She was chattering, and she knew it; but he was leaving, and how would she say good-bye? and so she couldn’t stop. “And she says anytime you’re near Angel Rock, you’re to come stay with us, even if you all want to sleep on the ship, you’re to come have meals with us. And she says if you want to stay at the inn, there will always be room—”
“Ship’s good enough for a whole man,” Maurice said with a smile, “but next time I’ve been shot by Jansai, be sure I’ll take her up on her hospitality.”
And that was it, they were at the harbor, Joe and Rico had come ashore to help the captain carry his things on board. In a few minutes they would be gone; she might never see any of them again. Reuben had promised to return, but what did an Edori’s promises mean? This might be the last time she ever laid eyes on his beautiful face, saw the sun send white streaks down the sleek black braid—
And she was, somehow, alone on the cobblestoned street with Reuben. Jackson had disappeared with the Edori, and none of the usual onlookers seemed to be present on the dock this morning. Reuben was looking at her intently, his expression more sober than normal, as if he was finding this farewell no easier than she was.
“It’s a week or two to Ysral, depending on the weather— and the Jansai,” he said, with a small grin. “And a week or two there. And a week or two back. So you may see me again in as little as three weeks, and certainly before two months are out.”
She kept her eyes on his, afraid to look at him too closely, afraid to look away. “Maurice might not want to come back so soon,” she said. “And he’s captain.”
“Ah, Maurice had visits from half the people of Angel Rock while he lay there pretending to be sick. Your doctor was asking about some new medical machine that he thought they were building at the Augustine school, and your harbormaster wanted some tool he’d heard about that only the Edori craftsmen make. Maurice has a dozen commissions on the island. He’ll want to come back.”
“I look forward to seeing you again,” she said, because if she didn’t say it straight out she would never say it, and maybe he didn’t know? “I’ll miss you while you’re gone.”
“Well, I’ll think of you while we’re away, and that way I won’t miss you quite so much,” he said, smiling a little. “And here—you take this, and it will help you remember me.”
He had caught hold of her hand and now pressed a rounded metal object into her palm. She knew without looking that it was the music box.
“I can’t take this,” she protested. “It’s so special—it was made for you by a friend—”
“It’s so special,” he said, smiling broadly now, “that I promised myself I would only give it to the girl who could learn the key.”
“The key—to the box?” she said, stammering a little.
He shook his head slowly, smiling still, and laid a fist against his heart, but he made no other answer. She felt herself blushing. From the ship, someone called his name in a loud, impatient voice.
“You must go,” she said. “I’ll look for you. In two months.”
“More likely less,” he said. And without another word, he bent down and kissed her quickly on the mouth. Then he sprinted for the ship, leaped up the gangplank, and called something to whichever sailor was already hauling on the ropes. In a matter of moments The Wayward began to move, idling out toward open sea like a girl coyly slipping away from her guardian’s notice. Reuben and, she thought, Michael stood at the railing and waved to her so vigorously that she finally lifted her free hand and waved back. But she did not want to. Her heart was leaden, her whole body was cold; even her lips, where she could still feel the pressure of his kiss, seemed icy and bloodless in the playful spring air. He was leaving, he was leaving, he was gone.
She watched for another thirty minutes as the sails of the ship grew smaller, indistinct, and finally invisible against the hazy blue of the eastern horizon. She should return to the inn; Aunt Gretchen would be wondering where she was. (Aunt Gretchen knew very well where she was.) She had a dozen chores to do, and the activity could not but do her good, wake some of her shocked, abandoned blood, prod her heart into motion again. She was a fool to be standing here, forlorn and bereft, watching the waves swallow the shadow of a vanished Edori boat.
She gave one long sigh, shook her head, and made herself turn back toward the inn. She had not taken three steps when she felt a faint shift and roll inside the silver box. So she stopped in the middle of the street and softly crooned the short melody that would turn aside the silver rose. The lock slid back, and she lifted the painted glass lid.
Inside was the emerald ring.
He would return as he had promised.
CHAPTER TEN
Tamar had two strokes of luck as she fled from Ileah. One came almost immediately, twenty minutes after she snatched up a few bundles and the rest of the dried beef and hurried west down the road. She had gone less than two miles along her way when she heard a dull rumble behind her and, looking back, saw a big farm transport vehicle bearing down. She scrambled out of the way (in her experience, the drivers of the big trucks weren’t always careful about keeping faithfully on the road) and slowed her pace to watch the truck pass.
She was surprised when it came to a growling idle beside her. A man riding high on the elevated driver’s seat waved down at her; she saw heads pop up in the windows of the mammoth cabin behind him, children’s faces, children’s eager, indiscriminate waves.
“We’re on our way to Semorrah! Looking for a ride?” the man called down to her.
It was almost outside of her experience that anyone could extend such kindness to a complete stranger, but then, she had heard many tales of the friendly midland farmers who picked up wayfarers just for the company. The presence of children on the truck was reassuring; even a man who offered assistance so he could eventually turn to assault seemed unlikely to do so in the presence of little witnesses. Even so, had she not been desperate, she probably would have refused.
“I don’t think I can pay you,” she called back up to him.
