“Perhaps this witch had a hand in Lady Kathryn vanishing,” he suggested slowly, trying to fathom if Ronan was also maneuvering for some particular gain.
“Perhaps. If you wish, I could take you to the tower she has occupied?”
“That sounds like a convenient way for you to get out of this particular tower,” Logan pointed out, instinctively looking for falsehood in the northerner’s suggestion.
“I am a Fìrinn Bruidhinn,” Ronan said. “I understand the essence of negotiation. I will help you; you will help me.”
“I like your style,” Logan said. “But I’m going to need more than a story about a witch and your offer to guide us to her.”
“I told Maelec Morr that if I had not returned his daughter to him by tomorrow morning, he was to begin the burnings,” Ronan said. “Thanks to the Fìrinn Bruidhinn and the mutual respect of our peoples there has not been a war between the clans and the baronies for centuries. We are on the brink of one right now. This castle is stout, but I have seen few warriors since I came here. You said yourself the seneschal is gone. Do you think you can hold these walls against the entire Redfern clan?”
“No,” Logan said. “But that still doesn’t answer why I should trust you. Depart here with us for the tower and you could slip away with the girl on the first night. Or just murder us all.”
“I do not think you are a trusting man, Logan Lashley,” Ronan said. “I do not think many people like you are. You need something direct you can negotiate with.”
“We certainly seem to understand each other,” Logan said. Ronan spoke to Carys in their native tongue. The conversation lasted for some time. Logan did his best to read their expressions and tone of voice, but Pico’s unwavering gaze kept distracting him.
“Very well,” Ronan said eventually, looking back at Logan. “I have asked Carys and she is in agreement. She will remain here while I ride to the Crooked Tower with you, but on one condition – that the orc named Durik stays with her. She trusts no one else here.”
“Durik is one of my closest companions,” Logan said hesitantly. “I wouldn’t like to ride anywhere in this blighted land without him at my side. I will have to ask him before promising anything.”
“I understand,” Ronan said. “But I will not leave Carys here unless he is with her. She trusts him, but no one else. That is enough for me.”
Carys said something more in her own language, looking at Logan as she did so.
“She says she will not answer any more of the gray witch’s questions either.”
Logan laughed dryly. “Don’t worry,” he said to her directly. “I don’t speak to Lady Damhán any more than I have to either.” He looked back at Ronan.
“So what do I tell the others that you are offering in exchange for your freedom?”
“I take you to the witch who stole your chief’s daughter.”
“You don’t know it was her for certain,” Logan said.
“But only a powerful user of dark magic could have taken her? To make her disappear the way she did?”
“Perhaps. How do we know you won’t be leading us into a trap?”
“With Maelec Morr’s daughter still in your power? I would never risk her, even without the blood oath I swore to her father.”
“Would you make a blood oath here to me, that you will lead us faithfully to the crooked tower?”
“I do not swear on things lightly,” Ronan said. “And you are not a northerner. Your end of the oath would mean little.”
Logan looked at the hulking barbarian carefully for a moment. He came across as nothing but genuine, but then again, Logan liked to think he managed that often enough too. Right now though he had very few cards to play. He needed to reshuffle the pack.
“I will speak to Durik, and the others,” he said. “And if they are willing, we will ride north.”
“It is settled then. Go and ask your companion. If he agrees, bid your mistress send a horseman to the Lightning Rock, two days south-east. There he will find the Redfern clan, gathered for war. He is to tell Maelec Morr that the Son of the Wild sends his greetings, and says that his daughter is safe. She will be returned to him in nine days’ time. Have the messenger give him this, as proof the words are my own.” Ronan reached up and slipped the ring from his right arm, leaning forward to hand it to Logan. The weight of the wrought metal took him aback.
“I will ask Durik if he will stay,” he said, rising with some difficulty. “And return with his answer. If he does, you will take us north, and show us this witch you speak of.”
“By all the gods of north and south, may it be so,” Ronan said, standing too, the familiar darting up the side of his leg and onto his shoulders. “I will see you again, Logan Lashley. Let us hope it is in better circumstances.”
• • •
Outside the bedchamber Logan found himself facing a bristling array of swords and pole arms. The weapons withdrew when the men-at-arms realized it was him – all bar Kloin’s, who looked as though he was on the cusp of running Logan through until Damhán cleared her throat pointedly.
“What did he say?” she asked as the chamber door thumped firmly shut behind him. Durik and Ulma looked like the only two who weren’t surprised to see him still alive. Logan took a second to collect himself, considering Ronan’s claims about the witch.
“He’s willing to come out peacefully,” he said slowly, affecting a triumphant stance. “And he’s also willing to leave the girl here, provided that you stop interrogating her and Durik stays with her at all times.”
“And what do we receive in return?”
“He’s going to take us to the witch he thinks kidnapped Lady Kathryn.”
Everyone stared at Logan. He wondered if he’d made a mistake – saying it now, it sounded far-fetched. But nothing Logan had sensed about Ronan at the time had felt like a lie, and he should know. He was committed now.
“Did he know Lady Kathryn was kidnapped?” Damhán asked.
