Return to Alastair by L. A. Kelly Page A

through the angry mob to douse him with the contents of their steaming pot. And he’d thought he might spend eternity with his own searing screams.
    “The city’s quiet this evening,” Lorne said slowly.
    “Supper time,” Tahn replied. “Are you hungry?”
    “No.”
    “Good. Let’s go on, then.”

    In the depths of the little city, Tiarra was feeling better. The strange man from St. Thomas’s had stayed all of that night, and in the morning Mikal had come to tell her that Vale Sade had changed his mind. Martica was feeling better too, and had actually gotten up for the first time in weeks. The money Lucas had given her had been enough to replace what was lost and buy more food besides. And now Tiarra was back to work. There would be pay, after all.
    But it was never pleasant work, and now it was busy, which made it all the worse. Outside were the sound of horses and the raucous voices of many men. It made Tiarra groan. She hated to see patrons come in already rowdy. They were more likely to grow foul that way. She was glad she worked the day this time and would not have to stay so long into the night.
    The coarse voices continued outside for a while, and then six men burst through the door and took up the big table in the corner. She’d seen all but one of them before, and she knew they were trouble. They always had plenty of money. But they were vile and untrustworthy men.
    This evening, though, they didn’t yell for their drinks with the impatience they usually displayed. Instead, they seemed more intent upon whatever they’d come in discussing.
    “What if he stays around for a while?” one of them was saying. “What will we do about it?”
    “We’ll do nothing if he leaves us alone,” said the biggest. “If he doesn’t leave us alone, we draw swords.”
    “It’s not like Tahn to give us advantage,” another man said. “He’ll not let himself get surrounded again if he knows he’s got to fight it to the end. He knew we’d move. No doubt of that.”
    “You heard what he said,” Burle answered impatiently. “He’s not here to fight us. You act like idiots.”
    Tiarra managed to get to their table as quickly as she could with six full mugs. The name Tahn had stuck out to her ears like bristlegrass in a barley field.
    “Keep ’em full over here, girl,” Burle commanded her.
    “Yes, sir.”
    “And when you get a minute,” one of the others added, patting his knee, “come and sit right here.”
    Tiarra turned from them to the next table with an angry heart. These men were selfish, filthy beasts, and she would rather spit on them than sit in their company.
    But she was glad they did not bother to talk quietly.
    “I think you’re wrong about Tahn, Morrey,” one of the men was saying. “I can’t say that he’d care who had the advantage. He just does what he’s about, even when it’ll cost him. You saw that last year when he took arrows for that girl we caught.”
    “The Dorn has a way of surviving, that’s for sure,” another man added.
    Tiarra’s stomach knotted. They were talking about her brother. When did they see him? Where?
    “I still think we were lied to about Samis,” one of them declared. “I think Tahn killed him. You all know Samis wasn’t the kind to do himself in.”
    “Why don’t you just ask him about it next time we see him, Kert?” a tall man taunted. “You got backbone for that?”
    “Shut up,” Burle barked.
    “What kind of business you suppose he’s got in Alastair?” someone asked.
    “I haven’t got the slightest care,” Burle growled. “And I’m not wanting to hear any more about it, neither. Shut up and let me drink in peace!”
    The big man must be their leader, Tiarra decided, because no one wanted him mad. The conversation turned to other things. And the time crawled by slowly for Tiarra, who was now itching to get out of that tavern and run home to warn Martica. Tahn Dorn in Alastair? After seventeen years? What could he want,