Thief of Cahraman Page 4

  When I snapped out of it and rolled the trolleys back in, the barrels were at the top of the stairs rather than waiting for me at the bottom. A pleased flush overtook me as I fought down a giddy smile. I’d heard of boys trying to win girls’ favors through help and gifts, but I had never thought I’d be on the receiving end of it myself.

  Elation filled my chest like a balloon, making me light on my feet, practically floating as I rolled out the barrels, set them on the cart and rode down the hill with the horse leading the way, more focused than I was.

  Though we were on the verge of summer, the last chilly remnants of spring clung in the air, breaths of wind and vapor that covered my skin like cool sweat, and hung from the biggest field flowers in fat dewdrops. Then, while traversing the vast green sea of fields on our way towards the bonfire campsite, the horse took a surprise turn and dragged the cart closer to the Hornswoods.

  Near the clearing, the chill went from that of a late spring breeze to a creeping winter freeze, sending harsh shivers through my body. I hunched, tightening my grip on the reins to steer the horse back on the straight path, to avoid coming near the antlered figure that loomed over the clearing.

  Just as we pulled away from the trees, I again felt something watching me. That same thing I’d felt yesterday. My marrow froze with the surge of unreasoning panic all over again. I tossed a panting glance behind me, to assure myself that it was all in my mind, that the statue hadn’t come to life and begun to stalk me, its eye-slits glowing like pits of hellfire.

  It hadn’t. It was still where it had always been, an unsightly horror guarding the mile-high grey trees behind it. But beyond it I could see something move.

  Swallowing the bile of dread, I looked back ahead, shaking all over as I prodded my horse to go faster. I tried to steel myself with the rational thought that it must be a deer or a bear, or whatever wildlife lived this far north. Or it might even be the aforementioned fairies, hunting said deer and bears with their magic arrows and unicorns. Either way, neither would be watching me.

  It didn’t work. I still couldn’t shake the conviction that whatever it was, it had been watching me specifically.

  I was still shaking when I arrived at the campsite an hour later. It took effort to unload my cart and steady myself. But it took delivering the liquor to the stone tables near the wicker figures to get me excited.

  It was a setting straight out of schoolbook engravings. An ancient stone basin filled with logs, surrounded by the giant wicker effigies of a woman, a man, a cow and a reindeer, each representation standing on a cardinal direction. The Field Queen, the Pale Man, the Mother Goddess and the Horned God. Fertility, bravery, life, and death.

  I couldn’t wait to help burn the last one.

  By the time I returned to the tavern, dusk had arrived and Bonnie was waiting for me outside, her ghost-like mask on, while her father and Etheline chatted on the porch behind her.

  I parked the cart and waved at them. “Did Ella show up?”

  Bonnie tilted her head, her eyes narrowed in a silent question of “Who?” before remembering with a long “Ohhh, no!”

  “You mean Ornella Dufreyne?” Mr. Fairborn asked me, scratching his stubbly cheek. “She’s finally joining us tonight?”

  “What do you mean finally?”

  Mr. Fairborn shrugged, sticking his hands in his pockets. “I’ve been trying to have her and Bonnie be friends ever since her mother died, but any time I asked her father to bring her over, he would always be busy, or out of town. Then that screeching harpy moved in with her foul daughters—”

  “Dad.” Bonnie nudged him with her book, cutting off his oncoming tirade.

  “Sorry, dear.” Mr. Fairborn shook his head, reaching out to stroke Bonnie’s hair. “I’m afraid in my old age I have little patience left for difficult people.”

  “Oh, I find if anything, your patience grows as you age,” said Etheline, seeming to gaze into thin air over my head. “Bothersome people like that become a source of entertainment after a while, especially if you know how to deal with them.”

  It was no secret that anyone here who owned a business detested Lady Dufreyne, as she treated them and their underlings like her own personal servants. Etheline had to be the only person here not to badmouth her. Even when she’d thrown her destructive tantrum in the tavern, Etheline had only offered her a slight chuckle and headshake, like the whole thing had amused her more than anything.

