He awoke several hours later to the sound of eager voices and the opening and closing of distant doors. Nicholas glanced out his window and noted the waning daylight, realizing he had taken a longer nap than he had wished. Yet the rain had ceased and the clouds had taken on lighter hues of gray, giving him hope that he could reach Kanesbury by nightfall. After paying his bill and retrieving his wagon from the stables, he was back on the road in the cool dampness, leaving the village of Mitchell behind. He headed home, eager to navigate the final ten miles between him and the uncertain days ahead.
When darkness finally engulfed the landscape, Nicholas realized that he was traveling the last mile of roadway before the western border of Kanesbury. His heart pounded and he took a slow, deep breath, contemplating all he had experienced since leaving. He had fled the village last year on the tenth day of New Autumn and was now returning on the sixth day of Old Spring. Yet all the problems he had once escaped still hung over him like the dreary clouds above.
Soon the lights of Kanesbury beckoned to him in the near distance north and south of River Road, the gentle glow of warm, yellow windows scattered among the thickets of pine and maple trees like curious, unblinking eyes. When reaching the western border, he reined his horses to a stop and gazed out upon the narrow streets through the leafy trees. No one was around in the immediate vicinity, though a few distant voices were vaguely audible from somewhere within the middle of the village. All in all, it was a typically quiet evening in Kanesbury. And despite the many trials still ahead, Nicholas was glad to be back.
CHAPTER 115
A Familiar Face
Nicholas entered Kanesbury awash in the murky shadows of early evening. He stayed on River Road, guessing that anyone who might pass by would not recognize him in the gloom. To his relief, the road remained deserted. He decided to scout about first before confronting Dooley Kramer. He intended for that meeting to take place in the presence of Constable Brindle and Ned Adams, the two men to whom Nicholas most wanted to prove his innocence. He knew that Maynard, wherever he was, already believed him innocent.
As he guided the wagon east, Nicholas was comforted by the warm display of houselights peeking through the trees. It conjured up memories of pleasant walks to the Water Barrel Inn and to and from the gristmill. Most residents lived north of River Road where the houselights were numerous among the leafy trees. To the south, the lights were fewer and scattered. He detected the glow from the Iron Kettle Tavern, a popular haunt for Dooley Kramer and the late Arthur Weeks. But it only made him angry to think about what those two had done to him.
Soon he neared a street branching off River Road to his left. Katherine and her mother lived in the corner house at the far end, so Nicholas decided to pay them a secret visit and hear the latest about life in the village. He guided the wagon off the north side of River Road among a thicket of trees and climbed down, deciding to walk up the street to see if any light was coming from the house.
He strolled north along the narrow lane, passing Matilda Grute’s house on his right. Shortly thereafter, he approached a thicket of trees beyond it. From here he had a direct view of the Durant household across the street on the corner, its windows as dark as coal. He guessed that Katherine and her mother were out for the evening or had retired early, so he prepared to leave. But as he was about to turn around, he detected movement among the tall, shadowy pines in back of their house.
Nicholas, though concealed among the trees in darkness, bent down as a precaution and took a second look. A man moved among the trees on the Durant property, his face periodically aglow as he drew on a pipe. Nicholas couldn’t identify the figure and was warily curious as to why he was secretly watching Katherine’s house.
He stealthily made his way back down the street and returned to his wagon just around the corner. Moments later, Nicholas headed farther into the village along River Road, anticipating his next stop and hoping to find some answers.
A short time later, he neared Adelaide Cooper’s house at the other end of the village. Here the trees were sparser, offering a magnificent view of the stars in the moonless sky. Nicholas recalled talking to Adelaide on her porch two days before the Harvest Festival. Now the house stood dark and deserted. He noted the outlines of Maynard’s home and his own cottage across the road, both equally dead. Hoping to find a familiar face, he decided to check one other place before calling it a night.
First he hid the wagon behind Adelaide’s house and unhitched the horses, allowing them to graze along a nearby stream. He then walked along River Road back into the village. Moments later, he weaved his way among the shadowy shrubs and trees behind Oscar and Amanda Stewart’s house, the light from the windows splashing upon the lawn. Nicholas recalled leaving their ice cellar eight months ago, fleeing to an uncertain future. Now here he was again, nearly as uncertain about his fate as he was back then.
He cautiously approached the house and peered into a kitchen window but saw no one inside. He considered knocking on the back door, yet feared that if the Stewarts had company, his presence would be advertised throughout the village in no time. To make certain, he decided to peek through a window on the south side to gauge his next move. But as soon as he turned the corner of the house, he quickly retreated and pressed his back to the building, his heart beating rapidly. As on the Durant property, Nicholas spotted someone lingering in the shadows here as well.
He carefully peered around the corner and saw a figure leaning against a tree and gazing west toward the front of the property. As the person wasn’t looking in his direction, Nicholas observed the individual for a moment, knowing it wasn’t the same person he had seen earlier as he appeared taller. Nicholas slipped back around the corner and wondered why someone was skulking about. When he saw a shadow pass across the light on the lawn, he realized that someone had entered the kitchen. He ducked and scurried back to where he had first looked into the house and again spied through the window. This time he saw someone he recognized, a soft and familiar, yet troubled face.
