First Light (6 page)

“What have we here?” the outlaw demanded in a deep, throaty voice.

“An orphan child on her way to Dexter,” Merry Anne replied. “We’ve nothing of value for you— unless you’ve a need for a sweater.” She held up the completed garment.

To my great surprise, the thief’s eyes lit up. “That’s exactly what I’m needing.” He leaned forward, grabbing Merry Anne’s arm. I could tell she had not expected this, but she held the sweater out to him.

“Take it then, and be on your way. A child will go cold tonight, and it be upon your head.”

“Not the sweater, daft woman.” He slapped it away. “
This
be what I’m after.” His grimy fingers closed around a thin ribbon on Merry Anne’s wrist. I’d not noticed it before, hidden as it was by her sleeve. But I took notice now, as did the thief, of the three luminescent pearls threaded there. I’d never seen such fine jewels in all my life; nor, I imagined, had our smelly robber.

For a second— so swift I almost missed it— panic swept across Merry Anne’s face. But then she complied, holding her hand so he might slip the ribbon and pearls from her arm. He did, lifting them up in the light from the still-open door, a look of glee on his unshaven face.

“Fare thee well, ladies.” He backed out of the coach. Merry Anne retrieved her knitting from the floor and held a needle in her hand, pointed at the bandit as if it was the sharpest sword— or something even more deadly. She murmured a few unintelligible words, raised her hand, then froze, looking at me, then up at the coach ceiling. Pressing her lips together, she lowered the needle, but not before I’d seen something to make me question my own sanity. In that moment I would have sworn on my parents’ graves that a spark emerged from the tip of her needle. I closed my eyes, sighing as I leaned against the seat. The past weeks, this journey— it was all starting to get to me.

“If only we hadn’t left Zipporah at the inn last night. But no, Kindra had to see you and have her turn.” Merry Anne muttered loudly enough that I could hear her, though none of what she said made sense. “Adrielle, you’re our only hope. You’ll have to retrieve the pearls for me.”

“What?
” I opened my eyes to find Merry Anne pointing to the open door of the carriage. I leaned forward and saw the outlaws retreating into the woods.

“Go,” she said, shooing me toward the door. “Hurry! One of them has a horse, and even you’re not
that
fast.”

“You expect me to— go after them?” I wondered if I looked as flabbergasted as I felt.

“Well, yes. You’re the only one who can,” she said. “You’re a good runner. And it’s imperative we get those pearls back. In the wrong hands— well, never mind. Just go.” She nudged me from my seat.

Stiff with shock, I climbed from the carriage.

“You can do it,” Merry Anne called to me in a sing-song voice. Our eyes met, hers twinkling, mine confused, scared.

But absurd as her request seemed, I suddenly knew she was right. My body felt light as air, my feet tingled, and a vision of the wooded path I would take flashed before my eyes.

I turned and ran into the forest with no thought in mind except gaining the thieves and clasping my hand around the glowing pearls.

Merry Anne and I had both overestimated my abilities. That became clear as dark descended and I still hadn’t discovered the thieves. At first, I’d heard them ahead of me— their horse neighing, the thieves’ crude laughter, their boasting. Apparently ours wasn’t the only carriage they’d robbed today.

But those sounds had grown fainter until they were no more, and still I ran. I felt incapable of stopping, though my lungs burned, and I’d have given almost anything— perhaps even the pearls— for a drink of cold water.

The first stars flickered their meager lights overhead, and I plunged on, instinct guiding my feet away from felled trees and other snares on a forest floor. The original path from the main road had long-since disappeared. Some part of my mind knew I should have felt panicked to be chasing after a bunch of brigands, running deeper and deeper into a strange wood, but instead I felt calm and free. No one would be after me tonight to milk the cow or scrub the pots and sweep the floors. Time was my own. It was a glorious feeling.

I ran and ran, long past the point I thought I could run no more. Then a single plume of smoke, spiraling above the treetops, stopped me cold. I made my way to a nearby tree stump, sitting down to rest.

The scent of a campfire wafted toward me. The chorus of a bawdy song confirmed that the fire most likely belonged to the outlaws. I reached down, snapping the leaf of a dandelion off and chewing it slowly while I waited for sleep to claim the thieves. That it did not claim me first seemed a bit of magic in itself, as the run had left me limp and exhausted.

When their talk and song had at last subsided, I crept forward on silent feet, though the nearer I came, the more apparent it was I need not worry about any noise
I
might make. The three men snored enough to rival the sounds at Lawton’s mill the day a fresh load of trees was delivered.

The moon had risen to its full height in the sky, illuminating the camp and the men’s still forms circled about the dying fire. One man I’d glimpsed only from the side as he ran away from the carriage. Sprawled on his back as he was now, I noticed grotesque pock marks covering much of his face, appearing almost as a beard without whiskers. I wondered how old he’d been when he had the pox and how he’d survived such a serious case.

Shuddering, I turned my attention to the second outlaw— the stinky one who’d entered our carriage. Standing as I was, several feet away, I could smell him already. The thought of moving any closer made my nose wrinkle in distaste. I was about to turn away for a breath of fresh air when I noticed his leg sticking out at an odd angle. A club foot poked out from a weathered boot that looked as if it had been cut to allow the deformed limb inside. Thinking of how easily I’d run and the freedom I’d felt while doing so, I felt a swell of sympathy for the man. Perhaps thievery was the only profession he could find, disabled as he was.

