by L. A. Kelly
They were much longer at their lesson than they had been the previous day. She sat beside the opening in the cave’s first room, pulled the pages of script from her pocket, and read what she could of the epistles of Saint Paul. She prayed for whoever remained of her family, wherever they might be, and for the saints who loved the rectory and had stood in danger because of it. Then her heart returned to the matter of Mr. Dorn and the children with him. What should she do? They couldn’t just live like this forever.
It seemed like an eternity had passed when Stuva emerged from the chamber toward her. “You’re welcome now,” he said. “We’re returning to nimbles.” He watched her carefully replace the worn pages to the pocket of her cloak. “Why didn’t you just leave us?” he asked. “You can walk all right. You could’ve been a long way by now. Are you afraid of the men seeking you?”
“More than that,” she told him. “I could not be satisfied leaving you behind. I need to know that you will be all right. I need to find a way to help.”
“You are helping, Miss,” he said. “Strange as you are. But the Dorn helps us too. An’ you did a foolish thing today. He might’ve killed you.” He turned and went back into the cave tunnel without waiting for her. She was surprised how quickly he moved, being as new to the cave as he was.
Tahn had disappeared. The younger children played their strange game, and then Netta read to them from her pages of handwritten script, part of her father’s collection and his father’s before that. And she was thankful that Benn Trilett had had the heart to educate his daughter as well as Trilett sons.
When she was finished, despite her displeasure with it, the boys all took to sparring with one another. Netta had been noticing the rips in some of their clothes. Since they were plenty warm with all the activity just then, she had them pull off their shirts, and she took the needle and thread from the sewing bag in her pocket and sat down to mend. She was glad she had brought it, and glad her mother had insisted she learn such things for herself and not just rely on the servants.
Much to her pleasure, Temas sat with her and watched her mending in fascination.
Soon enough, the boys were hungry, and Netta waved them on to whatever they wanted from the food bag. Had any of these children ever had a hot meal? Perhaps one day she could see to that. She said a silent prayer that the Lord help her find a home for them. But she knew of nowhere for certain that it would be safe to go.
Vari didn’t eat as much as the others, despite his size.
Soon he was on his feet and headed once again down the passageway toward Tahn’s chamber.
“The Dorn told him to come after he ate,” Temas told her.
“Why?” Netta asked.
The little girl just shrugged her shoulders. “Can I do that?” she asked and ran her finger along Netta’s freshly sewed seam.
At first Netta hesitated, but then she thought that such a perfectly normal activity would be a wonderful thing to share. So she placed the needle in Temas’s hand and began to guide her in a simple stitch, using the hem area of her now soiled scarf.
The girl learned quickly and was soon making some decent little edge stitches. But Netta kept wondering about Vari, why he acted strangely, and what drew him alone to Tahn’s chamber early in the morning and now again. She stood up.
“I will be right back,” she announced.
“You shouldn’t follow him right now,” Stuva said, somehow knowing her intention.
“Do you feel as though Vari is your brother?” she asked him.
“Yes,” he answered without hesitation.
“I’m beginning to share some of that feeling myself,” she said. “So I must follow. I’ll be right back, as I said.”
She took a candle with her and began to navigate the long narrow passage. After considerable distance, she could hear Tahn’s voice.
“I would rather I had no need of your help tonight,” he was saying.
“I understand,” Vari answered softly.
As quietly as she could, Netta approached them, snuffing her candle. She followed the voices through the darkness toward another candle’s glow.
They were sitting on a rock. Tahn held what looked like a tiny bottle in his hand. “You understand what you’ll have to do?” he was asking.
“Yes, sir.”
Tahn took a drink and handed the bottle to Vari. “Just a little sip this time,” he cautioned the young man. “You need to be in your senses tonight.”
From the darkness, Netta came upon them just as Vari was taking his sip with shaking hands. “What is that?” she demanded.
