“Watch yourself, girl,” Irena said. Worry lines added more wrinkles to her forehead. “Malcolm has coveted you since you first came to Byderside. His interest growsdangerous.”
The bow suddenly felt heavier than a cart shaft in Elsbeth’s hands. Her shoulders sagged as she lowered the weapon to her side. Tears stung her eyes. “May the gods bless you all your days, Elder. “I think you saved my grandfather and me thisnight.”
Irena gave another of her signature snorts and patted Elsbeth’s arm with a wrinkled hand. “Bah. You did fine on your own. I thought for sure Abelard would piss his trousers when you swung that bow hisway.”
Elsbeth’s laugh sounded weak to her ears. “Then he wasn’t alone. I nearly pissed my skirts when Malcolm decided to test myresolve.”
The humor eased some of her tension, soothed the fear scraping along her nerves. She pushed open the cottage door wider. Firelight from the small hearth spilled into the darkness. “Please come in and get warm. I’ve plum tea from the south. A barter good from a merchant inDurnsdale.”
Irena accepted and strode into the house. Though small, the home Elsbeth shared with her grandfather Angus offered comfort and sanctuary, and never had she been so glad for the sturdiness of theirdoor.
The hearth fire warmed a main room redolent with the scent of dried herbs draped from the rafters. A cauldron hung suspended over the flames. Steam spiraled upward in lazy revenants from the cauldron’s contents, venting through the chimney Angus insisted they have built to keep the house clear of smoke haze. A scuffed table and pair of benches took up most of the room, sharing space with a loom tucked into a corner and surrounded by baskets full of brightly colored wool skeins and thread reels. The loom held a half-finished rug sporting a celestial design woven in colors of blue, black, and deepestburgundy.
Elsbeth unloaded the bow and returned it to its place near the door. She checked the door’s crossbar, making certain it was wedged well into place. For the first time since their move to Byderside, the barred door did not feel so invulnerable. She doubted she’d see the back of her eyelids tonight. Despite Irena’s edict and the villagers’ obedience, she didn’t trust they wouldn’t congregate again and pay her another visit before dawn’sbreak.
Irena made her way to the loom for a closer look at the rug. The woman’s wizened face crinkled into a map of care-worn roads as she peered closely at Elsbeth’s latest creation. “This is lovely, girl. One of your finest, I think.” She traced a path across the rug, fingers just above the bias without touching. “What city merchant with a fat purse and a spoiled wife commissioned thisone?”
The heat from the fire felt good on Elsbeth’s chilled arms. She stirred the coals and lowered the cauldron closer to the fire to boil the water for tea. “A spice trader ready to spend a good profit from a loaded ship. That’s my second one for him. He’s commissioned three.” She straightened and sighed. “Who knows if I’ll finish the thirdnow.”
Irena met her gaze with a troubled one of her own. “The village will want a solution to the dragon problem by end of the council session tomorrow.” She left the loom and settled onto the bench Elsbeth prepared by the fire. Her aged bones creaked as shesat.
Elsbeth pulled two cups from her small chest of dishware, keepsakes from a mother she didn’t remember. Anger seeped into her voice, along with indignation. “Angus and I have broken bread with these people for five years gone, Elder. Before he took to his bed, he was always welcomed at the Hound and Hollow for an ale and a smoke. I’ve quilted with the women and taught some of their children how to weave. I’ve played my fiddle at their handfastings.” She prepared the tea, pausing every few moments to wipe away the tears that spilled from her eyes and dripped down her cheeks. “And yet they turn on us like a pack of dogs scenting the sick or the weak in their midst.” The cups rattled together. “I almost had to shoot someone tonight.” Her voice shook as much as herhands.
The old woman’s touch, soothing and soft, halted her frenetic movements. “‘Tis a natural thing to be frightened, Elsbeth, and angry. Malcolm and his lads were lucky you didn’t kill one of them. I never saw that bow waver in your hand.” She squeezed Elsbeth’s forearm. “They’re not all bad folk, girl. They’re just afraid, and fear can turn civilized mensavage.”
“I know, but it still feels like the worst betrayal.” Elsbeth sniffed back more tears, poured their tea and took a seat next to Irena. “Do you believe the dragon is doing this as revenge like they say? Punishment for my grandfather killing one of itsown?”
“I believe it’s a pile ofhorseshit.”
Elsbeth almost spit out a mouthful of tea. Irena muttered another string of oaths and pulled her shawl closer around her shoulders. “If this were about vengeance, every other town and dale would have been reduced to an ash heap years ago.” She paused and delicately sipped her tea. “I know a little of dragonkind. It seems to me if they were all flying about exacting blood vengeance for a dead relative, there wouldn’t be many of us humansleft.”
Elsbeth’s eyebrows rose. “Their strength is legendary, as is their magic and wisdom. But their numbers seem few. “Wouldn’t they seek retribution for men killing themoff?”
Irena shook her head. “I don’t think so. You never hear of dragon towns or communities. Their lairs and caves house only a single dragon. They’re solitary creatures, little concerned with a brethren’s welfare.” She patted Elsbeth’s arm once more. “To my way of thinking, the dragon troubling this area is here for an easy meal or two. How hard can it be for a beastie like that to make off with a ewe or a cow,eh?”
“True, but it doesn’t solve my problem. The villagers are sure Angus is responsible, and I doubt they’ll listen to reason now.” Elsbeth rose to refill both cups. “We can’t leave, Elder.” She cleared her throat of its betraying warble. “My grandfather is too weak to move. He wouldn’t survive a journey to another town, not even to one as close as Durnsdale. If the men will only wait a fortnight, they won’t have to bother with lynching him.” Grief made the words bitter on hertongue.
A hacking cough sounding from the single bedchamber punctuated her remark. Elsbeth stood and set her cup down on the table. “Excuse me for a moment,Elder.
The room lay shrouded in semi-darkness, its only illumination a half-burned candle set on a chest against the wall. Angus Weaver reclined in his bed, huddled beneath a mound of blankets. Candlelight sallowed his shrunken features and dulled the wisps of white hair sticking out from hisscalp.
Elsbeth sank to her knees by the bed. She took his hand, clasping the fingers gnarled and twisted by the bone sickness. “It’s late. You should sleep,Atuk,” she said, using the the informal, affectionate term for “grandfather.”
He peered at her with rheumy eyes. “I heard someone knock. Who comes?” His voice, once strong and filled with ready laughter, was nothing more than a reedywhisper.
She kissed his palm, grateful his hearing was as poor as his eyesight these days. That had been more than a knock at the door. “It’s only Irena,Atuk. She came tovisit.”
“At this latehour?”
“Yes. She knows of a nobleman, newly married, who is building another home for his bride. His factor is seeking craftsmen to furnish the home. He might be interested in a rug.” A lie, and one she told with ease. Angus would never know of this night’s sad work if she could helpit.
Angus sighed and stroked Elsbeth’s hair with his free hand. “Give her my regards, will you? I’d greet her, but I’m afraid I…” He trailed off, his hands falling to the covers, his eyes closing in an exhaustedslumber.
She kissed his palm again and tucked it under the blankets. His breathing was harsh, stuttered—the rattle of bones in a soothsayer’s cup. She pinched the candle before leaving, plunging the chamber into darkness. He’d sleep well enough until morning when she’d brew a medicinal draught to ease his chest and give himnourishment.
Irena had abandoned her place on the bench to stand in front of the hearth and warm herself. Her voice held a quiet sympathy. “How ishe?”
Elsbeth shrugged. “Well enough, all things considered. He wanted to know who knocked at thedoor.”
