by Mark Anthony
“No, Mr. Dirk!” Maudie said, eyes going wide. “Mortimer Hale owns nearly half this town. He’s the most powerful man in Castle City, and he’s one of the hardest. I know that firsthand. Don’t you go near him. Promise me you won’t.”
But Durge stayed silent and did not meet her eyes. Maudie clamped a hand to her mouth, stifling a gasp, and hurried into the kitchen.
“I want to go see him,” Lirith said, rising from the table. “I want to go see Sareth. Now.”
Durge shook his head. “Perhaps tomorrow, if there isn’t another newspaper story. It isn’t safe right now, my lady.”
“And what about Sareth?” Lirith was trembling. “Is it safe for him?”
“Sir Tanner is watching him. And Deputy Wilson is at the jail as well. Sareth is safer there than anywhere else, my lady.”
Lirith let out a shuddering breath. “I know, Durge.” Her voice was low now. “I know he is. Thank you.”
The knight nodded, then picked up a load of dishes and carried them into the kitchen after Maudie.
Travis stood and touched Lirith’s shoulder. “We should be getting to the Mine Shaft now.”
“Let me just wash my face.”
While he waited, Travis sat again at the table and flipped through the newspaper. Besides the story about Sareth, there was little else of interest. “Morning Mayhem” reported that there must be wolves in the vicinity, as two head of cattle had been found mauled at a ranch just south of town. However, it wasn’t the predators outside of Castle City Travis was worried about.
Lirith returned, face freshly scrubbed and wearing a brave expression. Travis took her arm, and together they headed out, cutting over to Elk Street, then walking along the boardwalk to the saloon.
Travis was aware of the occasional glance in their direction. But that was hardly unusual; both he and Lirith had a tendency to stand out in a crowd. As far as he knew, it still wasn’t widely known that Sareth was their friend.
Or more than a friend to some, Travis.
“You love him, don’t you?” he said as they walked. “Sareth.”
Lirith missed a step, then kept walking, her gaze fixed forward. “It doesn’t matter whether or not I love him. We can never be together. It is forbidden for a man of the Mournish to marry outside of his clan.”
Travis felt a hot spark of anger. He hated things like that: arbitrary rules prescribed by a society, forcing you to live your life a particular way for no reason at all, save that that was how others wanted you to live it.
“Why doesn’t he leave his clan, then?”
“And if he was not Mournish, would he still be Sareth?” She shook her head. “It’s possible he might give that up for me. And if he did, I would never forgive myself. I would never be able to look at him without seeing in his eyes that I made him sacrifice everything he was, everything that was in his blood, just to be with me.”
“Maybe that’s what he wants.”
“I suppose he might even believe that. For a time, at least. But in the end it would eat at his heart like a serpent.” She let out a heavy breath. “No, I love him too much to be the one who destroys him.”
“But his clan is a world away, Lirith.”
“And does that change what he is? Better still, does it change what I am? It is more than his clan that keeps us apart. There are—”
She pressed her lips shut and held a hand to her stomach. What had she been about to say? Travis couldn’t bring himself to ask. He tightened his grip on her arm, and she leaned against him as they kept walking.
The boardwalk was crowded with people, as was typical for a Friday evening, but the throng seemed quieter than usual, faces longer and more subdued. Maybe it was anger that had stolen the life out of the air—anger over Sareth and Sheriff Tanner.
Or maybe it was fear.
At first all Travis saw was a tight knot of people on the boardwalk. A buzz of conversation rose on the air, along with a number of jeers. There was a stifled scream, and a man hastily led a woman away, her hand clamped to her mouth.
“What’s going on up there?” Lirith said.
Travis felt dread trickle into his stomach. “I don’t know. I’m going to go look.”
He released Lirith’s arm and pressed forward, aware that the witch followed after him. The crowd was gathered around the mouth of an alley. Something was there in the space between buildings. It dangled like a bunch of rags caught on a fence.
“Serves him right!” a man called out.
“Sinner!” hissed the woman next to him, her expression exultant.
The pair turned and moved away. Travis and Lirith jostled their way forward, then saw what the crowd was gawking at. In the alley, draped on a pair of crossed timbers that had been planted in the dirt, was Niles Barrett.
