The Weeping Books of Blinney Lane

by Drea Damara

  She ventured into the kitchen and found Netta, busy cleaning bowls from breakfast. She turned as Sarah entered the room and smiled. “Has your young fellow gone?”

  Sarah wasn’t going to lie to Netta. She just couldn’t do it. She knew the question was an innocent inquiry. “Yes, he has. He’ll be back later in the week but probably just for dinner.”

  “Of course he will, dear.” Netta patted her hand before returning to the dishes.

  Sarah shook her head and grinned at Netta’s approval of the young romance. “Netta, I’m going to take some of the fabric I’ve been working on to the market and I think some of my old dresses that don’t fit me anymore. Do you have anything you’d like me to sell or need anything for the hall?”

  Netta wiped her hands on her apron and started toward another doorway at the back of the room that led to a storeroom. “Yes. I have more cheese than we know what to do with, but could you pick up some more candles? We’re a bit low.”

  Sarah carted the large basket of goods under her arm and walked to the gate. “Good morning, Dergus. How are you today?”

  “Very well, Lady Sarah. Off to the market?”

  She nodded as Dergus opened the gate for her. “I’ll bring you back some of Riley’s beetleburry.”

  “Ah, we have plenty of ale. No need to do that,” he called as he closed the gate.

  “It’s all right. I know you don’t like Netta’s brew.” She winked at him, which got her a chuckle.

  “You’re a good girl, m’lady.”

  Sarah walked up the street to the dress shop and sold the fabric and old frocks. Then she went down to Riley’s, Oedher Village’s form of an all-purpose store. She spoke with Riley about the cheese she’d brought, and he agreed to take it off her hands.

  “Wonderful, I’ll just get a few things and then be back up for the difference.”

  Sarah walked around, looking at Riley’s wares. She grabbed two bundles of candles and a small bottle of the beetleburry ale Riley brewed in a little distillery behind his shop. She picked up some colored threads for her and Netta to embroider with that would contrast nicely with some bolts of new plain fabric she'd also found. She carted the armful of items back up to the wood plank counter and set them down.

  “Well, Lady Sarah, let’s see what we have today. I’ll give you twenty troogies for the cheese.” Riley inspected the pile of Sarah’s purchases. The door creaked open, and they both turned to find two large men enter the shop.

  Both were clad in black tunics with a deep red overlaying smock, and each wore a black sash that fell down across his chest to where it connected to his sword holster. Their matching black head covers were drawn up and they leered around the shop with stony expressions.

  “I’ll be with you men as soon as I finish with the Lady here.” Riley nodded and went back to counting Sarah’s purchases.

  Sarah watched the men curiously as they methodically strode through the store. They didn’t seem to look at any of Riley’s goods but just the shop in its entirety, like they were searching for something large that would appear obvious to them upon sight.

  As they walked past her on their way out, the leading man glanced at her. His mouth was set in a tight line and his eyes held cold hostility. Sarah almost shuddered at the sight of him. She’d never seen anyone so unsettling in all of Farwin Wood. Durley Allister had only written about people possessing a kind and warmhearted demeanor, or at least she thought so until she saw that man. There was something about his expression that hinted at enmity. The men walked out and let the door slam shut behind them.

  Riley looked up at the sound of the door, but when he saw no one enter, he glanced around the shop and then back to Sarah. “Did they leave?”

  “Yes. Riley, who were those men?”

  “Ah, looked to be Ranthrop Groslivo’s colors. We’ve been seeing more of them around the village as of late, what with his engagement to Lady Deronda Daundecort. The union will unite the Northern lands and the Southern swamps. It promises to bring an increase in agricultural partnerships and improve the commerce of the entire region.” Riley went on as he tallied up Sarah’s total.

  “Unite” the lands, Sarah thought. How silly. What was there to unite when no one in Farwin Wood seemed to quarrel about anything? And for Deronda’s sake, she hoped that Ranthrop Groslivo was a more pleasant looking and amiable man than his soldiers.

