Abigail and Mother Esterville were watching Marta, intent on what she did and said, but Kyla noticed Leah move quietly away from the others. Almost furtively she made her way around the carriage to the bales of hay stacked at the rear of the stable. She lifted the top bale from one stack and felt beneath it.
More urgently, more quickly she checked the other stacks, then hurried back to the others. “The spell book. It’s gone,” she said.
“Spell book?” Marta said, abandoning her study of the hammer. “What spell book?”
“One Abbie found. It upset her and she told me to get rid of it, so I hid it under a hay bale. It’s gone. Either Jerome or Ed must have taken it. Could they use it, do you think?”
“The Breyadon!” Kyla exclaimed. “It must be! Where did Miss Dormer find it?”
“Someone put it in my desk drawer in my office at school,” Abigail answered. Her voice had an odd ring to it, and Kyla thought she looked ashamed and afraid. That impression was confirmed when Abigail added, “Leah, please, don’t talk about that book.”
Kyla wondered why she made the request, but she never got the chance to ask.
“You, in there,” shouted a masculine voice. “Don’t try anything. Come out with your hands raised. I have an armed posse out here. You can’t escape.”
“That’s Councilor Hardwick,” Mother Esterville said as they all turned toward the door.
Framed in the open doorway stood the councilor, pistol in his hands, aimed at them. “Come quietly,” he ordered, as other men, some in peacekeeper uniforms, most in civilian clothes, came into view behind him. “No funny business. This time you won’t get away.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
ACTS OF COURAGE
Kyla lacked the power to resist the armed men. Her attempts to reach Alair had weakened her too much. Marta’s tracing of Ed had almost certainly left her just as drained. With a nod at Marta, Kyla headed for the stable door to comply with Hardwick’s order. Marta joined her, but Mother Esterville pushed past them both and marched forward to confront Councilor Hardwick.
“Orville Hardwick, what do you mean, frightening innocent women so?” She shook her finger in his face as if she were scolding a naughty child. Several rag-wrapped curls escaped from beneath the confining bonnet and bobbed about her angry face.
Hardwick backed off into the protection of the men gathering behind him. “Mother Esterville?” he asked incredulously. “Mother Esterville, what are you doing here?”
“Why shouldn’t I be here?” she snapped, as though there were nothing unusual about traipsing around town in one’s nightclothes late at night. “I go where the gods tell me to go.” She made a vain attempt to tuck the errant curls under her bonnet.
“What are you doing in the company of these lawbreakers?”
“I’m in the company of friends,” she answered. “I see no lawbreakers here.”
“Do you always meet with your friends in a barn in the middle of the night?”
Hardwick’s question drew laughter from the armed men gathered around him, but he shot them a glare that cut it short. “This is serious,” he said, frowning at Mother Esterville. “Where is Jerome? Does he know what you’re doing?”
“I don’t know where my son is. He and I are both adults and feel no need to report our comings and goings to one another.” Once again she tried to push the wrapped curls back under her bonnet.
Watching that less than successful effort, Hardwick said, “Mother Esterville, your attire, while I mean no disrespect, suggests you left your house unexpectedly and in haste. Care to tell us why?”
Mother Esterville’s hands fell away from her hair. She met Hardwick’s suspicious gaze with haughty disdain. “I responded to friends’ need for assistance. The gods bid us to let nothing interfere with acts of charity.”
“Were these the friends?” Hardwick gestured at Kyla and Marta.
“I have many friends,” Mother Esterville replied vaguely.
“Well, if these are among ’em, you now have two less. Though how you can call them friends I can’t understand. Look at that one,”—indicating Kyla—“dressed like a man. What an abomination!” He waved his men forward. “Take these two women into custody. Keep them under close guard so they don’t get away again.”
Mother Esterville moved to shield them. “On what grounds are you arresting these innocent young women?”
“Madam, you surely know they are fugitives from justice. Jerome must have informed you of their arrest and escape, and your own house was searched.”