The Englishman’s arms were spread wide, lashed to the crosspiece with rope, and he was slumped forward, so that Travis couldn’t fully see his face. He wasn’t moving. Blood stained his forehead, and several of his fingers splayed out at crooked angles, broken.
“Who did this?” Travis said, choking on the words. The man next to him pointed at Barrett’s suit coat. On it was pinned a piece of paper bearing neatly lettered words.
THY SHALT HONOR THY FATHER AND THY MOTHER.
And below that, in smaller lettering.
THERE IS A NEW LAW IN THIS TOWN. THIS IS WHAT HAPPENS TO THOSE WHO DEFY THE CRUSADE FOR PURITY.
“Travis!” Lirith clutched his arm. “He’s still alive.”
Barrett’s head shifted to one side. A moan escaped his bloodied lips. The man next to Travis let out a laugh. Travis turned and glared at him.
“Get Sheriff Tanner,” he growled. “Now!”
There must have been some authority in Travis’s tone, for the man’s laughter fell short. He stared for a moment, then turned and ran down the boardwalk, calling for the sheriff.
“All of you, get out of here,” Travis said, his voice rising. “I said get out!”
A crack of thunder shook the air, and Travis wasn’t so certain it was from the clouds in the sky. He could feel his right hand tingling. Startled, the people hurried away. Although some didn’t go far, and they stood on the boardwalk, watching with hard eyes. Energy sizzled inside Travis, straining to leap out. All he had to do was speak a rune.
No, he wouldn’t hurt others; he wasn’t like them. He clenched his jaw, and together he and Lirith began to untie Barrett.
34.
Lirith shut the bedroom door—softly, even though Lord Barrett could not have heard it—and headed downstairs. Would that she possessed Grace’s abilities as a healer, or even Aryn’s untamed but depthless strength. It was in the art of the Sight where Lirith’s greatest talents lay. However, even she could not see whether he would live or die. She had done all she could; now they could only wait.
She found the others in the parlor of the Bluebell.
“How is he?” Travis said, setting down a chipped porcelain coffee cup.
Lirith opened her mouth to speak and yawned instead. It was just after dawn; she hadn’t slept all night. “His wounds are no longer bleeding, and I’ve set the fingers that were broken. I believe he comes close to waking at times. He’ll mutter a few words, as if in a dream, before sinking again into slumber. I caught one word. I think it was gold.”
Durge gave a grim nod. “Likely the men who did this to him took his gold.”
Travis glanced at the knight. “Do you really think they were just common thieves, Durge?”
The knight blew a breath through his mustaches.
Lirith sat and accepted the cup of coffee Travis poured for her. Coffee wasn’t maddok—it was more bitter, and it lacked the other drink’s characteristic hint of spice—but she couldn’t deny its power was considerable. After a few sips she felt a welcome tingling in her chest.
“How was your work at the saloon last night?” she asked Travis.
After they had brought Niles Barrett back to the boardinghouse with the help of the sheri
ff and Deputy Wilson—Durge had been keeping watch over Sareth at the jail—Travis had headed for the Mine Shaft to tell Manypenny what had happened and that Lirith wouldn’t be in that night.
Travis sighed, running a hand over his shaved head. “I probably shouldn’t have bothered staying. The place was almost empty. Not even old Ezekial Frost came by.”
“Perhaps people decided it was a good night to stay in,” Durge said, holding his littlest finger out as he lifted one of the fragile coffee cups with exaggerated care.
Lirith imagined Durge was right. Once word of what had happened to Lord Barrett spread through town, people had quickly gone back to their homes. Travis had told her the message pinned to Barrett was from a list of ten such commandments made long ago by a god of this world. And who in this town had not broken at least one of those commandments?
Lirith set down her cup. “I am not certain I have done everything for Lord Barrett that can be done. Do you think we should send for the town’s doctor?”
“No, Miss Lily,” Maudie said from the door of the parlor. She moved to the table and set down a fresh pot of coffee. “Better that you see to Mr. Barrett than Dr. Svensson.”