There in the kitchen hanging a kettle of water over a fire in the hearth was Katherine Durant, her long, brown hair cascading over a beige knitted sweater. A veneer of worry clouded her face. Nicholas wanted to speak with her at once and made his way to the ice cellar. He hurried down the stone stairs and opened the door into the familiar cool and dark confines.
After feeling his way to the staircase, he quietly ascended in utter darkness until a faint outline of a door appeared at top. He pressed his ear to it, and hearing no voices, he slowly opened the door just enough to peek through. Seeing no one, he stepped into the pantry, keeping to one side of the doorway leading into the kitchen. He heard a clattering of tea cups and saucers, but detecting no voices, he assumed that Katherine was still alone.
With mounting apprehension, Nicholas slowly craned his head around the doorway. At that same moment, Katherine looked up as she was preparing the tea. Their surprised gazes met, their breaths nearly taken away. Katherine, her mouth agape and her heart racing, was confused and elated at once. Before she could utter a word, Nicholas raised a finger to his lips and beckoned her to the pantry. She hurried to him, throwing her arms around his shoulders.
“Is it really you?” she whispered.
“It’s me, Katherine,” he whispered back, delighted to hear her voice again.
He indicated that they should go downstairs to speak more freely. Understanding his concern, Katherine found a spare candle and lit it from a burning oil lamp affixed to the wall and led Nicholas down to the ice cellar. They sat on wooden crates in the same corner like eight months ago. The candle was wedged between blocks of straw-covered ice cut from Neeley’s Pond last winter.
“When did you get back?” she whispered.
“Within the hour,” he replied, telling her of his previous stops. “I’m so glad to see you again, but did I arrive at a bad time?”
Katherine shook her head. “The Stewarts invited my mother and me over for dinner tonight. No one
else is around. Morris has the night off and is holed away in his room. I was making tea.”
“I saw you through the kitchen window. And I saw something else.” He told her about the two figures watching this house and her home. When he noted her cheerful expression melt away, he guessed that she was in trouble. “What’s going on?”
“More than you could imagine. But I know you’ve had your share of adventures, too, so anything I say will pale in comparison.”
“We can talk about me later. First tell me everything that happened since I left,” he said with growing concern.
“First let me serve tea. I’ll return, excusing myself to replenish the firewood,” she said. “Though Oscar, Amanda and my mother would be delighted to see you, I don’t want anyone I associate with to know that you’re back just yet. And I suspect you want to keep your arrival secret as well.”
“Hiding out in this ice cellar was a dead giveaway, right?”
Katherine smiled. “I’m so glad you’re home, Nicholas.”
She returned a few minutes later with a cup of steaming tea and a plate of biscuits for Nicholas which he gratefully devoured as they talked. But before he could pry any information from her, she eagerly requested details about his time away.
“That could take hours,” he explained, tiding her over with a few highlights.
While Katherine was fascinated by the sparse account, she detected an unspoken reluctance on Nicholas’ part to delve further into detail. She suspected where his story might lead because of something that Dooley had told her. She folded her arms, feigning a chill to change the subject. Nicholas removed his coat and draped it over her shoulders.
“We need to schedule these meetings down here in the middle of summer,” he joked. “Now tell me what happened since I left. I’ve heard a few rumors on the road, the most disturbing one being that Maynard has been missing since late last autumn.”
“Let me assure you that Maynard is alive. I know where he is. And Adelaide Cooper, too.”
Nicholas was relieved to hear the news. “You know quite a bit of the comings and goings here. What have you been up to?”
Katherine smiled. “I’d ask you the same, but I’m already privy to some details.”
“How?”
“I have my source.”
Nicholas furrowed his brow, taking a sip of tea. “Who?”
Her expression turned somber. “Let me say that I had my source.”
He was intrigued when she informed him that the bulk of her information was obtained from Dooley Kramer. And though Nicholas harbored ill feelings toward him, he exhibited genuine remorse when he learned of his accidental death.
“Dooley, along with Zachary Farnsworth, framed you for the gristmill robbery and Arthur Weeks’ murder,” she said.
Nicholas shook his head in disbelief. “I knew Arthur was involved since he lied to my face. And while away, I came to the realization that Dooley ripped the missing button off my jacket,” he said. “But why would Farnsworth have anything against me? He was always personable whenever I met with him while on business for Ned Adams.”
Katherine smirked with disdain. “Behind his amiable façade is a scheming manipulator. Zachary’s connections went beyond people in and around the village. He had dealings with Caldurian himself.”
“Now his involvement doesn’t surprise me. He confided to a woman named Carmella that he was behind my troubles. I even heard he overran our village again.”
“It’s true. For nine days we lived under Caldurian’s rule, backed up by an army of horrid soldiers from the Isles. Well, except for one,” she cryptically added. But her focus suddenly shifted. “Carmella? Isn’t she the woman who brought the medallion to King Justin? The one you and Leo Marsh took to the wizard Frist?” She noted the look of stunned incredulity upon Nicholas’ face, certain he was wondering how she could know such facts. “I suppose you enjoyed playing hero,” she added lightly, though deep down she was very proud of Nicholas.
