Farnsworth sighed wearily. “If Nicholas left to join the King’s Guard, my dense friend, then you’d never have had a chance at getting his old job. Do you honestly think that Ned Adams would let you assume Nicholas’ duties if he had simply left for the capital as planned?”
“I’m not stupid, you know! I could do his job.”
“No one is saying you couldn’t, Dooley. But we had to give Ned a compelling reason to hire you. So now that you’ve discovered the break-in at the mill and figured out what was missing by poring through the ledgers, why, Ned Adams must be thinking that maybe you’ve got more potential than you’ve been letting on. And if he’s not thinking that, I’ll make certain he does tonight at the party.”
“The one I’m not invited to.”
“Don’t sulk. Anyway, if you take over Nicholas’ duties, you’ll be required to make deliveries directly to the storage cellars in the Blue Citadel. We’ll sweeten our end of the deal by handing Caldurian a potential spy in Morrenwood, namely you.”
“Me! Why me? And what does he need a spy there for?”
“Why you? Because no one would expect a lout like you to be capable of spying. And as I told you earlier, I don’t question Caldurian’s reasons, but his spies are everywhere. So why not hand him an extra one as a bonus? That can only improve our worth in his eyes.” Farnsworth pointed a finger at Dooley. “Do as you’re ordered and everything will fall into place. The details aren’t important. I don’t even know all the details. These wizard folk work in strange ways. But if we play along and don’t cross him, we’ll be feasting like vultures in this village before you know it.”
Dooley grunted and spat on the ground again. The pine trees creaked in the gentle wind under a field of fiery stars. The sickly glow of the lamp light outlined the sour discontentment on his face.
“Sounds good when you say it, but there’s still another part of the bargain I don’t like. Not one bit, I tell you!”
Farnsworth understood what Dooley implied. “But that is the key to our reward!” he insisted. “Tomorrow night is the night. I’ll meet with Caldurian as planned to fulfill our end of the bargain, and then we’ll be sliding steady on ice afterward.”
“I just don’t want to fall through the ice,” Dooley said. “And how do we know Caldurian will keep his word? I don’t want to give that wizard my key!”
Farnsworth grabbed Dooley by the collar with one hand, staring him down with a vicious gaze. “Don’t foil my plans, you hear? We’ve plotted this carefully for months and we’re close to the finish. I won’t tolerate any slip ups!” He shoved Dooley aside, breathing heavily.
“I was only saying–”
“I don’t want to hear it, Dooley! We’re giving Caldurian the key and that’s final. Imagine what he’d do to us if we went back on our word.”
“Suppose he does anyway? I don’t trust him. It’s my key and I want it back! Let’s not hand it over until we see more of our reward.”
Farnsworth walked in circles and shook his head. Some days he thought his alliance with Dooley Kramer wasn’t worth the aggravation. “We agreed that I was to be entrusted with the key, right?”
Dooley clenched his teeth. “You agreed!”
“In case you’re forgetting, I can easily inform Caldurian exactly how you found that key twenty years ago.”
“Shut your face!” Dooley kicked some leaves and trudged to his front door.
“Think how furious Caldurian would be if he discovered the truth about a mischievous little boy pelting his eagle with rocks until he nearly killed the bird.”
“Stop it!”
“Then stealing the key from the bird and running away as it lay dying in a field, bleeding under the hot sun.”
“Shut up, Zachary, or I’ll knock you one!”
“What do you say about such a story, Dooley? How long do you think Caldurian would allow you to live after hearing that?”
Dooley stood with his back to Farnsworth, his lungs burning and his throat bitter. He cursed the day he ever told Farnsworth about his treasure. He tightly gripped the handle of his oil lamp and imagined smacking it across the side of Farnsworth’s skull, but simply stood there instead, knowing that his neighbor was calling the shots.
“Go to your stupid party! But if things turn out wrong…”
“Everything will turn out perfectly, Dooley.” He shrugged as Dooley continued to stand with his back to him. “Well, what more can I say? I’ll talk to you tomorrow. Get a good night’s sleep. We’ll have plenty to do in the days to follow.”
