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’Twas the mark of a twisted soul that deserved a good comeuppance. If no’ for Paige he’d hunt the blackguard down and offer it. But he kenned ’twould hurt her far more than ’twould Austin.
But the day would come. He kenned it with his whole soul.
Chapter Fourteen
“Taran! Come out!”
Waking from a sound sleep, Taran recognized Finn’s voice as he yelled and shook the tent. From the dimness inside, Taran could tell ’twasnae fully daylight. What had happened to stir Finn into such a fuss?
“What is it?” Paige asked, sitting up to blink the sleep from eyes still swollen from last night’s tears.
“Quick, Taran!” Finn urged.
“Go back tae sleep, lass,” Taran said, pulling on his boots. “I’ll go see.”
“No.” She reached for her shoes. “I’m coming with you.”
“ ’Tis bad, laddie,” Finn warned, dragging him by the arm toward the center of the village. “There’s some who still consider ye a stranger, pointin’ accusin’ fingers at ye. Ye’re needing an alibi, laddie. And not from that sweet lassie back there.”
“What?” Paige asked, out of breath from rushing. “What’s wrong?”
Finn looked at Taran and then Paige. “There’s been trouble.”
The rising sun chased the shadows away, revealing the milling crowd outside Aiesha’s tent. They parted, whispering to one another as Finn, Taran and Paige rushed inside.
Wilma and Old Man knelt beside Aiesha who lay face down near the fire.
“Oh, no!” Paige gasped, racing forward.
“What happened,” Taran asked before noting a patch of red in her dark hair and a shattered clay pot beside her.
’Twas clear enough. But why? Who?
Wilma and Old Man gently rolled her over.
“Is she…?” Paige dropped to her knees.
“Breathing,” Wilma replied. “Unconscious but breathing.”
Finn nudged Taran, whose full attention had been on Aiesha, and nodded at the rest of the tepee.
It looked like a battle had taken place, Taran thought, surveying the damage. The broken off tops of various sized clay pots dangled by thin ropes from lodge poles while the body of the pots and their contents, lay in shattered disarray on the ground. A variety of baskets were mashed and shredded, clearly stomped on, and her materials; reeds, and willows, broken and scattered. Further on, a pile of furs had been shredded and more clay pots broken.
“Look!” Paige cried, drawing Taran’s attention to the gold chain tangled in Aiesha’s fingers.
“The gold-piece is missing,” Wilma said looking from Paige to Taran.
“It’s my fault!” Paige moaned. “I gave her the necklace. I had no idea it would—someone would—”
“It’s not your fault,” Wilma chided. “It was a mistake to show it around like she did.”
Taran turned to Old Man who’d stopped in front of him and slowly held up Taran’s dirk with both hands, like an offering. “Yours, yes?”
“Yes,” Taran answered, an uneasy feeling settling in his gut as he looked at Paige. ’Twas the one he’d given her for protection. “ ’Twas in my tent. I saw it there last evening. Why do you have it?”
“It was there,” Old Man nodded toward the slashed furs where Aiesha have slept.
“Wait a minute,” Wilma said, leaving Aiesha’s side to go search through the slashed furs. Pushing them aside, she picked up shards of a clay pot. “They’re gone,” she stated.
