The acrid tang of smoke hung in a haze over the hayfields. The charred remains of the barn and partially burned rolls of hay were strewn about. Even what wasn't burned was mostly ruined by the water used to put the blaze out.
Aside from a few minor burns and a twisted ankle, there were no injuries. Men had come from all around at the sight of the smoke. The barns were Ranfurly owned, but the hay inside was community property.
Sandor looked around at the damage done, angry and puzzled. What sort of person would do such a thing and why? Who would have such a vendetta against the farmers here? Thankfully they had plenty of hay elsewhere, and could buy more if necessary, but what if they struck again? Finding out who had done this thing was a necessity he couldn't ignore. Picking out a few capable men, he combed the area for any clues.
As he rode home in the half-dark after sunset, Sandor's mind was churning. They had found some footprints, an empty oil jug and the stump of a torch. It was certain the fire was no accident. The footprints were a worker's boot in an average size, which pointed to the arsonist as an average male, which was little help. There was even a slim possibility that it was a woman with large feet.
Sandor was stuck on the why as much as on the who.
He had asked the farmers who had stored their hay in the barn, but none could give him a likely suspect. None of them could give the name of an enemy, or had been in any disagreements recently. If it wasn't a vendetta against the farmers, that left two likely possibilities—that it was a random act or that it was directed not at the farmers, but at Ranfurly itself.
He arrived at the keep late, to find all in bed, save his faithful steward. Maddex brought him some food, which he made short work of before he went to the bath to wash. He could still smell the lingering taint of smoke as he made his way upstairs. He stopped for a moment, his fingers resting on the door handle of his wife's bedroom. Carefully opening the door a crack, he listened and could hear her soft regular breathing. Resisting the urge to wake her, he left her to sleep and went to the master suite to sleep alone.
Anaya woke in the morning to find Sandor already gone. Maddex told her that the Duke had left at dawn to see to the replacement of the barn. Setting aside her disappointment, she applied herself to learning all Sophia and Merna could teach her about the household.
At mid-day, word came that another barn had been burned east of the first, and again all the hay was a loss. The Duke was on the site, and one of the men had been badly injured. Their meal was solemn that evening, and again she went to her solitary room.
Anaya felt lost. Since he had ridden away from their carriage, she had not seen Raven. She had expected him to wake her and talk to her when he returned from the first fire. In that expectation, she had fallen asleep planning how to help ease his worry, and talk over the incident before they slept. Knowing that he would be weary, she would have foregone mashiwe, but she longed for the warmth of sleeping in his arms, at least.
Instead he had slept alone. And once again she was alone, and he was out there somewhere in the night, facing danger and another disaster. Chiding herself for being selfish when he was needed elsewhere, she tossed and turned before finally falling asleep.
Quiet rage burned in Sandor's chest. That it was the same arsonist was certain, and this time one of the farmers had been injured. The healer said the man would pull through although he would carry scars from the burns and for that the Duke was grateful. He walked once more around the smoldering rubble, pleading with providence for some sign to show him what he could do to stop this insane chaos.
He had sent a message to Halbern, and guards now kept watch on all the barns near the keep. By tomorrow every barn in Ranfurly would have watchmen. His fear was that, being foiled from striking the barns, the arsonist would pick another target—perhaps one that would do more damage or hurt more of his people.
Beneath the anger over the damage and the injured man there was a sense of betrayal as well. This was not how things were supposed to be. He should be settling down to married life, not chasing a madman. Yet here he was, looking for clues to stop a vendetta he didn't understand.
Once again, he returned home after all were abed. He ate only because Maddex insisted, washed his torso, but not his hair and fell into bed with the smell of smoke in his nostrils. Just before dawn he was pulled from sleep by another urgent message.
His fear had turned out to be well placed. Instead of being deterred and ending his campaign, the arsonist had chosen another target—the cattle dipping pens. Fortunately, there were few cattle in the place, as the bath to repel biting flies, mosquitoes and other insect pests had been done for most of the stock two weeks before. Nevertheless a dozen good cows died from smoke, fire or the collapse of the structure.
