A suspicion was forming in Lydia’s mind. “What was the name you used then?” she asked.
“Evanlyn,” Cassandra replied. “A lot of people still call me that.”
Lydia leaned forward in her chair. “I saw that name! It was carved into the wall in a hunting cabin I stayed in up in the mountains!” she said excitedly.
Cassandra’s eyes lit up with pleasure. “You stayed there?”
Lydia nodded eagerly. Why she found it so fascinating she wasn’t sure. But she had looked at that name on the wall and wondered about the woman who had carved it. Now she knew who it was.
“Yes. I was hunting.” She considered for a moment. “Must’ve been a few months ago. I left in a hurry because there was a bear wandering round looking for trouble. But I definitely saw your name there.”
“Well, isn’t that fascinating! I remember carving my name into the wall one day when I was feeling bored and lonely. Somehow it’s comforting to know it’s still there. Do you hunt often?” Cassandra added.
“Whenever I can. I grew up in the woods around Limmat. That’s my hometown.”
Cassandra nodded and indicated the quiver of atlatl darts on the hatstand. “And you use those darts and some kind of throwing stick?” She rose and moved to the hatstand, half withdrawing one of the darts, then pausing. “May I?”
“Of course,” Lydia replied. “The thrower is called an atlatl. That’s it beside the quiver.”
Cassandra studied the beechwood atlatl, its surface worn smooth from years of handling, then withdrew the dart from the quiver, feeling its weight, and testing the razor edge of its broadhead with her thumb.
“I imagine this would get the job done all right,” she said. “I’d love to see you using it. We should go hunting while you’re here.”
“Do you hunt?” Lydia asked, although it was fairly obvious from her mode of dress that the princess did.
Cassandra nodded enthusiastically. “I use a sling,” she said. “But maybe I could switch to one of these. I’ll get you to show me how to use it.”
Lydia rose now and moved to the window, looking out to the green parkland, then the darker green forest beyond it.
“Looks like there could be deer in that forest,” she said.
Cassandra grinned. “And plenty of them. That’s because only certain people are allowed to hunt them.”
“Oh,” said Lydia, disappointed. But the princess continued to grin.
“And of course, I’m one of them—as are my guests. I’ll organize it, shall I?”
chapter five
Can I offer you something to drink?” Duncan asked, once they were all seated. “Ale or wine, perhaps?”
He thought the skirl and his first mate looked a little young for alcohol, but one never knew. They both shook their heads. Thorn hesitated. The thought of a mug of cool ale was a very tempting one. But these days he limited his drinking, and finally he shook his head as well.
“Coffee?” Gilan said, with a slight smile. On the trip to Socorro, the Skandians had plundered his supply of coffee beans. They obviously had a taste for the beverage. Their hearty agreement to his suggestion confirmed the fact.
Duncan picked up a small silver bell from the table and rang it. Almost immediately, the door to the corridor opened and a liveried servant entered. The King ordered coffee for all of them and the servant departed.
“Perhaps you’d like to explain the mission you have in mind for Hal and his crew, my lord?” said Crowley.
Duncan glanced at the Commandant and nodded. He took a second or two to muster his thoughts, then began.
“Several years ago, my daughter, Cassandra, helped rescue your Oberjarl Erak from a renegade tribe in Arrida.” The King noticed that Hal and Stig both nodded. The affair had been kept quiet while the rescue was under way, but once Erak returned to Skandia it became common knowledge.
Thorn was frowning thoughtfully. Erak’s kidnapping and rescue had happened at a time when he saw most things over the rim of a brandy tankard. He vaguely remembered talk of Erak’s capture and subsequent rescue, but he was hazy on the details.
“In the course of that rescue,” Duncan continued, “she had reason to use her sling against the leader of the renegades—a man named Yusal. The stone from her sling hit him in the head. It didn’t kill him, but it might have been better for him if it had. He was badly injured. He lost his memory and the capacity to speak or think. He was reduced to a state where he would hobble around, his mind blank, doing little more than drooling and mumbling nonsense.”
