Farnsworth decided to give it a try. He had risked too much to give up his gains so easily. He could run away from Kanesbury if needed, yet he was prepared to take one more calculated risk first. But he would need the assistance of one of his local contacts, the one who had initiated the chain of communications enabling him to hire the assassin who was buried in the trees. Farnsworth didn’t require another kill though, having something else in mind. His contact, who lived in the countryside outside the western border of Kanesbury, would work on short notice for the right amount of money. But first, Farnsworth had to get rid of the two dead bodies as a precaution, a task he reviled yet knew was necessary should an investigation ever be launched despite his latest plan.
He sighed, lamenting the unfairness of it all while bracing himself for the task ahead. He turned around and trudged back into the trees, looking for the shovel he had tossed into the ferns.
The deepening dusk had wrapped itself around the trees and settled upon the water’s moody surface by the time Farnsworth dug up Dell Hawks’ body. He lugged it upon his back and deposited it into one of the boats and then removed the two oars and tossed them in the second vessel. He went back and refilled the grave with soil, certain that after a long winter’s snowfall and the wild growth of spring, no one would ever know a body had been buried there. He paddled across the swamp in the second boat after tying the first one behind him and towing it across the water. Upon reaching shore, he went inside the house as the precious rays of daylight slowly faded. There he found an oil lamp and lit it before returning outdoors to dig up Dooley’s corpse. When he finished, Farnsworth searched the body for the pouch of silver and copper half pieces as he had done on the first, muttering when he found nothing. He guessed that Katherine had taken the money, knowing he couldn’t do anything about it as he carried Dooley’s body to shore and placed it in the same boat with the first one.
After catching his breath and wiping the dirt off his coat and pants, he grabbed a bundle of rope and a small ax from the shed. In mechanical fashion, Farnsworth cut the rope into several long pieces and tied the two bodies to the boat itself, glad that the darkness concealed the horrid details from the judging gaze of daylight. After double checking his knots and convinced that the bodies were securely attached, he towed the boat across the swamp amid the sickly light of the oil lamp and stopped when he neared the center. After positioning his boat alongside the other, he grabbed the ax.
Farnsworth took a deep breath as beads of sweat dotted his forehead. He reached over into the other boat and repeatedly hammered the ax blade into the bottom of the vessel until he punctured the surface. A gush of cold swamp water poured through the opening and slowly filled the boat. He briefly smiled at his success before untethering his boat from the damaged one. He paddled a short distance away to watch and wait. Slowly, lethargically, the damaged boat and its two corpses were pulled down into the murky water in ceremonial silence, swallowed whole by the swamp and leaving no trace of their existence. Farnsworth imagined the ghastly hulk steadily descending in the frigid, grimy water until it reached a final resting place. Time and nature would erase all traces of this misfortune from his life, and hopefully someday, from his conscience.
He paddled back to shore with one more job to complete. After pulling the boat ashore, he tossed the four oars on the ground, planning to burn them at home. He again took the ax to the boat and created a gash in the bottom, sending up an explosion of wooden splinters with each stroke. When a large enough hole was created, he pushed the boat out onto the water, aiming the bow toward the center of the swamp as the vessel began to fill. He watched with fascination, silently encouraging it to move as far away from shore as possible. Soon the boat stopped as it took on more water. Farnsworth was satisfied that it had floated to a deep enough spot. He vigilantly observed the vessel sinking at a slight angle as if it were being consumed in one bite by a giant watery creature lurking beneath the surface. When the second boat had vanished, he flung the ax and the oil lamp as far as he could across the swamp, hearing them both plop into the water, a final punctuation to the loathsome deeds he had undertaken that night.
Now, having sufficiently covered his tracks, Farnsworth was ready to return home and move on to the next phase of his plan. A strange feeling of satisfaction overwhelmed him. After placing the four oars in the cart, he climbed on his horse and slowly made his way through the darkness to River Road. He felt less afraid of what might face him back in Kanesbury now that he deemed himself in control of the situation again.
With the deepening night and the Bear Moon hidden behind thickening clouds, he wasn’t worried that anyone would spot him entering Kanesbury. He would cross the eastern border, pass through the village, and immediately exit in the west. Before he could go home and sleep, he needed to hire a man for a spur-of-the-moment job tonight, someone reliable who would disappear into the shadows when it was all over. Come morning, Farnsworth was confident that he would have his life back in order, just as he had always planned and bargained for, and knew that he deserved.
CHAPTER 85
An Uneasy Truce
Several hours later, before the first hint of light touched the eastern horizon, Kanesbury lay still and silent, wrapped in winter’s deepening chill. A veil of thick clouds sailed sluggishly overhead like a massive ship upon a nearly windless sea. The tips of distant pine trees wavered against the inky skies as if anticipating an impending change in the atmosphere.
Suddenly, a violent gust of wind from the west ripped across the village and nearby locales, creaking barns, tree branches and homes while scattering the leftover dried leaves of autumn. The vigorous breeze, originating in an upper chamber of the Blue Citadel, had burst outward from Morrenwood in an ever widening circle and soon overwhelmed the village of Kanesbury. But mere moments later, it faded away to nothingness while continuing on its eastward trek, leaving no damage in its path nor waking a single soul. In time, faint traces of dawn appeared like a painter’s soft brush stroke across the horizon as morning arrived, without fanfare, on winter’s second day.
