Shadows in the Stone

by Diane Lynn McGyver

  Chapter 08

  Stone Collector

  By mid-morning Bronwyn had completed the business that couldn’t wait until he returned from his three-day leave. Now he needed to attend to his personal business and change into civilian clothes.

  On the way to his quarters, he passed the captain of the guard’s closed office door. He thought about speaking to Sanderson then changed his mind.

  “Excuse me, sir.” A private called to him from behind. “I’m to give this to you.” The guard placed a key in his hand and provided directions to his new quarters. “Your belongings have been delivered.”

  Bronwyn didn’t know what to say. Those in charge had surprised him by taking care of his relocation. He thanked the private then proceeded towards his new quarters. Youngsters of various ages and race played and lingered about in the hall. A pair of human boys scooted past, one shouting at the other. In his effort to avoid them, Bronwyn bumped into a female dwarf backing out of her doorway.

  “Sorry.” Bronwyn looked down at the small child clinging to her leg. The roundness of her belly told him she expected another.

  She half smiled. “Cute monkey. Does it bite?”

  He shook his head and placed a gentle hand on the monkey’s side.

  Reassured, she picked up her child and started down the hall.

  Bronwyn, single and childless, didn’t belong in this area. He’d never get used to the noise or being around so many united couples and their bairns. Several doors later, he arrived at his quarters. He entered the small room and closed the door behind him. The thickness of the wood thankfully blocked most of the sounds emanating from the hallway.

  A window about three feet across by four feet high lit the end of his new home. A rough-looking double bed with a tattered mattress occupied the far left corner.

  On the opposite side sat a small wood stove for warmth and cooking. Beside it, a short countertop adorned the wall. Above this hung two shelves holding odd dishes. A small round table sat to his immediate right. The remains of a chesterfield with more board showing than cushion sat on the left. Next to it a door—he guessed—led to the water closet. The trunk with his personal items lay nearby.

  Bronwyn didn’t recognise the small brown sack lying on top of the trunk. He picked it up and went to the bed to sort through it. The sack contained Isla’s possessions. He’d left instructions at the guardhouse for Alaura to leave the child’s things there instead of giving them to him personally. He wanted to avoid another confrontation with her.

  He pulled the items from the sack, promising himself he’d keep to his word and discard anything unnecessary. The monkey would live with the bare essentials as he did. The low number of items in the bag—two dresses, two pairs of socks, a sweater, two pairs of panties, a pair of shoes, a child’s book, a hair brush and a small leather pouch—surprised him. Keiron Ruckle’s issue—if this monkey turned out to be the child Isla—would need all of this.

  The monkey crawled from his shoulder. It sat beside the leather pouch and struggled with the clasp. He reached forward and unfastened the oval, wooden button. When the monkey looked inside, it appeared disappointed. With big round eyes, it stared up at him. Uncertain about what it expected him to do, he waited.

  Then, in a flash, the monkey’s expression changed, and it dove into the pouch. With only its rump exposed, its thin brown tail twitched back and forth. When the monkey emerged from the bag, it held a blue stone.

  Bronwyn peeked inside the pouch and saw the fake bottom pulled open. “You’re a stone collector?”

  It tugged on the outside of the pouch and with his help, emptied the remaining stones onto the mattress. Although small, each stone filled the marmoset’s hand.

  When the monkey didn’t answer, Bronwyn realised he had heard it speak only once. It had asked for Alaura in a small, frightened voice. “The potion didn’t steal your ability to speak. I heard you say Alaura.” He watched the monkey’s eyes grow wide. It slapped its hand over its mouth. “It’s okay. You’re allowed to talk.” He spoke in Hauflin, hoping to hear more, but it remained silent. Strange for a child of this age; his four-year-old nephew never shut up.

  The monkey returned to the stones, rolling them across the mattress, matching them in groups of two. When it finished, every stone had a mate except one, the heliodor. The yellowish orange stone, similar in colour to goldenrod, sat alone. The marmoset picked up the translucent stone and dropped it into his chest pocket.

  Bronwyn reached in and removed the rectangular stone. He fingered it for a moment then set it back on the mattress. The monkey picked it up and put it in the pocket again. When he reached to retrieve the stone, the creature clutched his little finger in an attempt to stop him.

  “You’re giving it to me?” He watched for a sign to indicate an agreement, but it only stared. He let it guide his hand to the mattress.