  Sarah returned to the hall with her purchases and the troogies she’d obtained from her fabric sales. She delivered the basket to Netta and stored the coins in a locked chest in the cellar. Not in the mood to embroider, she had Dergus saddle up her stroomphblutel. She headed north out of the village, comforted by the distance it would reduce between her and Vasimus.

  About half an hour down the road, Sarah steered her ride off into the woods. She knew there to be a stream a short distance ahead. It would be a peaceful place to sit and enjoy the splendor of the day. Her stroomphblutel snorted as it ascended a grassy incline. She urged the reins against its neck, but it nudged its head against them and took off in a playful sprint to the side of the hill, taking them back toward the woods.

  “What in the world has gotten into you, girl?”

  Sarah let the furry beast lumber closer to the woods where it seemed intent to take her. As they rounded the base of the little hill, she heard snorting sounds off in the distance. Up ahead, she spotted Richard’s stroomphblutel rubbing its side against a tree where its reins were tied.

  “Ahh, found your boyfriend, did you?” She laughed and patted her stroomphblutel’s side as it waddled closer to Richard’s. When they neared the brush where Richard’s ride stood, Sarah saw yet another stroomphblutel on the other side of the bushes. Well, that’s not one of the Wortwarts’s, she thought. When she saw the animal in full, her breath caught. It was Deronda’s. She was sure of it.

  “Oh, no,” she muttered.

  Sarah dismounted her ride and tied its reins next to its mate. She peered around the opening in the woods and across the stream but saw no sign of Richard or Deronda. She started along the stream, walking toward where it curved. Up ahead, a ridge that jutted into the stream hid the water around the bend.

  In the distance, she heard stifled voices. She couldn’t make out the words, but the pitch was sharp enough to indicate tones of distress.

  “Richard?”

  “Sarah!” a woman’s voice called out from beyond the ridge.

  Sarah gathered up her dress and ran to the top of the hill. She heard a swoosh, a whirring, and a thunk. The motion of an arrow’s fletching wobbling as it stuck into a tree at the base of the hill caught Sarah’s eye. She gasped, worried it may have come from Richard. Perhaps he didn’t see her and was still hunting, although clearly not with the Wortwart brothers. Worse yet, maybe he and Deronda had come across some wickrits. Sarah quickly surveyed the glen below and the winding stream through the open portion of the woods. She spotted Richard and Deronda. They were both running at full speed, hand in hand.

  “Richard!” Sarah called down to them, seeing he did not have his bow drawn and was urging Deronda ahead of him. He stopped at the sound of her voice and looked up, locating her on the hill above them.

  “Sarah! Run!” His eyes were wide, his face stricken with fear.

  Deronda locked eyes with her and Sarah could see that her face was filled with terror. Suddenly, Deronda stopped, and her eyes widened. She turned back around at the sound of Richard’s voice and ran to him with her hand outstretched, as though she were ensuring he wouldn’t be left behind to face whatever they were running from. Richard put his hands up to stop her approach and Deronda halted abruptly like she'd hit a wall.

  Sarah watched in utter confusion and horror as Deronda’s arms went out to her sides and her chest arched backward. Sarah gasped and brought her hands to her mouth when she spotted an arrow protruding from Deronda’s chest.

  “Nooooo!” Richard’s scream curdled through the air.

  In the tree line on the other side o
f the stream came the cracking sound of breaking twigs. Sarah looked up and instantly spotted the bright red smock of the lead soldier she’d seen in Riley’s. His arm, extended with bow in hand, slowly lowered as Deronda fell to her knees.

  Deronda slumped forward. One hand went to the ground while she held the other at the place where her chest had been pierced. Richard sank to the ground and wildly crawled over to her. He turned her over and Sarah could see where a deep crimson began to appear on the front of Deronda’s light gray dress.

  The second soldier ran up behind the first and stopped abruptly as he saw Deronda. Sarah locked eyes with the lead soldier then, her jaw agape in question at what he’d just done. The look of intensity and anger she’d seen on his face at Riley’s was no longer present. His brow sagged, his jaw draped open, and his eyes looked up to her in horror at what he’d just done.

