voice.
“Darrick of Thorncliff?”
Wanting to be a decoy to deflect danger, Geoffrey would have stepped forward, but Darrick spoke before he could.
“I am he.”
The man took several shallow breaths. “I bring news of your mother.”
Darrick narrowed his eyes. “Does she not reside with her brother, Morfran Mortimer? My enemy.”
“Aye.” The man glanced once at Geoffrey, then kept his gaze fixed on Darrick. “But not by choice. She is held prisoner there. Rowena Tadhg, Lady of Thorncliff, has bade me ride hard and fast to find you.”
“Prisoner?” Darrick snarled. “He is her own brother. What of Morfran? How came you to escape his notice?”
At Darrick’s question, Geoffrey found himself holding his breath. The man and his army appeared to have vanished.
But the rider knew naught of this. “Morfran has been otherwise occupied. If he were to discover me, my life would be at peril. But your mother suffers greatly.”
Geoffrey saw how pinched and white Darrick’s mouth became. “He keeps her by force?”
The man nodded. “Yes. She has tried twice to escape. He keeps her under lock and key, as he does the boy.”
“The boy?” Darrick became, if possible, as still as stone. Once before in the holy land, Geoffrey had seen Darrick in this particular kind of stillness. At the time they had been held captive, to be executed that very day. Hatching a daring plan, Darrick had led an escape. Three guards had died by his hand. Geoffrey and he had escaped, along with numerous others. Many of these same former prisoners had expressed their thanks by becoming Darrick’s loyal men. They had helped defend Thorncliff on this very day.
“What news of the boy?” Alanna came boldly forward, eagerness in her husky voice. Geoffrey waited for Darrick to push her away, but he did not.
The messenger nodded, exhaustion showing on his grimy face. “Morfran has taken another captive as well, a small boy of maybe four or five summers. For what purpose, no one knows. His advisor, Gorsedd brought the child there and bade Morfran keep him. Perhaps he likes young boys.”
Geoffrey winced. “Morfran’s reputation has not carried that particular accusation before.”
Darrick made a sound deep within his throat. It might have been a growl. To Geoffrey it sounded much like the sound of a man drowning.
`Twas Darrick who asked the impossible. “Could this child be his son?”
“Morfran’s?” Though his tone indicated doubt, the rider shrugged. “All know he has sired no children. Still, anything is possible.”
Wanting to set the record straight, Geoffrey stepped forward. “’Tis well known that Morfran has no sons. Nor daughters either, for that matter.”
The rider gave him a gap-toothed smile. “His lack of children is truth and has vexed him sorely over these past many years.”
Once again Darrick’s profile seemed to have turned to stone. But this time, instead of watching the mud-splattered messenger, he watched Alanna.
Noticing Geoffrey’s scrutiny, he grimaced. “I believe you may be wrong about Morfran’s lack of children.”
“If he had sired a babe, we would know of it. Morfran himself would trumpet the news far and wide.” Geoffrey shook his head. “Nay, Morfran Mortimer has no
Learning to Kill: Stories