Chapter Seven

The buckboard bounced along the road, shaking Tara free of the gripping fear controlling her evening. It all happened so fast, and she had clung to her mother without protest, allowing herself to be whisked away. They had gone without even a goodbye, two women alone in the night. Her eyes took in eerie moonlight and shadows along the road. Any or all could hide trouble, the worst kind even, awaiting them alone on the road. It was foolish to travel in darkness.

She yearned for Robert to protect them, riding by her side, knowing his presence would ease her fears. Even in his youth she found him strong, only to grow stronger into manhood. She loved him, maybe, but was too lost in her own youth to know for certain. But the sobering reality revealed Robert was gone from her life.

Their kiss.

She had worked up courage for many years to make the move, always knowing it was hers to make. But the events of the evening robbed her of a proper goodbye, perhaps even more than a kiss, and she wondered if he missed her as much as she did him. She wished they had never parted.

Tara yearned to jump free of the wagon and race to the warm safety of his arms.

Breaking the silence, Flaya said, “Thank you for leaving without question. I know this departure is not easy, but the Pescari woman inside you remained calm.”

“The Andalonian woman inside me yearns to return,” Tara replied flatly.

“That feeling is petulance, found only in children,” her mother explained. “Pescari women obey, as you did tonight.”

“I don’t want to obey. I want things the way they were.”

“Pescari are plagued with change. Our only constants are the awakening of Felicima, her trip across the sky, and our goddess’ eventual slumber after descending into the western caldera.”

“That’s why we flee into the dangers of the night?” Tara demanded, hot anger rising within as emotion grew. She could barely contain her true feelings, and decorum meant risking burning up from within. “Anything could happen to us alone on this road. A worse fate could await us in Weston, yet we flee like cowards from the only life I’ve known.”

“We had to leave, and you know it,” Flaya patiently explained. “They would have arrested you and placed you before their laws. This was our only option.”

“I’m not afraid to stand before a magistrate. I did nothing wrong.”

“In the eyes of the Andalonians you did everything wrong. Worse, you showed violence beneath the eye of Felicima. There is no justice for Pescari in Andalon, and we belong in New Weston with our own kind.”

“I’m Pescari by birth only,” Tara replied softly, “they are your kind, not mine.”

“You don’t know your kind!” Flaya snapped, her voice startling the night. Nearby wings flapped and tiny feat scurried into underbrush. Only the largest and bravest animals would venture near the road now, predators seeking a meal or men hoping to feast upon a woman’s fear.

Tara stared closely at her mother, observing the hidden terror beneath the woman’s usually calm surface. She trembled, something the girl never thought she’d see her mother do.

“You are afraid,” Tara said, realizing now why they fled. “But of what? It wasn’t the magistrate or the constables. They were merely your excuse to leave. What is it you fear if we remain?”

“I’m afraid you will never know your father, and that ignorance may cause greater harm later.”

“How, Mother?” Tara demanded. “How will I ever know a man who is gone? What knowledge can the dead provide the living?”

But Flaya had finished talking and fell quiet behind her reins. They faced a long journey, and changing her mind along the way would prove impossible.

Tara stole a glance westward toward the direction of home. She would find her way back eventually, and if not to home then to him. Her Robert was like the eagle who yearned to spread wings. He would know where to seek, should his heart desire hers.

The wind chilled the night and the crunching leaves underfoot caused Robert to worry. Were they followed by the Dreamers? Would their footsteps give them away? Where had the Falconers gone? Every sound he and Sebastian made could draw either or all threats to their woods. The plentiful shadows hid dangers, and each step could be into a hazard.

The night, which had so far been a blur, slowly cleared as if fog had lifted. He headed the wrong direction.

“I need to go after her,” Robert suddenly demanded. He’d stood idly by when Flaya whisked Tara away without giving him a chance to say goodbye.

“No, you need to get to Eusari,” Sebastian corrected. “It’s important you see her first. Tara can wait.”

Robert found himself once more torn between clinging to his childhood and becoming a man. Either he pursued Tara and confronted her mother, insisting she turn over her daughter so they may start a life together, or he sought his mother’s explanation.

Eusari offered answers.

“What will she tell me?” he demanded of the farmhand. “You knew those Dreamers, and they knew Eusari. That means you knew my parents. Who were they?”

“It’s not my place to...”