  “So, should we go get her before it gets too dark?” I suggested.

  “No,” said Miss Etheline, descending the porch steps and slipping on her blue lacquered mask. “Better not to get involved with that family. Last thing we need is Dolora stomping back in here and breaking my new glassware because she thinks we kidnapped her slave.”

  I couldn’t help cringing at that.

  Mr. Fairborn reached the ground first, hand held out. “May I escort you?”

  Etheline gave him a gracious tilt of her head. “You may.” She then turned to me, offering me her ring of keys, seafoam eyes so vivid they appeared to be glowing behind her mask. “Adelaide, do you mind finishing up and hustling everyone else out then locking up behind you?”

  Being the last one out during nightfall was the last thing I needed right now, but my job came before my knee-knocking fear.

  Forcing a calm smile, I took the keys on my way in. “No, ma’am.”

  “Try not to take long, girls,” Mr. Fairborn said as they walked away. “We’re setting the wickers alight soon and I believe Adelaide claimed dibs on the reindeer.”

  “Yep, first light on that horned beast is ours,” I murmured as I headed to draw the curtains on each barroom window.

  “Don’t worry, Dad, we’ll be right behind you.” Bonnie waved them off, before rushing to follow me in.

  Once the door was shut, Bonnie hopped up onto the bar, feet kicking, eager eyes following me behind her moon-white mask. I had a feeling I was about to be cornered back into the dreaded subject and decided to move around as much as possible to avoid talking.

  As I went around wiping down tables and booths with a wet rag, she cracked open that blasted book and cleared her throat. “So, have you had time to think about it?”

  I made a show of scraping dried food off a table. “About what?”

  “About which way you’d like to travel, through the woods or across the sea?”

  “How about to the nearest lake town? You’ve never seen a lake, right? It’s like a sea but you know where it ends.”

  She showed me the map of Folkshore again, tapping the darker space between HERICEURRA and ARBORIA. “We know where the sea ends. It ends where we need to go.”

  I held back a pathetic whine. “We don’t need to go anywhere, you know. We have everything here.”

  “Everything but answers.”

  “But I don’t have any questions.”

  “Adelaide!”

  “What?”

  “Why are you being so odd today?” She slid her mask up on her hair to scrutinize me with a wrinkled nose and brow. “Is it about you getting spooked yesterday?”

  “Spooked is an understatement.”

  “Really? Years of living on your own, sleeping who knows where and eating who knows what and a deer’s eyes are what does it?”

  The muscle-tightening worry from earlier was now back in full-force, not just from whatever being had caught me in a staring contest yesterday, but because I couldn’t find a nice or reasonable way to tell her to drop the subject.

  I threw the rag onto the floor and started wiping with my foot, following a trail of drizzled beer. “You yourself said it wasn’t a deer, Bonnie.”

  “Then what do you think it was?”

  “I don’t know, and I don’t want to know.”

  She shut the book with a loud slap, the flames in her eyes extinguished, her eager impatience lingering like smoke. “Why are you being like this? How do you go from being reckless and adventurous to being so…so timid?”

  I
resented that. I had never claimed to be a gutsy, fearless adventurer like her folktale heroes. I was just someone who did whatever it took to survive. And right now, the best case for my survival would be staying put, not seeking out fairy creatures or rowing to an unknown land.

  There was no way I could explain all I felt without her bringing up my past experiences as contradictions. It wasn’t her fault that she couldn’t understand me, just like I couldn’t understand why anyone would want to leave a loving father and safe town for danger, or even death. I had no choice but to tell her the unadorned truth of my feelings.

  “Because I don’t want to leave!” I shouted. “I never want to leave again.”

  Then I ducked into the next room before she could object.

  Once again, I tried to push aside the distressing situation by busying myself. I went around tidying, dialing down gaslights and shooing people out of the tavern.

  In the last lit room, I collided with Nestor.

  Gasping, I fell a few steps back and he caught my arms, steadying me, already offering me his endearing half-smile. “Alright there?”

