"What do you know about Alys's village?"
"Yan came from there, remember? He told us enough. Not that he needed to. I fled from one similar. Men don't take up this sort of life..." His gaze took in the fires, the small huts, and the groups of longhaired men clustered around, "...unless what they leave behind is far, far worse."
* * *
They were words Ranald thought over long after Alys's breathing told him she was asleep. She was still dressed, but curled against him like a dormouse in winter. They'd had no chance to talk. She had been half-asleep on her feet by the time the talking and eating were over.
Ranald let out an exasperated sigh. From the outset, his mission had had little chance of success, but now it was insanely complicated. What to do with Alys? He'd noticed the coins stitched in her petticoats. Perhaps he could see her set up in a small business--as a cheese maker, perhaps.
No! He couldn't part from Alys--not now that she might be carrying his child--but how could he keep her with him? There had to be a way. He'd find it. For now, he would need sleep if they were to leave early in the morning. He hoped he wouldn't have to fight his way out of the camp.
* * *
Quan kept his word, even sending an escort to guide them through the mountains. By noon, they were looking down on a fertile valley and a paved road that led to a fair-sized town of gray stone houses and several spires.
"That," said their guide, pointing, "is Gamberg, the biggest town hereabouts. Look for the inn at the sign of the Flying Ducks. Tell the host you come from Quan. He's expecting you." Ranald gave the bandit a searching look. "How?"
"Quan sent a message." He grinned. "Here in the mountains, we have our own ways of communication. Have no worry. Host Paume will give you all the aid you need. Quan has requested it."
Why a bandit would bear them such good will puzzled Ranald. Not wanting to rob an old playmate of one of the band, yes, that he could accept--but why extend this much help to a pair of random travelers?
Or were they random? Was there more to Alys than she'd revealed? For the life of him, Ranald couldn't see that. She was an unlikely spy, but that hidden money surprised him. But where else would a cautious woman hide her wealth? On the other hand, she also possessed two incriminating books--which she had willingly entrusted to him.
"Ranald?" It was Alys. "Should we not descend to the valley?"
They should. After farewells and thanks, they led the horses the last mile or so down to level land. Ranald mounted Saj and hoisted Alys up behind. Leading the packhorse, they crossed the mile or so to join the paved road.
They reached the town around mid-afternoon and found the Flying Ducks almost at once. Quan's name had more effect than the monarch's sigil. They were greeted like honored guests, shown into two of the best bedchambers in the place, and offered wine, dark bread that tasted of herbs, steaming bowls of rice, and a spiced stew the host called mamash.
They were indeed in the western lands. Alys viewed the aromatic stew with caution, but after a tentative taste, dug into it with appetite. It had been a long ride since the hasty breakfast in the camp.
They ate in near silence. Ranald sensed Alys's uncertainty about the night ahead. He shared it. He wanted her, ached for her--sweet Goddesses, he was getting hard for her--but first they had things to settle.
Ranald waited until they'd both finished eating, pushed the dishes aside, and refilled their goblets with the dark ruby-red wine. "Alys," he said at last, setting his goblet down on the heavy table, "we must make plans and arrangements."
She sighed. "I know. You must resume your mission. And I will find some gainful employ. I had thought of asking the host here if he has need of a cook, but I cannot cook dishes such as these. Perhaps he needs a seamstress or laundry maid."
Never would he leave her toiling as a servant! "I have a better thought, Alys. You have money with you."
"How did you know?"
"I lifted your petticoats last night. It was not embroidery or flounces that made them so heavy."
She blushed as pink as sweetberry blossoms in spring. "Oh!" She swallowed. "I did not steal it, no matter what they say. I found it in mother's chest."
"Along with the books?"
She shook her head. "The books were under the mattress slats. The money was in her chest with...other things she treasured and kept. I took the money as mine by right of inheritance and--"
"As it is, Alys. Why not use it to buy a business, or perhaps a share in one?"