“Stop it!” Robert demanded. “You sound like Sippen! It is your place because I demand to know. Who were my parents?”

He had gone too far, terrifying the farmhand. Sebastian stared downward at trembling hands. Robert felt immediately sorry. This man was good, with a decent heart. But the female Dreamer was right, his cowardice was known to all. He wasn’t a fighter and avoided any and all conflict with practiced skill.

“I’m sorry for yelling,” Robert said softly. “You don’t deserve my anger. But I need to know why the Falconers attacked the farm and why the Dreamers demand I stand before the king! Why is he interested in me?”

“I knew Amash... not as well as the others, but I knew him. He’s a good man. I trust him because Braen did.”

“Braen,” Robert said thoughtfully. “That’s twice I’ve heard that name today. Tell me about him.”

“Braen Braston was my captain. I sailed under him as a boy.”

“Braen Braston was a pirate! Are you telling me you sailed with pirates?”

Sebastian nodded. “He was also the Prince of Fjorik, a kind man, even if he had an awful temper. I was with him the day he took Pirate’s Cove, and he regretted that day the rest of his life... just as I do. It was the most awful thing I’ve ever seen and...” The farmhand broke off, saying no more about it. The tears brimming in his eyes suggested he was finished speaking but not remembering.

“Sippen too? And Cedric?” Robert asked. “Were they part of his crew?”

Sebastian nodded.

“What does he have to do with my mother?”

“He loved Eusari and she loved him.”

“So the twins?”

“Are his.”

Robert felt the ground beneath him sway as his mind caught up. “What does he have to do with the Dreamers?”

“He rescued us.”

“Us? So you really were one of them?”

“Never fully. I guess I never fit in,” Sebastian said sadly.

“I’d say not. Those two were awful, mean even.”

“I don’t think they meant you harm. Caroline and Bearnard aren’t bad, but they’ve always been bit of bullies. I think you should stand before Amash, but Sippen’s right. You need to speak to Eusari before you go.”

“Tell me about my parents,” Robert demanded.

“I didn’t know them. All I know is you were barely a newborn when Eusari arrived in Logan after the war. Collette was your wetnurse then. I only guessed whose child you were because it was never discussed openly. Eusari gave me a choice then, to go with the Dreamers to Eston or with her, Sippen and Cedric. She took us westward and made everyone vow never to tell any of you children about the old days. Your mother wanted a new life for us all.”

“I will go to my mother,” Robert decided. “I’ll hear what she has to say and find Tara after.”

“It really is your best choice,” the farmhand agreed.

The outskirts of town felt odd to the pair, watching from the forest at night, and the duo crept carefully despite their cloak of shimmering air. Sebastian had explained that there were Dreamers who could see through the shield, but neither Caroline nor Bearnard had that ability when they were younger. They paused not far from the jailhouse, watching the constables milling about the doorway.

“What do we do?” Robert asked. “Do we walk in and find her?”

“I don’t know,” Sebastian admitted. He hadn’t thought about the final bits of the plan. “But I guess we do need to get closer.”

After looking both ways down main street, the pair inched their way toward the front doors.

“Took her already, he did,” one of the constables said.

“During the night?” another asked. “Why the rush?”

“Olsen said he didn’t trust the others not to attempt a breakout. That little one’s smart, and the fat one’s unpredictable. Together they’d be stupid enough to try.”

“Makes sense,” said the second. “But what about the Dreamers? Why’d they say to stand watch like she’s here? That makes no sense at all, not a bit, no sir!”

Robert froze, gripping Sebastian’s shoulder. “It’s a trap,” he mouthed silently, and Sebastian’s eyes grew wide with fear. The farmhand nodded and the pair turned to leave.

“He said her trial will be moved up. The Logan magistrate will preside over the case by week’s end,” the first guard said.

“Pity for that woman, then. It means Constable Thorinson will have jurisdiction. That woman has no mercy whatsoever!” the second replied.

Thorinson? The name baffled Robert’s mind and had to hear more. Motioning to Sebastian he crept forward into the middle of the street.

Abruptly, the swirling air hiding them from view began to pick up dust from the road. The fine particles caught the current and swept up and around. At first the pair were confused. Normal dirt shouldn’t have been picked up so easily, and this resin was whitish in color.