There was little more to go on than the last two fires. The only clue he found was the seller's mark on the broken oil jar. It gave them the village of Eastwick, but there were almost eighty men living there, and no guarantee that one of them had bought the oil. Still he took the time to talk to all of them. None seemed nervous or ill at ease and he gained no further information.
He returned to the keep around midday and managed to grab a bite to eat in his office as he talked with Halbern. Having arranged guards for as many other possible targets as they could, he had turned to find Anaya standing just outside the door.
"I have to go," he said, stopping just long enough to give her a slight squeeze and a kiss on the cheek. "Don't worry." In his distraction he didn't see the look of longing on her face, or the tears she blinked away. Meeting Sophie coming up the stairs, he told his sister the same with the same brief gestures.
Two more days passed with two more fires. One was a mill that was empty because the millstone had cracked and the mill had been awaiting the replacement. The second was a warehouse by one of the docks on the river. Sandor felt like he was in battle with an invisible nemesis. It was becoming almost normal to return to a quiet house, force himself to eat his solitary meal, wash up a bit and go to bed—always pausing at his wife's door, but always electing to let her sleep.
Anaya was fighting a war of her own, but hers was internal. Loneliness, self doubt and the insidious whispers from ugly words whirled through her mind whenever she wasn't busy with tasks. She did her best to fend it off, but her assurance felt hollow in the absence of her husband. Time and again she chided herself for being silly, and told herself that once this crisis passed, all would be well. But the voice that insisted that he had lost interest in her—that he had decided she was not worth his regard after all—grew slowly stronger, fueled by her feelings of being neglected.
That the one time she had seen him he had given her the same attention as he had given his sister had made matters worse. No matter how many times she reminded herself that he was fighting a crisis and that Kenet had warned her how duty sometimes blinded him, the lack of warmth in his embrace and the chaste nature of the kiss on her cheek undermined her attempts. Had he kissed her on the lips—no matter how briefly—it would not have felt so cold.
There had been five fires in five days. The warehouse had been the costliest. Sandor sat on a barrel conferring with the manager over what had been in storage there. As they went through the manifests, the price climbed higher, but the cost in gold worried him less than the loss of the goods themselves. All would have to be reordered and reshipped, and he hoped there was enough time left to replace them before winter.
"My Lord," said Halbern, coming up to where they sat, "I found a possible witness." He gestured and a disheveled man with a distinct fishy odor came forward. He held a floppy hat in his hand and was twisting it back and forth.
"Relax, man," said Sandor. "You're in no trouble. What's your name?"
"Lemuel, milord, but folks call me Lem."
"All right Lem. What did you see?"
"I was beddin' down in the long grass," Lem said. "I saw this fella kinda tippy-toein' along the river. He went past me and around the corner. I smelt oil, heard a flint strikin' and then I smelt smoke. I didn't see him when I ran to barracks to tell the guards."
"Thank you for raising the alarm," said Sandor. While he seemed to be homeless, the man didn't strike him as dishonest. "The man you saw—can you describe him?"
"I think so." Lem considered for a time. "He was about a head taller than me. Younger than me but not a lot. Thick wavy hair and a beard ..." The man scratched his head. "There was something odd about his beard."
"Odd?"
"Aye. It was like there was a thin place with no hair." Lem tugged his own beard on the left side of his chin. "Right here. No, that ain't right." He tugged the other side. "It was here. And it was lighter there, I think. Hard to tell in the dark."
"Thank you Lemuel." Sandor looked at Halbern. "Does that description sound familiar?"
"No, My Lord," said Halbern. "But I can ask the people here. They might recognize the man if he's local."
"Do that," said Sandor. As Halbern bowed and turned away, the Duke looked back at Lem. "How did you come to be sleeping on the riverbank?"
"I'm a sailor sir," replied Lem. "Or at least I was. I come down sick and the Captain left me behind in the port. I took a job as a wagoner goin' north, but the man stiffed me my pay. So I've been followin' the river back to the seaport, makin' do as best I can."
"You can sleep in the barracks till the next boat comes by going down river. I'll see that you get a berth back to the coast."
"Oh, thank you milord." Lem gave a stiff bow. "I appreciate your kindness."
"It's the least I can do." Sandor gestured to one of the guards. "Take Lem to the barracks and see he's fed and given a cot."