Farnsworth continued down the road until he disappeared out of view. Dooley breathed erratically and stomped on the ground before shuffling to his front door and pounding his fist into the frame. But after a few moments, he glanced in the direction that Farnsworth had taken, the road disappearing into blackness. He looked the opposite way toward Farnsworth’s house, thought for a moment, and then hurried through the leaves back up the road, determined to retake control of the situation.
The party was in full swing at the Stewart estate when Farnsworth arrived. Many business owners, as well as Mayor Otto Nibbs and the five village council members, milled about the bright and spacious rooms. Wine, ale and traditional Harvest berry punch flowed freely throughout the evening. A wide assortment of foods and desserts filled several tables. Plates heaping with roasted turkey, beef and ham were surrounded by raw and boiled vegetables. Blackened trout steamed with the scent of lemon and rosemary. Bowls of salted potatoes floating in melted butter nudged for room with wedges of cheese and platters of ripened fruit. Loaves of sliced breads–apple-walnut, blackberry-carrot and frosted cinnamon–took up another table entirely, accompanied by wooden vessels of freshly whipped butter and assorted spiced cream spreads. Trays of colorful hors d’oeuvres floated about the rooms upon the steady hands of the house staff. Framed against the large windows in one room were four musicians, dutifully playing stringed instruments and flutes, sending soothing sounds wafting through the air to the approving ears of Amanda Stewart.
Farnsworth quickly discovered that he wouldn’t have to broach the subject of the gristmill robbery. The names of Nicholas Raven and Dooley Kramer were on the lips of all the party guests. When encountering Ned Adams near a fireplace, who explained that he had only stopped by to make an appearance since he was too upset to enjoy himself for an entire evening, Farnsworth subtly suggested that perhaps Dooley would make an apt replacement during Nicholas’ absence.
“My thought precisely, Zachary, though I intend to give Dooley a trial run first.” Ned drank from his glass of ale. “I’ve underestimated Dooley. He can be quite conscientious when he puts his mind to it. I was mightily impressed with the man as he helped out during the robbery tonight, though he should consider taking a brush more often to that unruly mop on his head.”
Farnsworth chuckled. “He has a few good traits inside him. More responsibility might make a model citizen out of Dooley yet.”
“The book work at the mill is nearly complete for the year. All that’s left are some large deliveries out of county. I think I’ll let Dooley handle those in Nicholas’ stead. If he has no problems, then perhaps I might train him in the bookkeeping over the winter lull.”
“A fine idea, Ned.” Farnsworth helped himself to a slice of dessert bread at a nearby table. “And who can blame you for watching out for your interests? You have to act quickly to put the situation in order. If Dooley can help, so much the better.” He took a bite of the bread, savoring each morsel. “By the way, any word on Nicholas yet? I heard he fled before he was arrested.”
“It’s true.” Ned looked despondently into his drink. “I still can’t get over what happened. I never anticipated that he’d... I mean, Nicholas of all people! He’s been such a fine worker to all the sudden–” He looked up, his eyes red with anxiety. “I probably shouldn’t have come here tonight. I’ll give my regrets to Amanda and Oscar and head home. I’m feeling tired. Excuse me, Zachary.”
“I unde
rstand.”
Ned Adams set his glass down and drifted through the talkative crowd. Farnsworth watched him depart, devouring the rest of his bread with inexpressive bliss.
Katherine Durant entered the busy kitchen carrying two empty bowls and a platter, depositing them near the sink for Lewis Ames to wash. Her hair fell limply in the humid air and her feet were stone heavy. Lewis was up to his elbows in soapy water and eyed Katherine with an infatuated grin.
“I hope I don’t come off sounding crude or impolite, Katherine, but...”
She tried not to smirk or sound haughty. “Yes, Lewis?”
He scratched his forehead, leaving a line of soap suds above his eyebrow. “I was wondering if... Well, seeing that Nicholas won’t be accompanying you to the dance the day after tomorrow, do you think that–?” Katherine sighed and slumped her shoulders as Lewis spoke. He immediately knew her answer. “Oh, I see.”
