by Kate Gray
sketched them out while Macconnach had been cooing to the herd. He was such an odd creature. And here she was, thinking about him again, rather than the task at hand. What was he doing, anyhow?
He was breathing heavily, as though he had gone to sleep, and indeed, he slumped forward to a degree. Should she poke him, and wake him? Instead, she decided to direct herself back to the goal of finding a culprit.
It was likely a man, perhaps even a young man, but she thought no older than middle-aged, and no younger than perhaps ten. Younger than that, and a mother would notice a son slipping away to get into trouble.
And old men tended to be more concerned with smoking their pipes and telling everyone else what to do. This person would probably have no wife, or if he did, she would be all but invisible.
Only someone capable of great cruelty would commit such acts. She thought carefully over all the men of the village, and discounted them. None of them seemed to fit the character she was creating in her mind.
That left men in the encampment, or the strong possibility that this was someone entirely unknown. Unknown to her, anyway. Someone in this village must have an inkling of what might have brought on this strife.
She peeked through slitted eyes around to those who were gathered. Everyone who needed to be there was there, but a guilty conscience might drive someone to be there who had no reason to attend otherwise. She found her target quickly.
It was one of the cooks who worked for the army kitchens. From her kneeling position, she watched his eyes darting about nervously. It was possible that he was simply more superstitious than his neighbors, but she felt that he might know something.
In spite of what she’d said to Macconnach, this whole business of putting up a charade did leave her vastly uncomfortable. The supernatural, even in sham, was not a realm in which she cared to dabble overmuch.
There were many, her father apparently included, who felt it was a scientific realm to be explored; she had never witnessed a single event to convince her that it even existed.
Years ago, her father had told her of things he’d witnessed during his years abroad. She’d felt compelled to debate his recollections, being rather haughty-minded in her younger years.
Now, in her twenties, she felt that she should not have argued with him, in spite of how she’d felt. The reality was simply that she knew having to answer to a question of faith in the unknown would lead down a path of many other questions she was not yet prepared to address.
It was all well and good for others to have their beliefs, if believing allowed someone to behave more admirably. Far too often she had witnessed the opposite, and had been compelled to say nothing. A young lady in her position achieved very little by making herself a person to be despised. She had simply learned that women often better accomplished their ends through the sort of subterfuge she was currently carrying out.
The major was still off to the side, sitting in his odd way, seemingly asleep. Isabel did wonder at him. How old was he, exactly? What sort of upbringing had seen him herding animals at one time, and a rising young officer the next?
Very odd, indeed. He was a rather convoluted puzzle. She was still unclear why she’d asked him to come along, not just once, but twice now. She hadn’t even known who he was that night.
Something about him had given her an instant trust that he would not try to dissuade or betray her. Even so, he was distracting and irritating. He did not even seem to notice that Arpan was watching him most intently. It was vexing, really.
As she tried to refocus her thoughts, and formulate something to tell everyone gathered, Macconnach suddenly leapt to his feet. He looked all around, saying nothing, until he focused on a hut across from them.
His brow furrowed, he began to cross the distance to it, but halted when a wail emitted from inside the small structure. An older woman came running out, tearing at her hair, speaking in an anguished tumble of words. The men ran inside, and a loud commotion broke out.
Anyone left sleeping within the village was soon out of doors, looking confused and frightened. Isabel was trying to make sense of this development, but she turned to Macconnach, her eyes narrowed.
“What was all that? You made as if you knew something had happened just then.”
He said nothing. She gave up for the moment, and tried to get some sense of what was going on by speaking to the men running in and out of the small house. Presently, a younger woman was led from the hut; weeping and wringing her hands.
Desperately she pointed off into the hillsides, where the tea was grown. Macconnach hung back a while, waiting to see what Miss Alderton could gather from all the talking. He was afraid he already knew.