“Well, no,” Logan admitted. “But as he pointed out, it had to have been someone with sorcerous abilities, and we don’t know of any other able magic users around Upper Forthyn, yourself excluded, my lady.” He smiled at Damhán, who glared at him.
“But then who is this witch?”
“She has been skulking in one of the watchtowers to the north for some time, harassing the clans. Her lair is a two-day ride away. It fits what we’re looking for.”
“That’s all you have to go on?”
“That’s all he has to offer. He won’t lead us astray as long as we still have the girl. Also, here’s a fun little fact – she’s not some clan peasant. She’s the daughter of the chieftain of the Redferns. And according to Ronan he’s on the brink of descending on this town with fire and sword. He wants a messenger sent to delay him.”
“You let him outtalk you, idiot,” Kloin hissed. “He reeled off some clan fairy story to you about a witch in a tower and you bought it! You have no evidence that she even exists, let alone that she’s connected to Lady Kathryn, you gullible old idiot.”
“Well, apparently I’m the only gullible, rich old idiot with the courage to walk into that room alone,” Logan retorted angrily. “Perhaps if you were able to do your job, captain, he wouldn’t have even made it inside the castle at all, and we wouldn’t have to be negotiating right now. The last time I checked, we didn’t have any other viable options, and no good information to work with.”
“Did he say how he got in in the first place?” Damhán asked.
“No,” Logan lied, deciding now wasn’t the time to indict Matron Mildred, as much as Tobin would doubtless have wanted her thrown in the castle dungeon.
“Let me put it this way,” Logan went on, placing a hand provocatively on Kloin’s shoulder. The man visibly quivered with the urge to knock it aside. “Since breaking in, has the northerner killed any of your m
en, or any of the castle garrison?”
“Well, no,” Kloin said. “But he assaulted half a dozen in his rampage to this bedchamber.”
“A deathless rampage,” Logan said. “Have you seen the man in question?”
“No,” Kloin said. “But I don’t see what the point of–”
“Well I’m assuming at least some of your men have,” Logan interrupted. “So they’ll corroborate when I say that Ronan of the Wilds is a very, very big man. He clearly knows how to handle a sword, as well. If he had wanted to, I suspect he could have massacred every person in this castle last night, half of them before they even knew he was here. He could’ve carried Carys out on his shoulders over your bloody corpses and disappeared out into the night. Instead he simply went to where you were holding her, and waited.”
“If he just wanted to negotiate from the start he could’ve come here like a normal person, and not an assassin in the dead of night,” Kloin said.
“And what good would that have done him? My dear captain, you’ve been steadfastly refusing to let either me or my companions into this keep for several days, and we are here with the full authority of Baroness Adelynn. Are we really to believe you would have admitted a northern warrior the size of an ox and sat down at the hall’s banqueting table to thrash out terms?”
Kloin was red-faced and silent. Logan didn’t much bother trying to hide his smugness as he carried on.
“Ronan came here to negotiate from a position of strength, and despite first appearances, he is doing that. He has Carys and we are unable to harm him. His only wish is to bring the girl – a chieftain’s daughter, no less – to safety. He is offering to leave her here, though, still in your custody, while he assists us. If you can conceive of a better end to this scenario then I’m sure we’d all love to hear it.”
“I will not be outwitted by some northern barbarian,” Kloin snarled, moving closer to Logan. Durik shifted too, the threat of his looming bulk giving Kloin pause as Logan continued.
“You already have been. We all have. He is no mere barbarian. He is a Fìrinn Bruidhinn. Anyone with an ounce of knowledge regarding the culture of the northern clans would know that he is a born negotiator. He was sent here with a simple task, and he is going to see it through.”
“You appear to have least recovered your ability to speak, Master Lashley,” Damhán said. “And despite your general ineptitude thus far, I agree that a sorcerer must have been involved in Lady Kathryn’s abduction. I have translated several passages from the book discovered in her chamber. It is called the Cadaveribus, and it is dark magic indeed. Someone planted it there, possibly to aid them in the ritual that stole the lady away.”
“Are you really agreeing with this decrepit jester?” Kloin demanded, glaring fiercely at Logan.
“He makes some accurate points. The northerner is presenting us with a means to end this stalemate, and we can still keep hold of the girl.”
“And just why is that important?” Ulma asked. “You seem to have gone to quite some effort to snatch this child seemingly at random. She appears to know nothing of Lady Kathryn. Why insist that we keep her?”
“We negotiate from strength,” Damhán said. “That is what this clansman has been sent to do, and that is what we must match. Logan, Ulma and Durik, you will ride north with him tomorrow morning, at first light. Find the witch he speaks of. Bring me back Lady Kathryn, or clear evidence of her whereabouts.”
“He wants Durik to stay,” Logan pointed out quickly, glancing at the orc.
“Ridiculous,” Damhán said. “Durik was first of your group that I hired. He is a tracker without peer. His skills are needed in the hunt.”
“I really don’t think–” Logan started to say, but Durik interrupted him.
“I will stay,” the orc said. “If nothing else, the intrusion has proved she is not safe in this citadel.”
“You’ll probably spring her free,” Kloin growled.