Then everything changed in a heartbeat.
The usual calm of the village was shattered as residents drifted out of their homes amidst their daily routines, hearing the first rumors that swirled about like snow. Whether splitting firewood, going to market or brewing a kettle of tea at a bakeshop, individuals soon caught word of a terrible and shocking ordeal that had befallen their community. People were again reminded of the fear and distrust that gripped them when Ned Adams’ gristmill had burned and Caldurian’s Island troops had conquered the village. The unpleasant memories lingered like ghostly curls of wood smoke above rooftops on a misty morning.
Katherine Durant was putting on a kettle of water over the kitchen fireplace when she heard a frantic rap at the window. She glanced up, surprised to see her neighbor from down the street tapping upon the glass pane in back of the house. Katherine unlatched a hook and pushed open the window.
“Matilda?” she asked with mild surprise to a woman about her mother’s age as cold air flowed into the room. “What’s the matter?”
“Sorry to bother, Katherine, but I saw you through the glass as I was walking up the road,” she said with a trace of urgency. “I’m on my way to the lockup.”
“What for?”
“Hank Pillet just delivered a load of firewood to my house and told me a crowd was gathering there in the street,” she replied. “Something terrible happened, though he didn’t know all the details. He thinks someone died, or was killed maybe. He wasn’t sure as he only heard snippets of conversation as he passed by. With your uncle being there, I thought you’d like to know.”
Minutes later, Katherine and her mother hurriedly trudged up the road to the village lockup, wrapped in their warmest cloaks as they speculated about the latest trouble. Both were worried about Otto’s safety, especially Katherine, now that she knew of Zachary Farnsworth’s intentions toward Kanesbury and its citizens. But she didn’t me
ntion those disturbing matters to her mother, not wanting to cause her any more heartache.
When they arrived, about thirty people were milling about on the dirt road near the front steps. Tyler Harkin had just walked out the front door with Zachary Farnsworth, Len Harold and another deputy constable, all looking anxious as they talked to one another before turning to address the crowd.
“Deputy Constable Harkin will now speak,” Farnsworth said, pointing to the pale young man with a head of thick brown hair who appeared uneasy at having to explain the situation. “He’d like to dispel the rumors swarming around our village.”
The deputy constable stepped forward, unconsciously tugging at the hem of his coat. “Mayor Farnsworth suggested that I say a few words and explain what happened earlier today. As many of you already heard, Constable Clay Brindle was attacked this morning in the dark on his way to work.”
“Is he dead?” someone shouted.
“No, he is not dead!” Tyler snapped, some color returning to his face. “No one is dead. As best we can figure out, Clay was robbed along the woody road near his house. He was hit in back of the head and pushed down, badly twisting an ankle.” A gasp of revulsion rippled through the crowd. “He received a few cuts and scrapes, but his assailant fled before Clay even knew what happened to him. Unfortunately, he never saw the man’s face.”
“Where is Clay now?” a woman cried out.
“He’s home resting comfortably,” Tyler said, explaining how one of the local physicians had tended to him. “Clay’s wife is looking after him now. But that said, it will be a couple of weeks before Clay is back on his feet. The physician told me that the ankle injury was severe but that the constable was fortunate to be alert and lucid considering everything he endured. Things could have been much worse. In the meantime, the other deputies and I will do our best to keep matters running smoothly in Clay’s absence.”
A barrage of questions was suddenly launched at Tyler Harkin as the villagers inched up closer. Farnsworth locked gazes with Sophia Durant who stood near the edge of the crowd with her daughter. He acknowledged her with a polite nod and made his way over as the others continued to bombard the deputy constable with their queries.
“Rest assured, Sophia, that your brother was never in any danger,” Farnsworth kindly told her as he stepped away from the crowd with the two women so they could talk in private. “I spoke with Otto this morning and told him what had transpired.”
“Thank you so much, Zachary,” she replied, taking his hands in hers. “After what Katherine told me this morning on our way over here, I had feared the worst.”
“It appears to be a random act,” he said, gently squeezing Sophia’s hands as Katherine watched with concealed dismay.
“May we see him now?” Sophia anxiously asked.
“Of course,” he said, turning to the second deputy who remained standing near the door of the lockup. He raised a hand to get his attention. “Deputy Nasby will be happy to take you inside as I have to return to the banking house.”
“Thank you,” Sophia said, indicating for Katherine to follow.
“I’ll meet up with you in a moment, Mother,” she said. “I need to speak with Mr. Farnsworth about a few matters first.”
“All right, dear,” she replied, making her way to the deputy who escorted her inside.
“How may I help you?” Farnsworth politely asked.
“In light of these awful developments, I was wondering if this will affect my uncle’s trial.” Katherine looked up with a pleasant demeanor, forcing herself to behave civilly while trying not to think about the crimes he had committed.