“I am very aware of that invasion of my privacy, but I have yet to hear what crimes these women are charged with.”
Kyla felt guilty remaining silent while Mother Esterville defended her, but she knew Hardwick was more likely to listen to Mother Esterville than to anything she or Marta might say. Marta, too, forbore from arguing with Hardwick, though she protested loudly when two of his men grabbed her and yanked her outside.
“Their crimes should not concern you, madam,” Kyla heard Hardwick say as she, too, was roughly dragged from the barn. “And you, Miss Dormer—I’m considering arresting you for harboring fugitives.”
Kyla heard Abigail speak, but could not distinguish the words. She thought Leah said something in Abigail’s defense as two men not busy restraining her and Marta stepped inside the barn and moved toward Abigail.
“Miss Dormer has not been harboring fugitives,” Mother Esterville said, moving to block the two men. “If by fugitives, you mean these innocent women, they have been my guests for the past several days. It has been my joy to be their hostess, for they are blessed of the gods.”
“You?” Hardwick shouted. “You’ve been concealing these charlatans? How have you kept it from Jerome?”
“I have done nothing without the full knowledge and consent of my son,” Mother Esterville said. “He is well aware of the injustice you have perpetrated on these dear young ladies, who are no charlatans but true miracle workers.”
Hardwick spluttered in rage, finally succeeded in getting out, “Jerome? Knew? Tricked me? You— Men, arrest her. Woman, you’ve cost Jerome his job. He’ll be thrown in the guardhouse as soon as he shows up.”
“You need not restrain me,” Mother Esterville said to the men who seized her arms. “I will go willingly with my honored guests. I am pleased to be counted worthy to share their fate.”
“Mother Esterville, you shouldn’t—” Kyla began.
“I should,” Mother Esterville interrupted firmly. “It is the will of the gods.”
The men, under Hardwick’s direction, led the women to a waiting coach. Abigail and Leah followed hesitantly, looking frightened and indecisive. Seeing them reminded Kyla of her urgent mission.
“Wait, please,” she said to her peacekeeper guards. “I have something I must tell Miss Dormer.”
They slowed but did not stop. “Miss Dormer,” she called back to the woman, “you had a student at your school named Veronica. She’s unhappy with her new teacher. It’s urgent that you see her and calm her. She has power, she—”
“Here, none of that.” A big man who’d been leading Marta came over and cuffed Kyla on the side of the face. “Miss Dormer has nothing more to do with Veronica or my girls or any other of the students who’ve left her school. And it’s no business of yours.” He called to Hardwick, “Orville? You hear what this witch-girl was saying?”
As Hardwick approached, Kyla said, “Councilor Hardwick, I understand your daughter is teaching students from Miss Dormer’s school. She is in grave danger. You must listen. One student, Veronica, must be sent back to Miss Dormer. She’s a threat to your daughter’s life.”
Hardwick slammed the back of his hand against Kyla’s mouth. “My daughter’s school is no business of yours,” he bellowed. “Neither is Abigail Dormer’s. Where’s Simple Eddie?”
Kyla spat blood from the cut inside her lip. “I know no one by that name,” she said.
“I say you do. Why else would you be inter
ested in the schools? Why would you care whether Miss Dormer gets her students back unless you’d talked to Simple Eddie?” He raised his hand to strike her again.
Abigail Dormer ran forward and caught his hand. “If you are referring to my cousin, Edwin Robbins, I have reason to believe that he may have drowned in the creek behind my property. These ladies have been helping Leah and me search for him.”
“Oh?” he sneered. “Simple Eddie is your cousin now? And you think he drowned in the creek, so you were searching the barn?”
Abigail managed to maintain her dignity despite his scorn. “Earlier I saw someone carrying a lantern across my property. I came out to investigate. I heard shouts and sounds of a struggle out by the creek.” She told the story in rapid bursts as if afraid of losing her courage if she didn’t get it all out quickly. All the men gathered round to listen, still keeping a tight hold on Kyla and Marta.
