by Robert Evert
“I don’t know,” Edmund replied. “Pond keeps telling me. Maybe I should start listening to him.”
Abby studied the dagger in her hands. “He cares about you a lot, you know.”
“He’s all I have in this world. Him and Becky.”
And you.
They both stared at the ground. Off in the distance, the lute music continued. Somebody began to sing a melancholy song, low and off-key.
“What I do know,” Edmund said, trying to change the subject, “is that I need to find a way to keep Norb from telling people what I found in Iliandor’s diary and that I’m a magic user. If he doesn’t stop, I’ll never be able to find peace or happiness.”
Abby rubbed her thumb along the dagger’s polished blade; she cleaned it every day, whether it needed it or not.
“Your life would be in danger as well,” he said.
Abby nodded. She looked at him. “So, what are you going to do?”
Edmund smiled if for no other reason than to be reassuring. He put his hand on her shoulder.
“I’m going to scout things out.”
Then, as if of its own accord, his hand cupped her perfect cheek. He didn’t care if it was inappropriate; it made his heart forget its pain and weariness.
Gazing up into his eye, Abby brightened.
Don’t kiss her! Don’t kiss her!
“Stay here.” He lowered his hand. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
“But what are you going to do? About this Norb, I mean. Are you going to—?”
“I’m just going to have a look around. She might not even be home.”
“She?”
Edmund mentally kicked himself.
“I mean—” He gritted his teeth and decided not to lie. “I have to talk with Norb, but I don’t want to see Molly.”
“Ever?” Abby appeared slightly relieved, though doubtful.
You’re wasting time. Pond and Fatty will be expecting you back soon. And you know how Pond gets when you’re late.
“Just stay here,” he said. “I’ll be back in two minutes, okay?”
She nodded and withdrew into the deeper shadows behind the tree, clutching her dagger with both hands.
For a moment Edmund’s heart smiled. Then he remembered what could happen to her if Norb told people about the diary. His resolve hardened.
“Take care of yourself,” he said, hating to leave her.
“You’ll only be gone for a couple of minutes. What could happen?”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Edmund cautiously approached the ugly house built upon his family’s land. It was constructed of warped timbers, and the southern wall appeared to tilt inward. The front step was broken.
He peered through one of the dingy windows.
Expensive furniture cluttered the living room. Rusty buckets and pans had been strategically placed here and there, as if to catch rainwater that leaked through the roof; even from outside, Edmund could smell the mildew in the damp rugs.
I can’t believe Molly is willing to live here.
Maybe she doesn’t want to.
Edmund stalked around to the rear of the house. Yellow light oozed through gaps in the timbers and out into the night.
A female voice shouted.
Edmund froze, listening.
It was definitely Molly, and she was angry.
He crept closer to the back window. Molly was shouting about something, and Edmund heard the word “drinking” then the question: “What are we going to do?”
He peeked inside. Beyond partly closed lace curtains lay a dingy kitchen. Dish fragments littered the dirty floor. A pile of firewood by the stove had fallen over, and the washbasin sat full of pots encrusted with burnt food. Edmund half expected to see mice scurrying along the baseboards.
Somebody collapsed into a chair and put his head into his hands. Even with the figure facing away, Edmund knew exactly who it was.
Norb!
On the table in front of Norb, an empty bottle rolled in erratic circles. Drops of an amber liquid tumbled around inside.
Edmund withdrew into the darkness, relishing the diatribe Molly unleashed against her silent husband. He could hear her clearly now. Norb was drunk again and she didn’t like it. She also didn’t like something he’d done at The Buxom Barmaid.
“It was stupid!” she shouted. “Stupid!”
Buxom Barmaid?
That must be a tavern that replaced The Wandering Rogue. Norb probably built it and tried to flatter Molly by naming it that.
Buxom Barmaid!
Edmund snickered.
“Did you honestly think they were just going to come back and pay you?” An empty chair clattered to the floor. “We need that money!”
Edmund peeped through a crack between the timbers.
In the middle of the kitchen, Molly stormed back and forth, hands jerking furiously. Even with his limited view, seeing her warmed Edmund’s heart.
“What were you thinking?” Molly screamed. “Honestly! What the hell you were thinking?”
What, indeed! What were you thinking when you married him?
“You can’t keep doing this,” she went on. “You can’t! People depend upon you. Your family depends upon you. I depend on you!”
You could depend on me.
“What do I have to do? Just tell me! What do I have to do to get you to stop? Do you want me to leave? Do you want me to cry more? To scream? What? What do you need me to do to get you to stop?”
Edmund leaned against the house, intoxicated by feelings that only love and revenge could bring.
Norb was trying to reply; it sounded incoherent.
“M … M … Molly,” Norb finally managed to say.
He’s stuttering! He’s actually stuttering! Oh, the sweet irony.
Edmund covered his mouth to stifle a laugh. He’d never felt so carefree and alive! Surely Molly would throw Norb out. Edmund would then pay her an unexpected visit, and she would fall into his arms and tell him all the things he’d longed to hear.