Tahn jumped to his feet and whirled to face her with fire in his eyes. “Never,” he said, sounding almost breathless, “never, Lady, should you creep up on—”
“I asked what that is you gave him!”
For a moment he stood silent, meeting her gaze with defiance. But then he sighed. “It is an opiate tincture.”
“Opiate?” she fumed. “And you share it with a youth? You care no more for the children than that? Instead of blankets you bring them drugs?”
As soon as she said it, she was sorry she had. The change in his eyes was frightening. There was anger. But there was also a hurt that was deep and raw. He took a step forward, and she found herself backing up, unsure of what he might do.
But he turned to Vari solemnly. “You can manage it tonight?”
Vari nodded.
“I will be at the archway at midnight,” Tahn told him. Then he brushed past Netta and walked away without meeting her eyes. Early as it was, she knew he would be leaving the cave for another night without giving her any further opportunity to talk.
Now it was Vari looking at her angrily. “You’re not fair to him!” he shouted.
“How long has he been giving you that drug?” she asked, unwilling to acknowledge what Vari had just said.
“Only a week,” Vari told her, the anger still evident in his voice. “And it’s because I begged him! I’m addicted, Miss, and it’s not his fault. Samis started that when I was ten.”
Ten? Netta was appalled by the world of these children.
“If he hadn’t gotten it for me,” Vari continued, “I’d be fit for nothing before long. And I can’t go through that right now. Not till we’re better settled.”
It was plain when he said it how scared he was. She sat down beside him. “Is Mr. Dorn addicted too?”
“I don’t know,” Vari answered honestly. “I’ve seen him take a sip now and then like he did today, but I don’t know how much of a hold it has.”
“Any of the others?” Netta asked.
“No. They weren’t there long enough. When you first get to Valhal, they rule you with fear. It’s later, when you start to get a little size and fighting ability, that they give the drug. To everybody, I guess.” He looked at her with what seemed to be a bottomless sadness. “Don’t talk to the Dorn like that again,” he said. “He does care. He risked his life to come back and get all of us out of there. I was already on the wheel. I would be dead now if it weren’t for him.”
“The wheel?” Netta asked.
“It used to be a water wheel for a mill. But Samis made it over. It’s real slow. When he’s given up on someone, sometimes he has them tied to it. When they go head down they drown.”
“My Lord,” Netta whispered. “Vari, I’m sorry. He … he saved you from that?”
“Yes, ma’am. Should be him you tell the sorry to. You act like he’s a villain. But he’s not. He’s our friend.” He stood up with a sigh. “But he’s gone again for now. Nothing we can do about that. So we oughta go back to the youngsters, Miss. They’d benefit from another lesson.”
He walked away, and Netta sat for a moment staring at his back. He had told her such horrid things almost without emotion. It seemed all of the children shared that emptiness of expression much of the time. Did that awful place, Valhal, take away one’s ability to cry?
7
Vari went to Merinth that night just as Tahn had req
uested. And after only two hours there, the youth drove his horse hard through the timber to put the town behind him. His hands braced the reins so tightly they hurt. He sucked in a breath of air and swallowed hard at the lump that crowded his throat. He was glad to be leaving Merinth. He was even glad to leave Tahn there, rather than have him at his side right now with the blood fresh on his shirt and the fire still in his eyes.
With his gut churning, Vari kicked at his mount, still seeing the panicked face of the fat man Tahn had killed. Blood had gushed from the man like a fountain, desecrating his pristine robes.
“We’re here to save a life,” Tahn had told him. But instead, they’d ended up fighting for their own. Swords were clashing, but Vari couldn’t seem to move. The dead man’s eyes held him in their anguished stare.
He’d pulled himself away and ran past another body in the hallway. He’d followed the sound of Tahn’s voice and reached a large room in time to see his friend struggle with Britt, one of Samis’s best swordsmen. Vari had to help, knowing that Britt could be nearly as brutal as his trainer. He picked up a candlestick from the vespers table and threw it at the dark angel Tahn fought, just to call the man’s attention away. And Tahn took full advantage. His first blow brought his opponent to the floor, and the second nearly severed the curly head.
