and informing him that his “washtub” was set up for him.

  Blinking down at the pitcher, he realized that this would be his shower for the day. If he’d thought Aunt Sarah’s store and Blinney Lane were more archaic than his father’s flat in New York, then he had no words for the accommodations of Allister Hall.

  Ricky groaned at the ache in his head and poured water into the bowl. Looking in the cracked mirror, he saw that he still wore his father’s old medieval getup. He was going to have to have a serious talk with old Dad when he got home. He splashed some water on his face and rubbed his eyes. He needed to get downstairs and find out if there was news of Shelby and Sarah.

  A far-off thud resounded deep within the hall. He heard a muffled voice and footsteps coming from the stairwell outside his room. Another slam echoed, and he jumped, knowing his aunt’s bedroom door had been thrust open across the hallway. He heard a deep commanding voice yell, “Who is here, Dergus? I was told that someone claiming to be Sarah was at Allister Hall!”

  “She’s not here, Lord Vasimus! She’ll be back. I promise you,” Dergus said as he neared Ricky’s door.

  Ricky turned and braced himself against a wardrobe cabinet as he watched the shadows dance under the doorway of his room. The door rocketed open and slammed against the wall.

  Ricky's breath caught at the sight of the giant man who stepped into the room. He had a glowing intensity in his eyes, which fixed on Ricky. The man’s long black hair hung just below his shoulders. It dusted two silver, floral epaulets on his wide shoulders, holding a dusky blue cloak in place. His clenched fist held the door open and his shirt clung against his arm, indicating the amount of strength he possessed. He looked at Ricky with a tight-lipped expression behind a covering of dark whiskers; every muscle in his face clenched.

  “Holy shit,” Ricky whispered.

  “Lord Vasimus,” Dergus said behind the man. “This is—”

  “Richard?” Vasimus asked, barely audible. He slowly stepped farther into the room, looking stunned.

  “No,” Dergus said. “Thought so myself at first.” Dergus came around Vasimus, and Ricky could see him smiling at the massive lord’s side. “This is Lord Richard’s son, Ricky.”

  “A son?” Vasimus’s surprise was evident as he quickly glanced to Dergus for confirmation.

  Ricky straightened from his cowered stance against the dresser. As Vasimus stepped toward him, he cleared his throat and tugged down his mussed vest. “How do you do?” Ricky asked. Was that greeting appropriate here? He couldn’t believe he’d actually used those words for once in his life.

  “Your father married?”

  Ricky felt his brows furrow. Well how in the hell do you think I came to be, he felt like saying. Suddenly he remembered the fairy tale that Netta, Dergus, and Sarah had regaled him with the night before. He thought for a moment and then decided upon a simple “Yes.”

  They probably didn’t have divorce in Farwin Wood if dudes went around pouting over lost fiancées for twenty years. Quick thinking.

  Vasimus gave a curt nod, as though he were absorbing the information. As he neared Ricky, he diverted his
steps and paced around the bed. He looked about the room and then back at him once he returned to view. “You may leave us Master Dergus,” Vasimus told the old man.

  Ricky saw what looked like a reassuring smile from Dergus who retreated for the door. Great. Now he was alone with this pissed off herculean man.

  “Rick-y,” Vasimus said. “That’s an uncommon name.”

  “It’s Richard, after my father, but everyone calls me Ricky.” He watched Vasimus prowl in careful steps. His movements were robotic, militaristic.

  “Best not to be known for your father, I suppose,” Vasimus said offhandedly, hands clasped behind his back as he stared at the floor.

  He’d pop the guy for that comment if he weren’t twice his size. He didn’t have the best relationship with his dad, but he sure wouldn’t let anyone slander him for something he didn’t view as harshly as the people here did. This poor Deronda woman must have been miserable if all the men in her life were as pushy and unpleasant as this guy. No wonder she fell for Dad.

  “Then, I presume you have traveled here with your mother,” Vasimus said, sounding disappointed.

  “Uh, no.” What was he supposed to tell him? He didn’t know if he wanted his aunt running into this guy again, past love or not.

