Nicholas looked sadly upon Maynard, wondering if his friend would be in this dreadful condition if he hadn’t fled Kanesbury. He fearfully contemplated losing the only father he had ever known, wishing he had better thought out his rash decision of eight months ago. Had he stayed and fought the charges against him, he believed that Maynard would be home right now and in good health. Yet had he not gone, he, Megan and Leo would never have met Carmella and delivered the medallion to the wizard Frist, helping to bring about the downfall of the Enâri, and ultimately, Vellan himself.
Nicholas’ head swam as he tried to figure out all the resulting twists and turns of fate based on a single decision, finally admitting that it was impossible. He would deal with the consequences as best he could and wished Ivy and the others were here for support. Then inspiration struck him and he smiled, knowing that help was already close at hand. He chided himself for forgetting so soon and started to reach for the amulet hidden beneath his shirt. But Maynard suddenly stirred and opened his eyes.
“Nicholas?” he whispered, slightly confused. “Am I waking up from a bad dream? Some horrible things have happened.”
“No and yes,” he softly replied, taking hold of his hand.
Maynard looked about, slowly recalling his location. “Ah, I remember now. The horrible things were real. But seeing you here is a turn for the good.”
“I’ll do my best to make sure of that,” he replied, briefly explaining where he had been for the past eight months after Maynard insisted on hearing his story. “But I’ll give you more details another time. You need your rest. I didn’t mean to wake you.”
Maynard closed his eyes for a moment and nodded. “Perhaps tomorrow you can walk with me around the house if I’m up to it. I’m getting better, or Adelaide tells me so.” He squeezed Nicholas’ hand and looked at him gravely. “Yet I feel as tired as ever. My time on the island was not good for my health. I’m not sure if I’ll ever fully recover.” A shade of fear crossed his face. “Promise you won’t tell Adelaide I said that.”
“I promise,” he said as Maynard closed his eyes again and breathed deeply, slowly drifting off to sleep. “You rest and let me worry about tomorrow.”
“All right…” he whispered, his head sinking deeper into the pillow.
Nicholas, noting that Maynard was fast asleep, removed the amulet from around his neck and carefully placed it in his hand, gently folding his fingers over the piece of silver. At once, Maynard took another deep breath, and Nicholas, not sure if he was imagining it at first, noted a hint of color returning to his friend’s pallid face as he clutched the amulet more tightly. A sense of tranquility slowly filled the room.
“I’ll leave your recovery to the wizard Frist,” he softly said as Maynard soundly slept. “There’s another matter that now needs my attention.” With that, he stood and left the room, confident that Maynard would soon be back to his old self again.
“Young man, you can stay here as long as you need to,” Lorna said a short time later as she refilled Nicholas’ cup with hot tea. “After all that Adelaide has told us about you over the weeks, you seem like part of the family.” She took a seat at the table with Emmett and Adelaide, all eager to hear about his idea to remove Farnsworth from power. “Now tell us this plan of yours.”
“The details are sketchy,” he admitted, “but I believe there’s a way to smoke Farnsworth out of his lair and reveal to everyone how he betrayed Kanesbury.”
“Tell us what to do,” Emmett said, happy to assist in any way.
Nicholas nodded appreciatively. “Katherine mentioned that she keeps in contact with you from time to time by exchanging notes in secret.”
“That’s right,” Lorna said. “Every ten days or so, Emmett or I will cross paths with her at a prearranged location. We don’t speak, pretending we’re strangers. But when no one is looking, we slip each other a note with updates on the latest happenings. Emmett and I will include a time, date and location for the next meeting in our note.”
“But those latest happenings have been few and far between,” Adelaide said with discouragement. “After Constable Brindle was attacked last winter, Katherine informed us about how some of Farnsworth’s hired hands have infiltrated the village.”
“She was afraid to move against him afterward, certain that someone else close to her would be hurt, or even killed,” Emmett said. “And not knowing how many men Farnsworth had hired makes it impossible to mount a resistance. We’re not sure if we’re dealing with five men or perhaps a few dozen.”