“Let me rephrase,” Durik said. “If you think I’m leaving her alone again with you and your men, you are greatly mistaken. I am staying.”
“I will be sure to include all of this in my report to Baroness Adelynn,” Damhán said.
“Yes,” Logan agreed. “Maybe you should lead with how a single northerner was able to infiltrate Fallowhearth castle under Captain Kloin’s watch. It may also be wise to inform the baroness that her appointed seneschal is currently missing in Blind Muir Forest, which appears to have been overrun by an infestation of giant bastarding spiders.”
“My report will be entirely comprehensive, you may be certain of that,” Damhán said coldly. “As for the seneschal, the garrison is now stretched too thinly to attempt to locate him just yet. I will recommend that Baroness Adelynn send more men north to assist us. I will also recommend that I am taking on the duties of seneschal until we have seen through this crisis.”
Kloin couldn’t quite cover up his crestfallen expression. Logan smirked at him.
“He gave me this, to be sent to the clan chieftain at the Lightning Rock,” the rogue said, holding up the arm ring Ronan had given him. “He said it would be sufficient proof that his daughter is safe for now, but that if the Redferns don’t hear any further word they will descend on Fallowhearth. He recommended we have the chief’s child back with him within the next nine days.”
“I will see it sent,” Damhán said. “Meanwhile, you and Ulma will ride with the northerner tomorrow. Kloin, put your two best men on this door for the rest of the day, and rotate another four on in the evening. You are not to enter this chamber, nor is anyone else to go in or out until dawn.”
“I will stand watch with them tonight,” Durik said.
“If you insist.”
• • •
Durik and Logan spent most of the rest of the day asleep at the Black Crow. Ulma, indomitable as ever, gave her bed up to the orc while she busied herself with replenishing her alchemical stocks. Logan woke towards evening, cursing himself for sleeping so long.
“Eat,” Durik ordered him. He was already awake, sitting at the table with Ulma. It had been partially cleared of the dwarf’s potions and beakers, and laid out with food brought from downstairs – bread and spudroot soup.
“Seems dangerous to have it next to half a dozen flasks of toxic brew,” Logan pointed out before tucking in regardless. He felt suddenly ravenous.
“You will need your strength,” Durik said. “You think you can trust this northerner?”
“You trust the girl, Carys, don’t you?”
“She is an innocent, caught up by fate,” Durik said.
“Aren’t we all?” Logan said with a shrug. “I certainly don’t trust Ronan any less than I do the likes of Kloin, or even Damhán for that matter. I thought for a minute she was going to have the whole tower torched when I came back out of that bedchamber.”
“I told you, Damhán’s more reasonable than you give her credit for,” Ulma said, carefully distilling one vial into another, her goggles fastened over her eyes. “You just don’t like each other.”
“Should we really be sitting here while you do that?” Logan asked around a mouthful of pulped spudroot, eyeing Ulma’s bubbling pots nervously.
“If you want me to go to the Northern Watch with just my mallet then fine. But I’d rather be better equipped than I was in Blind Muir.”
“What’s the Northern Watch?” Logan asked, seemingly trying to take his mind off Ulma’s alchemy.
“You told me the northerner called it the Crooked Tower. I asked the servants at the castle when I was getting food for the road. They say it’s the most northerly watchtower on the borders of Upper Forthyn. They were built to keep an eye on the Dunwarrs and act as a waypoint on the road to Thelgrim. I remember visiting one when I was younger, decades ago.”
“Was it the one we’re traveling to?”
“I can’t be sure, but
they were all similar anyway,” Ulma said, setting down her last beaker. “Half dwarf-built, half manling. They fall under the jurisdiction of the seneschal of Fallowhearth. One of Abelard’s responsibilities was to maintain them, but apparently most of them haven’t been garrisoned for years.”
“Why am I not surprised,” Logan said.
“In fairness, Baroness Adelynn hasn’t exactly been pouring silver into Upper Forthyn’s coffers.”
“So the garrison was recalled to Fallowhearth, and something else took up residence,” Logan surmised, deciding to say nothing about the veracity of servants’ quarters gossip over the state of Forthyn’s treasury.
“Seems like it.”
“And how big do you think the likelihood is that said something took Kathryn? I don’t think Ronan was lying, but there must be a connection somewhere. Something we’ve overlooked. There’s still the possibility that Kathryn left of her own accord, and was taken later. Perhaps the witch was spying on her, or happened across her?”
“Only the ancestors know that,” Ulma responded. “It could be any of those possibilities. But everything we’ve tried so far has turned up a dead end. We have to strike gold at some point.”
“Spoken like a true Dunwarr prospector’s daughter,” Logan said.
“Actually my father was an alchemist. One of the foremost in his guild.”
“And you’re not a part of that same guild?”
“I’m not,” Ulma said, her tone growing heavier. “It astounds me that in all the years you’ve known me, Logan, you’ve never wondered about that before today.”
“You Dunwarr are a secretive people,” Logan said with a shrug, not wanting to admit that he’d never really paused to consider what could have led a brilliant dwarven alchemist to fall in with a gang of adventurers.
The Doom of Fallowhearth Page 17