“I thought that might be on your mind. Unfortunately, Miss Durant, I must postpone Otto’s trial since Constable Brindle will be incapacitated for a time. Clay, after all, is in charge of presenting the case against your uncle, as distasteful as he may find that duty. I informed Otto of the change this morning. He took the news well.”
Katherine nodded, gazing dejectedly at the ground. “I understand, Mr. Farnsworth, and I suspected as much. It seems that matters are out of our hands.”
“It is a shame,” he replied, catching her eye and noting a hint of unease. “Perhaps by spring, or even late winter, circumstances might be more amenable to holding a trial. I think by then that Maynard should be back from Morrenwood, assuming he has reached the capital city. I still haven’t had a chance to recruit any volunteers to search for him since we’ve not received word from Maynard since he left. Hmmm, but I do wonder where he could be,” he said, thoughtfully stroking his chin. He studied Katherine’s face for any sudden change in her expression at the mention of Maynard’s name. He detected none. “But if he should return soon, then this trial will be out of my hands as I will no longer be mayor.”
“Time will tell,” she softly replied.
“Indeed. But now I’m forced to deal with this situation, much to my displeasure,” he remarked with a sigh as he stared at the crowd that fluttered about Tyler Harkin and Len Harold like bees around a hive. “It’s quite a shame, Miss Durant, that such a horrible act was carried out against someone like Clay Brindle.”
“I quite agree, Mr. Farnsworth.”
“I mean, could you ever imagine–” Farnsworth shifted his gaze from the crowd back to Katherine, lowering his voice, though his words were hard as stone. “Could you ever imagine something that horrible befalling one of your loved ones? Your mother, Sophia, for instance? Or your dear friend, Lewis Ames? Just a vicious attack out of nowhere, sudden, with no warning. I suspect it would send shivers through you just contemplating such a terrible fate for either of those individuals.” He looked silently upon Katherine, her eyes widening in mild horror and her complexion turning as pale as ash. “I know it would upset me to no end if something like that happened to any of my close friends, such as Oscar and Amanda Stewart, who have shown me such kindness recently. I couldn’t bear to think how I’d feel if either of them were assaulted in the dead of night. It’d be horrible. Just horrible.” He shook his head as he glanced past the crowd, speaking to the cold, gray morning. “A sad, sad thing when ghastly deeds are inflicted upon the people we most love.”
An uneasy lull hung over the conversation before Katherine could finally speak. “Yes, Mr. Farnsworth. I see your point.” But her words were slow and unsettled as she cast an uncertain glance upon him, wondering who this man really was, feeling the chill of his unspoken threat coursing through her body.
“So be vigilant when you’re out, Miss Durant. This incident may have been an isolated event, but one can’t ever be too careful.”
Katherine stiffened her resolve, her voice growing stronger. “I would advise you with similar words, Mr. Farnsworth. You may be equally threatened if some unknown assailant is still lurking about.”
“True,” he replied. “That is why I will employ extra eyes to keep me apprised of anything unusual happening in the village. Clay’s deputies can only do so much with the day-to-day problems we have around here, right? But so as not to wound their pride or drain the village coffers, I will discreetly hire a few trusted men with my personal funds to act as my eyes and ears, reporting to me any possible signs of trouble around here, signs of anything–suspicious.”
“Suspicious?”
Farnsworth nodded. “People meeting with others in secret perhaps. People going to places they ordinarily would not. Things like that. As I said, just as a precaution.” He sharply raised his eyebrows before leaning in and whispering close to Katherine’s ear. “But let’s keep this development a secret between the two of us, shall we? No need to concern the others.”
Katherine pulled back, her heart racing. Though she couldn’t explain how, she realized that Zachary Farnsworth was on to her. Somehow he had figured out that she was aware of his illicit activities and was now subtly threatening her and her loved ones should she ever go public. Would he really bring harm to her mother or to Lewis? To the Stewarts? The thought of Clay Brindle recovering from his injuries prov
ided the only answer she needed.
Katherine didn’t know what to say as her thoughts whirled and doubt crept into her previous resolve. Did Farnsworth really suspect her, she wondered, or had she only imagined it? And how could he have known? But since she had planned to meet with Constable Brindle today and tell him everything–on the very day that the constable was severely injured and perhaps nearly killed–she didn’t find it difficult to believe that Farnsworth might have arranged for the appalling incident. She felt sickened to think what else he might do to fend off his enemies and the truth, fearing for the safety of her loved ones and close friends.
As Katherine composed her thoughts and calmed down, she realized that defeating Farnsworth would not be as easy or as uncomplicated a task as she once thought. The lives of others could be in danger depending on what she did next. She had to think through her steps thoroughly and with caution. And though her uncle would have to endure a longer incarceration since his trial was delayed, she now thought that that might be a positive thing as it would allow Adelaide and Maynard more time to recuperate before revealing themselves to the public. At least it would help Adelaide, she reconsidered, wondering if Maynard would ever wake up from his unnatural sleep.
Nicholas Raven and the Wizards' Web (The Complete Epic Fantasy) Page 134