Wolf in Shadow

'Are you staying in Rivervale?'

'No, I am a traveller.'

'A traveller who is uncomfortable with crowds,' observed Janus.

'Even so.'

'You will find the crowd less hostile when the people are known to you. Come, I will introduce you to some friendly faces.'

He took Shannow into the throng, and there followed much shaking of hands and a bewildering series of names which Shannow could not absorb — but the lad was right, and he began to feel more comfortable.

'And what do you do, Mr Shannow?' came the inevitable question, this time from a burly farmer named Evanson.

'Mr Shannow is searching for a city,' said Donna Taybard, joining them. 'He is a historian.'

'Oh,' responded Evanson, his face portraying his lack of interest. 'And how are you, Donna? Any sign of Tomas?'

'No. Is Anne with you?'

'I am afraid not. She stayed with Ash Burry; his wife is not well.'

Shannow slipped away, leaving them to their conversation. Children were playing near the paddock and he sat on the porch watching them. Everyone here seemed different from the people of the south; their faces were ruddy and healthy and they laughed often. Elsewhere, where Brigands rode, there was always a tension — a wariness in the eyes. Shannow felt apart from the people of Rivervale.

Towards the afternoon a group of riders came down the hill, six men riding directly towards the house. Shannow drifted back into the main room and watched them from a window. Donna Taybard saw them at the same time and wandered over, followed by a dozen or so of her neighbours.

The riders reined in and a tall man in a white woollen shirt stepped from the saddle. He was around thirty years old and his hair was black and close-cropped, his face dark and handsome.

'Good day, Donna.'

'And to you, Mr Fletcher.'

'I am glad to see you enjoying yourself. Any word from Tomas?'

'No. I am thinking of going to the arroyo where you left him and marking his grave.'

The man flushed deep red. 'I don't know what you mean.'

'Go away, Saul. I do not want you here.'

People were gathering around the riders and a silence settled over the scene.

Fletcher licked his lips. 'Donna, it is no longer safe to be so close to the edge of the wild lands.

Daniel Cade has been sighted only eight miles south. You must come in to Rivervale.'

'This is my home and I will remain here,' she said.

'I am sorry, but I must insist. The Committee has voted on this. You will be paid handsomely for your home and comfortable quarters have been set aside for you and Eric. Do not make this any more difficult. Your friends here have offered to help you with your furniture and belongings.'

As Donna's eyes swept the group, Evanson looked away and many others were staring at the ground. Only Stefan Janus moved forward.

'Why should she go if she does not wish to?' he said.

Saul Fletcher ignored him and moved closer to Donna.

‘There is no sense in this, Donna. The Committee has the right to make laws to protect its people.

You must leave — and you will leave. Now!' Fletcher turned to a huge, barrel-chested figure on a large black gelding. 'Bard, give Donna a hand with her belongings.' As the big man moved to dismount, Jon Shannow stepped from the shadowed doorway and stood on the porch overlooking the crowd. Bard settled back in the saddle, and all eyes turned to Shannow and the guns he now wore. In turn he studied the men who had just arrived. He had seen men like these all his life -

chancers, Brigands, war-makers. They all had that look — that stamp of cruelty, of callous arrogance.

'If Fray Taybard wishes to stay,' said Shannow, 'then that is the end of the argument.'

'And who are you, sir?' asked Fletcher, his eyes on the pistols at Shannow's side.

Shannow ignored him and turned to the riders, recognizing two of them.

'How are you, Miles?' he called. 'And you, Pope? You are a long way from Allion.' The two men sat very still, saying nothing.

'I asked you who you were,' said Fletcher, his hand resting on the walnut grip of a double-barrelled flintlock sheathed at his waist.

'He's the Jerusalem Man,' said Miles, and Fletcher froze.

'I have heard of you, sir. You are a killer and a war-maker. We will not suffer your kind in Rivervale.'

'No?' said Shannow mildly. 'My understanding is that you are no stranger to murder — and Miles and Pope were riding with Cade only a year ago.'

'That is a lie.'

'Whatever you say, Mr Fletcher. I have neither the time nor the inclination to argue with you.

You may leave now.'

'Just say the word, Saul,' shouted Bard. 'I'll cut him down to size.'

'Yes,' agreed Shannow. 'Do say the word, Mr Fletcher.'

'Don't, for God's sake!' shouted Miles. 'You've never seen him.'

Fletcher was far from being a foolish man and he heard the terror in Miles' voice. He swallowed hard and then moved to his horse, mounting swiftly.

‘Too many innocent people could suffer here,' he said, 'but there will be another day.'

'I hope so,' Shannow told him and the riders galloped from the yard.

The crowd remained and Shannow ran his eyes over them. Gone was the open friendliness, replaced now by fear bordering on hostility. Only young Janus approached him.

'Thank you, Mr Shannow. I hope you will not suffer for your kindness.'

'If I do I will not suffer alone, Stefan,' he said and walked back into the house.

The last wagon left just before dusk and Donna found Shannow sitting in the comfort chair.

'You shouldn't have done that for me,' she said, 'but I am grateful.'

Eric came in behind her. 'What did you mean about father's grave?' he asked.

'I'm sorry, Eric, but it's true. Fletcher had him killed. I'm sorry.'

'It's a lie,' he shouted, tears falling freely. 'You hated him! And I hate you!' He turned and fled the house.

'Eric! Eric!' she called and then began to weep.

Shannow went to her, and held her close until the tears and the sobbing eased. He could find no words to comfort her, and Jerusalem seemed so far away.

Shannow sat at the pine dinner-table watching Donna Taybard kneeling at the wood-stove, as she raked out the ash with even, thoughtless strokes. She was a beautiful woman, and he could see why Fletcher desired her. Her face was strong and finely-boned, her mouth full and made for laughter. It was a face of character, of strength in adversity.

This talent,' he said, 'of seeing faraway things — how did you come by it?'

'I don't know. My father thought it was the Stone, but I'm not sure.'

‘The Stone?'

‘The Prester called it the Daniel Stone. It was from the Plague Lands and when held in the hand it glowed like sunlight behind ice. And it was warm. I played with it often as a child.'

'Why should he think the Stone caused your talents?'

She brushed ash from her hands and sat back. 'Do you believe in magic, Mr Shannow?'

'No.'

'Then you would not understand the Stone. When my father held it the sick would be healed.

Wounds would close within seconds, with no scar. It was one of the reasons he became Prester.'

'Why was it called the Daniel Stone?'

'I don't know. But one day it refused to glow, and that was an end to it. It is still in my father's old house, where Fletcher now lives. Ash Burry tells me that Fletcher is always toying with it — but it will never work again. The Prester told me its power had departed for ever.'

'But now you have powers.'

'Not of healing, or prophecy, or any real magic. But I can see those close to me, even when they are far away.'

For a while they sat in silence. Donna added kindling to the stove and lit a fire. Once the blaze was roaring she closed the iron door and turned to Shannow.