He waved a hand in a dismissive gesture. “No, no, I don’t want your coins. Just wanted to save you a few hot, weary miles.”
The angel would be back in half a day; on foot, she was unlikely to get far enough to elude him. It was a gamble, but she was running out of safe choices.
“Then, yes, thank you very much,” she said. “How do I climb in?”
Three giggling boys swarmed out of the back of the truck and demonstrated for her the footholds and handholds built into its thick metal sides. She hauled herself aboard and tumbled into the cavernous cabin, a huge, rattling, odoriferous compartment that seemed stocked with all manner of mysterious cargo. She could smell leather goods and what might be grain; in addition, there were boxes that could contain anything. The truck roared into its traveling mode again, and Tamar felt the vibrations enter her bones from every part of her body in contact with the metal—her feet, the palms of her hands, her hip against the interior wall. The droning ricocheted through her head and set up a steady quiver in her back teeth. It was instantly too noisy to hear anything except the roar of the motor. She could not imagine how she would endure this for more than five minutes.
But it was a hundred and sixty miles to Semorrah. They might be traveling at a rate of thirty miles an hour or so (she had no aptitude for judging the speed of a motor vehicle). She had a day of this to endure.
Two of the boys made their way to her side, nonchalantly navigating the piles of merchandise and bracing themselves against the unsteady sway of the truck. One of them carried a sheepskin rug in his hands, the other what looked like an oversized feather pillow. They offered these to her silently. When she stared at them blankly, they went into a pantomime routine: the one laid the rug on the jouncing floor, the other placed the pillow on top of it then sat himself squarely in the middle, crossing his legs under him. He grinned up at her as if to say, “See how comfortable?” and she could not help smiling in return. He jumped to h
is feet, almost fell over when the truck took a rapid turn, then held his hand out to indicate that she should now sit down.
So she did, and was relieved to find that the padding substantially cut down the awful vibrating sensation. In fact, if she was careful, she could lie on one side, half curled up but comfortable enough, and still remain within the shelter of the pillow. She gave the boys a big smile of thanks and they laughed back at her. She was glad it was too noisy to talk. Otherwise, she was sure, they would want to sit and visit with her, and she had no conversation to offer young farm boys whose lives were so serene that they could so joyously welcome grim strangers into their midst.
So she rearranged her body, piling all her bundles under her head to further cut the vibration, and lay completely supine. The boys watched her till she closed her eyes. She did not hear them rise and leave her (she couldn’t hear a thing), but when she peeped out through half-closed lids, they were gone.
She sighed and turned to her other side, punching the pile of clothes under her head to make it more comfortable. She had Evan’s jacket, one of Dawn’s sweaters—she had run to the storeroom cabin and just grabbed anything that looked useful, anything that she could fit into one fairly tight bundle. She had left Peter’s pallet unmade, the breakfast dishes scattered on the floor, the well uncovered, the laundry on the line….
Well, of course, it was not laundry at all. The red shirt was a warning signal, a message of danger, a sign that said TROUBLE LURKS HERE; PASS BY. All Jacobites carried a bit of red clothing with them and never wore it—unless they had been taken prisoner, unless they were in the company of enemies and did not want their friends to unwarily approach. The angel had asked her if she expected any more Jacobites to arrive at Ileah. She did, but she expected them to take one look and run back the other way.
He would think, if he knew, that she was warning them of Jansai predators. But she considered the angel a danger just as great. All this talk of helping her to look for the Alleluia Files—! As if she would trust an angel with such a task! With anything. Everyone knew that angels had nothing to gain, everything to lose, if the spaceship Jehovah was exposed for the combination of machinery and fraud that it was. She had no idea what his plan was, how he expected her to help him betray her friends, but she was smart enough to know no good could come of colluding with an angel.
She punched her makeshift pillow again and turned over, trying to find a position that was comfortable for even five minutes. He had not seemed as indiscriminately evil as she would have expected. He looked neither debauched nor cruel, and he had certainly been kind enough to her and Peter. He had reasons to be kind, she reminded herself, for naturally he wanted to win her over. Thus the courteous manner, the helpful acts, the gift of flowers which she could not, to this hour, fathom.
It would be easier to hate a man—an angel—who was coarse or abusive. This angel, this Jared, had seemed sincere enough and, actually, good-hearted; but of course it was all a facade. A shame that a man with such a pleasant face should use it as a mask for malevolence, but there it was. An angel was only good to propagate lies; how many times had she heard Conran say that? “The only favor an angel will grant is the favor of a quick death.” It was not like one pair of sympathetic eyes could overcome all her bitter training.
She rolled to her back and stared at the shaking ceiling overhead. There were half a dozen small windows near the top edge of the truck’s walls, and these let in a little light and even less wind. Not that she needed to see, and she was getting resigned to breathing only tainted air. But it was a way to judge the hours of daylight left.
How far were they from Semorrah? How fast were they traveling? Would they drive straight through to the merchants’ city or stop for the night somewhere along the road? There might be any number of small villages along the way, offering cheap inns and poor food, but Tamar doubted she had enough money in her pockets to pay for even the least expensive room. She would prefer driving straight through, or even camping out for the night.