She was about to enter the pantry, then turned to Lewis. “That’s a very sweet offer, and thank you. But to tell the truth, I just don’t feel much like celebrating the Festival after what happened to Nicholas tonight. And I particularly don’t feel like dancing. I’d go home now except that I promised Amanda to stay and help.”
“I understand. I shouldn’t have asked.” Lewis went back to scrubbing a large copper pot.
She managed to smile and patted him on the shoulder. “I’m going to find something to eat and go outside for a few minutes. I need a break.”
“Okay.”
Katherine walked into the pantry and stared at the ice boxes, realizing she wasn’t quite that hungry. All she really wanted was some time alone away from the boisterous guests. Anxiety about Nicholas’ situation jumbled her emotions. She had no idea where he was, and listening to the assorted rumors at the party, she wondered if he would ever return to Kanesbury. Until she had a chance to speak with Maynard Kurtz or Constable Brindle, she knew her mind could not rest.
“Down here,” a voice whispered.
Katherine spun around and looked into the kitchen through the doorway. The staff went methodically about its business, cooking, preparing and washing in the synchronous perfection which Amanda Stewart demanded. She shrugged the voice off to her imagination and prepared to leave, but it called out once more and she turned around.
“Downstairs. In the ice cellar.”
The door to the ice cellar was slightly ajar. Katherine cautiously opened it, allowing light from the pantry to fall upon a dark figure sitting a few steps below. A finger was placed over its lips, indicating for her to be quiet.
Katherine’s spirit rose as she mouthed Nicholas’ name. She grabbed a candle from a nearby shelf, lit it from a burning oil lamp, and then descended the stairs into the ice cellar with Nicholas leading the way. They took refuge in a far corner near a stack of ice chunks covered in straw.
“What are you doing here, Nicholas? How’d you get away? I’ve heard so many rumors tonight, I don’t know who or what to believe.” Katherine wedged the candle between two squares of ice and hugged him, feeling protected by the cold shadows surrounding them. “I’m so glad you’re all right. Or are you? Are you safe? What’s going to happen? Can I help?”
“Calm down,” Nicholas said, grinning for the first time in many lonely hours. “You’re chattering like a squirrel.”
“Sorry, but I’m so relieved to see you.” Her eyes sparkled in the candlelight. “How long have you been hiding here?”
“About an hour. After I ran away from Constable Brindle, I stayed in the woods along the river and followed it nearly to your Uncle Otto’s house on the other side of the village. But not knowing what to do next, I circled back this way and slipped in through the cellar door behind the house. I figured with all the people here, news of what happened tonight should be plentiful. I was hoping to see you, explain my side of the story and get some information.” Nicholas rubbed his arms for warmth. “What I’d give to be upstairs by a fireplace.”
“Let me sneak a bite down for you to eat. That’ll warm you up. Then you can tell me what’s going on. The gossip around town is as thick as summer flies.”
“I wish I knew what was going on, Katherine.” The candle illuminated the despair etched upon his face. “I haven’t a clue.”
Katherine hurried upstairs and hastily threw together a turkey sandwich which she brought to Nicholas along with an apple and a cup of Harvest berry punch. They sat on the floor. “You probably think there’s no reason to celebrate, but the punch is especially good this year. It’ll give you energy.”
“I do feel drained.” Nicholas attacked his sandwich and washed it down with some punch. His head cleared and he felt calm and secure with Katherine by his side.
“So what happened?” she asked. “Tell me about the robbery.”
“Apparently I’m a thief,” he said sarcastically. “The shed in back of my cottage was filled with sacks of flour and a small pouch of money, all of it stolen from Ned’s gristmill. And I’m the one they’re blaming.” He took another bite of the sandwich. “Of course, if I didn’t know I was innocent, I’d think I was guilty myself. The evidence looked very incriminating.”
“You have no idea how those items ended up there?”
“No. But they must have been placed there no more than three days ago. That’s the last time I recall going into the shed. Most of the things I need to work on the farm are in Maynard’s barn.”
“Maynard had no knowledge of this either?”
“He was as stunned as I was,” Nicholas said. “I thought of going back to his house, but I’m sure Clay or his men are waiting there for me. I don’t know what to do.”