  The dwarf sat up straighter and looked around his new quarters. “If we’re going to sleep here tonight, we need food.” He searched the cupboards but found nothing provided for his convenience, not even a canister of tea. “Come on, Button,” he said, slinging the monkey onto his shoulder. “Let’s go to the Keep and pick up supplies.”

  The pair returned a few hours later with a sack of food. Two older boys carrying a new mattress followed. Bronwyn removed the old one and instructed the youths to put the other down in its place. He handed a coin to each of the boys then held open the door as they carried away the discarded mattress.

  After organising the food in the cupboard, Bronwyn turned his attention to the bed. He had almost finished making it when he noticed the monkey on the counter staring up at the food cupboard. “Hungry?” He tossed the pillow on the bed. “You and me both.” He pulled a loaf of bread from a paper bag and cut three thick slices. On these, he spread a generous layer of fenberry jam.

  Button sat on the counter and watched him prepare the ration. Although its stomach growled, it didn’t complain. He placed one sandwich on a plate and set it on the counter in front of the monkey.

  “It’s not fancy, but it’s good,” said Bronwyn, taking a bite of his bread. He seldom made his own meals; instead, he opted to eat in the great mess hall. Other times, he ate at the Glenelg Inn or at his parents’ dwelling. “I hope you like sandwiches. We’ll be eating a lot of them.”

  The monkey broke off a piece of bread and ate it. The food quickly disappeared and it stared up at Bronwyn.

  “At least you don’t mess with your ration.” He set the plate near the wash basin, bagged the bread and cleaned off the counter. Though only late afternoon, his body ached for sleep.

  “I’m going to take a nap. Button, you can do…whatever it is you do.” Then he remembered the monkey had no place to sleep. He reached into the bottom cupboard and pulled out a shallow wooden crate. He dumped the contents in the cupboard and placed a small blanket on the bottom.

  “Button, this is your bed.” Bronwyn placed the crate on the tattered chesterfield. “You sleep here.” He sat the monkey inside. It could lie down easily.

  Bronwyn picked up a small sack of mixed nuts before stripping to his shorts and sliding beneath the blanket. He lay on his back with his head propped up by a thick pillow and dropped a few nuts into his mouth. He looked around the room as he chewed and wondered what he might do tomorrow. He could visit with his parents, but how would he explain the monkey? Maybe he’d take a walk and see where his feet took him.

  Button climbed out of the crate and onto his bed. It eyed the bag of nuts.

  Bronwyn set two nuts in front of the monkey. He watched as it took a bite of one then, without looking at him, passed the other back.

  He shrugged. “I guess you’re not hungry.” He popped the nut into his mouth.

  Button finished and looked for more.

  “Another?” He gave it two more nuts. Again, it ate only one and returned the other. “Button, you’re a strange monkey. But then rumour has it, you’re not a monkey at all.” As he ate, he wondered if the cre
ature would change into a hauflin. Had Catriona played a trick on everyone? Had he heard it say Alaura or had his weary mind fooled him? Deep down, he hoped so. He preferred a pet monkey over a hauflin ward.

  After they ate half the nuts, Bronwyn set the bag on the bedside table and snuggled into the blanket. With one eye he watched the monkey curl beneath the corner of the pillow. “Your bed is over there.” He pointed at the crate. When Button didn’t move, he nudged it with his hand. It still didn’t leave the bed.

  “Where’s Alaura?” The marmoset crouched low, cowering under its hairy hands, with its rump stuck in the air and tail curled beneath.

  “You do speak!”

  The soft voice sounded frightened. He placed a gentle hand on its back and felt it tremble. He released a heavy sigh; this was no ordinary monkey.

  “Isla, Alaura’s not here right now. But you’re safe. I’m not going to hurt you.” He tried to imagine how it must feel, removed from its familiar surroundings and put in the care of a stranger. “Maybe you’ll see Alaura tomorrow.” He smiled, hoping to ease its fears.

  Bronwyn pulled the monkey near and covered it with the blanket. “You can stay here tonight. But tomorrow”—he tickled its belly—“you get your own bed.” He rested a reassuring hand on the creature and hummed the melody to a bedtime lullaby, the same one he’d used to calm the child the evening before. He closed his eyes. If the creature had an emotional attachment to Alaura, he might be able to give it to her. She came better equipped to handle it. He felt the monkey move and opened an eye to spy on it.

  It slid from beneath his hand, crawled under his chin and snuggled into his neck. Bronwyn felt it yawn and before long, its breathing had slowed into a restful rhythm. He copied the yawn and before long, he too fell asleep with a protective hand on Isla’s back.