The guard led Lem towards the barracks as Halbern returned with a man by his side.
"My Duke," said Halbern. "This fellow thinks he might know our man."
"Tell me," Sandor told the man.
"I think he may be the stranger that came into the alehouse last night. He was asking about who owned the warehouses. We had some carters that stopped to eat and one of them called him Harvel."
"Thank you." Sandor pulled a gold piece from his pocket and gave it to the fellow. "You've been very helpful." The man bowed and ran off.
"Well, we have a name now," said Halbern.
"If it's the same man." Sandor gathered up their squad of men from the keep. Once again he would get home late and likely rise before dawn. He sighed as they headed for their horses.
"We need to find this Harvel," he said to Halbern as they walked along.
"Harvel?" said a voice behind him. Sandor turned to the soldier. "Did you say Harvel, My Lord?"
"I did. Why?"
"I know a Harvel. He worked in the quarry, till he pitched off a ledge and took all the skin off his chin. He's got a scar where the beard doesn't grow right here ..." The soldier pointed to the right side of his face. "His beard has a white streak where the hair starts again. He's Cali's nephew."
"Cali?" For a moment Sandor was stunned. "The Linen Keeper I dismissed?"
"Aye, that's the one."
"Where does he live?"
"He lived with her, but she packed up and left, My Lord."
"My Lord," another soldier said. "My wife said she has a sister that lives in Crossroads."
"So we go to Crossroads?" asked Halbern.
"We go to Crossroads," Sandor confirmed.
They arrived just before nightfall. They rode into the village and almost immediately saw the man they sought. Harvel saw them too and tried to run but the squad swiftly cut off his escape.
Brought before the Duke, the man was defiant and unrepentant. Cali had told him her story, but claimed that Anaya had lied about her out of spite and caused her dismissal. The fires had been his revenge against the Duke and his wife. Harvel refused to believe that his aunt had deceived him and was still raging about it as he was led off to the gaol.
After all the uproar, the end was rather anticlimactic but Sandor was glad it was over. As a precaution he set a watch on Cali, and ordered her to leave Ranfurly land altogether before three days passed. Then he mounted Champagne and headed for home.
As had become usual, it was late. But now, with Harvel in custody and the danger done he could get back to normal. He passed Anaya's door, assuring himself that tomorrow they could have a long talk. Moreover, after dinner, they could retire to bed—together. He stripped off his clothes, fell into the big four-poster and almost immediately began drifting off to sleep.
Tired as she had been, Anaya's sleep had been fitful. She woke to the sound of his footsteps going down the hall to his room. She got up, pulled on her robe over her nightdress, put on her slippers and made her way out the door and down the hall. She paused for a moment outside his door, but gathered her courage and knocked.
"Hmmm?" She took it for an answer and opened the door, stepping inside.
"Raven?" she said softly. She could see him under the covers.
"Go back to bed," her husband murmured, putting his arm over his eyes. "Talk in the morning."
"All right," she said, blinking back a sting of tears. She turned and left his room, making her way back to her own. For a long while she lay awake, trying to comfort herself with the promise of them talking in the morning.
Maddex reluctantly roused him at dawn as he had requested, with a bite to eat and coffee. He would get all the loose ends tied up today and put it all behind him. He was already out of the gate when he realized he had forgotten to leave a note for Anaya to tell her he would be home for dinner.
Anaya woke with a headache and her eyes felt sticky. When her maid heard her stirring and came to help her, she asked after Raven, only to be told he was gone. Pleading her very real headache, she didn't go down for breakfast. Pacing back and forth she once again fought the battle with her fear, but this time all of her attempts at hope rang hollow. After a time she stopped , looking out the window and twisting the band on her finger. Then she made the hardest decision of her life.
As he approached the gates of the keep, Sandor was looking forward to his meal. While he was saddened by the stupidity of the entire mess, he was happy to see it behind him. Now he could concentrate on his marriage—more specifically on his wife. Within moments of riding into the gate, he knew something was amiss when Sophie came running from the house wringing her hands.
"What is it?" he asked urgently, catching his sister as she ran up to him. "What's happened?"
