He climbed up the stand of rocks where the Iamb had taken shelter, then picked up the frightened animal and took it down the hill to the tavern.
Still dazed by what he'd done, he summoned tears to his eyes, walked through the tavern's doors, and set the lamb on a table near the door, where Mirci was sitting with friends.
'That cat won't plague your flocks anymore,' he said thickly. 'My brother died while killing it. I left him there because I had no way to carry him home.'
Mirci looked up in shock, and saw Emory and his bloody clothes. 'Arman is… is dead?' he asked.
'Yes.'
Mirci wrapped his cloak about the shivering boy, sat him down, and bought him a drink. With halting phrases of grief, Emory explained about slaying the cat, that his brother had sought to rescue the lamb but was attacked, and only after a bloody battle did they bring the cat down. Then, shivering and tearful, he snuffled and changed the subject, as though he could speak no longer about the trauma. Instead, he told them about Baroness Ilsabet, relaying the message she'd given him.
The sympathy of the men turned suddenly hard. They, too, seemed happy for a new topic, one that brought anger, not grief. 'And we're to believe she has our interests at heart? What about the men her soldiers took?' Mirci asked.
'They all but killed someone. That could hardly be overlooked,' the innkeeper said. He'd been serving ale to soldiers and rebels alike for years. Everyone knew he longed for peace.
'They were Emory's friends,' Mirci went on. 'They fought for the boy.'
'They had no reason to.'
'They thought you were being tortured.'
'Tortured! The baroness is kind. She treated me…'
'A lot better than her father would have.'
Someone laughed. Another joined in, until everyone was laughing.
'I'll tell you what I'd do to Janosk's spawn,' Mirci said, then held up his knife.
'How dare you threaten her!' Emory bellowed.
He attacked the man with the same force he'd used against the cat, and so swiftly that he knocked the knife from Mirci's hand. It took four men to pull him off.
When they did, Mirci sat up rubbing his bruised throat. 'What sort of magic did they use on you, boy?'
'He's shaken up. Who can blame him?' someone said.
Emory decided this wasn't the time or place to relay the baroness's message. He left as quickly as he'd come, shrugging off Mirci's cloak and his offers of a bath, a place to sleep. So tenacious were the villagers that Emory even had to bolt for the door, feigning hysterical grief, and dodge through a few pastures before he could lose them.
When at last he did so, he smiled. That seemed an odd expression, given his brother's death. But he felt no remorse. What troubled him was how he would react to the rest of his family. He decided to take no chances. When he reached home, he crawled into the barn, took off his bloody clothes and washed in the livestock water trough, then piled clean hay in the corner of an empty paddock and went to sleep. He dreamt that he died and Baroness Ilsabet stood above him laughing as she brought him back to life.
Thunder woke him just after dawn. He sat up and saw his stepfather putting out fresh feed for the plow horse. 'What are you doing here?' Erich asked.
Once again summoning the tears, Emory explained with fearful confused words about the cat.
'Arman…' Erich said, suddenly distraught. He turned and fled.
The villagers found Arman's body soon after. They were drawn to the place by the buzzards and crows fighting over who would feast first. Amazingly, nothing had disturbed it during the night. Perhaps the scent of the huge cat had kept other predators away. Emory helped the men carry Arman's body down the muddy slope and lay it on a blanket in the back of his stepfather's cart.
'I was so happy when the baroness released me. But if I hadn't come home, none of this would have happened.'
'It's all right,' Erich said, resting a bulky arm over Emory's shoulders. 'Come back to the tavern before going home. We'll have a drink before we start out.'
Emory shook his head. 'I want to be the one to tell Mother. Can I ride back alone?'
Erich considered this and nodded. I' ll go to the tavern with the others.'
As Emory rode away, he thought of his years with Arman, and something akin to remorse did begin to form in his soul. Emory stopped the cart at the main road on the edge of town. A right turn led northwest toward gold- rich Tygelt and the cave of Sagese, a left to Nimbus Castle. He paused there, thinking he should go to the old seer to ask the best way to end his life before he killed again-but he could not leave until his duty to the baroness was ended.
But the baroness owed him something for taking his life, didn't she? He knew exactly what payment he would ask for, and if he were the only one who knew Arman still lived, it would be enough. With his head bowed and shoulders slumped, he turned the cart toward Nimbus Castle and flicked the reins to make the horses hurry on.
As he approached the castle, a guard rode out to him and glanced at the cart. Emory was thankful he'd covered up the body, and that he recognized the man.
'I need to speak privately to Baroness Ilsabet,' he said. 'Tell her it concerns the village.'
The guard nodded. Apparently they'd been given orders concerning him, for they immediately led him inside. He pulled the cart in a quiet place close to the wall, refusing the stableboy's offer to help him unload. 'What I have is for the baroness only. I'll wait here for her,' he said, prepared to wait the rest of the day, if necessary.
She came at once. They sat together in a narrow space between the cart and the wall and he told her how he had killed the cat, then his brother out of some instinct he could barely comprehend. 'I finally remembered what you did,' he whispered. 'I brought Arman's body. Do the same to him.'
Ilsabet licked her lips and considered the matter. She raised the blanket. 'The village knows he died. He can't ever go home,' she said.
Emory nodded, downcast. 'I suppose not. The road home goes along a cliffside above the river. I could say the cart rolled and the body fell into the water and was carried downstream.'
'So what am I to do with him?'
'I thought he could stay here and serve you. He'd do anything for you, as I would if you asked.'
So the boy was her slave, and wise enough to know it. She smiled at the thought and looked down at the body again, noting its youth, its strength. 'There's a door nearby that leads to a hidden room. I'll need time and privacy. Can you carry him?' she asked.
'I can,' he said, and followed her.
Though the hallway was dark, the room itself was airy, beautiful. 'The room belonged to a special prisoner years ago. No one will find him there,' Ilsabet told him as they returned to the cart. 'Now go.'
He wanted to ask if she'd send word about Armans but it seemed too much to demand. 'Should I return as you asked?'
'Yes, but not before. If you value your brother, what you did must be kept secret.'
'Please, I want to tell my mother. She's lost a husband, now a son. She'll keep the secret.'
'Make certain of it. Tell her that if I hear any rumors about his fate, I'll kill him,' Ilsabet said.
'As would be your right,' he said.
A smile played across her lips. Her eyes filled with confidence. She nodded. That was enough for him. Emory left, convinced all would be well.
As he rode toward home, the sun sank; his need grew. He would hunt tonight as he had last night. And if he were lucky he could hide what he had become until the month had passed and he went to the baroness and asked her to release her hold on him.