  “Don’t tell me your father has come! Who is this Lady Sarah that claimed to be so to my guards?” Vasimus snapped his head up. His tone was one of astonishment.

  “No, my father hasn’t been to Blinney in years.” Ricky tried to recall the story of what had happened in Farwin Wood and relay only information that would benefit everyone.

  “And the woman my guards saw here? Do you have a sister?”

  Ricky swallowed. What if this guy hung around long enough for Aunt Sarah to return? Lying hadn’t done him much good the last time he tried it. Spooky or not, Netta swore this Vasimus guy still treated them well. Here went nothing.

  “No. I am an only child. I came here with…my aunt. Aunt Sarah.”

  Ricky didn’t think it was possible for such a ferocious-looking man to become so drastically weak and limp, but that’s what happened as Vasimus heard these words. He staggered a half step and clasped his fist around one of the high bedposts.

  “Sarah lives?” Vasimus’s words came out as a whisper.

  All Ricky could do was nod as he watched Vasimus process the information. The man’s free hand came up to his chest, and he gripped a handful of his tunic, staring down at the floor with his mouth agape. Was he going to have a heart attack? Crap. What had he done?

  “She told me what had happened here, but she had to go back to Blinney. To take care of things there,” Ricky replied. If Aunt Sarah was lucky enough to find Shelby, he didn’t want her coming back to be thrown in shackles or whatever this guy was capable of doing. Would he be angry that she hadn’t returned to Farwin Wood? There’s no way Vasimus could understand why she couldn’t, and Ricky wasn’t about to explain it to him, barely understanding it himself.

  “Why? Why did she not send word?” Vasimus looked at Ricky with hurt in his eyes.

  Ricky shook his head dumbly, his mouth ajar. He fumbled to find the right words. “I…I don’t know. No one ever told me about what happened here until recently. I’m sorry. I’m sorry about your sister.”

  Vasimus looked away. He began another bout of pacing and asked demandingly, “Where is she?”

  “I don’t know. She rode out this morning. I don’t know when she’ll be back.”

  Vasimus looked at him again and then strode to the door. He yanked it back open and walked across the hall. Ricky blinked after him, unsure what the man was feeling.

  Damn it, why did I tell him? See! Lying isn’t always a bad thing. He chided himself as he hurried after Vasimus.

  Vasimus walked into Sarah’s room and stopped before her bed. He stared down at the pile of clothing folded there and then sat down next to it. He lifted a hand to touch the fabric of her dress as Ricky looked on nervously from the doorway.

  “Did she marry as well? Like your father?” Vasimus spoke without looking at Ricky, his jaw clenched as he grazed the dress with a fingertip.

  Ricky let out a soft chuckle at the thought of Aunt Sarah being married, but then stifled it with a cough when Vasimus looked at him. “No. There was never anyone.”

  Ricky thought of Henry for a moment and wondered if Vasimus acted toward Sarah the way the deliveryman did. This guy clearly felt a sense of possession for Sarah that was nothing like how Henry behaved. Truth be told, the level of flirtation between his aunt and Henry was so sad that nothing would likely ever come of it.

  “She lives alone,” he added, saying the words as pathetic as his aunt’s life truly seemed.

  The tension drained from Vasimus’s face as he looked back down at the clothing. “Is she…happy?”

  “Happy? Well, I don’t know really. I don’t see her much. I live—far away from Blinney.”

  “You do not know your own aunt?” Vasimus queried, but there didn’t appear to be any hostility in his words. He simply wanted to know something about Sarah. That fact was evident.

  Ricky shifted his weight and picked at a splinter in the door. “She always seemed happy to see me,” he said, recalling how she’d laugh and hug him, whenever he had come to visit. It made him feel bitter about their much less personal reunion this summer. “But mostly she always seemed kind of sad, I guess.” He stared out the window, realizing what his aunt’s life had been like. He glanced back at Vasimus then and saw that the lines around the man’s eyes and mouth had drooped.

  Vasimus noticed his perusal and cleared his throat. “When do you plan to leave Farwin Wood?”

  “Hopefully today or tomorrow.” His cheeks burned when he realized he’d vocalized his desire to flee this man’s homeland.