"Anaya ..." said Sophie, trying to catch her breath. "She's left."
"Left?" Sandor shook his head as though to clear it. This made no sense. "What the hell do you mean left? Why?"
"She said something about releasing you from your vows." Sophie blinked back tears. "I tried to get her to wait, to talk to you, but she said it was better this way, that you wouldn't feel so responsible."
"I wouldn't have stopped her," he said dully, trying to ignore the twisting pain that went through him, "if that's what she wanted."
"But it wasn't, Sandor," his sister insisted firmly. "That's why I don't understand any of this. She was hiding tears, and she told me and the girls she didn't want to leave, but it was best. There's was something about masy-wee ... "
"Mashiwe?"
"Yes, that sounds right. She ..." Sophie stopped, seeing the stunned expression on her brother's face.
Realization had left Sandor momentarily speechless. Only this morning he had realized that it had been six days since he had come home from Montclaire to find chaos. For almost a week he had been busy away from the keep and coming home late. Each night he had chosen not to wake his wife, instead falling into his lonely bed, exhausted from trying to catch the arsonist and repair the damage wrought by him.
Only now did he recall a vague memory of a tentative knock at his door last night. He had a hazy recollection of telling someone—his sleep fogged brain had thought it was Sophie—to go back to bed, that they could talk in the morning. But when Anaya rose this morning, he had been already gone. He had intended to leave her a note, but he had forgotten.
He knew now why she had left, and it was entirely his fault. Since they had come back to Ranfurly he hadn't talked to her, held her or kissed her beyond a few words, a perfunctory squeeze and a peck on the cheek. His inattention had left his brave, strong, beautiful wife convinced that he found her unappealing and she had predictably acted to free him from his marriage bonds. She was utterly wrong, but how was she to know that, when he hadn't bothered to explain? They had agreed to postpone their marital relations until after the Nandarin ceremony, but it almost a week past that point and she was still sleeping in a separate bed.
He was an idiot.
For a moment he considered letting her go and allowing her to find a husband who wasn't so thoughtless and insensitive to her. Immediately on the heels of that thought, however, came a swift and fierce denial. He would make it up to her, somehow, but he couldn't let her go. The mere idea of life without her was so dreary it nearly sent him to his knees. His attention came back to his quiet sister.
"When, Sophie?"
"Just after lunch. Maddox slowed the packing of the wagon as much as he could. Halbern sent Ellis with a squad for escort and Chato went as well."
"Send Halbern to me, and have Champ saddled," Sandor said, heading for the bath house. Stripping off his coat, waistcoat and shirt, he drew water to wash away the dust of the day. He had just finished toweling his hair and grabbed a clean shirt when the Captain of the Guard appeared.
"At my suggestion, Ellis is taking the old southeast road to the Greenway," said Halbern, "before turning west. He said he would insist that they stop at Three Stones."
"Bless you," said Sandor fervently. The east road curved and meandered across the land and took a long loop before it turned, lengthening the actual distance traveled considerably. But, if he cut across country, he could be at Three Stones camp in less than two hours. "Bless you both!"
"She is our Duchess," said Halbern gravely. "We know you'll clear this up."
"I will." Champ nickered outside, and Sandor heard the ring of his hooves on the cobbles. He decided that he would waste no time fussing with his hair or fetching a clean coat. As he strode out to his horse, he saw that the twins had joined Sophie, clinging to her skirts. He knelt to hug them close.
"Are you going to bring Anaya back?" asked Niti, sniffling.
"I will. It's a misunderstanding," he soothed, kissing them both. "It'll be all right. I promise. Be good for Sophie and sleep easy." Both girls nodded, and after another hug, he looked up at Sophie. "I need you to do one more thing," he said softly.
"Of course," Sophie replied.
"Have a collation set up in my parlor, with a bottle of sparkling wine."
"Should I have them light the candles in your bedchamber?" Sophie asked with an impish smile.
"The moment they hear me ride in," he agreed, with a small smile in return. "Then clear the hall."
"There won't be a soul in sight," Sophie promised. "Get on with you."
Sandor swung into the saddle and Champ broke into a gallop the moment his rider was seated. The warhorse thundered out the gate and turned southwest through the open fields.