sandy brown hair and brown eyes and he stands about so tall.” I held my hand up near my face to indicate my estimate of her brother’s height.
She frowned, “That sounds just like my brother sir, but his name is Peter, not John, so I doubt it could be him.”
I let my eyes widen in excitement, “Is your brother in Miss? Perhaps he knows the fellow I’m looking for… if I could just talk to him for a moment.”
I could see her hesitate as she considered my words. “Well sir, he’s home at the moment but he’s not in a mood for visitors,” she said finally.
I gave her a look of sincere disappointment, “Please Miss, it would mean a lot to me.”
“Alright, just let me fetch him,” she said with a sigh. “The house isn’t fit for visitors so you’ll have to wait out here.”
I told her I didn’t mind and she shut the door. Inwardly I was congratulating myself. I might not be as good at courting and wooing women as Marc was, but I had a fair hand in dealing with people in general. After a minute or two the door opened again, this time fully, and standing in it was the man I had followed here, Peter Tucker. He didn’t look very happy to see me.
He’d be even less happy if he knew who I really was, I thought. I held out my hand but kept my face neutral. A smile might have annoyed him given his current mood. “Sorry for bothering you, my name is Stephen Dryer. I’m looking for a friend named John Wheeler.”
He shook my hand carefully, but didn’t make the gesture any friendlier than it had to be. “Looks like you wasted your time, there’s nobody by that name around here. What did you want to find him for?” he asked.
“Just wanted to let him know about a job. He’d been lookin’ for a while he said. I wanted to let him know about this one before he ran off and… well never mind,” I said, as if I had reconsidered my words.
Peter’s eyes lit with interest at the word ‘job’. “What sort of job was it? I might be interested,” he said.
I paused, frowning, as if I was giving serious thought to the question. “Well I don’t know if I should be sharing, since I don’t know how many men they need…,” I let my sentence trail off uncertainly.
“I don’t want to come between you and your friend, but if they need more than one man I could use some luck right about now,” he said carefully, as if he was afraid he might scare me off. Now that I had him it was time to set my hook and see what sort of information I could catch.
I looked him up and down. “You seem like an alright fellow, and truth is I might not run into John for a few days. I don’t think the offer will be open that long so I might as well help you out.” My mind raced while my tongue wagged, I needed a job that might entice this young man. His reaction would tell me much, but on the off chance he didn’t give anything away a job that interested him might allow me to keep the conversation going longer. Unfortunately I knew very little about him, other than the fact he wasn’t very muscular.
“What sort of job is it?” he asked, obviously somewhat anxious. As he spoke he lifted his hand to his face, scratching the stubble of his fledgling beard; that was when I spotted the ink stain.
“Well before you go getting excited I should tell you first that the job needs someone that knows his letters,” I informed him.
“Ha!” said Peter excitedly. “No problem there.”
“Really?” I said with feigned surprise, for less than a third of the common folk could read.
“My dad taught me, and I even had a job as a clerk for a while,” he said proudly.
I grinned and slapped my leg. “This might be your lucky day then!” I said excitedly. “One of the nobles is looking for a messenger and junior scribe to come work for him, and the pay is supposedly good.”
The younger sister had been listening behind the door, but this news was too good for her to keep her distance. She darted her head around the doorframe, “That would be perfect Peter! Think of what we could…”
“Lily!” he barked. “Go inside and stop eavesdropping!” Her face flinched at his tone and she ducked inside and shut the door. He turned back to me before speaking again, “Which noble is it?”
“The new Protector of the Northern Reach,” I answered loudly, “the Count di’Cameron, don’t ask me to tell you his proper name though, I can never keep it straight.” I told him this with some enthusiasm but I was watching him closely to see his reaction. I needn’t have bothered; he didn’t hide his disdain at all.
Peter spat on the ground in disgust. “Bah! I’d rather work shoveling manure for the rest of my life as take a job for that blood-thirsty whoreson!” he announced.
I gave him a shocked look, “Well I didn’t think you’d be offended…” I was hoping he might feel like elaborating on his reasons.
Peter started to open his mouth but then he shut it again, thinking carefully. Finally he replied, “Sorry, it really isn’t your fault. I’ll let you get back to looking for your friend.” He turned and headed into back inside, but he was visibly upset.
“Let me give you the details in case you change your…,” the door closed before I could finish. I stared blankly at it for a moment. I had hoped to find out more than that. To hell with it, I thought. I knocked on the door again.
Lily opened it and this time she didn’t bother hiding behind it. “I’m sorry. Peter’s not interested in that job.”
“Here, let me at least tell you the address, in case he changes his mind. They might have a job that would suit you as well,” I suggested.
Her face hardened. “There’s no way either one of us would ever work for that bastard,” she said evenly and there was steel in her voice.
My ruse had run its course, and there wasn’t much hope I could get anything else from it so I took a chance on a direct question, “But why not?”
Her expression changed then, it wasn’t the burning fury I had seen the first time she looked upon me… this was a look of despair mixed with resentment, a cooler anger, more acceptable for sharing with a stranger. “He killed our grandfather,” she said coldly, and then she shut the door. There was no doubt in my mind the conversation was over now.
I stood still for a long moment, before turning away. A chill had washed over me, leaving me numb as I started walking toward home. He killed our grandfather, she said over again in my mind. I wasn’t sure who her grandfather was, but a deep sense of guilt welled up. I had killed many men, but I only knew the names of a few.
I walked without paying attention to my direction, wandering aimlessly while my mind ran in circles. He killed our grandfather. I wondered how many families cursed me in Gododdin as well; I had killed many more of their men. Assuming any of their families survived to hate me, considering Mal’goroth’s assertion that he would sacrifice the families of any soldier I killed.
Memories of the past year chased each other through my mind, memories of people that had died. This is the Tucker residence, she had said. Tucker! I screamed inwardly as I remembered. “Jonathan Tucker!”
When I had come to ‘liberate’ my goods from the royal warehouse last year, I had used my power to destroy a steel gate and inadvertently killed an old guard. The heavy metal had been blown backward with incredible force, completely severing his head. The tag carefully sewn into his shirt had read, Jonathan Tucker. Had I just met the girl that had embroidered that tag? Unbidden a vision of a thirteen year old girl diligently working to mend her grandfather’s shirt rose in my mind, tormenting me.
Did they have any other family? Had the old man been their only income? Was young Peter now desperate to find work to support his sister? These questions and many more ate at my conscience. Even if I wanted to help them they would not accept my aid. I walked without purpose or direction for an hour more before I finally resolved to find some way to help them.
It didn’t ease the black cloud in my heart, but it gave me enough purpose to return home at last. Harold was very happy to see me, in the sense that he was fairly put out. Being his lord though he was obliged to keep much of his opinion to himself and when he saw my face he knew better than to try and pester me about abandoning him.
I ignored his questions and sought privacy in my room, locking the door behind me. Then I stared at the ceiling for a long time.