“Well don’t think about turning yourself in, Nicholas. You’re not guilty and you’d be forced to sit in one of the constable’s cells until he gets to the bottom of this mess.” Katherine raised an eyebrow. “If he gets to the bottom. I like Clay Brindle, but he does take his time about some matters. Why did they suspect you?”
Nicholas polished off the remainder of the sandwich and punch, wiping his mouth with a coat sleeve. “It was that spindly Arthur Weeks. He accused me of going back to the mill at night while he was cleaning up.” His face tightened. “Arthur said I ordered him to go home because I needed to finish the bookkeeping. He places me at the mill alone at night, insinuating that I was the likely suspect. Said it right to the constable’s face. I’d like to grab a handful of that liar’s greasy black hair and sail him right off a cliff!”
Katherine grinned. “That’s quite an image.”
“I’m serious, Katherine.” But he couldn’t keep a straight face either and laughed softly with her.
“Not too loud, Nicholas. Someone might hear us.”
“With that racket upstairs? I doubt it.” He bit the apple and thought for a moment. “There’s still something I can’t figure out. Constable Brindle said he found a button from my coat on the floor near one of the orders that had been broken into.” He showed Katherine the spot on his jacket where the button once had been. “Though it definitely is my button, I have no idea how it got there.”
Katherine looked reassuringly at her friend. “Someone’s behind it, Nicholas. But if you can’t figure it out now, the constable or Maynard eventually will. Give them time.”
“I suppose I have to.” He raised a questioning eye. “Do you think I’m doing the right thing? Running away like this? Maybe I should turn myself in until they discover the truth. Part of me feels like a coward for hiding out.”
“You’re feeling conflicting emotions right now, Nicholas. I can’t tell you what to do, but I’ll support whatever decision you make.” She stood. “But take a day to think about it first. A good night’s sleep will clear your mind. Decide in the morning.”
“That’s assuming I get any sleep. Maybe I’ll sneak back to Maynard’s place in a few hours. I don’t think Clay or his men will keep watch all night. I could get a few hours of rest in the barn.”
Katherine patted his shoulder. “I have to go ba
ck upstairs. Stay as long as you like. All the ice boxes are filled, so no one should be back down here tonight. I’ll bring you more food before you leave.”
“Thanks, Katherine.” He tried to smile. “I guess this throws our dance plans right down the well.”
“We’d draw a lot of attention arriving at the pavilion arm in arm, wouldn’t we?”
Nicholas nodded with a smile, trying to make light of the situation. But inside he was churning with bitterness and confusion. His plans of the last few days were crumbling to bits before his eyes and he knew of no way to stop it.
CHAPTER 6
A Thief in the Night
Night deepened as the skies clouded over several hours later. Jagga hid in a grove of maple trees across the road from Dooley Kramer’s house. A short time earlier, the Enâri creature had accosted an inebriated local as he wandered along a deserted street, demanding the location of Dooley’s home in exchange for his life. Now, Jagga patiently waited for the right moment to strike, planning to sneak into Dooley’s house, surprise him and grab the key. A man with a mop of tangled, dirty blond hair had entered the house a short while ago. Jagga assumed that he was Dooley and waited. A dull light glowed behind two shuttered windows. The street lay deathly quiet. Jagga held his ground a few more minutes to make sure no one else was around. When he was about to dash across the road, he noticed a tall thin man swishing through the leaves and heading directly for the house. Jagga growled under his breath as the man knocked on the door. A moment later Dooley answered and let him inside, so Jagga waited impatiently and observed.
Moments later the front door reopened. “Wait for me inside,” Dooley said over his shoulder as he exited his house. “It’ll be easier if I talk to Zachary myself.”
A voice called from within. “But maybe I should–”
“Arthur, let me handle this!” Dooley slammed the door shut, and with an oil lamp in hand, trudged up the road to Zachary Farnsworth’s house. Jagga’s watchful eyes followed him for a moment before the Enâr stealthily tracked him from along the edge of the woods.
Nicholas Raven and the Wizards' Web - Volume 1 Page 9