"Do I have enough?"
"I cannot know that unless you trust me with it."
Her mouth curled a little at the corners as she met his eyes across the table. "How could I not trust you, Ranald?"
She went up to her chamber ahead of him. He followed in a few minutes. When he entered her room, she was seated by the window, unpicking the seams of the petticoat spread over her knees. "Do you have a small knife?" she asked him. "I sewed tighter than I thought."
"Why not just rip it up?"
"What would I wear? I have only one other spare!"
"Alys, you can afford to buy a new petticoat!" Going by the three silver coins already on the table, shortage of money was not one of her immediate concerns. No wonder she'd tried to insist on paying at the inns.
"If you will, then."
Almost an hour later, her carefully sewn petticoat lay in a heap of rags on the floor. On the small table was a heap of silver and gold coins. It was the latter that caught his attention. Hefting one in his hand, Ranald stared at the monarch's head. Turning it over, he looked hard at the royal sigil on the reverse.
"Is it not good coin?" Alys asked. "I'd never seen a coin with those markings before."
She sounded so worried. "Dear Alys, it is good coin--truly good coin--but I cannot but wonder how your parents came of them. I doubt your father, as a stonemason, was paid in gold."
He hadn't been. Copper and silver were all he had ever brought home. "Perhaps they were my mother's dowry?"
"Not if she came, as you believe, from the western lands."
"Why not?"
"Look." He picked up several silver coins and spread them out on the table. "See these, Alys?" He pointed to several other silver coins, and the gold ones. "Now look at these."
"They are different. What does it mean?"
"The gold and these silver were struck in the monarch's mint. They came from the north. The others..." he indicated the smaller, flatter ones, "...were struck in the east. Probably paid to your father for his work."
The pile with the monarch's make was by far the largest. "Does that mean my father came from the north? He never talked of his home, only of meeting mother in the west."
"I don't know, Alys. Truly, I do not. But it does mean he was paid a large sum in northern coinage--or somehow acquired it."
"I cannot believe he stole it!"
He reached over and squeezed her hand. "No reason to think that, as yet. If only you knew more about him."
"But it is still good coin? I can use it to buy a share in a business?"
She had no idea. Understandable. In a village, she most likely had never seen a royal lyon. "Alys." He picked up a gold lyon. "Each of these gold lyons is worth one hundred of the eastern silver shillings."
She paled. Then blushed as understanding set in. "My father earned three shillings a week as a master mason." Ranald nodded. They both knew there was no way to save this fortune out of his earnings. "He cannot have stolen it!"
It seemed there was no other possibility, especially when coupled with those two books that no mere mason had a right to hold. "Alys, neither of us can know for sure, but it seems he did have a connection with the north, and some sort of connection with the monarch's entourage."
She shook her head. "Not possible. It makes no sense."
She was wrong on the first, but right on the second point. It didn't make sense for a mason and his wife to possess a small fortune and defense plans of the capital, yet live in obscure poverty in a remote
village--unless the man was as unlettered as Alys and had no idea what he had. "Is this all you have of theirs, Alys?"
The look on her face answered that. "What do you have?"
"Nothing else of value. 'Tis a trinket of my mother's." She scowled at him. "Ranald, you took those books, saying they must go to the monarch. That I believed, but you cannot take all I have."
"Show me the trinket." Unsure why he persisted, he continued. "Alys, trust me. It may tell me something."
"Is this why you came to me last night? To see what I have?"
Dear Heavens! "Alys, I came to you last night from heartfelt desire." That was another issue altogether. "Please, let me see the trinket."
With a sigh, she stood and went over to her knapsack. Reaching into an inner pocket, she pulled out a small leather pouch. "I found this with the books. Mother never wore it, I never saw it before, and I don't know why she kept it."
As she spoke she tipped open the small pouch, and its contents fell on the table with a light thud.
