Tredall, the cooper, was the first person they encountered. Martha was a short, sturdy woman, with shoulder-length, mouse-brown hair and a cheerful demeanor. Millet had many past dealings with her and had built a good rapport with both Martha and her husband, but as soon as she saw the two riding up, her typical good-natured smile turned to a sour stare. He took a quick glance at his dusty, stained shirt and trousers. Once tan, they were blotched with mud, making him look more like a farmer than a lord. Dina fared a bit better. She had chosen a dark brown blouse and matching pants, which hid the dirt from the long road far better.
“And just where have you been, Master Millet?” she asked when they were by her side. “Off making trouble with that Starfinder fellow, I imagine.” She looked back down the road where they had come. “I see he's not with you. So much the better. We have enough troubles without the likes of him around.”
“Mind what you say, Martha Tredall,” said Millet. “Lee Starfinder has never given you reason to speak ill of him. He's given your husband more than his share of business.”
Martha lowered her eyes. “That he has, true enough. But that doesn't excuse him for bringing trouble to our town, now does it?”
“What trouble?” asked Millet, steadying his horse.
Martha looked up at Millet. Her eyes were filled with anger. “Those bloody faithful. They arrived just after you and Lee made off with young Gewey Stedding.” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “Gewey's not coming back, is he?”
“Why do you ask?”
She stepped close. “Because they keep askin' about him...those faithful, I mean. They've asked everyone in town if they know where he is.”
“And what do you tell them?” asked Millet, suddenly feeling very exposed on the road.
Martha stood up straight and held her head high. “I don't tell them nothin'. I don't care how much gold they throw around. Besides, I don't know nothin' anyway. Last I heard he went north with Lee. Not that I believed a word of it, but that's what we heard from Lee's servants. From what I heard about those faithful, they're from up north. I figure if he went that way for real, they wouldn't be lookin’ for him here.”
Millet thought for a moment. “How many of these faithful are there?”
Martha shrugged. “Not many. Ten or so. But they got lots of gold. They make your master look like a beggar. And they use it, too.
They've practically bought the town. There's not a shop or farm in Sharpstone that isn't caught up with them somehow or other.”
“Where do they stay?” asked Millet.
“They built themselves a big house just north of town. Not far from your master’s place.” She took a step back and glanced at Dina. “You and your friend might want to stay away. They ain't hurt no one yet, but they look like they could.”
Millet's eyes narrowed. “No, my dear. I will not be staying away.” He looked down the road toward town. “And Lee Starfinder is no longer master. I am.” He spurred his horse. Dina followed closely behind.
The way to the manor took them just to the outskirts of town. The few people they passed on the way stopped and stared. Some dashed away. When they arrived at the entrance to one of the many roads that led to the house, Millet slowed his horse to a walk.
“I take it this is not the homecoming you were expecting,” said Dina.
Millet dropped his head and took a deep breath. “I wasn't certain what to expect. I thought Angrääl might be watching Sharpstone being that it was Gewey's hometown, but I didn't expect them to set up a base here.”
“What are you going to do?”
Millet looked up. Anger burned in his eyes. “I'm going to kick them out of my town.”
As they approached the house, Millet caught sight of two servants busy tending the garden. He recognized them as Barty Inglewood and his son, Randson. Lee had hired them on, five years ago. Originally from Gath, they were as stout and dedicated workers as a person could hope to find. Their faces lit up when they saw Millet.
“I thought you'd left us for good,” called Barty. He set down his rake and removed his work gloves, shoving them in his pocket. His son only glanced up and nodded from where he was trimming the hedges, then went back to his work.
“As did I,” said Millet.
“Randson,”