He paused, then added, “And from what I’ve heard, it was a fate he richly deserved.”
Hal raised his eyebrows at that. But Duncan was continuing.
“Unfortunately, Yusal had a brother, Iqbal. This brother took over control of the tribe.” He glanced at Gilan. “What was their name again?”
“The Tualaghi, my lord. They’re brigands and killers.”
“Quite so. But apparently, this Iqbal feels the ties of family quite strongly. He was determined to avenge his brother and he decided to exact this revenge on Cassandra. At her wedding last year, he sent a pair of Genovesan assassins to kill her.”
Hal and Stig exchanged a quick glance. This was a serious matter they had become involved in.
“Genovesans!” Thorn spat the word contemptuously. “They’re a pack of cowardly, sneaking murderers.”
“Indeed they are. But their attempt was foiled by one of my Rangers—Will Treaty.” He scanned the three Herons. “I believe he’s quite well known in your country.”
Hal shrugged. “I’ve heard the name.”
“Be that as it may. He and one of your countrymen, by the name of Nils . . .” He hesitated over the name, but Gilan supplied it.
“Ropehander, my lord,” he said quietly and Duncan nodded.
“That’s it.” Duncan cocked his head at the three Skandians. “You people have some strange names, don’t you?”
Thorn smiled. “Nothing strange about Hookyhand, King.”
“I suppose not,” Duncan replied. “It’s certainly appropriate. In any event, Will Treaty and this Ropehander fellow stopped the two Genovesans in their tracks. Killed one and captured the other.”
“And you’re concerned that the Genovesans will try again?” Hal inquired.
Duncan shook his head. “Not according to my spies. The Genovesans are pragmatists. They lost two of their best men in this attempt and they don’t plan to lose any more. They returned half of Iqbal’s fee and took themselves out of the game. He blustered and threatened, of course, but then they pointed out that they could just as easily mount an assassination attempt against him if he continued to do so. He shut up rather smartly, I’m told.”
“So the problem is solved?” Stig asked.
Duncan regarded him for a moment. “That particular problem is solved. But we’re hearing rumors that Iqbal may be trying another tack. We’ve had a message from a friend of ours in Arrida, a man named Selethen, that Iqbal has found another group to continue the attack. Apparently, he’s sworn an oath to kill Cassandra for what she did to his brother and these people don’t take such oaths lightly.”
“So what’s the new plan he’s got in mind?” Thorn asked.
Duncan screwed up his mouth in consternation, making an uncertain gesture with his hands, both palms upward . “That’s the problem. We don’t know. Selethen was able to give us only vague details—something about a cult of killers who are based in a place called Jabal Akrab—in their language, that means Scorpion Mountain.”
Hal raised an eyebrow. “Sounds ominous.”
Duncan nodded agreement. “It does. But we can’t get any hard information about them. There are a lot of rumors, but nothing concrete.”
“And you want us to go find out more about this cult and stop them?” Thorn asked.
“No.
That’ll be Gilan’s task. You just have to transport him to Arrida, where he’ll meet with Selethen to get more information. Then he can work out a way to stop this plot once and for all. I’ll buy them off, if necessary. They’re mercenaries, after all.”
Hal looked at Gilan, whose face remained impassive. “Sounds like a big task for one man.”
“He won’t be alone,” Duncan said. “I’ll be sending a troop of cavalrymen with him. Normally, I’d assign this to a Special Task Group I formed some time ago. It consists of Will Treaty, who I mentioned before, a senior Ranger called Halt and Horace, the Kingdom’s foremost knight. Coincidentally, he’s Cassandra’s husband. But unfortunately, they’re in Hibernia at the moment, helping King Sean put down an insurrection. And I don’t want to waste any more time getting this affair settled. My daughter’s life is at risk.”
“One point I’d like to raise, my lord,” said Gilan, leaning forward. “This is the first I’ve heard of any cavalrymen. I’d prefer to work alone. I’ll be able to move around more easily and I’ll attract a lot less attention if I don’t have a bunch of heavy-footed horsemen clanking around after me.”