* * *
CHAPTER ELEVEN
After staring at the stone medallion for several long seconds, Ranald let out a slow whistle.
"What is wrong?" Alys asked.
"Nothing's wrong," he replied, "but now 'tis my turn to show you something. He reached into his jerkin pocket and pulled out the shattered stone he'd accepted when he'd been given his commission. "Look, Alys."
She took the stone and stared, then picked up her stone and fitted the two together, frowning a little as she looked at one side and then the other. "Ranald, it has the same marking as the gold coins."
He nodded. "That mark is the lyon: the monarch's own sigil. The same as I have on the hilt of my sword."
"What does it mean?"
He was still uncertain, but..."I'll tell you what I know. I never completely explained my commission. I was sent to find the monarch's nephew. Twenty years ago, when he was a youth, he and the monarch, his guardian, quarreled. The nephew, Prince Haran, was banished for a month. He left the palace and was never seen again. He disappeared in the vastness of the monarch's lands, maybe even left them.
"A year ago, the monarch commissioned me to search all the territories until I found some trace of him. I took an oath to do so. He gave me that stone, saying it was part of a token he'd given Haran. When they parted in anger, the lad smashed it on an anvil, saying he would break it to signify his rift with his uncle."
"Why did they quarrel?"
"That I was not told."
Ranald watched Alys as she stared at the joined halves of the sigil and bit her lip. "Ranald," she said at last, "my father was Haran the mason."
In the long silence, he heard every breath she took. It seemed her heartbeats echoed off the low ceiling. "Alys--" he started.
She shook her head, holding up her hand to silence him. "Give me peace, Ranald. I have to think!"
So did he. They had traveled side by side for five days, and never once had he imagined...How could he? He'd been sent to find a middle-aged man, not a maid--or a maid who was no longer a maid because of his passion.
He waited, while a log shifted on the fire, and a servant knocked on the door with a jug of hot water. When she had gone, Alys took a deep breath. "I am utterly confused, Ranald. Does this really mean my father was the monarch's nephew?"
"Unless I am much mistaken, yes."
Another long silence. Ranald would have given his life's pension to know what passed through her mind--or would he?
"What happens now?" She sounded resigned, but fearful.
"We must ride, at all haste, to the metropolis. Show your stone, the books, and the lyons to the monarch. He, and he alone, can speak on this, but he also knows the substance of the argument that caused the rift." He reached across the table. "Are you afraid?"
"I am anxious, yes. Who would not be in my position? But..." She smiled at him, her cheek dimpling as her face lit up with anticipation. "There is one thing that pleases me greatly."
"What?"
"Did you mean what you said on the road this morning?"
"You know I did, Alys!"
"So, if I am the daughter of the monarch's lost nephew, you have accomplished your commission and therefore are free of your vows!"
She stood, smiled, and slowly unlaced her bodice.
He stood and stepped around the table to help her.
* * *
AFTER THE RAIN
BY J. C. WILDER
DEDICATION
To the real Jaxson--life is a grand adventure and you'll
always have a soft place to land when and if the time comes.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Laura and Christine--for always pushing for more
even when I tell you I don't have anymore to give.
Molly - for letting me invade your house, play with your dogs,
eat your food, and hang with your wonderful family.
Lucas--for reminding me to breathe and
showing me how to laugh again...
Rena--my furry best friend, partner-in-crime
and confidant--I miss you more everyday.
PROLOGUE
Lygas, Realm of the Woodland Elves
"But, stepmother, I want to be a human, not an elf."
Li realized her mistake when her three stepsisters halted their heated bickering. The sudden silence was deafening as four pairs of matching blue eyes became fixed upon her. Li's grip tightened on the dish towel and she struggled against the urge to duck her head and scurry away.
Storm, her stepmother, shook her silky blonde head. "Why on earth would you wish such a tedious fate upon yourself?" She plunged her hands into the mixing bowl and began stirring the cake batter. Her stepmother's sunflower cake was Li's favorite treat.
