Free The Runaway's Gold by Emilie Burack Page B

windows jutting from the roofline, which I learned were called dormers.
    Finally, Reverend Sill stopped short and pointed with hisstauf to a street leading to the height of land above the harbor. “This is Hillhead. Canfield House is near the end. It’s where I’ll stay the night.”
    â€œLor’!” I exclaimed when we at last approached the wide stone steps to a dark and intricately carved door. “Where did they get the wood?”
    â€œAh, but this is Lerwick, lad. Much comes into this port from wealthier lands. And what comes in is often, well,
missed
by the Revenue Man at Her Majesty’s Customs House.” He winked at me quickly as he rapped the brass knocker. “Shetlanders honor the Lord before the Queen, and rightly so. We needn’t pay Her Majesty
every
duty she asks for.”
    I peeled the kishie from me back. “Thank you for your kindness, sir,” I said softly—as the massive door swung open to show a beautifully plump woman in the most elegant dress I had ever seen.
    â€œAh, Reverend Sill,” she said with a curtsy. “The parish of the west has allowed you once again to wander to our side of the island?”
    She was tall. In fact, by the looks of her, I was fairly sure she wouldn’t have been able to stand in our croft house without brushing her graying hair against the rafters. And her face—it was full, flesh puffing from each rosy cheek, something I hadn’t seen in any person these last years of hunger.
    Her dress was of a deep blue silk, the color you saw in the sky only after a gale, with white ruffles clear up to her chin. Itwas clean and completely free of tatters, not a single patch or sign of darning or repair.
    As I stared at her, the aroma of roasting meat and baking bread wafted through the door, and it was all I could do to keep me knees from giving way.
    â€œYes, indeed, Mrs. Canfield,” Reverend Sill replied with a bow. “And should you have a room and warm meal left this dark night, I would be most grateful.”
    â€œCertainly,” she replied. Her accent betrayed the inflections of another land I couldn’t place. Her eyes narrowed as she looked at his face. “I see you have injured your chin! Please, come in so I can see to it!” She stood aside and swept her hand toward what looked like a sitting room, with a fire and the finest couch I had ever seen. “Knowin’ it was time for the monthly meetin’ of the Presbytery, we were expectin’ you.”
    The old man nodded, touching his chin. “Not a matter for concern, I assure you. I took a few spills along the way, I’m afraid.” Then he turned to me. “Mrs. Canfield, may I present Christopher Robertson. It was an arduous journey, and I’d not have made it without his assistance. For this I am most grateful.”
    I flushed as the towering lady nodded in me direction.
    â€œYou were kind to share your fish and bread,” I said, handing the reverend the kishie.
    â€œAnd what, young man, are your plans from here?”
    I looked down at me worn rivlins. “To find me brother isall.” I shivered in the March air, pulling me cold hands up into the sleeves of me gansey, knowing how easily I lose me sense of direction in the dark. “I’ll start me search at the docks, I suppose. From there . . . I don’t know.”
    Mrs. Canfield studied me tattered attire and sighed.
    â€œIt’s not far, lad. But you’ll not be wantin’ to go there tonight. The mariners are so mad on gin on account of the news that I fear there’ll be rioting.”
    As she spoke Reverend Sill’s eyes narrowed. “And what is the cause of this great disturbance, Madam? Surely Sheriff Nicolson keeps better order than this?”
    â€œOh,” she said with a gasp. “Has the word not yet spread to your end of the island?”
    The reverend cocked his head.
    â€œWhy, it’s Mr. Marwick.