  “You hit Lady Daundecort!” the other man cried and held his hand to the top of his head, his eyes wide in shock.

  Sarah knew instantly that the arrow had been meant for her brother. The soldiers fumbled back into the woods, fleeing. She ran down the slope to where Richard cradled Deronda in his arms. Panting as her heart pounded in her chest, she dropped to the grass beside them.

  Deronda’s body was limp, cradled in Richard’s arms. He wept as he grasped one of her pale hands in his. He cupped her shoulder with his other hand and rubbed his thumb against her arm. Lips parted, each breath Deronda took caused her to jolt. She turned her heavy-lidded eyes away from Richard to Sarah.

  “Oh, Deronda,” Sarah uttered and stroked her hair with a shaky hand. She didn’t know what to say on seeing her friend like this, possibly at her end.

  “Sarah.” Deronda’s voice came out as a whisper and she made an effort to smile.

  “Don’t leave me, Deronda. Hang on!” Richard squeezed her, and her eyes lazily shifted back to him. She tried to bring her free hand up to his face, but halfway through the motion, it dropped back down into her lap. Sarah’s breath caught in her throat. and she bit her lip.

  Richard shook her in his arms and wailed, “Deronda! Deronda! No! Don’t go! Come on!”

  Sarah stifled a sob with her hand. The pressure in her throat made her sputter for air. He had lied to her. He and Deronda were in love.

  “Richard! Richard, stop!” Sarah could take it no longer. She tugged at her brother’s sleeve until he quit shaking Deronda in his arms. He looked over at her with tears in his eyes. “Richard. She…she’s dead.”

  All of the tension sagged out of Richard’s face and they stared at each other in horrified silence.

  FARWIN WOOD

  PRESENT DAY

  RICKY TOOK in his surroundings as he and his aunt walked along the edge of the roadway into Oedher Village. He pondered the possibility that Sarah, Mary, and Francis had kidnapped him and moved his body to the woods outside of Salem after he’d fallen asleep, but the more they walked, though, the less sure he was of that notion. The wickrit had been his first reason to doubt it. The women wouldn’t have been able to manage such an enormous and violent creature. It certainly hadn’t been a robot, so that theory was out too.

  As they entered the village, Ricky saw little cottages with thatched roofs. He noticed scents he’d never experienced before. People stopped to look at them, pointing and whispering. They wore clothing similar to his and his aunt’s, but shabbier, dirtier, and more threadbare. They also looked thin and hungry.

  Several of the buildings had holes in the roofs with ramshackle patchwork coverings. Some had sections of stone missing and charred black smudges on the outside walls.

  “Eyes ahead, Ricky,” Sarah warned under her breath. “The more you gawk at them, the more they’ll gawk at us.”

  “What happened here?” He hurried to catch up to her.

  Sarah kept her head facing forward but looked about the town as she spoke. “I don’t know, but I’m guessing there’s been a war.”

  Ricky looked back down the street and saw that the stragglers still stared after them. Sarah slowed, and Ricky followed her gaze to a high stone wall at the end of the street. It had an archway over two large wooden doors in its center.

  In the shadows, under the archway, a leathery-skinned old man sat on a wooden stool. His salt-and-pepper hair curled up at the ends, dusting his shoulders. His face was covered with the same colored whiskers. He held a sword in his knobby grip. The tip stuck in the dirt and Ricky wondered if it wasn’t held so to prop him up if he nodded off.

  Sarah approached the man slowly. Ricky watched her go and could see the man squinting through the darkness at her with intent curiosity.

  “What are you about, missy?” The man growled through the darkness.

  “Dergus? Is it you?” Sarah called and stopped a few feet away.

  Dergus? What kind of name was that?

  The man stood up like a broken marionette, his joints cracking. Ricky watched him take a step closer to his aunt and swallowed a lump in his throat. It didn’t seem safe to approach an armed person, no matter how archaic the weapon. Although the man was slow to his feet, there were signs of corded muscles in his fifty-something physique. He wore a gray vest over a cream-colored smock. A leather holster crossed his chest and attached to a belt at his waist. With sword at the ready, he looked to be the guard of this place.