“And so we bided our time through winter,” Adelaide said. “Lorna and Emmett kindly tolerated Maynard and my presence here.”
“Now, Adelaide, don’t go talking like that,” Lorna replied, patting her hand. “The extra days gave you time to recuperate. Besides, everyone is happy to have you here. You’ve more than paid your way with all the cooking and cleaning you insist on doing.”
“Especially when you make us your bacon breakfast!” another voice chimed in. Gilbert Trout, Emmett and Lorna’s oldest son, marched into the room, all smiles and eager to join in the conversation. He had turned sixteen at the beginning of the year and helped out his father on the farm, particularly enjoying plowing the fields in springtime and delivering shipments of hay into the city throughout the season.
“I couldn’t sleep with all the chatter,” he said after Adelaide introduced him to Nicholas.
“Gill is stuck here, as he often says, having to share a room with his younger brother while Maynard uses his,” Emmett explained with a chuckle.
“But Father promised me we can start building a small cottage of my own out back later this summer,” Gilbert said. He sat down his lanky frame at the table, combing a hand through a mop of tangled hair.
“If you earn it with enough hours on the farm,” his mother reminded him.
“No sweat!” he said, grabbing a biscuit from the tray. I’ll have enough hours to earn a house before summer is done.”
“I had a small cottage behind Maynard’s house,” Nicholas told him, wistfully amused by the boy’s spirit. “But it was more than I could take care of with my jobs on the farm and at the gristmill.”
Adelaide asked him if he had heard about what happened at the mill before Caldurian and his troops overran the village. Nicholas shook his head, expecting bad news.
“It burned to the ground,” she said. “And though I didn’t witness the destruction, all that remained were the charred stone walls, though one of them collapsed according to Katherine’s graphic description.”
“But Ned Adams has since been rebuilding,” Emmett said, relaying information from one of Katherine’s recent letters. “Should you ever get your old job back, you’ll have a fine establishment to return to.”
“That’s a big if,” he said. “There are still lots of obstacles in my way before I can start planning such things. First we have to deal with Farnsworth.”
“So tell us what you have in mind,” Lorna urged him. “You have me intrigued.”
“All right. But just keep in mind that nothing will happen for four more days. That’s when you’ll pass on your next note to Katherine, correct?”
“Yes. We’ll meet at the poulterer’s shop. Do you have a message for her?”
Nicholas nodded. “I plan to give her the details of my plan before we proceed. I don’t want there to be any surprises.”
“Am I allowed to help?” Gilbert asked as he munched on a biscuit. “We could stand some excitement around here. I’m bored. A little adventure would do me good.”
“That’s what I used to think,” he replied, noting the urge to explore and see different places in the boy’s fiery eyes, a desire which mirrored his own from last autumn. Gilbert also reminded him in subtle ways of William and Brendan, who once, like himself, probably thought they could conquer the world and their dreams simply by wishing it. But living through recent events, not imagining them, had given Nicholas a new perspective on life, offering hard lessons that h
e learned only too well.
“I think the only help Nicholas needs from you, Gilbert, is for you to do your chores and keep out of the way,” Lorna told her son with a sharp eye.
“But, Mom!” he said, frowning with disappointment.
“You heard your mother,” Emmett told him. “Now let’s hear Nicholas out.”
“Adelaide?” Gilbert asked, turning to her in desperation. “What do you think?”
“Oh, I don’t get a vote,” she replied with an affectionate smile. “But thanks for asking. Now as your father said, let’s listen to what Nicholas has to say.”
But as the details of Nicholas’ developing plan swirled in his mind, he glanced at Gilbert, realizing that there was a part he could play after all, and a crucial part at that. And since Gilbert appeared responsible enough to handle the task, he decided there was no point in looking elsewhere for a recruit.
“Your son has a point,” he said, eliciting looks of surprise from Emmett and Lorna. “I need someone trustworthy to deliver a letter for me in secret.”