They were interrupted by a tap at the door. A servant entered, bearing a tray of cups and a coffeepot. Duncan held up a hand to Gilan warning him not to talk about the mission while the servant was in the room.
It was a wise move, Hal thought to himself. Secrets aired in front of servants had a habit of becoming non-secrets and this mission was definitely a confidential one. Conversation halted while the coffee was served. Then, when the servant had departed, Duncan continued.
“I thought you’d say that, Gilan. But this is Cassandra we’re talking about and I’m not taking any chances with her safety. My judgment is you’ll need a substantial force to back you up.”
“Perhaps, my lord. But I still think—”
Once again, Duncan held up a hand to stop him. But this time the gesture was more peremptory. “It’s not up for discussion, Gilan. You’ll do as I say.”
Hal had been watching the two of them carefully. He saw Gilan’s jaw set into a tight line. He glanced at the Ranger Commandant and saw that Crowley agreed with his younger colleague. The sandy-haired Ranger spoke now in support of Gilan.
“I think Gilan knows his own abilities, my lord,” he said in a reasonable tone. “And I agree with him. Blundering around Arrida with a troop of cavalrymen isn’t the way to get this done. It’s not the way Rangers operate.”
Duncan flushed. Hal guessed that he wasn’t used to debating his ideas. He also guessed that the Rangers were quite used to doing just that with him. He decided to intervene.
“Right or wrong, it’s academic,” he said. And when the three Araluens turned their attention to him, he continued, “We don’t have room on board for a troop of cavalry. Our ship is too small.”
“Too small? Your wolfships have carried extra men before, and horses as well!”
Hal shrugged. “You could fit them on a normal wolfship. But the Heron is much smaller. And this will be a long trip. As for horses, there’s definitely no way we could fit them.” He caught Gilan’s eye and shrugged. “Sorry.”
“No problem,” Gilan said. “I’ll borrow a horse from Selethen if I need one. Those Arridan horses are fine animals, and they’re accustomed to conditions in the desert.”
“And if Gilan needs to use force, we can provide it. My crew are all experienced warriors. We just proved that in Socorro,” Hal added.
But now, Duncan was angry, and not just because Gilan, Crowley and Hal were contradicting his plan. “This ship of yours, you say it’s not a normal wolfship?”
Hal nodded. Before he could elaborate, Duncan continued, his voice rising. “So you’re telling me that Erak has fobbed us off with a second-rate vessel to act as the duty ship this year? That is totally unsatisfactory. It’s an insult to me and to Araluen.”
They were all startled by a roar of fury from Thorn, matching Duncan’s raised voice. The old warrior erupted from his chair and shook his wooden hook at the King.
“Second rate? Second rate? Where do you get off your high horse calling the Heron second rate? I’ll have you know, King, she is the finest vessel in the Skandian fleet and you’re lucky to have her!”
But now Duncan was on his feet as well, leaning forward to threaten Thorn. “How dare you speak to me like that? I am the King, do you understand?”
“Hah!” Thorn snorted derisively.
“And don’t go pointing that . . . thing at me!” Duncan roared, indicating the polished wood hook on Thorn’s right arm. Thorn was unabashed, although he did lower his voice somewhat.
“Then don’t you go insulting our ship and our skirl. Our second-rate ship has just rescued a dozen of your people from the Socorran slavers. How second rate was that? Now you will apologize to our ship and our skirl or we’ll just walk out of here and sail back to Skandia,” he said.
“Thorn, sit down,” Hal said, standing and placing a hand on Thorn’s arm. The old sea wolf looked at him angrily, but his regard for Hal, both as a person and as his skirl, made him sit down again. Hal turned back to the King, but now Gilan was on his feet as well.
“My lord, could I have a word, please?” He indicated a door leading to another room. Duncan, his face red with anger, glared at Thorn, who glared back, then, tight lipped, the King nodded and led the way to the other room.
Once they were in private, Gilan spoke before Duncan could say anything.