Although, as usual, her desires were not to be consulted. When the driver did halt, about two hours after he’d picked her up, they took a quick break for an afternoon meal. Tamar found herself feeling oddly shaky and disoriented as she carefully climbed down. The driver stood with his back to her, shouting directions to the children. Beside him was a woman, most likely his wife, whom Tamar had not noticed before.
The woman smiled at her sympathetically. “I know just how you feel,” she said. “It’s so noisy in the back of the trucks, and say what they will, I’m convinced there’s something in the fuel that swirls around in your head and makes you feel sick. If I’ve been on the road all day, riding in back like that, there are times I sit up and retch all night. Truly. But you’ll feel better if you walk around a few minutes now.”
“I’m fine,” Tamar said faintly. “Why are we stopping?”
“Well, the boys get terribly wound up if we don’t let them out every few hours,” the woman said with a laugh. “And I had some personal needs to tend to. And I thought we might as well all have a snack. Are you hungry or is your stomach too queasy from the ride?”
Tamar thought about it a moment and was surprised to discover she had an appetite. “I could eat a bite,” she said cautiously. “I have a little food with me—”
The woman waved her hand. “Oh, heavens, no, I’ve brought enough to feed half the merchants in Semorrah! It’s a good sign that you’re hungry. I don’t think you’ll suffer too much.”
“And I don’t want you to think I’m complaining,” Tamar said earnestly. “It was so good of you to offer me a ride.”
The woman smiled again. “Arthur loves to help people out. He was so poor growing up, you know, and as he tells it, so many people were doing him favors, giving him odd jobs so he could earn a little extra money, helping his father on the farm when his dad got sick—well, he says he could never pay back to others all the things people did for him. I always thought that was such a positive way to look at life, don’t you think? Because most people are always complaining about how others have done them wrong. It’s one of the things I like most about him.”
I don’t care about this. I don’t know you people, Tamar wanted to say, but despite herself, she was a little intrigued by the story. To have met with so much kindness in your life that you felt you could never repay it; there was a new thought. Of course, she had had some experience in that area, for she had been taken in and cared for by people upon whom she had no claim at all. But their affection had bound her only to them; it had not opened her heart to the world at large.
Perhaps the fault was in her, and not in her mentors. She was too suspicious and unforgiving by nature to expect good from everyone around her. Or perhaps she was right and this Arthur was wrong, and someday he would offer succor to the wrong fellow and be murdered for his pains. Now there was a dour thought to nurse on a sunny day. She shook her head to clear out the melancholy.
“I’m Tamar,” she said, just to have something to say. She rarely offered anyone her name first.
“Gena,” the woman replied. “The boys are—well, I’ll tell you their names, but I won’t expect you to remember them!” And indeed, Tamar forgot them as soon as Gena reeled them off, but she smiled politely and made sure to glance at each cheerful young face.
Then she helped Gena spread out a blanket on the grass and cover it with plates and cups and baskets of food. The boys came yelping up and plopped themselves on the checkered cloth; their father followed a bit more sedately. For a while everyone ate in virtual silence.
“So, Tamar, what’s taking you to Semorrah?” Arthur asked after he learned his passenger’s name.
“My cousin may have a job for me there,” she said.
“And you came from where?”
“Stockton.”
“All that way on foot!” Gena exclaimed. “You must be exhausted!”
“I had a ride partway. I don’t mind walking.”
“What k
ind of job?” Arthur wanted to know.
Tamar smiled. “Well, my cousin works at a hotel, and I said I’d take anything. I can cook, I can clean, I can even tend horses—and I understand they have a lot of horses in Semorrah, since they don’t allow motor vehicles inside the city.”
“It’s good to know horses,” Gena said approvingly. “Arthur thinks machines are the answer to everything, but my father always relied on horses and they served him well.”
“Mark my words, another fifty years, you won’t see a workhorse in the country,” Arthur said. “Some people may still ride them for pleasure, but I say, it’s not that much pleasure to ride a horse.”
“Well, it’s not exactly a pleasure to ride in your smelly old truck, either,” Gena replied with a sniff.
He laughed. “No, but it’s twice as fast! And ten times as strong and can carry a hundred times more. The days of the horse and the ox are over, I’m afraid.”
“What hotel does your cousin work at?” Gena asked. “One of the big ones? They have such lovely hotels there—so fancy! For myself, I see no reason to waste good money just to stay in a pretty room twenty-five stories over the city, though I will say I like the view from some of those big public towers. But if all I’m going to do is lay my head down on a pillow and sleep, well, I’d rather save my money and settle in someplace a little less expensive. As long as it’s clean. I will not abide a dirty room.”
“I don’t exactly remember the name of the hotel,” Tamar admitted. Actually, she was hoping for a little guidance from her hosts. “She said it was a nice place, not too fancy but the kind of place a woman would feel safe in if she was traveling alone or a man would feel free to make a business deal in. Only about fifty rooms, she said, but big enough to have its own taproom and stable. I think it was called the—”
“The Berman House?” Arthur interjected. “I’ve often thought about staying there, but I’ve always had such good luck with the Grey stone that I’ve never bothered to change.”