I wish I still had that ring I gave to the law enforcer! She would’ve loved it! No matter. I’ll buy her something even better. I’ll treat her like the queen she is. Come on, Mol! Kick the drunken fool out!
There was sobbing.
Edmund peered through the window again, beaming.
Molly was in Norb’s arms. They were both crying.
Edmund’s smile faded.
How … ?
Immobilized, he watched them hug and kiss.
Then Molly said, as clearly as if she were speaking to Edmund, “I’m sorry. I love you. I love you so much. We’ll … we’ll manage somehow.”
What? No!
Norb’s hands slipped down Molly’s sides and grabbed her rear. Molly giggled through her fitful sobs, hitting him playfully in the chest. Edmund stared in disbelief as they kissed again, their mouths open and their embrace tightening as the Lord of the Highlands pulled his wife closer to him.
How … ?
“I’m … I’m sorry, Mol,” Norb said. “I’ll … I’ll try harder. I’ll try real hard. I won’t drink again. I … I promise. It’s, it’s … it’s just all the pressure, you know? All these people … they, they all want something. It never ends.”
“I know, sweetie, I know. We’ll manage somehow. I love you.”
Edmund staggered back from the window, horrified and defeated.
How … ?
He wanted to scream, to cry, to punch the poorly constructed wall, to run.
He wanted to die.
Dropping his sword into the overgrown grass, Edmund turned away, trying to breathe.
Somebody was standing behind him.
“It’s been more than two minutes,” Abby said.
Edmund fell into her arms, trying not to bawl.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, startled, and then gazed between the curtains into the kitchen. “Oh.”
Edmund clung to Abby like a drowning man to a piece of driftwood while Abby m
erely stood there, unresponsive. Then, slowly, her arms wrapped around him, and she rested her head against his convulsing shoulder.
Untold minutes passed. Edmund’s sobs softened, then gradually dissipated until he just held Abby in the darkness of what used to be his backyard, the yard where he’d played as a child, the yard in which he’d found his mother hanging from a noose. He could feel her breasts pressing against him, rising and falling with each deep breath. Strands of her wonderfully soft black hair tickled his nose, but he didn’t dare move to scratch for fear of breaking the spell.
After a moment, Edmund began to pull away, embarrassed by his tears and his actions. Yet Abby’s grip didn’t completely slacken. Still pressed against him, she looked up, eyes shimmering in the faint yellow light streaming from Molly’s kitchen.
Edmund lowered his lips toward hers.
Don’t! You fool!
She closed her eyes.
You’re going to ruin everything!
Abby stood on tiptoe.
Don’t!
The front door of Molly’s house creaked open then banged closed.
Startled, Edmund leapt back into the darkness, pulling the stunned Abby with him.
“What’s wrong?” she said, opening her eyes.
Norb wobbled up the street from the house, headed toward the building where The Wandering Rogue once stood.
Scrambling around in the weeds, Edmund retrieved his sword.
“Where … where’re you going?” Abby said.
He turned.
Quickly! Before Norb gets away and you lose your nerve! Kill him now while nobody’s around!
He stepped toward Abby and touched her shoulder. She seemed to lean in closer.
“Stay here,” Edmund said. “I, I …” He let his hand slip to her elbow and squeezed it, not wanting to let go. “I’m sorry. Just … just stay here.”
Hurry!
Abby deflated.
“But what should I do?” she whispered.
Edmund released her arm. “Just stay here and … and be safe.”
Then he turned and jogged up the street after the staggering Norb, leaving Abby alone in the blackness, dagger in her limp hand.
To Edmund’s frustration, other people walked the street as well. From the shadows, he watched Norb wave at two passing men, who ignored him and continued on their way as Norb reeled toward the two-story building near the center of town.
Now! Rush out there and drive your sword between his shoulder blades!
Edmund sprinted to catch up. He ran behind the rubble of what used to be the stables where Norb once worked. From there, he watched the Lord of the Highlands trip over his own feet, nearly falling to the ground.
I’ve never seen him so drunk.
All the better. Hurry!
Up the street, a group of men huddled around a small sputtering fire. Several others ambled between two rows of tents a block away. Nobody was close to Norb. Edmund could easily jump out from behind the ruined stables, stab him, and disappear into the night before anybody realized what was happening.
If he talks …
He thought about Abby and about what almost happened behind Molly’s house. Then he thought about somebody taking Abby prisoner and torturing her. Her imaginary screams sliced into his heart.
Hot fury flooded Edmund’s stomach. It spread to the fingers tightening around the haft of his sword.
It’s his fault. You told him to keep quiet. He brought this on himself. You have to stop him from talking.
“I have to end all of this.”
Edmund inhaled resolutely and stepped out from behind the fallen stone wall toward Norb, the sharp tip of his short sword leading the way. A dozen running steps, a thrusting lunge, and it would be all over. Everything would be fine. Nobody would know what he’d found in Iliandor’s diary, and he and his friends would finally be safe. He could go about his life in peace. Maybe Abby would marry him, and they could live in a nice house in Dardenello or Long Ravine. They’d be happy. They’d both be happy.
First, I have to finish this.
He crept closer while Norb urinated on the trampled remains of a flowering forsythia bush.