  The tension in the man’s face suddenly went lax, and his narrowed eyes grew as he reached for Sarah’s face with his weathered fingers. Ricky gripped the hilt of his sword, although he didn’t know how to use it.

  “It can’t be,” the man whispered. “Lady Sarah?”

  Sarah took the man’s hand and pressed it to her face. She made a wistful sound, pinched her eyes shut, and whispered back, “It’s me, old friend.”

  Half weeping, half laughing, Dergus pulled her to him and clutched her tightly. “Oh, heavens, we thought you were dead! All this time!” He clasped her face in his hands and smiled, which made him look significantly less lethal.

  Ricky relaxed, knowing that his aunt was in no harm. He took a step closer to the gate to get a better look beyond the wall, but he couldn’t see much through the darkness.

  “Richard?”

  He turned when he heard Dergus call him by his formal name. “Yes?”

  “It can’t be. You haven’t aged at all,” Dergus said, grasping Ricky’s arm.

  “Oh, no, Dergus. This isn’t—” Sarah began. She patted Dergus’s hand and continued, “This is Richard’s son—Ricky, short for Richard the second.” Ricky shot her an incredulous look and rolled his eyes.

  “Well, that explains the similarity,” Dergus said with a chuckle. “Just like your father. It’s uncanny. Best we get him inside then, Sarah. A lot has happened since you were last here.”

  Just then, the wooden doors screeched open, revealing two men. Both well-dressed in long-sleeved blue tunics and light gray pantaloons, they looked like knights. Their serious expressions contrasted with the large flowers embroidered on sashes that draped across their chests.

  Dergus grunted at the sight of them and motioned for Ricky and Sarah to follow him through the gate. As he brushed by the men, he gestured to them. “We’ve had some company these last twenty years—Vasimus’s men.”

  “Dergus,” one of the men called in a stern tone. Dergus continued to hobble through the courtyard as the other man closed the gates. The man who had addressed Dergus followed after them and called again, “Master Dergus, who are these two persons?”

  Ricky and his aunt looked at each other. She didn’t seem to know the meaning of this inquiry either.

  Dergus stopped and let out a ragged breath. He turned back around and looked from the man to Sarah. “I suppose everyone will know by sunup anyways, milady.” Dergus grimaced at her and then glared back at the man whose impatience with him was evident.

  “Lady?” the man questioned.

  Sarah took a step toward the man. “I am Lady Sarah Allister of House of Allister,” she spoke with finesse. Ricky smirked at
the condescending tone she used.

  “Lady—” the man stammered and eyed her up and down.

  “—Sarah Allister,” Dergus finished for him, sounding annoyed and wrapping a protective arm around Sarah. “And as this is still Allister Hall and she’s still in charge, I suggest you scamper off!”

  The man, looking humbled, watched Dergus and Sarah continue across an open courtyard to the hall. He turned to Ricky then and said, “My Lord, I apologize.”

  Ricky watched the man bow his head. Unsure how to respond, he inhaled a breath to puff his chest up and waved a hand. “Carry on.”

  Ricky turned and hurried after his aunt and Dergus. The towering doorways to the hall opened into a sizable great room. It looked as though it had the potential to be elegant, yet its present condition was far from impressive. A long provincial table sat at its center, flanked by two benches on each side; one of them was newer and more make-shift than the other, likely a poor replacement of the original. At the end of the room was an expansive fireplace with a stone chimney that ran up the length of the wall to the ceiling. There were two chairs in front of it and an end table. A stone staircase sat opposite the entrance. Ricky jumped at a shrieking noise and ducked as something whooshed above him and out through an opening in the roof.

  “What was that?” he yelled.

  Dergus glanced back at him as he and Sarah walked toward another door near the base of the stairwell across the room. “Haven’t you ever seen a tierumpt?”

  “We don’t have them in the North,” Sarah said to Dergus as she cast a look at Ricky.

  “Ah, they’ve been nesting here at the hall more and more. They must feel safer here, less hunted. Everything’s grown sparse in the land. People clambering for food.” Dergus waved his hand around matter-of-factly.