“I recognized Edwin’s voice and hurried to help him. Before I got there, I heard loud splashes. When I reached the bank, I found signs of a fight—footprints in the mud, a shoeing hammer from my barn, a broken lantern. No sign of anyone. I searched in the creek, then went and got Leah. These ladies came up, and we hunted all along the bank but found nothing. I had put the shoeing hammer back into its place in the barn, and I was showing it to them when you arrived.”
“I suppose I’d better look at whatever it is you’re calling signs of a fight,” Hardwick said.
“I’m coming along,” said the big man who’d cuffed Kyla. “Don’t forget, it was my daughters that fool assaulted.”
“Edwin never touched your daughters, Homer Farley,” Abigail said angrily. “The truth is, they tormented him unmercifully, and he never retaliated.”
“That’s what you say. I say differently and so do my girls. I hope he has drowned. He’ll save us all a lot of trouble.” The big man stalked off toward the creek.
“The rest of you take these women on to the guardhouse,” Hardwick said. “Don’t take your eyes off them. I hold you responsible. They must not escape.”
“They won’t,” a man holding Marta promised.
Kyla was dragged to a waiting coach and forced inside, as were Marta and Mother Esterville. The men crowded in beside them, filling the coach with the smell of sweat and hair grease. A driver set the horses into motion, and the coach lurched and rattled and swayed through the streets to the guardhouse.
More tramping up and down the creek bank, this time in the unpleasant company of Orville Hardwick and Homer Farley. More fruitless speculation on how Edwin could have disappeared so quickly. They did gather up the pillowcase with Ed's belongings and the broken lantern to take as "evidence," while Farley ranted about the “slipperiness of the idiot.” All of that plus Leah’s worried hovering left Abigail exhausted in mind and body.
The eastern sky was taking on a rosy glow when Farley and Hardwick took their leave, and Leah and Abigail stumbled into their house.
When Leah suggested breakfast, Abigail groaned. “I can’t eat. I need rest. Please, Leah, I need to be alone.”
Leah followed her upstairs, wanting to talk, wanting to fuss over her. Abigail pushed her away, went into her room, and closed and locked her door.
She dropped onto her bed and lay with her arm over her eyes. She’d failed Edwin again. She’d failed to prevent the arrest of the wonder workers, about whom she’d apparently been wrong, at least to some extent. Her letter to Orville Hardwick had started this whole disastrous string of events. If she hadn’t been so quick to judge …
Leah liked Kyla and Marta. Abigail had to admit that their concern for Edwin did seem deep and genuine, as did their desire to help him. Not once had they belittled him, and Marta had even spoken admiringly about him. If they had seen in him qualities to which everyone else was blind, they might in truth have special gifts.
Also, there was the matter of the spell book. She should have spoken up when Leah found its hiding place empty, but she had kept silent and let them believe it had been stolen. It belonged to Kyla and Marta; they could have told her about it if she’d been honest with them. Maybe they could have explained why she could read it while Leah couldn’t.
She told herself she hadn’t had time. Hardwick and his men had come up before she could say anything. And if she had left the book under the bale of hay, Leah would have brought it out just in time to have it confiscated by Hardwick and Farley. Abigail had saved it, but that made her feel no better.
She wouldn’t have confessed to having the book even if Hardwick and Farley hadn’t appeared. She wouldn’t have asked about it, wouldn’t have dared admit to Kyla and Marta that she could read it. The knowledge shamed her, but she could not hide from it.
Abigail had always considered Mother Esterville a silly and superstitious old woman. But Mother Esterville had shown the courage to stand up for her friends and speak out for her beliefs, while Abigail cowered in the darkness of the barn.
She sat up on the bed. She’d been passive for too long. If the book did hold real magic, if it was the key to helping Edwin, she’d have to summon the courage to use it.
And what of Kyla’s parting cry to her about Veronica Crowell? How had Kyla known of Veronica, and what did she know? Veronica was a fine girl, though a bit hot-tempered, and a brilliant student. She could not be a danger to Genevieve Wirth. Yet Kyla had delivered the request with such urgency that Abigail dare not ignore it.
