Amber and Iron - Margaret Weis [81]
“I am not!” Nightshade cried indignantly.
“—that’s still at least two or three walking around my city and murdering innocent people like this young woman here. If there’s a way to stop them, I have a right to try, and so do the officers of the law in other cities and towns.”
“I think we are all of us too shaken to make any decision right now,” said Patrick. “Let us meet in the morning, after the horror of this terrible scene has faded, then we can discuss it. In the meanwhile, we will shelter the mother and her children. You are welcome to return with us, as well, Brother Rhys. And you, too, Nightshade.”
“I thank you, but I must leave this night,” Rhys said. “My ship sails—”
“No, it doesn’t,” said Nightshade.
Rhys looked at the kender. He had no idea what he was talking about.
“Your ship doesn’t sail,” Nightshade repeated. “Well, yes, it probably does, but you don’t need to be on it. Lleu is gone, Rhys. You don’t have to chase after him anymore. That’s all over now.”
Nightshade took hold of Rhys’s hand and said quietly, “We can go home. You and me and Atta. We can go home.”
hys stood in the darkness, staring at Nightshade. He could feel the touch of the kender’s hand. He could hear the kender’s words, and to some part of him the words made sense. Another part kept thinking he had to go to that ship. He had to keep following his brother. He had to stop him from killing anyone else. He had to … He had to …
“It’s over,” he said. “Lleu is gone.”
Rhys felt no sadness over his brother’s death. His brother had died long ago. This thing had not been Lleu, though he still called it that.
“Yes, Rhys,” said Nightshade. He didn’t like the way his friend looked—sort of lost and dazed—and the kender held onto his friend’s hand tightly.
Rhys stared up the street and down, and he realized, suddenly, this street and all streets were no longer highways to bleak despair. They all led one place. As Nightshade said, they led home. Rhys’s grip on his staff strengthened. He longed to go back home, but he wasn’t ready to be received there. He could not show up on the doorstop in filthy, discolored robes, stained with the blood of innocents and the black ashes of death. He had to discard the world, cleanse his body, cleanse his soul. Naked as a babe, chastened and humbled, he would stand before his god and beg his forgiveness. Then he would go home.
“Thank you, Nightshade,” Rhys said. Bending down, he kissed the kender on the forehead. “You are a true friend.”
Nightshade swiped his hand across his eyes and hid a sniffle in his sleeve.
Gripping his staff tightly, Rhys looked searchingly around the street. A crowd had gathered. The story of what had gone on was being eagerly bandied about, and the tale was growing wilder with each telling. The sheriff ordered people repeatedly to go home, but no one listened, and the crowd grew larger and more unruly. Several young rascals decided they wanted to see the gruesome sight for themselves and tried to rush the dwelling, precipitating a fight with the guardsmen.
The sheriff, envisioning even more crowds once the sun rose, determined that the best way to end this would be to tear down the hovel and leave the curious nothing but a pile of lumber to stare at. He sent men racing off for tools. Some of the guardsmen couldn’t wait, but were already ripping down the shack, using their bare hands. Others were holding the crowd at bay. Patrick and Galena were nowhere to be found.
“I told them to take that poor woman and her children back to the temple,” the sheriff told Rhys. “They’ve been through enough without this.” He glowered around at the people standing in the street, craning their necks and pushing and shoving to get a better view.
“Thanks for your help in this, Brother,” the sheriff added. “Too bad we didn’t get here a little sooner, but what’s done is done and we’re rid of one of these monsters at least.” He turned back to the task at hand.
Rhys was quiet and thoughtful on his way back to the