I have no other choice. This isn’t my fault. He did this to himself. He’s making me do it. I have to protect Pond and Abby and Fatty.
Edmund stalked closer, the back of his quarry only twenty feet away.
A few more steps, and then I’ll—
Norb looked up abruptly.
Edmund stopped.
From out of the blackness in front of them, somebody appeared. It was too far away for Edmund to see more than a vague outline, but Norb obviously knew who it was. Trembling, he tottered, urine dribbling down his pant legs. Edmund swore and retreated to the ruined wall.
Don’t worry. Whoever it is will pass, and then this will be all over. Don’t lose your nerve. Remember Abby. Remember what Norb has been doing, what he’s been telling people. Remember him stealing Molly …
A warm breeze picked up, rattling debris in the streets and scattering clouds of smoke obscuring the moon. Through a break in the crumbling stone, Edmund could now see the face underneath the figure’s oversized hood. He nearly cried out.
Edith!
Shaking his head as if to say “no,” Norb staggered back a couple of paces.
Edith’s smile broadened—seductive, with a hint of malice. She produced a bottle from underneath her cloak and held it out to the Lord of the Highlands. Norb reached for it then wavered. Edith pushed the bottle at him. Even through the shadows, Edmund could see Norb’s hands tremble as he took it from her.
Edith motioned to a nearby building, a crudely painted sign shaped like a large-breasted woman proclaiming it to be The Buxom Barmaid. Head bowed, Norb flinched a nod. He uncorked the bottle and, drinking as he went, followed Edith inside.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Edmund found Abby sitting in the darkness behind Molly’s house, exactly where he had left her.
“Come on.” He pulled her to her feet.
“What happened?” she asked, evidently noticing there was no blood on his sword. “What did he say?”
“Nothing. We have to get out of here.”
“Why?”
Edmund guided Abby past the now-darkened kitchen window.
“Norb was—”
From inside the dilapidated house, Molly started to sing softly. Her gentle voice floated out to them. Edmund stopped.
She’s happy? How could she be happy in a place like this? And with him!
“Ed?” Abby prompted.
How—?
Abby’s harsh hiss brought him back to reality.
“What happened? Why do we have to go?”
Edmund tried to push Molly’s singsong voice out of his head so he could think. He still held Abby’s arm. Somewhere in The Buxom Barmaid, Edith was talking to Norb. Dread and foreboding continued to bear down upon him.
“Edith is here,” he forced himself to say. “She’s with Norb.”
“So what does that mean to us?” Abby asked. “Ed … ? Ed?”
She kicked his shin.
Edmund cried out.
The singing stopped.
Edmund pulled Abby away from the window and, putting a hand over her mouth, flattened against the outside wall of the house.
The kitchen curtains opened. Edmund could sense Molly next to him, separated by mere inches of warped lumber. Then the curtains closed again.
He led Abby away.
“We have to get out of here,” he said once they were safely out of earshot. He led her through Rood’s desolate back roads, which wove amid the ruined buildings.
“Why? Edith knew you were coming here.”
“I can’t tell Norb not to talk about the diary while Edith is with him.”
Besides, she scares the crap out of me.
“We’ll try again tomorrow night,” he said.
“Try what again?” She followed Edmund as he circled around a clump of makeshift te
nts, the once-red coals of a campfire dying to a dull ocher. “Are you really going to kill him? I mean, I understand the reasons. I just want to know what to expect, that’s all.”
They hurried to the wall surrounding the city and found their rope still attached to the tree limb.
“Are you going to—?”
“I don’t know!” Edmund snapped.
A couple of vacant lots over, somebody picked through the rubble of what used to be Rood’s granary, perhaps searching for food.
“Look,” he said, “I can’t just kill somebody—I can’t! Especially Norb.” On the verge of tears, he added, “We were friends.”
“But you’re going to have to kill him, Ed.” The shock of her words made him look up abruptly. “You know that, right? Otherwise …” Her voice drifted off into the night.
Edmund took in her beautiful face, searching for some sort of emotion in her bright eyes and soft smile, something other than pain and despair.
“I don’t pretend to know everything that’s going on,” she said, “but I know some—more than you realize, perhaps. And I know something about life.”
Edmund wanted to laugh at this, but he couldn’t find the energy.
“When it comes to your life versus somebody else’s,” she went on, “you always have to pick your own, unless you love the other person more than you love yourself.”
He nodded.
“So you’re going to do what you need to?” she asked.
Edmund stared through the darkness toward Norb and Molly’s house. Exhaling, he pushed the rope into Abby’s hands. “Climb up. We have to return to camp or Pond will start looking for us.”
Abby looked at him for a moment. Then she put on a smile—a mixture of sympathy, respect, and something else Edmund couldn’t quite discern.
“I’m sorry things are so complicated,” she said. “But everything will work out. Just give it a little time.”
“You’re starting to sound like Pond.”
Abby might have blushed. In the dark, Edmund couldn’t tell.
“Speaking of whom …” He pointed to the rope.
“Right. See you on the other side.”
She climbed up the rope with the ease of a monkey. Edmund, huffing and grunting, followed close behind.
Chapter Thirty