Robert sniffed. Chalk. Someone had coated the road with a fine covering of white chalk all around the jailhouse. The sound of cracking whips froze him in place as tendrils of air raced down the street. Their cover had failed.

The farmhand pushed past Robert, dropping their invisibility and raising a more solid shield. The whisps deflected, but they were the diversion. A concussive blast sent both man and boy sprawling backward onto the cobblestones. Six more tendrils reached out. Two caught Sebastian by the arms and pulled him forward, up onto his feet and then facedown hard against the pavement. He landed with a splat and Robert cringed.

He eyed the four remaining tendrils, woven like ropes that found his ankles. He felt them tug, dragging him feet first toward two shadowy figures behind an apothecary. Even with hooded cloaks covering their heads, he recognized the two Dreamers. He kept his head up as he was dragged, eyes locked onto the shimmering bonds around his legs. Even in the dark Robert could make out their pattern, braided like the rawhide they used on the farm. Cedric had spent many an hour teaching the boys knotwork, and this splicing resembled the sailor’s ropes they learned.

The night suddenly plunged into wintery cold, despite being summer. The wind blew with a shivering chill and Robert watched his breath fog before him. He was suddenly afraid, not for himself but all at once for his mother and Tara. He had to get free. Both woman and girl depended upon his success. His icy breath brushed against his shimmering bonds, then joined the currents of air as if unable to escape the current.

Mother, he thought, I’ve failed you. I should’ve expected a trap, and now I’ve no way to save you. They’ve got me, he worried, and I’ve no way to fight them!

Robert shivered and the air immediately touching his skin vibrated off his body as he shook. This too flowed toward his bonds, but he reached out a hand, catching just enough to pull it like wet potter’s clay toward him. With his other hand he gathered more and more, until he worked a ball of it before him. The boy’s eyes grew wide with surprise as he crafted the air around him.

This must be another trick, he worried, but it seemed to flow like a river only he controlled. Sailor’s knots, he suddenly realized. They once sailed with pirates and know knots as well as I. He worked the air then, tying and knotting it the way Cedric had always hated—indiscriminately and without reason.

“You’ll never untie that easily when you most need to,” the foreman had corrected. “When time is of the essence you have to trust your hands and the knot tied by another. Do it right, we tie knots easily untied and used again later.”

The web Robert wove was one of his own creation, and he cast it the way he’d been taught. As soon as it left his hands, his eyes returned to the braids around his ankles. These unraveled as easily has he’d hoped. Free of his bonds, he jumped to his feet, glancing briefly to ensure the net held the Dreamers. It wouldn’t for long. He raced toward Sebastian who had also found his footing. Grabbing his arm, Robert hauled him down an alleyway and hopefully toward freedom.

Around several bends they came across an older man loading a final box into his covered wagon. They skidded to a stop before him, as startled as he to have nearly collided. High up above a falcon screeched, then dove toward the man.

Robert suddenly worried they’d encountered a foe worse than Dreamers. “Falconer!” he cried and turned to flee.

“Wait,” Sebastian urged. “Look at his eyes.”

“What about them?” he asked, turning wildly and staring down the old man. The eyes smiling back were jovial and warm.

“Falconer’s eyes are different because they’re dead inside.”

A large hawk spread its wings, slowing its decent and landing on the man’s arm with a settling beat against air.

“Now, now, Reaver,” the man said reassuringly. “These appear to be friends.”

“We would be indebted, sir, if you could give us a ride out of town.”

“Hmm,” the man considered. “I wonder what kind of trouble you’re in, to be running in the streets at night… away from the constable’s office.”

“We were attacked, sir,” Robert pleaded, “and the Dreamers confused us with the thugs,” he lied. “Please help get us out of town.”

“Well,” the man said, settling Reaver on a perch near the driver’s bench. “I’m headed to Logan, myself. Are you certain these attackers are still chasing you?”

Looking around, Robert saw no one. They must still be caught in his net. My net… of air. What had he done? With a trembling voice he said, “I believe so… I’m not sure.”

“Then you’d better climb aboard but keep low. There’s a hidden compartment behind the sacks of flour. The two of you will be cramped but should fit.”

Robert and Sebastian wasted no time scrambling aboard. The man’s words proved correct. They barely fit but somehow were thankful for the hiding place. Soon, the wheels beneath them rolled against cobblestone, and they began their trek toward Logan.