Durge gave her a sharp look. “Why should we not send for the doctor, Lady Maudie?”
“This is why, Mr. Dirk.” She tossed down a copy of the Castle City Clarion next to the coffeepot. “Dr. Svensson is married to Bertha Hale Svensson. Mortimer Hale’s sister.”
Lirith understood Maudie’s meaning. Mortimer Hale was the publisher of the Clarion, and Travis believed it might be Hale who was behind the vigilance committee—or the Crusade for Purity, as it had named itself last night. Of course, what had happened to Lord Barrett bore the violent mark of Lionel Gentry. But Gentry could be working for Hale. And, given his connection by marriage, so could Dr. Svensson.
Travis gazed at the paper. “I thought you had forbidden the Clarion in your house, Maudie.”
“That I did. I cleaned this out of one of the boarder’s rooms upstairs. And it’s going right to the incinerator.”
She swept up the paper before they could read the story on the front page, but Lirith caught the headline:
AT LAST, JUSTICE IS COME.
Durge stood and put on his hat. It was time for him to head over to the jail to relieve Sheriff Tanner. Travis yawned—evidently he hadn’t slept the previous night either—and went up to their rooms to rest. Lirith supposed she should do the same; she was exhausted. However, the coffee had done its work, and she felt abuzz with energy. Better to put it to use. She picked up the empty cups and headed to the kitchen to help Maudie with the breakfast dishes.
Maudie greeted her with a smile as Lirith put on an apron, and the two women worked in that busy, pleasant sort of silence that comes from simple work and comfortable companionship. When everything was clean, Maudie toasted slices of bread on the top of the stove and set them on the table with a jar of wild strawberry jam.
“Early mornings need two breakfasts,” she said.
Lirith’s stomach was growling, and she didn’t disagree.
“It’s a shame what they did to poor Mr. Barrett,” Maudie said with a sigh. “And after all he’s suffered in his life.”
Lirith raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”
“He was banished to America, you know.” Maudie turned her gaze toward Lirith. “His father is an English earl, and Niles is the eldest son. But some years ago, his father stripped away all of Niles’s right to his inheritance and put him on a ship to New York, telling him never to come back.”
Lirith thought of the notice that had been pinned to Barrett’s coat. Thou shalt honor thy father and thy mother. “Why did his father banish him?”
“I suppose there aren’t many in town who know the whole story. Of course, most everyone knows Barrett isn’t a ladies’ man. He used to come into the Bluebell, but just to have a drink and talk, never to engage one of my girls.” Maudie let out a fond laugh. “He said he liked the ambiance.”
Lirith smiled. She reached across the table and took Maudie’s hand.
“He told me about it late one night,” Maudie went on. “We were swapping sad stories after drinking too much gin. I told him the tale of every one of my husbands. And then...” She lifted her shoulders in a sigh. “He was a lieutenant in the Royal Navy. Niles showed me a picture, and he was the handsomest young man you could imagine. Eyes as deep and calm as the sea. Only then the elder Lord Barrett found the letters they had exchanged. Niles’s officer was stripped of his rank and sent to a post in Australia. And Niles was sent here.”
“I don’t understand,” Lirith said. “Why were Niles Barrett and his lieutenant made to part?”
Maudie let out a gasp. “You must come from another world, Miss Lily, if you don’t know. Society is hard to those who live outside the borders drawn by those within. I suppose I know it as well as Mr. Barrett does. I’ve given up inviting the town’s best ladies over to dinner. I suppose they think you can take the woman out of the brothel, but you can’t take the brothel out of the woman.”
Lirith went stiff, and Maudie regarded her with a gentle understanding. But how could Maudie know about those years Lirith had spent dancing in Gulthas’s house? No one knew. Only somehow she did.
Lirith started to pull away, but Maudie held her hand tight. “Don’t you believe them who say such things, Miss Lily. You’re a good woman through and through. I can see it. Mr. Samson is lucky to have you.”
“Is he?”
Maudie let her hand go. Lirith pressed it to her stomach. She could feel it: the dark space inside her that would never be filled with life. What did she have to give Sareth besides what she had given all the men who came to Gulthas’s house?