Everyone looked up with puzzlement. “A second letter?” Emmett asked, not sure what Nicholas had in mind. “To Katherine?”
“No. This other letter has a different destination,” he said with an inscrutable smile. “It will be going far beyond the borders of Kanesbury, but not too far.”
“To where?” Lorna whispered curiously.
“It’s all part of my plan,” he replied, glancing at her son. “Say, how would you like to go on a little adventure, Gilbert?”
“Seriously?” he asked, gushing with enthusiasm. “When can I leave?”
“Tomorrow, though I’m not sure how long you’d be gone,” he said, catching worried looks from his parents. “It depends on how events unfold in Kanesbury.”
“What do you have in mind?” Adelaide asked, worrying about Gilbert as she had about Nicholas when he announced his intention to join the King’s Guard.
“Where will my son and this letter be going?” Lorna anxiously inquired, reaching over and clasping Gilbert’s hand.
“And what will the letter say?” Emmett asked.
“Don’t worry,” Nicholas assured them. “Gilbert will be quite safe. It’s the rest of us who’ll be throwing stones at a hornets’ nest–and I’ll be leading the attack.”
CHAPTER 117
Baiting the Trap
Nicholas rode into Kanesbury on a chilly evening four nights later. He left his wagon near Maynard’s house beneath the sprawling oak. The horses grunted restlessly under a field of stars as the crescent Fox Moon lingered in the west. As he walked about the farmstead, the scent of fresh, fragrant soil generated a stream of fond memories of the many wonderful years he had spent here with Maynard and Tessa.
Earlier, he had said goodbye to Adelaide and the others after Lorna had returned from the village. There she had delivered the latest secret message to Katherine at the poulterer’s shop, allowing Nicholas to proceed with his plan. Gilbert had left three days ago to deliver the second letter, and Nicholas felt confident that the young man would reach his destination without a hitch.
Hours before he had departed, Nicholas spent some time with Maynard who was making a swift and steady recovery after wearing Frist’s amulet day and night. They walked about the farm and discussed what had happened since last autumn and what the days ahead might bring. Nicholas was delighted that Maynard had regained much of his strength and stamina, confident that he would soon be living life again on his own farm.
“Nicholas, I have faith in your decision to do this your way,” he told him as they neared the main house where Adelaide enjoyed a lively spring breeze from the porch.
“I don’t see that I have an alternative if we want to expose Farnsworth. Still, it’s good to hear that you have confidence in me, or at least in my plan.”
“Definitely you,” Maynard replied with a smile as he gently slapped him on the shoulder.
Now, as Nicholas stood alone in the darkness on Maynard’s farm and observed the gentle glow of yellow houselights sprinkled among the village trees, he felt confident that everything just might work out in the end after all. But there was only one way to find out. He proceeded down the road into the heart of town, hoping that this positive feeling would last until he arrived at the Water Barrel Inn.
Nicholas approached his favorite haunt in the deepening dusk, its windows aglow with soft light that splashed upon the boot-trodden ground beyond the sills. Sweet pine smoke wafted through the air as ghostly bluish tendrils rose from the chimney in elegant swirls. Friendly faces passed in front of the window panes, reminding him of happier days. But now was not the time for reminiscing. He had put this moment off long enough. He placed his hand on the doorknob, knowing he was about to stir things up in Kanesbury, or at least more than they had been in recent months. Taking a deep breath, he pushed open the door and stepped inside.
The inn was filled with the hum of competing conversations, some in whispered tones in the corner shadows, others of a more lively nature from tables filled with plates of roasted meats and mugs of frothy ale. A large blaze crackled in the fireplace, casting shadows upon the walls of stone and knotty pine. Nicholas inhaled the warmth and laughter of the treasured surroundings as he closed the door behind him, having missed the place like a long lost friend.
As he walked inside on a wave of cool air that slipped through the doorway, he scanned the faces of the crowd, hoping to spot someone he knew. But with each step across the floor, heads started to turn and conversations began to fade. Within moments, Nicholas noticed that all eyes were focused on him amid the thick and uneasy quiet. And though he had hoped for and expected such a reception, he still felt intimidated by the barrage of curious and icy stares flung his way.