“My lord, I’ve just spent the past three weeks with this ship and this crew, and believe me, there is nothing second rate about them. She may be small, but Heron is fast and highly maneuverable. She’ll outsail any normal wolfship.”
“Well, that may be . . . ,” Duncan began, a little mollified by Gilan’s obvious sincerity. The King had a quick temper but he was, at heart, a fair man. That was why he allowed his Rangers to dispute with him if they thought he was in the wrong.
“As for the crew,” Gilan continued, “I couldn’t ask for better help if it comes to a fight. Young Stig there is every bit as good as Horace himself. He’s fast and agile and deadly. And Thorn is even better.”
“Better than Horace? That shabby one-armed man?”
“That shabby one-armed man was the premier warrior in Skandia for three years in a row,” Gilan told him. Lydia had filled him in on Thorn’s background while they were in Socorro. “Nobody else has ever achieved that. And the rest of the crew are all seasoned fighters as well. Thorn’s trained them himself. Even the girl, Lydia, is a warrior. She’s an absolute dead shot with her atlatl darts.”
He paused, watching Duncan’s breathing settle and the red flush of anger drain from his face.
“I know them, my lord. I’ve fought beside them. They’ll be better than any troop of cavalry.”
“Well . . . all right. If you say so.”
“I do, my lord. Trust me.”
Duncan groaned. “Why do I hate it when people say that?”
Gilan waited. Finally, Duncan came to a decision.
“All right. Let’s go back in there. But I’m not apologizing to that one-armed ruffian,” he added. Gilan allowed a ghost of a grin to touch his lips.
“That’s all right, my lord. I’m sure he doesn’t plan to apologize to you.”
chapter six
While the King and Gilan were absent from the room, Hal spoke urgently to Thorn.
“Thorn, for pity’s sake, will you settle down? You can’t go around ranting at the King like that. He’s the King, after all.”
Thorn looked at him, unrepentant. “So? I’d speak to Erak that way. And I respect our Oberjarl more than any foreign king. He insulted our ship and that insults all of us. And he accused Erak of trying to break the rules of the treaty.”
There was a brief silence between them. Crowley took a sip of his coffee and regarded them evenly. “If
you ask me, Thorn had every right to say what he did,” he said.
The three Skandians all looked at him, surprised, and he grinned. “Perhaps not quite as forcefully as he did. But his passion only serves to emphasize his sincerity. You and your crew have just done a great service for this country and it was right to remind Duncan of the fact. He had no call to disparage you or your ship—which Gilan tells me is a remarkable craft.”
He set his cup down and leaned forward to speak to them in a more confidential tone.
“Duncan is a fair man. But he is a king and kings don’t like to be contradicted. To his credit, that’s why he keeps us Rangers around. We argue with him all the time if we think he’s wrong. You can bet that Gilan is in there now straightening him out.”
Hal frowned. The thought of the young Ranger “straightening out” the angry monarch was hard to accept.
“How will he take that?”
“He’ll listen to reason—eventually. Bear in mind, he’s mad with worry about his daughter. And the uncertainty of the whole thing makes that worry even worse. If he had a clear idea of who’s involved and what they’re planning, it would be a lot easier. But he’s worried and he’s lacking hard intelligence on this Scorpion Mountain place. Just give him time and he’ll come round. He’s a good man at heart.”
Stig grinned and leaned over to clap Thorn on the shoulder. “So you get back in your box, Thorn, and stop trying to disrupt the treaty.”
Thorn snorted indignantly. “All very well, Stig, but he insulted you too, you know.”
“And I’m big and ugly enough to take exception to that myself, if need be,” Stig told him. “But Crowley’s right, the man obviously has a lot on his mind and he’s got a kingdom to run as well. Let’s give him a little slack, shall we?”
Hal nodded his thanks to Stig. His tall friend had come a long way in the past year and a half. The old Stig was always willing to flare up at any slight—real or imagined. This measured approach to the situation was something new.
Scorpion Mountain Page 4