  I couldn’t help returning his smile, before self-consciousness made me avoid his eyes in favor of my feet. “Yeah, I guess.”

  “You closing up?”

  I nodded, chewing on my bottom lip as he walked around me, trying to think of a way to bring up the picnic. I didn’t talk to boys often, and when I did it was never personal, so I had no idea what to say or what I shouldn’t say, especially if I liked them.

  And I did like Nestor.

  To my relief, he brought it up. “So, I was wondering if you could return the favor tonight?”

  The silly, giddy feeling from our first conservation was back, I felt the urge to squeal like a whistling teapot. I couldn’t believe this was happening.

  I inhaled deeply, going lightheaded, my headache gone and replaced with a dreamy rose-scented fog. “Do you want to sit by me tonight?” I played with my fingers to keep them from shaking. “That could be a way to get to know each other.”

  “That’d be great! You’ll be on the same bench as the Fairborns, right?”

  “Yeah, if you want Mr. Fairborn’s approval for an outing or something, he’d be right there. He’s very agreeable, you know. I think he’ll like you.”

  His face lit up as he broke out a full hopeful smile that made my heart flutter. “Really?”

  I nodded, tucking a lock of hair behind my ear.

  He set gentle hands on my shoulders, looking me in the eye so I was the sole focus of his attention. “Thank you. I’ve been wanting this for years and had no idea how to bring this up.”

  The dreamy fog was blown out my ears, making room for the dozen question marks that popped up in its place like daisies. “Years?”

  He chuckled, rolling one shoulder in a nervous motion. “Ever since I saw her in school, reading to our schoolmistress’s dog by the fountain, I just knew she was something special.”

  Bonnie. He had meant Bonnie, not me.

  Disappointment sank through me like I had swallowed a spoonful of scorching porridge.

  Of course, he meant Bonnie. I was an idiot to think otherwise.

  “Is there something wrong?”

  “I’m fine,” I croaked, coughing to clear my throat as I moved past him. “I need to finish up before we leave.”

  “You sure?”

  I rubbed at my eyes as I turned off lamps and blew out candles, trying not to sniffle. “I’m sure. Why don’t you go keep Bonnie company till I come out?”

  “Wouldn’t it be better if I show up later?”

  “No, it’s getting dark, so we’ll need you to escort us down to the campsite.”

  “I didn’t think a girl like you could be scared of the dark,” he joked, oblivious to the barrage of depressing emotions I was drowning under.

  “Neither did I.”

  This day just couldn’t get any worse.

  I took a longer time than needed checking and locking the last few rooms, giving myself time to steady my mood and my breathing as that thought looped around my head like a windstorm.

  When I returned to the bar to hang up my apron, Nestor was unsuccessfully trying to chat up a bored Bonnie. Upon seeing me, she hopped off the counter and hugged me. “I’m sorry.”

  I instinctively put my arms around her, resting my cheek on her hair. “For what?”

  “For being so insensitive. I know how you don’t want to leave this town, let alone the whole land.”

  “I don’t mind leaving on a trip, or even a long journey, but leaving for good is just too much.”

  “You’re right, it’s too far-fetched.” She pulled back a little to face me. “Maybe we should settle for a nearby trip. Who knows, I may not even like traveling.”

  I let out a tired laugh. “Good idea.”

  If Bonnie left, I would go with her. If she stayed and married Nestor, I would be happy for her. She had given me her friendship, her support, and even her home. The least I could do was support whatever made her happy.

  The moment was shattered by a slow series of knocks on the front door.

  Apprehension rose up my spine as I approached it. “Who is it?”

  Three more knocks followed, hard yet hollow, not made by someone’s knuckles.

  Chest tight, I reached out and pulled the door open.

  Right on the tavern’s porch, stark against the darkness of the night, were the blazing, hovering eyes.

  Chapter Three

  Before I could scream, or stumble back, or even draw my next breath, the eyes came closer.

  Their light dimmed suddenly, and the face behind them became clear.

