Rumfuss looked up at MacDonnell. “Say . . . sorry.”
“I’m sorry,” MacDonnell said immediately. “I’m so very sorry.”
“Say . . . never again.”
“Never again!” MacDonnell said, voice pleading.
“Say . . . you want.”
“What?”
“I think the hare wants to know you want him,” Meilin said. She wore a pained expression that Conor couldn’t quite figure out. “That you are satisfied with him.”
“I do! I am!” MacDonnell bellowed. With this, the hare sprang forward. MacDonnell’s face spread into a wide, teary grin as the hare leaped into the air and, with a flash, disappeared — only to reappear as a tattoo on the man’s forearm. MacDonnell rose, tears falling freely, and placed a hand over the hare tattoo, like he was afraid it would melt away.
“You’re free!” he called out to Rumfuss. “Free! I should never have locked you up. You have my gratitude and my apologies, Rumfuss. I beg you to forgive me.”
Rumfuss didn’t seem quite ready for forgiveness, but he patiently followed the guards around the edge of the castle. Then, when the gates had finally opened, he was patient no more. There was a sound that seemed to shake the entire castle, and suddenly the only Great Beasts left in the garden were the ones that had come with them.
19: Iron Boar
WHILE MACDONNELL WOULD HAVE BEEN HAPPY TO HOUSE the Greencloaks as esteemed guests for another night, Finn had insisted time was of the essence. Though Rollan loudly protested — the boy had only slept a single night in that amazing bed — their group set off that very morning. Understandably, they bypassed Trunswick entirely, shaving several days off the return trip to Lady Evelyn’s. There they found a rather embarrassed Tarik, much improved from his previous condition. He was tired, but healthy enough to travel with them the relatively short way back to Greenhaven Castle.
Finn, however, would not be going with them. After a hushed and intense conversation, Tarik returned to the group and announced that he would ask Olvan’s permission for Finn to remain at Glengavin. Finn would act as a much-needed emissary for the Greencloaks in the North. He was, after all, supposed to be their long-awaited hero. It took a little convincing that the group wouldn’t need his protection on the way back — Tarik was clearly not yet at full strength — but Rollan’s enthusiastic and animated retelling of the battle in the apple orchard reminded the older Greencloaks that the Four Fallen had learned a lot on this trip.
Still, they were glad that the remaining leg of the journey was so short, with just a single night’s stop between them and home. Soon they would be back in Greenhaven, enjoying a well-earned moment of peace and safety.
They had done it, really done it. The second talisman was in Greencloak hands.
That night, as Conor stood watch over the others, he reveled in the wide, starry peace of the Euran pasture for what might be the last time in a long, long while.
And just for a moment, he let his guard down.
A cloaked figure loomed out of the darkness. Immediately Conor scrambled to his feet, ready to cry out for the others. As he reached for a weapon, however, a low, familiar voice, said, “Conor, it’s me.”
Dawson. Conor blinked at Devin’s little brother. He kept his voice quiet, so that he wouldn’t wake the others. “Why are you here? Are you alone?”
Dawson pushed back his hood, revealing shiny, high cheeks and bright eyes. He nodded. “I have a letter for you.”
Conor marveled that the younger boy had tracked them down just to deliver a letter, but he nodded. Bashfully, he admitted, “You know I won’t be able to read it.”
“I’ll read it,” whispered Dawson, taking the weathered sheet from his cloak with a sad expression. “But just . . . I’m sorry, Conor. It’s from my father.” He took a deep breath.
Conor, son of Fenray,
I know that we last met under unpleasant terms, and you will not want to listen to what I have to say. However, I would like you to imagine the starving faces of your family as Dawson reads you this letter. Then you should imagine all the worse things than starvation that can befall a woman charged with betraying her lord to his enemy — even if this enemy is her own son. I have a bargain for you. Give the Iron Boar to Dawson. As soon as it is in my hands, I will forgive your family’s debt and your mother will go free. They will own the land they work, and all the sheep they tend. They will be freemen, no longer my serfs. All you have to do is give Dawson the talisman. And if you do not? I will hold them to every last copper that they owe me, and I promise you, they will starve this winter, and the fate of your mother will be far crueller. Rest assured this is the last you will hear from me either way. Devin has become involved in something that Trunswick can no longer afford to support openly, lest we collapse upon ourselves. Zerif tells me that if the Conquerors may have their talisman, then I may have my family back. And so you will have yours.
The decision is yours.
With regards, The Earl of Trunswick.
Dawson folded the letter and put it back in his cloak. He at least had the grace to look horrified.
Conor’s hands shook as he imagined his mother’s thin face on the night they’d escaped from Trunswick. How proud she’d been of him! Follow your heart!
He glanced at the others. They slept soundly, trusting him to watch them on their way back to Greenhaven. They trusted him with this treasure of Rumfuss. But his family had trusted him to help keep them alive too, when they’d sent him to Trunswick to be Devin’s servant. No matter how hateful he had found that position.
What was the right decision? Once the Greencloaks were victorious, surely his family would be free. But it would be too late then.
Conor was glad that Briggan was in passive form. He didn’t want to see the wolf’s expression as he crept to his saddlebag and removed the Iron Boar.
“I expect your father to keep his word,” he whispered to Dawson. He gave the talisman to the boy.
Dawson nodded. “I’ll make sure he does, Conor.”
Tucking the Iron Boar into his cloak, Dawson ran into the night. The sound of his footfalls woke Meilin’s horse, and Meilin sat up with a start.
“Conor, is someone there?” she asked. Her voice made the others stir as well.
When Conor, shattered with guilt, didn’t answer, her eyes darted from his saddlebag, the flap hanging open, revealing the empty inside, to the place in the woods he still stared after.