Li twisted the towel in her hands. "I..." Her gaze dropped to the floor.
"You're being foolish, child. To forsake your elfhood would mean to leave your family and never be permitted to return to Lygas. Is that what you really want? To live among the humans and know you will never see your family again?"
Li forced herself to release the towel. No, she didn't want to leave her family and the only life she'd ever known. It was such a painful thought she could barely stand to think of it. Then again, so was the alternative: an eternity alone.
The reality of her situation was that the inhabitants of Lygas didn't accept her as one of them and they never would. Her mother had been human, her father an elf. As a person of mixed blood, she was regarded as an oddity within the village. The elders viewed her with suspicion while the younger residents were distant at best.
Li loved her family more than anything. But she was also unbearably lonely. All of her life she'd longed for someone to love, someone who wouldn't reject her for her mixed blood. Her greatest desire was for a normal life with a husband, children, and a little house in the country. Staying in Lygas would not enable her to achieve her dream.
Storm added a pinch of flour to the batter. "Not to mention the fact that you're an immortal. Why go into the world of the humans when you know that anyone you forge a relationship with is someone who will die on you at some point? Sooner or later you will be alone again."
Li's shoulders slumped. Her stepmother had a valid point. But wasn't it better to have loved once than to never have loved at all? At least with a human she had a chance at finding the happiness that had eluded her thus far.
"You can't leave us, Li." Ro, the eldest of her stepsisters, tugged on her sleeve. "We would miss you dreadfully, and whom would I play Dwarves and Dragons with?" She turned and gave her sisters a superior look, her pert little nose crinkled. "Ey is too busy trying to keep her dress from getting dirty to be a good adversary."
"Am not!" Ey leapt from her crouched position near the hearth. She placed her fists on her skinny hips and her delicate silvery wings gave an indignant flutter. "I play just as well as you do!"
"Am too." Ro stuck her tongue out at her sister.
"Girls," Storm admoni
shed.
"And what about me?" Sri, the youngest of her stepsisters, peered up at her. "You cannot leave me. You promised to teach me to charm the fish from the brook next season."
Li ruffled the child's golden locks. "I would be heartbroken to give you up, little Sri." She tweaked the delicate silvery wings on her sister's back.
"Then you won't leave us. I just knew you'd understand." The girl gave her a wide smile that revealed a gap in her teeth. Her little sister was growing up fast.
"And what about Jaxs?" Ro scooped up the youngest of their clan. "You can't think of leaving him--he adores you."
Jaxs was a beautiful, well-fed boy of two seasons with dark brown eyes and shaggy, silky brown hair. His face was covered with licorice root residue and he gave her a lopsided, sticky smile.
Li's heart stuttered. Of all her family members, she loved Jaxs the most. A warm, cuddly child with boundless energy, she and her sisters believed the sun rose and set with their only brother. If there were one thing sure to break her heart, it would be leaving him behind.
"Girls, why don't you go outside and play for a few minutes?" Storm wiped her hands on her apron before opening the door. "I need to speak with your sister."
"Why do we have to leave?" Ey stuck her lip out. "You keep sending me from the room and at this rate I'll never learn anything."
Ro retrieved Jaxs's stuffed caterpillar and gave it to him before taking Sri's hand. "As if you would learn anything anyway for all the attention you'd pay, Ey. In elf class you spend all your time fluttering your wings at the boys."
Ey shot a horrified look at her mother, then bounded after her siblings. "Do not," she yelled. "Take that back you elfish witch!" The door slammed.
Storm shook her head, then sighed. "There are times I fear for the stability of the hinges in this household."
Li forced a smile, though her heart ached. "And one's eardrums." Her siblings were loud, spoiled, and gregarious, and she loved them with all her heart. But loving them and remaining alone for the rest of her life wasn't an option.
PARADOX III Page 9