“They don’t believe me when I tell them that I don’t know anything,” she stated. “They think I’m protecting him.”
“We believe you,” Paul said. The others nodded agreement.
Sterret took a drink of his tea, as that was the only beverage other than water she had on hand. “Do you know anything about what he’s up to?” he asked.
She shook her head. “He has always been one to keep his business to himself,” she explained then turned toward Raestin. “What am I to do?”
“Staying here seems a bit dangerous,” Cailin offered.
“That’s right,” agreed Raestin. “You should leave Quillim. At least until this all gets settled.”
“No,” she replied. “I can’t leave until Riyan returns.”
“But you saw what happened here,” argued Paul. “If we hadn’t happened by, who knows what might have happened.”
“I know,” she said. “But I can’t.” She looked imploringly to Raestin for understanding.
Finally he nodded his head. “I understand,” he assured her. To Paul he said, “We’ll stay here until her son returns.” Then turning a smile toward Kaitlyn, he asked, “If that’s alright with you?”
“Oh yes,” she said, returning his smile. “That is quite alright with me.” Tears began to flow once more.
In the morning, they walked down to the Magistrate’s office to report what happened with the mob outside of Kaitlyn’s home and the subsequent attack. On the way, Kaitlyn wanted them to stop by the Kelon home to see how they were faring. After all, their son Chadric was in this just as much as was Riyan.
As the Kelon home came into view, they found it quiet and still. Not even smoke was coming from the chimney. Kaitlyn glanced to Raestin who shrugged. “Maybe they left town?” he suggested.
“I saw her two days ago and she made no mention of leaving,” she told him.
“Elle!” she hollered as they drew closer. When no answer was forthcoming, she hollered again. “Elle! It’s Kate!” Still no answer. She turned to Raestin with worry in her eyes.
“Didn’t you tell me the last time I was here that her husband was the local miller?” he asked.
She nodded. “Yes, he is,” she replied.
“They may be at the mill,” he explained. “On our way to see you yesterday, we saw a group trying to get into the mill. Maybe they holed up there?”
Beside him, Paul nodded. “If they had any experiences like what you did yesterday, that would make sense,” he said.
“Oh, I hope so,” she said. They left behind the Kelon home and made their way to the mill.
Through the trees they could see the arms of the mill turning in the early morning breeze. A few people were out, moving quickly from one destination to another. Of the men who had accosted the woman the day before, there was no sign. Though after what happened last night at the Borenson home, Paul had Cailin keep his crossbow locked and loaded, just in case.
A wisp of smoke came from the mill’s chimney which greatly relieved Kaitlyn. “Thank goodness,” she said happily.
“Someone is there,” stated Paul. When she glanced to him, he added, “There’s no way to be sure it’s your friend and her family.”
“It’s them,” she said with certainty. Quickening her pace, she was soon before the door of the mill.
Knock! Knock! Knock!
She rapped three times upon the door.
“Go away!” a voice she recognized as Elle’s husband shouted from the other side.
“Ferrun,” she said through the door, “it’s Kaitlyn.”
A face peered through the mill’s window at the group standing before the door. It was Eryl, the Kelon’s youngest son. From the other side of the door, the sound of the bar being removed could be heard. A moment later, the door opened.
Elle rushed out and hugged her friend. “I have been so worried about you,” she said.
“And I, you,” replied Kaitlyn.
“Come in,” said Elle’s husband Ferrun.
As they entered, Raestin could see sleeping pallets set out of the way along the walls of the mill.
“I think you know Raestin,” Kaitlyn said.
Ferrun came and shook Raestin’s hand. “Trader, right?” he asked. “Met you last time you were here.”
“That’s right,” he replied. Behind him he heard Paul tell Cailin and Sterret to remain outside and keep an eye on things.
“These are his guards,” she said, continuing the introductions. Glancing around the mill at the store of food and bedrolls lying on the floor she asked, “Are you staying here now?”
Elle nodded. “Yes,” she said. “It isn’t safe at home anymore.”
“People keep coming around asking about Chad,” Eryl stated. “When we tell them we don’t know anything, they get mad.”
“One threatened to kill Eryl if we didn’t tell them what they wanted to know,” Elle explained.
“That’s when we came here,” Ferrun said. “It’s closer to town and better fortified.” In truth, the walls of the mill were strong, they had to be in order to support the massive windmill at its top. With only two doors, each thick with a strong wooden bar, it would take a mighty effort to break in.
“We’re on our way to talk with the Magistrate,” Kaitlyn told them. Then she went on to explain about the incident of the night before, the timely intervention by Raestin and his guards, and the decapitation of Black Face.
“Don’t know what good that’s going to do,” Ferrun stated. “There aren’t enough men in town to keep order.”
“Then maybe your Magistrate needs to ask the Duke for help,” suggested Raestin. “A company of his soldiers should be able to restore order in little time.”
At mention of the Duke, Elle and Kaitlyn grew fearful. They didn’t want the Duke to know their sons may have recovered treasure without giving him his share. Raestin understood their misgivings. “We have no choice,” he said to the women. “He’s going to know soon enough.”
“But…” stammered Elle.
“Things seem to be getting out of control,” argued Raestin. “Your Magistrate may have already sent to Wardean for help.”
Just then the mill’s door opened and Sterret stuck his head in and said “Sir?”
Raestin turned toward the door and saw the crowd gathering in the street on the other side. He could make out a couple of the men who had accosted the woman the night before among them. To Paul he said, “Go see what’s going on.”
Nodding in reply, Paul said, “Yes sir,” as he headed for the door.
“What’s happening?” Elle asked in a voice tinged with fear.
“Trouble,” replied her husband.
A score of men were gathered twenty feet from the doorway, three had bows. None were townsfolk. As Paul emerged from the mill, he quickly ascertained that the mood of the men was not good. Cailin had his crossbow out and aimed at the men. Paul came behind him and laid his hand on his young protege’s shoulder. “Easy,” he said.
Addressing the men, he shouted “What’s the meaning of this?”
A man in his early thirties stood a step before the others. Six feet tall and with the look of a hard life behind him, he asked, “Who are you?”
“Name’s Paul,” he replied. “And you are?”
“Slyvern,” came the reply. He said it as if Paul should recognize the name.
“What business do you have here?” asked Paul.
“All we want is for them inside to tell us what they know of the Horde’s location,” he stated.
“They know nothing,” Paul stated. “The first they heard of this was when people like you started pestering them about it.”
“Lies!” shouted Slyvern. A mumble of agreement rolled through those standing behind him.
“There is nothing of what you seek here,” Paul stated. “Leave.”