It was time to put her fears aside and get busy. First, she’d retrieve the spell book and see whether it held a spell that would help her locate Edwin. If it did, no matter how silly it seemed, and how foolish she felt, she would try it and see what happened.
After that she would pay a visit to the Crowell home and insist on talking to Veronica. She would learn whether Kyla’s odd warning had any basis in fact.
Ed watched Jerome walk away, toward the apple trees. He didn’t go after him. Why should he? This was a safe place; Jerome was in no danger, and neither was he. Let Jerome explore. If he got hungry, he could eat apples and maybe catch some fish.
Jerome’s questions had made Ed curious about the extent of this place, this other world. Rather than looking after Jerome, why not do his own exploring? As far as he could see, everything was exactly as he had imagined it. The meadow with its lovely flowers, the apple trees, the creek, the hill, the woods—he’d pictured them in great detail, and here they were, exactly as his imagination had drawn them.
But he had never ventured far into the woods, never thought about what lay beyond them. He had waded across the brook, but he had never walked far into the fields on the other side. He had no idea whether the fields stretched on forever or the world simply ended at the limits of his imagined place. Possibly he could enlarge it by picturing more of it. Say, mountains. Purple peaks just visible on the far horizon.
Squinting, he gazed off into the distance. Was there shape and substance to the purple haze where land and sky met? Could that be sunlight glinting off a snow-covered peak?
He smiled. He’d only seen mountains in pictures. North Woods Province, where Kyla and Marta were from, had a lot of mountains, but Inland Province, at least the part around Carey, was flat farmland. Trees grew along the rivers that watered the land, but there were no real forests.
Yet he’d put the woods in his special place because it seemed right, and he’d wanted shade and a place for small animals to live and play. It wasn’t big, he didn’t think, not like a real forest. He’d explore it today. On another day, maybe, he’d go and find the mountains.
He looked again to see what Jerome was doing. Picking apples, he thought. No, he had reached to break a branch from the tree. He shouldn’t do that. Ed considered going to him and scolding him for hurting the tree. They were, after all, Ed’s trees, and Jerome had no business damaging even one.
But then Jerome did pick and eat an apple, and did not seem bent on further destruction of the trees. He swung the branch about, hit it against his palm, and carried it as he marched
farther off. The woods lay in the opposite direction, and Ed decided to ignore Jerome and follow his plan of exploration.
It was cool among the trees and full of the rich smell of growing things. Filtered sunlight dappled the carpet of leaves. In the deep shade, moss squished beneath his boots. A squirrel chittered from a branch high overhead. It dropped a nut at his feet. He picked it up and looked up with a grin. “Thanks for the treat,” he told the squirrel as he cracked the nut and popped it into his mouth.
The sweet, crunchy morsel woke his appetite. He wished the squirrel would drop more, but it scampered away. He looked around for the nut tree, found it after a short search, and shook its branches, bringing down a rain of bounty.
He hadn’t known where to find the nut tree. He had known such trees grew in the woods; they were part of his plan. But the woods weren’t like the meadow where everything was familiar. He'd never pictured them in the detail he had lavished on the meadow, the brook, and the apple trees. Yet everything was as real, as clear and precise here as it had been out there, and he had no sense of making it up as he went along. He hadn’t put the nut tree where he found it. It had simply been there.
He was not frightened by this discovery, only curious and more eager than ever to explore. He wandered for a considerable time, contented, humming to himself, satisfying his hunger with nuts and berries found along the way. Occasionally he remembered Jerome and wondered what he was doing, but those were casual thoughts with no concern attached.
He found a soft, mossy bank by a little stream that ran burbling through rocks. Lying down on the moss, he allowed the stream’s song to lull him to sleep.
When he awoke, it was growing dark. He had never been in this world at night, had not been sure it had a night. Maybe he should leave the woods and go back to the meadow, where he could see open sky and stars.
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