Read Back From Chaos Online

Authors: Yvonne Hertzberger

Back From Chaos (34 page)

BOOK: Back From Chaos
4.47Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

~ 79 ~

 

EVIDENCE

 

Klast put off his sleep, donned his Bethin disguise and proceeded to the inn to speak with Haslin. Dawn just showed its first glow of red behind the buildings, hinting at rain to come, when Klast entered the inn and sat at his usual corner table.

He ordered the not so usual breakfast of porridge with a fried egg on top and brewed chicory, a bitter drink made from the roasted, dried roots of that plant. Klast liked its bitterness sometimes, when he needed to sharpen his mind.

Norlain protested that the porridge was not quite ready, so Klast advised her he would wait for it. The odd breakfast request was a code Haslin would recognize. Norlain would merely think it strange.

Shortly after Norlain disappeared into the kitchen, Haslin came out to Klast to apologize for not having porridge ready. Klast knew Haslin had told Norlain to stay behind in the kitchen so they would not be disturbed. Haslin had the mug of hot brew with him as he approached Klast’s table.


What do you have for me?” Klast demanded.

Haslin shifted from one foot to the other. “A man received a message, sir, delivered by my son. Paid him well, too.” He jerked his head in the direction of the stairs. “Top room at the right.”


And the address he got it from?”

Haslin licked his lips, now clearly nervous. “Second house on the left, past the bakery, the one three streets over in the good part of city.” He looked ready to run. “Sir, my wife will become suspicious.”


Go. I will send your payment when I see the message and verify the address. Do not allow your guest to leave. I suspect he will sleep late, so that should not cause difficulty.”

Haslin heaved a sigh of relief and hurried back to the kitchen. Norlain soon reappeared, scowling. She stalked out with his bowl and plunked it front of him without a word. Her attitude had not changed. So, thought Klast, Haslin is keeping his word. She does not suspect.

Klast ate hurriedly, left coin for his breakfast and went in search of guards. They frequented another inn a street away, which had friendlier young maids. Removing his old tunic along with his sly demeanour to reveal his true identity, he strode hurriedly over to find them. His memory served him well. A half dozen soldiers shared porridge, ale and flirtations at a table in the centre of the main room. Two recognized him immediately and hailed him to join them. Klast knew they did not like him particularly, but it was politic to be friendly with the lord’s man. No matter. As long as they did their duty.

Klast went directly to one of the guards who had hailed him. He gave him and a second man he did not recognize orders to arrest the guest at Haslin’s inn and place him in the dungeon away from others. They were not to question him or give him a reason for his arrest. He ordered the other guard who had recognized him to accompany the first two and to stand guard outside the man’s room to make sure no one went in or out until Klast returned to inspect it. He took the remaining three with him and headed for the address Haslin had given him.

Klast knew the house well. Sinnath had kept his mistress here until she died of the fever. Sinnath’s wife had refused to take in his son by the woman. Now the boy was looked after at the house by another woman, who had lost her husband. This woman also had a child, a year younger than Sinnath’s son. Klast suspected the new woman offered Sinnath more than housekeeping and childcare. The arrangement no doubt suited them both. No matter. That was not what he was after.

Sinnath had already left when they arrived. Undeterred, Klast posted one man at each of the two doors and set the last one to hold the woman and children in the kitchen. The woman was plainly frightened and perplexed. She shrank back from the door, pushing the two curious boys behind her skirts. Klast surmised she knew nothing of what Sinnath had been up to and did not bother to question her. He only asked if Sinnath had received a message from a young lad the evening before and where Sinnath usually wrote his correspondence and received visitors. His started his search there.