Vari closed his eyes, but the scene wouldn’t leave him. Every step of his mount was jarring him, as though his insides would tear loose and spill on the ground. The horse stumbled suddenly over a stream, and Vari clutched his stomach and cursed himself for being so weak. He pulled the reins and clambered to the ground. A sickening heat spread down his spine, and he lost what little he’d eaten onto the stream bank. God! his mind screamed.
God, make it go away!
He thought of the children sleeping in the cave and the Lady Trilett, who’d tried very hard to stop him from leaving. She’d wanted him to tell her Tahn’s plans, but he would say nothing of where he was going or why. Tahn had said it would hurt her too much if they weren’t successful, that if her kinsman were killed, it would be better for her not to know he’d been so close.
They had not been able to rescue the man, so Vari was glad he’d kept Tahn’s confidence. He had obeyed, and he knew he would do it again. But now he lay on the rocks, breathing hard and feeling like he’d have to heave all over again. Why did it have to be like this?
Tahn had saved his life. Tahn understood him better than anyone—how he couldn’t bear the thought of killing, how he hated even the fight, no matter how necessary it might be. Tahn knew that. He knew it all. But he’d asked him anyway. Tahn had killed anyway. And he’d had no choice.
It was a trap they were in. A huge and terrible trap that encompassed everyone and everything they knew. Even the lady, with all her talk about a God who provides, was trapped in this bloodshed and pain. She might not ever know her loss. Tahn had forbidden him ever to tell her what he had tried to accomplish for her in Merinth tonight. But she would bear the loss just the same. It seemed that God had provided nothing but death for the Trilett name.
He sat up and brushed the hair back from his face. God, we just want to be safe! We just want to be left alone! Can’t you see that? What do you want? Why does everything have to be so hard?
He plunged his hands into the icy stream and brought them up dripping to his face. “I wasn’t supposed to live like this,” he said aloud. “Mama prayed over me every night.” He shook his head. Mama had taken fever, and it had killed her quickly. What had her prayers ever won for her?
He could still picture her kneeling by her bed, her gentle voice reciting the Lord’s Prayer.
“Keep your faith,” she’d urged him. “We may be poor, but God will provide.”
Netta Trilett seemed so much like her. So much so that he didn’t even want to go back to the cave. There was such a tightness in his head, such a heat. Maybe he should just lay back down here and soak up the night’s coolness.
But Tahn had said to go straight back. Straight back, no delay. Vari looked up at the starry sky, knowing Tahn would be in Merinth gathering food for the children and making sure no one followed them. He pulled himself to his feet, still feeling a gnawing ache in the pit of his stomach.
He would die for me, Vari reasoned. There should be someone willing to do the same for him. He grabbed at the horse’s reins and struggled back into the saddle.
His mother’s words jumped into his mind. “Jesus died for you.” She’d said it only the day before she left this world forever. She’d spoken with such certainty. And he’d been so young. Only eight. But she seemed to expect him to understand, to take away the message just like that and never stray from it.
“You don’t know where I’ve been, Mama,” he said to the stars. “You don’t know what life is like for me now.” He gave the horse a gentle kick, and they moved slowly through the trees. “I can’t help it,” he whispered.
It would hurt Mama to see him now. It wasn’t easy, thinking of her. It always made him sad, knowing he was failing her so miserably.
He rode on, wondering if the lady would be up watching for him. It was a wonder she stayed around, considering what Tahn had told him. She was a strange one. Noble born. It was a wonder she didn’t despise them all.
The cave was quiet as he neared it. He slid from the horse slowly, still feeling weak in the knees. Maybe they were all asleep. Maybe he wouldn’t have to talk to anyone.
He leaned on the rock at the cave entrance and took a deep breath. He couldn’t think of any way this night could have been different. God help us!