“What are you doing here?” Bob Hawkins shouted out. He stood up at one end of a table with his hands pressed indignantly upon the surface. “Where do you get the nerve to show your face around this place, Nicholas Raven?”
Nicholas locked gazes with the man nearly twice his age, whiskered with unkempt hair and well on the road to inebriation. He recalled Bob Hawkins’ grating voice on the night he was arrested by Constable Brindle. Having nothing better to do back then except stick his nose into somebody else’s business, Hawkins had egged on the constable when Nicholas was accused of robbery. And though Nicholas could slough off such taunting comments now, they had stirred up anger and doubt in him during the Harvest Festival.
But even worse than that blathering of a slightly drunken man eight months ago was facing the betrayed disappointment of Ned Adams. After Clay Brindle had held aloft the missing jacket button, apparently proving to everyone that he was a thief, Nicholas had been devastated to see Ned’s trust and confidence in him disintegrate before his very eyes. And though now he would have proof to the contrary through the testimony of his friends, he still couldn’t help feeling ill at ease.
“I’m looking for Maynard Kurtz,” he said, his heart racing. “I just went to his place, but no one is there. He wasn’t at Adelaide Cooper’s house across the road either.”
“That’s because they’re both missing!” Bob Hawkins shouted, glaring at Nicholas. But before he could spout further, a man at another table, who had transacted business with Nicholas at the gristmill, calmly looked up.
“Maynard hasn’t been seen since the middle of Old Autumn,” he said. “And Adelaide has been missing since the time you left.”
Nicholas feigned a worried expression upon hearing the news. “Maynard is missing? What are you talking about, Mr. Canby?” he asked. “I recall him asking me about Adelaide’s whereabouts shortly before I departed, but I assumed she was preparing for the festivities. Now you’re saying they’re both missing?”
“And Dooley Kramer, too!” another man jumped in. “He disappeared about two weeks after Maynard left to visit the King about Caldurian’s reappearance.”
“Caldurian?” Nicholas furrowed his brow in feigned surprise. “What has been going o
n here?”
“You tell us!” Bob Hawkins cried. “What with you robbing, murdering and fleeing the law, how do we know that you weren’t behind some of those incidents?”
“Oh, sit yourself down and shut up, Bob!” someone else shouted. “Nicholas has been gone for months, so how could he have anything to do with the disappearances? You’re just trying to cause trouble as usual.”
“This is my village, too. I have a right to know what goes on inside it!” he retorted. “Especially when a suspected criminal traipses back into our midst.”
“I’m no criminal!” Nicholas protested. “I never robbed Ned Adams’ gristmill nor murdered Arthur Weeks. And though it was wrong of me to flee when first accused, I’ve come back to turn myself in and stand trial in hopes of clearing my name. I’ll accept whatever judgment my fellow citizens decide, but before I do so, I want to find Maynard.”
“Fine. But that doesn’t prove your innocence!” Bob Hawkins snapped. “At least not to me. I want to know the whole story about where you’ve been and what kind of mischief you’ve been up to. Save me a front row seat at the trial.”
“And I want to know what’s been going on around here.” A chorus of voices suddenly erupted, all eagerly taking turns explaining to Nicholas what had happened in recent months, most never having believed that he was really guilty of either thievery or murder. A few, however, did protest, saying that Constable Brindle should be contacted at once as Nicholas was a fugitive from the law, though their voices were quickly drowned out.
As the crowd converged around Nicholas and individuals took turns adding to and embellishing the events from last fall, Bob Hawkins quietly slipped out of the building into the darkness and scurried to the village lockup. The others inside vigorously regaled Nicholas with stories of their lives as prisoners of Caldurian and his soldiers, weaving mostly true tales of bravery and hardship while under the wizard’s stern and watchful eye.
Nicholas Raven and the Wizards' Web (The Complete Epic Fantasy) Page 189