The chamber where Sinnath conducted his business held a table where he kept his correspondence. It bore the traits of a man organized to the point of compulsion. The room was clearly out of bounds to the children. Everything had a place and kept its place. Klast went straight to the ornately carved writing table in the centre. It had a foreign design. Eastern, Klast decided, perhaps from the demesne of Karlin, rare except in the homes of certain aristocrats. He found no letters on top and pulled out each of the three drawers. Here, too, he found nothing of interest until he turned the smallest one upside down. There, affixed to the bottom with bee’s wax, sat a flat sac of stiffened folded linen. Inside, he found three pieces of scraped leather with writing on them, in two different hands. Each showed that the wax from the broken seals had been removed, leaving only the stain of their colour, so that the identity of the sender could not be traced. Klast’s reading skills were only rudimentary but he recognized Lord Gaelen’s name and the words woman, dead and poison in the one with the odd hand and red wax. He knew the orange colour of the stain on the other two to be that used by aristocrats in Catania.

Klast carefully peeled off the sac, placed it and its contents in his belt pouch and searched the rest of the room, finding nothing more. He hoped it was enough. He gave the rest of the house a cursory search and concluded there was nothing more of interest to be found. Then he left the three puzzled guards with orders that the woman and children were not to leave the house, and no one was to be allowed to speak with them or enter the building.

Klast needed to find Sinnath before the traitor found out what had happened. And he needed to search Haslin’s guest’s room as soon as possible. He hoped the guards he had left could be trusted. He felt confident about the two who had recognized him at the inn, but knew nothing of the others and had no time to find out more.

As he left the house, Klast considered the best way to arrest Sinnath without creating a public spectacle. Such attention could alert Sinnath’s supporters and cause speculation among the rest. Both must be avoided.

~ 80 ~

 

HASLIN’S REVENGE

 

When the three guards burst into the inn Norlain froze, and her face went ashen. Then, as many fearful persons do when they think themselves found out, she went on the offensive.


Stop! What is the meaning of this?” she shouted, striding after them as they approached the room Klast had indicated. “I will not have my good guests disturbed!”

She might as well have ordered the sky to fall.

While one guard stood aside, the first two burst through the door and hauled the groggy trader out of bed and onto his feet. Ornan had slept with his clothes on. Norlain gawked through the open door as they relieved him of his only dagger and checked his boots, where they found another blade.

Ament, the first guard, commanded, “Put on your boots. You are coming with us.” He also sliced a pouch from his captive’s waist and threw it on the bed.


What is the meaning of this?” Ornan sputtered in indignation. “I am a peaceful trader. You must have the wrong man.”


No questions. You will find out later,” Ament growled, nodding to the second soldier to tie the prisoner’s wrists and hobble his ankles, while he held him. Without another word, amid ongoing protestations, the two each took an arm and marched him down the stairs, out the door, and down the street to a cell in the dungeons.

All Norlain could do was wring her hands and watch.

The third guard, Gresh, closed the door behind them and stood in front of it, alert, sword ready.

Norlain fled into the kitchen, where Haslin had remained the entire time. She found him calmly preparing stew for the evening meal. She shrilled at him. “Haslin, what is happening? Do something!”

He merely shrugged, looked at her, and said, “But my dear, I already have. Surely you can see that?” and went back to his carrots.

This only agitated Norlain further. “I see nothing if the sort.” Her voice rose to a shriek. “We are undone! We shall go to prison!” Then she stopped and looked at him, suspicion dawning as he continued calmly chopping carrots. “What have you done?”


Assured our survival and the goodwill of our lord. What else would you have had me do?”

He turned and gave her a sardonic smile. “I suggest, my dear, that you be quiet before you give yourself away. I have been granted safety for us both, but only if you do not implicate yourself. Then I cannot protect you. Your own mouth will send you to prison.” He hesitated a long moment and added, “Or shall I tell the guards what you have been up to?”

Norlain paled again and took a step back from him. “No. You would not,” she whispered fiercely. After a pause she eyed him carefully and asked, “Would you?”


No,” he answered mildly as he scooped the carrots into the pot, “not unless I need to.” Then he smiled at her knowingly again. “I will not need to, will I? Now, do you have no work to do?”

Norlain knew she was beaten. She said nothing. Her shoulders sagged as she retreated back to the main room.