He felt his way in carefully, shaking his head at himself as he went. What right could he have to pray? Leave that to Lady Trilett, or someone else who was sure what they believed.
As he entered the cave’s large chamber, he immediately saw the lady sitting beside a candle, praying. Just like Mama. It angered him, and he wasn’t even sure why.
“Vari?” she said quietly.
“I need to sleep,” he answered her abruptly. His hands were shaking, and he fumbled with a pocket. The little bottle. Tahn had left it with him. He drank and lay back against the cave floor. It’d been a long time since he’d had a mother, and he’d certainly never asked for another one. What business did she have waiting up like this?
“Vari?” she tried again. “Is everything all right?”
“Leave me alone.”
Netta sighed. The thought of him with that bottle in his hand plagued her. Just a boy. She spoke to him with a quiet voice. “I told you about our Savior, that he heals. He can heal inner hurts too. Even your dependency.”
He closed his eyes. “The world is full of hurts, and he’s the one who made it. Maybe he can heal, Lady, but he doesn’t for us.”
Thirteen, and he looks like he’s thirty! her mind exclaimed. And Tahn, just past a child himself, seemed almost an old man sometimes.
“Vari,” she persisted. “I believe he’s willing. But he wants us to want his help.”
He rolled to face her. His eyes looked so strange. “You don’t know what I’ve wanted, do you? God should know, but I don’t think he’s listening.”
She was quiet for a moment, unsure how to address the level of pain she was seeing. “Vari, he loves you.”
“You can’t know that for sure.”
“Yes. I can. His holy Bible tells us God loves us.”
Vari sighed. “I partly believed Samis, that there’s no God. I don’t guess God would be well pleased in that. But what does he expect? There’ve been times I prayed, Lady. And God didn’t care to pay much notice.”
She took a deep breath. “Did you pray on the wheel?”
He looked at her with angry eyes. “Yeah. Wouldn’t you?”
“You’re alive, Vari. Because God listened.”
He sat up slowly.
“God wants to help you,” Netta continued. “He wants to heal you. He loves you so much, Vari! All of you.”
“Are you sure, Lady?” he questioned, his eyes lookin
g deep and tormented. “Does God love the Dorn?”
Netta stared at him for a moment, feeling almost as though she’d been slapped. But then she nodded assent. “Yes. He does. You must understand that God does not always like what people do. He does not like the killing. But God loves the people anyway. Even the Dorn.” Saying it was powerful. She felt the bitter hurt in her beginning to wash away. Tears filled her eyes.
“He told me tonight that he killed your husband,” Vari said solemnly. “He told me that you would hate him forever, and I just need to understand and accept that. But he’ll let you stay with us as long as you need to. He wants you to be safe.”
She bowed her head. Tahn Dorn was a strange man indeed. With a depth of soul she hadn’t seen at first. “I—I don’t hate him,” she said. “I wanted to once, but I can’t. Not when I know how God loves all of you. Please, Vari, give God a chance to help you.”
He was quiet for a very long time, thinking about Mama kneeling by the bed. She would want him to pray. If she were here, she would agree with the lady. She would say it was time he tried again. Slowly Vari nodded and somberly began her prayer. “Our Father, which art in heaven …”
Netta was clearly surprised but quickly joined him in his flawless recital of the Lord’s Prayer. “Where did you learn that?” she asked when they finished.
“From my mother. Back in another world. I didn’t believe in God’s love much after she died, but if you and God don’t hate the Dorn, maybe it’s real. And maybe I got a chance too.”
She touched his shoulder gently. “He never turns away those who call on him. When did you lose your mother?”
“A long time ago,” Vari answered quietly. “I was mad at God then.”
“Maybe you should talk to him about it.”
“Maybe. But I’m not sure how.”
“Do you want me to help?”
Her question made him quiver inside, and he knew he should respond quickly. He should be a Christian, like Mama wanted. He couldn’t deny that God had helped her. She’d had more peace than anyone he’d ever known.