But maybe that was the answer. Sareth could not take a wife outside his clan. But what about a mistress? As Maudie had said, there were those who lived their lives outside the circle drawn by proper men and woman. Did not Lirith already dwell beyond those boundaries?
She stood up, flushed with an energy that came not only from the coffee. “I have to go see Sareth now.”
Concern filled Maudie’s eyes. “Are you sure that’s a good idea, Miss Lily? Mr. Dirk says it isn’t safe for you to go to the jail. You know folk are still calling for Mr. Samson’s hanging. You don’t want to make matters worse by drawing attention.”
But Lirith hardly heard her. She untied the apron and threw it down. “Good-bye, Lady Maudie,” she said, then without waiting for a reply she rushed out the kitchen door.
Lirith hurried down Grant Street. The jail lay at the far end of town, a mile away. She ran until her lungs burned, walked until she caught her breath, than ran again. She felt eyes watching her in curiosity, but she didn’t care. Grant Street dead-ended at the livery. She turned down a narrow side street to cut over to Elk Street.
And collided with Ezekial Frost.
“Whoa there, missy. Where are yeh going in such a hurry?”
Bony but strong hands caught her, keeping her from falling. She found herself face-to-face with the old mountain man. Scraps of white hair jutted out from beneath a cap of mangy animal fur. Tobacco had stained his beard and teeth, and his eyes were yellow with jaundice—no doubt caused by too much drink.
“Well, now, so it’s purdy Miss Lily from the Mine Shaft who’s run into me.”
“Excuse me,” she said, extricating herself from his tenacious grasp. “I have to be going.”
A canny look stole into his eyes. “I’m going to be going, too, Miss Lily. Going back.”
Some of her urgency was replaced by puzzlement. The old man’s words seemed important somehow. “What do you mean?”
He let out a cackle of laughter and slapped his thigh. “Yeh be a smart one, Miss Lily, to play dumb like that. But I know yeh know all about them Seven Cities just like I do.”
“What Seven Cities?”
“Why, the Cities of Cibóla. Them cities of gold that men have hunted fer five hundred years, first the Spaniards, then the
m who came after. Only it weren’t them who found the way, it were me. I been there once, and I never should have left.” His eyes locked on hers. “I know yeh’ve been there, too, Miss Lily. I seen yeh come on through, just like the gold man. I got to know the likes of him there. He’ll be looking for a way back. Only when he opens it up, I’m gonna scamper on through before he does, quick as a jackrabbit.” The old man reached for her arm. “I’ll take yeh with me, Miss Lily, if that’s what yeh want.”
Frost’s breath reeked of corn liquor and decay. She pulled away from him. “I have to go,” she said, and this time she ran down the street before the mountain man could say anything more.
When she reached the sheriff’s office, she expected to find Durge or young Deputy Wilson sitting behind the battered desk, but instead it was Sheriff Tanner himself. His eyebrows rose as he took her in.
Lirith supposed she was a mess. She did her best to straighten her dress. “I’ve come to see Sareth.”
“All right, Miss Lily,” the sheriff said in his calm drawl. “He’s allowed a visitor. But just for ten minutes, and you’re not to reach through the bars or give him anything. That’s the law, and I know as a good woman you’ll respect it.”
She gave a curt nod. Anything to see Sareth.
Tanner rose and moved to a door at the back of the room. It was wood with an iron-barred square that provided a view into the jail. Tanner took a ring of keys from his belt and chose one. Lirith noticed that it took him a long moment to fit the key in the lock. He opened the door.
“I’ll come get you when your time’s up.”
She stepped through. Tanner shut the door behind her, and she heard the lock turn.
“Beshala,” said a soft voice.
Her eyes adjusted to the dimness, and she made out three cells, each one fitted with a door made of iron bars. Two of the cells were empty, but in one stood a shadowy figure. Wasn’t this how she had first glimpsed him—standing in the gloom in the grove beneath Ar-tolor?
Lirith moved to the row of bars. She had not seen him since the night of Calvin Murray’s death, and she knew it was not just the dimness of the jail that caused the darkness to gather beneath his eyes and in the hollow of his cheeks.