Taniel (The Taverner's Daughter I)

69: Hanrey - Despair

Hanrey slipped the clan-ring into his back pocket. He would worry about it later, he told himself as he paced about Taniel's bedroom.

The warble of a nearby magpie drifted in through the open window, mingling with intermittent laughter from the laundry maids.

Feeling his age, Hanrey ran his fingers through his thinning hair, scratched his greying beard, and rubbed the back of his neck. "If this new bloke of hers took her away, why did he go without his shoes?" he said, kicking the dragonrider's discarded boots out of his path. "Why did he take them off, anyway?"

He swung around to his sister, still standing by the dresser. "What do you reckon happened here?"

"He took off more than his boots." Rita pointed at the floor. "Those aren't Tan's."

Hanrey could not believe he had not noticed the black flying leathers. He studied the clothing trail leading to the bed, sighing when his eyes pinned Taniel's crumpled nightdress.

"He bedded her," he groaned. "Hell, girl, what were you thinking?"

"So, she went willingly," Rita said, her cheeks pinkish. She picked up the nightdress, folded it neatly, and put under the pillow. "Still, why the secrecy?"

Rita's shrillness hurt his teeth.

His stomach churned. He went to the window and, leaning out, he tried forcing his thoughts away from the dragonrider, with his daughter, in her bed. He breathed deeply. "He couldn't go bare-arsed," he finally said.

As he turned back, a backpack on the ground outside caught his eye. "Look at this." He hoisted it over the sill, reefed open the flap and rooted around inside. "Chock full of clothes with no room for another sock, let alone a whole outfit."

"Maybe a wizard took them both?" she suggested, her eyes wide.

"You reckon?" Hanrey stared at her, thoughtfully. "Both, though, that makes sense."

"The wizard might have scared away her fellow, first, before taking Tan," Rita offered.

"But you would hear a commotion," Rita said. "Unless he used some sort of spell to keep things quiet."

"Bloody magic." He fingered his whiskers. "There might be a damaged dragonrider, somewhere, then." He dropped the backpack to scan the backyard.

"Hanrey, do you think Tan would recognise a wizard?"

"Huh?" Abandoning his perusal, Hanrey sat on the windowsill with his arms crossed. "What are you talking about?"

"Remember, Tan's odd thing upstairs last night. I just wondered... oh, never mind."

"You think she might have run into the wizard up there? She did help Erin with supper."

His sister rolled her eyes at mention of the missing barmaid. "Would Tan know a wizard?"

"I don't know." His jaw clenched. The conversation kept going around in circles and he was sick of guesses. "I need a drink." He knew he scowled, even before his sister twitched her lips.

"That won't help," she complained.

"It might not help you, but it will sure as hell help me," he growled as he stalked out, not looking at her.

As he entered the main hallway, he heard laughter from the common room. At least he did not need to put on a cheery face for the customers. Peter could handle them. He hesitated, knowing he should apprise his business partner, but the last thing he needed was a dragonrider. Peter might have given up his vocation, but he was still dragon-touched.

Rita brushed past him, giving him a frustrated glance as she pushed through to the kitchen, her voice ringing with false cheerfulness as she told Jimbo she would do lunch.

Hanrey continued on to his office. There, he slumped in his chair and pulled the small flask from the drawer. He stood it on his desk, letting his emotions tear through him. Just because he chose to soothe himself, now, did not mean he was back on the path to hell. He could stop anytime he wanted. He had been drunk plenty of times over the past two decades without needing grog for breakfast.

Hanrey sat back further in his chair, slack-jawed. Sharpness jabbed one buttock. Half-standing, he switched the clan-ring to a shirt pocket. He must get rid of it, but first he needed that drink.

He reached for the flask.

Cissie gave up everything for Taniel's safety. All he did was feel sorry for himself and think of his own skin. Bitter shame ripped through him as he acknowledged that his selfishness had cost him his daughter. Taniel would be still here, if only he had given over the protection of his armring.

He drank.

***

1 April 2017 - replaced with revised scene

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