She awoke, her eyes wild with fear; her heart racing from the sights she had just witnessed. Her slumber had been a long one. Years, perhaps, though she only knew the passage of time in these recent months of slow awakening; all too brief moments of lucidity only to sink again into blackness and the terror of those visions.

She takes a breath and a sharp pain pierces her chest. She whimpers silently as she tries not to repeat it, but takes another breath and winces at it again. Must stay awake. The pain even keeps her awake.

The pain, she could learn to ignore for that. The visions she'd seen, likely not. Had it all been a dream? It had all seemed so real, with the smells and sounds ringing through her as they did so vividly. What she saw was not her own memories. Nor were they figments created in her own imagination, of this she was certain. No, they were the thoughts and feelings and actions of someone real.

A man stands over her with a concerned look and a woman stands beside him squeezing the water from a cloth and then sets it to her forehead. The man's lips move as if by speaking words, but no sound comes to her ears. His expression is one of a frank and solemn person. The woman smiles and speaks as well, her voice equally as silent.

She has no hearing. This is new. And this is something she can learn to live without. To live.

She makes no indication of her condition to those standing at her bedside. Instead, she closes her eyes and tries to appear sleeping, but her mind races. How had she gotten here? Why had she seen such horrifying things? The question of whom she had seen, though, was already answered within her own memories. She knows him. She knows his name. She had heard it, in her dreams. if dreams they were. Whispered in a gasping voice by one of his prey. She knows from where he had come and the reasons why he did what he did. All of these are as distant memories that flash to the surface in brilliant echoes.

~~~~

"Lerrad," Elspeth speaks his name as calmly as her fears will allow, "We should talk." She looks at the young female servant who stands in the doorway and speaks in a deliberate and ordered fashion, not at all her normally pleasant tone, "Take the children upstairs. Logan should have a bath and Marilyn can play until he's finished."

"I don't wanna bathe! I wanna..."

With a flashing look at her son, she interrupts, "Logan. Go upstairs with Molli now. I'll come along in a little while." After a momentary stare the boy's expression melts as he turns toward the stairs to follow the others up.

Immediately upon the children being out of earshot, Elspeth turns and speaks quickly, "My God, Lerrad! That is the second of those that we've received in this house! I'm becoming very afraid." Tears form in her eyes as she speaks, her voice becoming more and more frantic.

"Love." Lerrad says past Elspeth, not even pausing her words as she continues.

"And it was sent to the children, Lerrad, I didn't object to you allowing one of our guards to follow me, but how can we protect the children enough?" With this she breaks down into tears, falling into his arms.

Lerrad holds her and looks out the window, staring out as it begins to rain. His thoughts go to another rainy day so long ago. Of someone he said goodbye to for the last time. Of a time when life was simpler than today.

"It will be fine, Love." He says in quiet reassurance, "The children will be fine."

~~~~

She knows him. Even from his childhood, he'd taken lives and always the younger of two siblings. The killing was his power in a world that allowed him little other control. It was his release. It was his sanctuary.

She sits up in the bed and smiles at the bright sunbeam that slowly crept across the floor each day. How many days had she been here? And still the memories did not fade. Each night was filled with dreams of things she'd never done, of moments that had never passed for her.

She turns her head, as the door is pushed open. The kind woman enters, her lips moving as if she is speaks. With enough study, she knows that she will be able to read the lips of others. With enough time. She was able to hear before she went to sleep so long ago, so her voice worked. Of course, she had no idea of the volume nor whether her pronunciation was correct or not.

"How are we today?" The woman says with a smile as she rounds the bed and picks up a washbasin. She steps to the window, opens it and empties the basin outside then returns to the bedside to replace it.

"I can tear." Lucille speaks loudly to the woman who turns to look at her with astonishment.

"What dear?" said with a tilt of her head, for the voice was flat and without emphasis, though loud enough.

Lucille watches for a reaction then repeats what she said, hoping her voice is not too distorted, "I can tear!"

"You can... You can't hear?"

Suddenly, the woman's face lights with the realization of what was being said and Lucille brightened with it as well. She moves her finger to touch her own ears and Lucille nods vigorously.

The two hug with excitement at this first contact, a single exchange of an idea between worlds. As they separate, the woman speaks loudly and animates her lips with each word, "We have much to talk about!"

Lucille understands little of what she tries to say, but nods and embraces the kind stranger again with tears in her eyes.

~~~~

The children had finally been put to bed. Elspeth had already said her goodnight to Marilyn and went in to help Molli settle Logan. Lerrad lingered behind, sitting at his daughter's bedside a moment.

Her golden brown hair spilled across her pillow, the read highlights shining in the lamplight. Her face was turned away from him. So much like her mother, but her expression so much more serious in repose. He smiled down on her. The household staff referred to her as their little angel, despite her odd quietness.

They would be all right. The children would be fine. He would make certain of that.

Marilyn stirred and turned over, her eyes opening and fixing on him. "Da."

"What, sweetheart?"

She drew her hand from beneath the blanket. She held forth the little blank block.

"He is very angry... And sad. He... hurts people."

He stared down at his daughter. She knew. She knew the block was not from her mother's aunt. She also knew something about the person who had made it.

He took it from her. "Marilyn, do you know who sent this?"

Her eyes closed as she replied drowsily, "No... But it feels like I should."

He brushed the hair back from her forehead. "You are tired. Go to sleep."

She smiled a little, turning her face so her cheek lay in his palm. "Will he hurt us?" She knew his answer, and it was what she wanted.

"No, Marilyn. He will not hurt you. I will never let him hurt you."