  Standing before me on the dim-lit porch was not a fairy creature, or the Horned God, or a demonic deer, but a trembling woman no taller than me.

  Raised in her hand up to eye-level was a polished golden staff. The braided metal of its twisted shaft curved up to a snake-head handle with gems embedded in its eyes that reflected the light coming from behind me. Reflected, not glowed, and much too small to be those fearful eyes.

  Relief flooded my body as I let out the air I’d been holding in and opened the door wider.

  In the flickering light streaming from inside the tavern, I saw the sequined pattern of her dress clearer than her face. She didn’t have the carriage of an older person, so the trembling wasn’t from age.

  “Are you alright?” I asked.

  In answer, she limped fully into the light and—

  For the first time in my life I understood what the phrase a dazzling sight meant.

  She was swathed in a wine-red, satin gown with billowy sleeves, and sequined phoenixes embroidered on its full skirt. Her long, smooth throat was draped in an eye-popping choker of diamonds and dangling topaz, and a matching bejeweled clasp sparkled in her glossy, dark, red-tinted hair.

  Draped in all that glitz, she looked like a high lord’s lost wife, as out of place in this land as my black hair. My fingers twitched, itching to snatch anything off her, already calculating how much pawning them could get and how long I could live off that sum.

  I shook my head, snapping myself out of it. She likely was some high lord’s lost wife, and she seemed injured, too, making her far from my typical target. Besides, I wasn’t going to steal anymore. Not unless I absolutely needed to.

  Bonnie ducked under my arm, extending a hand to her. “Can we help you?”

  The woman snatched her arm away from Bonnie. I was wondering if she was averse to being touched by a stranger, or if she distrusted us, but then her eyes landed back on me, and she relaxed and reached out for me instead.

  It was a startling surprise, for someone to trust me over Bonnie. Her long fingers clasped my forearm, glittery nails digging in, holding on tightly. Before I could pull away myself, she put half her weight on me, almost knocking me off balance.

  We ended up bent over, still on the same level, and I could see her face up close. She had flawless skin, brows filled in with a maroon
pencil, full, burgundy-painted lips, and cat-like, light amber eyes framed by big, dark lashes.

  Scratch the choker; I wanted her eyes.

  “Yes…you can,” she finally answered, trembling with nerves or cold, shaking me along with her. “My carriage…it has sustained some damage and can no longer move.”

  Her voice and articulation complemented her appearance, smooth, refined, making my stretched-out vowels and lilting accent seem cacophonous in comparison.

  “Come in,” I offered, straightening and starting to pull her with me through her painful grip on me. “We can send someone to check it over in the morning.”

  “No!” Her protest echoed all around us.

  She straightened, too, still holding on to me. Whether it was for steadiness or for comfort, I didn’t care. I wasn’t fond of being touched by a stranger and her clinging just made the contact more uncomfortable.

  “I need to get back home,” she said urgently. “Please, I don’t have much time.”

  Bonnie, who had stiffened at her yell, softened enough to nod. “How about I go get my father? He’s the town smith, and can help with your carriage.”

  “Yes, yes, please,” the woman said, sounding relieved.

  Bonnie nodded again and tugged Nestor after her, escorting him rather than the other way around. I tried to follow them out but the woman’s hold on me tightened again.

  It didn’t seem that any of us would be making it to the bonfire tonight. There went my chance to burn the Horned God’s wicker stand-in.

  “Um, madam?” I tried to move without throwing her off. “You should come in, maybe lift your legs up for a bit. I can make you some soothing mint and lemon tea.”

  “Oh, that would be lovely, but I was hoping you could help me with something until your friend comes back.” She finally unclasped her grip from my arm, leaning her hand on her glorious cane instead. She held out her other hand to me, limp-wristed, palm facing downwards like she expected me to kiss it. “I am Lady Nariman Rostam.”

  The way she said “Lady” made me feel she wasn’t some mere merchant-lord’s wife, but a true reigning lord’s consort. And she did look it. How did she end up here of all places?