  Vasimus just nodded and took a ragged breath. “Will you leave me for a moment, Lord Ricky?”

  The sound of a title before his name and the kind tone of Vasimus’s voice left him taken aback. The relief of being dismissed tore him from the man’s anguished face, and he backed out the door, pulling it closed behind him. He sighed once he was in the hallway.

  “Man, this place is too intense.”

  He narrowed his eyes, remembering that Dergus had let Vasimus in for his rude awakening. He raced down the stairs to give the old man a piece of his mind and find out when his aunt would be back.

  ONCE THE door closed, Vasimus let out a ragged breath to quash the pain in his chest. He’d nearly come undone at hearing the boy confirm that Sarah lived. With shaking hands, he gathered up her dress and crumpled it against him, bringing his face down into the fabric to stifle an agonizing sound from his lungs. He felt tears in his eyes against the cloth where her scent still lingered. Did she even feel the same about him anymore? The boy said she’d never married, that she lived alone, and that she was sad, but were those indications of her longing for him? He slowly brought the dress away from his face in shame. Why hadn’t she come back or sent word that she'd survived? She had to know the torment he’d gone through, thinking she’d died in the River Duke that day.

  He lowered the dress to his lap but kept it firmly in his grip. He didn’t want to let it go, as though doing so would allow Sarah to slip away from him again. He growled at the tightness in his throat and blinked through the water that stung his eyes. Something clanked beneath the folds of the dress. When he lifted the fabric, Sarah’s bracelet fell to his lap. He picked it up, studying its baubles.

  She’d kept it, he thought as he rotated the cuff through his fingers. All these years and she still had it. The idea that she still thought of him made him smile. He brushed his hand over a small silver key and then a little white pearl. He stopped turning the leather when a golden ring flopped down over his finger—the ring he had given to Sarah. He stared at it and remembered the day he gave it to her. He recalled the night they’d exchanged their feelings.

  “Let it serve as a reminder that I am always with you,” he had told her. The tension
in his chest came back at the thought of how long it had been since he’d seen her. She’d carried this ring, knowing he lived, but he had carried only the memory of her.

  He yanked the ring off the bracelet and whispered, “No more, Sarah.”

  He tossed the clothing back onto the bed and returned the bracelet. He stood up and looked down at the ring between his thumb and forefinger.

  “If you want the promise of my love furthermore, you’ll have to face me. Just once, my dear—”

  He tucked the ring into the pouch on his belt and looked back at the few possessions in the room. There was nothing there he wanted. There was no Sarah. He wanted physical proof that she was back in Farwin Wood; he wanted to see her face, her eyes, and her hair. He wanted to hear her voice tell him that she had loved him all these years.

  He felt foolish knowing that she was out in Farwin Wood likely seeing how the years of war had caused the place she claimed to love so much to decay. What would make her want to stay now? He wasn’t the bright-eyed, silky-skinned young man he’d once been. He swallowed at the thought that she would find him too altered, too different from the memory she carried with the ring. He walked swiftly from the room, his hand clasped over the pouch that held their aged promises.

  SARAH AND Shelby rode in silence on the stroomphblutel between Ranthrop’s four-man escort through Naublock village. Shelby sat astride their beast; her arms were wrapped around Sarah’s waist. Sarah had given the girl her cloak to hide her barefoot striped-stocking feet and short ruffled skirt from the curious eyes of Ranthrop’s escort. The poor thing stuck out like a sore thumb in Farwin Wood with her real-world street clothes.

  “Lady Sarah, this is where we will leave you,” Varmeer called. They had reached the edge of Naublock.

  “Thank you, Varmeer.” She noticed her voice came out less than enthused. She bore no hostility toward the man, but the anxiety of the morning, which had now stretched into the early afternoon in the stiflingly humid swamp, had left her feeling ragged. She would not be at peace until she had Shelby back at Allister Hall and was assured Ricky had stayed clear of any trouble.“Lady Sarah? For what it’s worth, you were brave to return to Farwin Wood—no matter when you may have returned,” Varmeer added as the escort turned away.