“Are you a mind reader?” he inquired, flabbergasted by her knowledge of his exploits and the names of the people with whom he had associated.
“Remember, I had a good source–Dooley Kramer.”
“But how could he have possibly known all that information?”
“Because Dooley was spying from the rafters during your meeting with King Justin,” she explained. “The meeting where you had volunteered to find the wizard Frist.”
“Dooley was there?” he said in amazement, recalling that King Justin had learned of a spy’s existence from Caldurian. “But the King was never told the name of the spy. He certainly would have informed me had he known it was Dooley Kramer, of all people.”
“Well, Dooley admitted it to me, and a good many other things, too. It allowed me to piece together some of the strange goings-on during the Harvest Festival.”
Nicholas was impressed with her ingenuity. And a good many other things, too? Suddenly he wondered if Dooley had told her about Ivy and his request to King Justin to help rescue her. Even though he and Katherine were only friends, he felt a tiny bit guilty for not revealing that part of his adventure and his relationship with Ivy to her. But whether she knew or not, there were more pressing matters to discuss first.
“Since you’ve apparently solved this mystery, I’d logically assume that Constable Brindle was informed of the facts,” he said. “Yet earlier you mentioned you didn’t want others associated with you to know that I was back. If that’s the case, I’m guessing that you also didn’t want others to know about any information linked to me that you had, including Dooley’s confession.” He noted Katherine’s troubled gaze, and with a nod, she confirmed his suspicions. “So Brindle knows nothing of this?”
“Not a thing.”
He raked a hand through his hair and sighed. “This makes no sense, Katherine.”
“It will once you know all the particulars.”
“Then please tell me.”
“All right,” she said, explaining how Caldurian had seized the village, her association with Paraquin, Otto Nibbs’ reappearance and her journey with Lewis to the swamp. Nicholas listened with subdued anger, heartbroken at the misery and chaos his friends had endured. “The wizard, at the urging of the crowd, arrested my uncle. And for six months he has been languishing in the lockup awaiting trial.”
“When will that be?”
“Your guess is as good as mine. Farnsworth insisted that it would only be proper to hold a trial when Maynard returns. And though most agreed at first, the months have dragged on. There are misgivings about Uncle Otto still being locked up and about how he ended up in prison in the first place. Though few speak it aloud, many now see how they unfairly condemned my uncle, realizing the wizard manipulated their emotions to get his revenge for events of twenty years ago.” She looked at Nicholas as if reaching out for help. “And I can prove it, though I fear for the safety of others if I go after Farnsworth with the truth.”
Nicholas took her hands, seeing the aguish in her eyes. “If I had stayed, this might not have happened. But tell me more about Farnsworth. Has he threatened you, knowing you’re aware of his role in recent events? And does he know that Maynard isn’t missing?”
“Yes to both,” she said with a defeated sigh, “though he hadn’t directly admitted his involvement. He made veiled threats to people close to me to force my silence.”
“How’d you learn of Dooley and Farnsworth’s involvement? It was a gutsy move for you and Lewis to follow Dooley to the swamp where a killer awaited him.”
“We didn’t know that at the time,” she said. “But after spying on them for nearly two weeks, I discovered they were making late-night journeys there every six days. I was determined to follow them the next time they left. And since Lewis suspected I was up to something, I let him accompany me,” she said. “Dooley finally confessed to everything that he, Farnsworth and Caldurian did, particularly to you and Uncle Otto.”
“But how did Farnsworth discover that yo
u were on to him?”
“I’m not quite sure,” she said. “But something clued him in. He made subtle yet chilling threats against those closest to me on the day following my journey to the swamp. It was the same morning that Constable Brindle was attacked.”
“Attacked?” Nicholas raised his voice upon hearing such disturbing information. “What happened? Is Clay all right?”
“He’s back on the job and uses a cane to get around,” she said, explaining how the constable was assaulted before she could divulge what she had discovered at the swamp. “I can’t prove it, but I know Zachary Farnsworth was behind that incident. He probably hired some unsavory individual to attack the constable just like he paid someone to kill Dooley. That’s why I’ve kept silent, fearing for the lives of others around me.”
“I understand.”
“And to make matters worse, Zachary told me he would hire several men out of his own pocket to keep an eye on the village and prevent trouble in the future. But I know that was just a threat to keep me in line,” she said with disgust.
“That explains who I saw tonight spying in the shadows,” Nicholas said. “But surely others in the village must have seen these strangers.”
“They have, but there are different faces from time to time,” Katherine continued. “When inquiries were first made, Zachary said that the scouts were hired to search for Maynard and were reporting in from time to time. He also said that some would patrol the village to prevent trouble from returning. Most people found that admirable and accepted his story, happy to have extra eyes around after all of our recent trouble.” She looked wearily at Nicholas in the glow of the candlelight. “People have been spooked and distrustful even though months have since passed.”
Nicholas Raven and the Wizards' Web (The Complete Epic Fantasy) Page 187