~~~~

"Ian...what's this about Flaxley immigrants?"

Blackthorn turns in his chair and releases a breath at the sight of the lord of the O'Donnell family, "I thought my missive was explicit. I need information on any siblings that moved here during the famine. Especially those where there may be some strife from an older toward a younger."

Lerrad enters the office and approaches the desk, "Surely you don't believe that there is actually some involvement with Flaxley in this treachery, Captain. Indeed."

"Indeed, Lord O'Donnell, I do." He lifts his hand and ticks off fingers as he ticks of each point, "All the victims have been from Flaxley. All the victims have been the younger of two siblings. Each has been killed and left with one of these somewhere on their person." He lifts one of the carved wooden blocks from his desk and tosses it to the man.

Moving quickly, Lerrad catches the block and studies it a moment. He takes a seat across the desk from Lord Blackthorn. "This is just a block. Nothing more."

"That's the blank one. The one carried somehow from your manor to the firehall of Camelot. The block your wife has told me she found on her dressing table." Lerrad sits silently staring at the object as Blackthorn continues, "I have no proof whether the other victims received such a block before they met with their end. But they were certainly there after." With this he pushes the rest of the blocks across the desk toward Lerrad.

Lerrad looks up, "What do you mean 'other victims'?" His eyes fall again to the various lettered blocks.

Blackthorn lifts his brows, and picks up the 'F' to set it apart from the others. "I believe you knew young Fionn Connor?"

Lerrad gave no reply, his expression giving away nothing, save the grim set of his lips.

"The second we found." a block with the curling stylized 'A' is pushed forth, "was Anthone. I am given to understand that he and his brother Nicholas were of a family that was once of some means." Blackthorn continues conversationally. "Seemed nice enough. Honest. Scavenging what they could find and selling it to make ends meet."

Lerrad dropped his eyes to the desk, and the blocks, then raised them once more. He placed the blank block he had been holding back on the desktop with the others pushed toward him.

The man across the desk then nudged forth 'R'. "Roisin was her name. She and her sister also of a once-prominent family. Found in the ruins that stands on the land they still own."

He paused a moment to gauge the Lord O'Donnell's reaction, then shrugged, pushing forth another block. 'T' "Tyler. On his wedding day to Marianne." He went on, faster now, with 'E'. "I know you know of Ellontin Stonage." Another 'R' is pushed forward. "Ross. Lived with his sister. Quite an artist, I am given to understand."

The room falls silent now. The two men sit, Blackthorn taking the measure of the man sitting before him. and for his part, Lerrad seems intent on staring at the blocks. He absently reaches into a pocket and adds another blank block to the collection.

"You have another? Did you find this at home as well?"

There is no answer. Lerrad pushes them to and fro, rearranging them in different configurations.

"Yes, I have tried that. It spells nothing as of yet." Blackthorn leans back in his chair. He is content to wait for an answer, letting the man puzzle out what he has puzzled over more than once. Sometimes a fresh perspective offers new ideas, and answers.

After a few moments, Lerrad's eyes narrow, and the expression of puzzlement gives way to a fleeting moment of astonishment, and perhaps fear. But this is quickly masked by his usually urbane manner.

Blackthorn is not so easily fooled. "What is it? Do you know what it spells? DOES it spell something?"

Lerrad does not reply, simply offering. "Of course, we at Valorward will be glad to give you access to whatever records we have of those who have come here from Flaxley. I will have Miles contact you and ask him to be at your disposal to give you whatever assistance you need. I am afraid there are urgent matters I must attend." Already he is standing and making a quick bow before turning on his heel to leave.

Blackthorn stands as well, coming around the desk, following him to the door.

"I should think that you would be interested in finding this villain, Lerrad, as it would seem that he...has found you."

But this is shouted down the empty hall. The echo of running booted feet the only answer.

~~~~

The younger of two siblings. And Marilyn had received a block.

And he had. That block on Elspeth's dressing table was not meant for her. It was for him.

But... The names did not seem to fit the pattern he had seen.

He hurried out to the stable and quickly mounted, galloping for home. His thoughts raced on.

They might still be safe. For now. But who knew how long. There was much to be done. Elspeth and the children must be protected. And Tuckian, he needed to bring Tuckian and his family to Valorward. Just in case...

Just in case...

Thank goodness he had paid heed to his lessons in Latin all those years ago.

No, he would not hurt them. Lerrad would see to it that his family was safe.

Joy 6/2001