~ 81 ~

 

LOTHA

 


Do you wish someone present when I examine you, my dear?” the midwife asked when she emerged from Marja’s chamber.


Oh, no! Please, I cannot let anyone see!” Brensa hurriedly showed the midwife into her own chamber.

Brensa’s distress was even more acute than Marja had prepared Lotha for. The midwife understood immediately that Brensa had suffered some severe trauma. It was written clearly in her hunched posture and in the way her eyes darted about the room, afraid to meet hers, filled with both fear and shame. She had seen such in her work before and had no trouble recognizing the signs. Poor girl, she thought as she closed the door behind Brensa.


My child, you need not fear. I think I know somewhat of what you have endured. Men can be brutes.”

Brensa’s eyes widened even further in shock. Had someone told her? “Do you have the seer’s gift?”

Lotha shook her head. “But I am right, am I not? You have been ill-used?” At Brensa’s tight affirmation she nodded briskly. “I have seen such before. What you tell me or show me will not surprise me. But before we begin, perhaps you will permit me to brew you a calming tea, and you may tell me why you have chosen to see me at this time. Do you suspect you are with child?”


No, no! Not that! But …”

Lotha put water on the brazier to boil and began to rummage in the basket she carried with her everywhere for the right herbs for tea. She avoided looking at Brensa, hoping the girl would find the courage to go on. She made a show of looking for something and muttering to herself to give Brensa time.

Brensa stammered on. “Something happened in the spring and now …”


Ah, here it is,” Lotha announced. As she straightened up she gave Brensa a delighted smile, as though this were the most ordinary conversation in the world. As Lotha hoped it would, the kindness in her smile reached Brensa, so that she relaxed slightly. Lotha turned to her tea again. As she filled the pot with herbs, she went on. “So you were ill-used in the spring. I would very much like to hear just what happened. It will help me understand what it is I need to look for.”

Brensa stammered out her story, snatches at a time between shamed silences, while Lotha bustled about and inserted the occasional “tsk,” and “terrible,” with an attitude that suggested she understood but was not too surprised or disturbed by any of it. All in a days work, so to speak. Nothing new here. Not really so serious and shameful as all that. None of this was spoken, but Brensa heard the message just the same and gradually calmed.

Lotha handed Brensa a mug of tea and poured one for herself. She sat down next to her on the bed, patted her hand and said, “Now, my child, what is it you wish from me today?”

The practiced, motherly gesture disarmed Brensa, as it was intended to do. She hung her head, tears spilling into her lap, as she whispered, “I need to know if I can … you know … without pain … and bear children?” She ventured a sideways glance to see Lotha’s reaction.

Lotha merely nodded at the floor. She knew from long practice that Brensa would reveal more if she did not make eye contact. “I see. Tell me, are your moon times normal like before?”

Out of the corner of her eye Lotha saw Brensa give a timid nod.


Yes.” The whisper could barely be heard.


Good. That is a good sign.”

Lotha turned to look at Brensa’s face as she went on. “I will need to look at you under your gown. Will you permit me to do that? I will be gentle and do no more than necessary. And there is nothing you can show me that I have not seen before.”

Fear returned to Brensa’s eyes, but also determination. She met Lotha’s gaze, gave an affirmative jerk, and looked quickly away again. Lotha could see the effort it took the girl not to back down.

Lotha patted her hand again. “That is very brave of you.” Taking the now empty mug from Brensa’s rigid hand she set it alongside her own on the small table by the bed. “Now, Brensa, will you lie down for me?”

Brensa obeyed stiffly, legs pressed tightly together, ankles crossed. Lotha took no apparent notice. Still muttering small soothing murmurs, she simply untied Brensa’s sandals, slipped them off gently, one by one, and set them under the bed. “There, that is better.”

BOOK: Back From Chaos
4.47Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

Other books

The Victorian Internet by Tom Standage
Black Pearls by Louise Hawes
Dixie Diva Blues by Virginia Brown
A Knight to Remember by Christina Dodd
A Splash of Red by Antonia Fraser