Читать книгу Among Wolves - Nancy Wallace K. - Страница 14
CHAPTER 9 Night in Briseé
ОглавлениеDevin listened as the mesmerizing voice continued:
“And so, Gaêtan stood alone in the village square. All around him the windows of the cottages were dark and shuttered. The chimneys stood stark against the forest, not a puff of smoke emerged from their tops. He realized then that the people of Rameau were gone. Not one man, woman, or child remained to welcome him home. He fell to his knees in the overgrown gardens and wept.”
For a moment no one spoke and then appreciative whispers rippled through the crowd. Devin joined in the enthusiastic clapping that followed. Unfortunately, he had arrived at the end of the recitation. The storyteller smiled and bowed, accepting both congratulations and monetary tributes, and made his way to the bar. Devin ducked in and out of the crowd to reach him. He saw Gaspard and Marcus seated farther down the battered wooden counter finishing their first drink of the evening.
Devin secured a stool next to the storyteller.
“I’m sorry I missed the beginning of that tale. What happened to the people of Rameau?”
The man turned to face him. Dark curly hair framed a face that was young and unlined.
“No one knows,” he answered. “An entire village of people disappeared and the only one left to tell the story was Gaêtan.”
Devin felt a thrill of excitement shoot through him. “Really?” he asked. “And no one has ever solved the mystery?”
The storyteller inclined his head. “If they have, monsieur, it has never been added to the Chronicle of Ombria. Do I know you?”
“I’m sorry,” Devin apologized, extending his hand. “I’m Devin Roché.”
“Adrian Devereux,” he replied. “You’re not from around here, are you?”
“We arrived in Pireé yesterday,” he explained. “I had expected to spend last night in Briseé but we were delayed by a snowstorm.”
Adrian nodded sympathetically. “Spring has been late in coming this year. Our cows were calving in deep snow. We lost a lot of little ones.”
“You live close by?” Devin asked.
Adrian smiled. “Does a bard ever really have a place to call home? My parents are from Briseé but I spend most of my time traveling. I’m back in town for a family wedding. It seems I’m always expected to put in a few local performances while I’m here.”
Marcus interrupted their conversation, placing a heavy hand on Devin’s shoulder.
“There are no rooms available here,” he growled. “Perhaps, if you invoke your father’s name…”
Devin gave a quick shake of his head. The last thing he wished to do was drag his father’s position into this situation. Any progress he’d made toward ingratiating himself with the village residents would be lost in a veil of suspicion and contempt.
“I’ll take care of it,” he murmured, dismissing Marcus with a handful of coins. “Go order something to eat for yourself and Gaspard.”