“A baby has vanished. A girl child.” She was speaking, but not to him in the sense of a conversation. Her heart felt cold and unhappy. “Obviously, the mother is quite distraught, but nobody wishes to gallop off in the dark to search for….” She stopped before her voice could betray her upset emotions.
“Say no more. Tell them that…His Majesty’s Armed Forces are ready to oblige, should they ask for help in locating this infant. I shall go back for my mount, and set off immediately, if they wish it.”
He was wholeheartedly serious, but there was something more to his statement, something he was unwilling to say aloud. Isabel was sure of it.
She chose not to question him, however, but quickly relayed his words to Arpan, who cast another appraising look over to Macconnach. He walked to where the major stood.
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“It was you, I think, whom our holy man truly perceived last night.” Arpan shot a knowing smile over at Miss Alderton, who had chosen to stand a distance away. Macconnach started. The man spoke marvelous English.
“I did not wish to contradict her claims,” Arpan pointed to Isabel, “especially as the holy man believed what he saw was true. But I think it was you. I can see it in your face, even now. You are like a rishi, a seer, of some sort. I don’t know what else to call it, but I think you have felt the evil that is in this place.”
“I’ve no wish to see Miss Alderton in any sort of trouble with your villagers. May I have your word that you will not speak of this to them?”
Arpan tipped his head in acquiescence, and signaled for Macconnach and Miss Alderton to follow him. They walked to the far end of the village, into what Arpan informed them was his own home.
Inside, a younger version of Arpan rested on a cot. His younger brother, he told them. He spoke to the boy who pulled up the his tunic in the back. The lad, Dev, told them his story.
He had been watching his goats during an overnight grazing. He was at least a day’s walk from the village, along with a cousin, with all of his family’s herd, except for two females who were back in the pens, ready to kid.
Sometime in the small hours of the night, he had been woken from a restless sleep. He’d never heard anything like the noise and confusion that surrounded him, but he had made for his musket, ready to frighten off a predator. He could not see his cousin, who had been on watch next to their fire.
Dev trembled involuntarily before telling the end of his tale. His firearm had been knocked from his hands, while he had pitched forward into the dirt. There some unseen force held him fast.
It was no person that he could perceive, but someone or something had held him down, and cut into him the same strange symbols that were marked on the animals outside. After what had felt like hours had passed, he was allowed finally to move. The goats were scattered, some mutilated, his cousin gone.
“When Dev returned and told his story, we naturally assumed that our cousin had been responsible. Now, especially with this infant gone missing, I am afraid of the worst.”
Macconnach knelt next to Dev and looked over the boy’s wounds. They were about as healed as some of the goats’ injuries, so, perhaps a matter of two weeks or so.
He could neither make sense out of the pattern of attacks, nor of a motivation yet. Even evil has reason, he reminded himself.
Arpan rested his hand on Dev’s shoulder; the boy lowered his shirt and left the room.
“Perhaps now, Major Macconnach, you might tell me what you have sorted out.”
Isabel opened her mouth in indignation, but chose instead to listen to what he had to say. She realized she was as interested as Arpan seemed to be.
“I should explain myself a bit. Miss Alderton, it was a bit of a half-truth when I told you I set out after you last night, not knowing who you were. I admit that I had my theory when I first spotted you, but as soon as I got onto your trail, I knew. You see, I am what you are…er….”
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“I shall save you the bother, Major. I am aware, Miss Alderton, of what you are ‘up to’ in your terminology. It is forgivable. I sense your heart is in the right place, and you only wish to help. Most of the people here are very rural, and have had no experience with the outside world.” Arpan looked at Isabel pointedly. “I, on the other hand, have traveled extensively with Lord Wellington’s private staff. Only within the last month have I returned home, to take my father’s place. My fahter is dying, and the lord governor was kind enough to discharge me from his service.”
Miss Alderton had the good grace to look embarrassed. Arpan smiled at her discomfit.
“I do apologize. Truly, it was never my intent to be dishonest or fraudulent; I would have found the criminal behind these acts, I assure