The third man’s girth equaled that of the first two combined. His snoring rumbled deep from his chest, drowning out the snores of the other two as well as the sounds of the forest. A tale my father used to tell came to mind, and I imagined the thief was really the giant found at the top of a beanstalk reaching into the sky. And while he slept, the hapless Jack made off with the giant’s golden harp.

Except that I wasn’t Jack, and I was after a string of pearls. The only things Jack and I had in common were the unfortunate ability to disappoint our mothers and a rather large obstacle in our way. Though
my
rather large obstacle was also missing the third finger on his left hand. Again I shuddered, imagining what might have happened and how painful it must have been.

As I studied the three men, compassion stirred my soul, and for a brief moment I considered leaving them be. It was apparent they’d had a life of hardship, and perhaps the pearls— one for each— would make their situations better.

But Merry Anne’s face came to mind, along with her earnest faith in me. I was loath to disappoint another person, especially one who knew my sister. Thus resolved, I formed a plan. Creeping around to the far side of the camp, I made my way toward the outlaws’ tethered horse. I bent down, ripping a handful of sweet grass from the ground, and approached slowly, palms upward, holding out the offered treat.

The horse shook its head and gave a nicker, quiet in comparison with the snoring behind me. Nevertheless, I glanced back, anxious lest one of the men should awaken before I’d gained my prize. They slept as before. When the horse had eaten the grass from my hand, I untied the rope from the tree and led the animal away from camp. I would have liked to send the horse back toward the road, in the direction I’d come, hoping that I might ride when making my escape. But I could not rationalize taking the animal from the outlaw who so obviously needed it. Instead, I led it deeper into the forest in the opposite direction. Should the thieves wish to catch me on horseback, they would first have to retrieve their horse.

I tethered it only a short distance from camp, making sure it stood— as it hadn’t before— in the midst of a fine bunch of grass. As I finished the knot, my foot squished into a puddle. I knelt, eagerly searching for the source, and found a tiny streamlet— what had likely been a healthy brook before the drought— meandering through the tall blades. Scooping the water into my hands, I soothed my parched throat and lamented the fact I had nothing in which to store and carry the precious liquid.

I supposed the thieves might have a canteen, but to take it from them seemed it would make me no better than they. I had come not to steal, only to take back what was mine.

Mine?
Where had that thought come from? The pearls belonged to Merry Anne. They were no more mine than they were the thieves’. Though I’d been poor my entire life and, according to my mother, done a great many things wrong, I’d never once resorted to stealing— or even thought of it until now. I shook my head to clear it of the distressing idea and returned to the camp, determined to get the pearls and restore them to Merry Anne as soon as possible.

I crept closer to the smelly thief. He’d taken the bracelet to begin with, and I hoped it might still be on his person. A few moments’ investigation, and I found the end of Merry Anne’s ribbon poking out from his fist. I imagined I could see a faint light glowing through his skin. Leaning closer I saw it was more than my imagination. His skin
did
glow; the brilliant beads were surely within his hand.

These were no ordinary pearls, and I resolved to ask Merry Anne about them when I returned. But for now, I had to get them from the thief’s hand to my own. Retreating into the forest once more, I gulped the fresh air and tore a fern from the ground. I prayed the outlaw would be susceptible to tickling, as I’d been as a youngster when my older siblings found it amusing to bother me while I slept.

Squatting by the man’s side, I ran the fern gently up and down the arm opposite the hand holding the bracelet. From wrist to elbow I flicked the fern back and forth until at last the limb began to twitch. At first the movement was slight, but the fern’s continued strokes were beginning to cause discomfort— itching. It was about this time, when I was a young child, that my brothers found great delight in watching me dump water on myself as I raised my hand to scratch the itch, inadvertently dumping the cup they’d placed in my hand as I slept. A mean trick to be sure, but I felt grateful for it now as I watched the thief’s arm rise across his body, as unconsciously he reached to scratch.

Instead of a cup, his hand held the pearls, and I waited, hardly daring to breathe, as his fingers opened and the ribbon fell from them. I caught them neatly and ceased the fern’s movement. His long, dirty fingernails scratched the crusted flesh of his arm. It was a wonder, I thought, that he’d felt anything through all that filth.

Eager to be away from the danger of these men— and the odor of this particular one— I turned away with my prize just as a rough hand closed around my wrist.

“Where do you think you’re going?” the smelly outlaw snarled, revealing a half-set of teeth that were little more than yellow and black stumps.

I recoiled as far as possible, as he still held my wrist.

“To return the pearls to their rightful owner,” I said, sounding far braver than I felt.

“Rightful is who has ‘em now,” he said.

“Then that would be me,” I said, referring to my captor’s absurd idea of ownership.

A loud snore came from the other side of the campfire, and I glanced toward the noise, realizing his accomplices had not awoken. If I was to hope for any kind of escape it had to be now, before I was outnumbered three to one— four to one, really, if you considered the size of the third man.

Raising my foot, I stomped down hard on the outlaw’s twisted leg, just above the boot. He let out a roar of pain but also let go of my wrist. I turned and fled, hurrying toward the shelter of the forest.

“Stop the girl! She’s got the charmed bracelet.”