"It's late in the raiding season," Will said finally. "I assume you've been raiding the Gallic and Iberic coasts?" It was an easy assumption. There had been no word of any raiding on the south coast of Araluen. Now, watching the group before him, he thought he understood why they had landed here.
"It'll be a long hard pull across the Stormwhite at this time of year," he said, maintaining his easy, friendly tone. "The autumn gales will be starting soon. You'll winter at Skorghijl, I suppose?"
He saw the ripple of surprise go through the Skandians. The leader glanced at his men to silence them.
"Skorghijl? What do you know of Skorghijl?"
"I know it's a black rock, hundreds of kilometers from anywhere. It's wet and freezing and totally devoid of any comfort or even a single blade of grass," Will told him, "but it's still preferable to crossing the Stormwhite in bad weather." He paused for effect, then added casually, "Or at least, it was when I was there in Wolfwind."
Now that had an effect, thought Will. Wolfwind had been Erak's wolfship before he had been elected Oberjarl of the Skandians. Yet there would be very few Araluens who knew the fact-Skandian ships didn't have their names painted on them. He saw the group muttering in low voices, saw the uncertainty in the stance of their leader as they realized that the only way he might have known the name of Erak's ship would be to have known Erak himself.
That was precisely the thought that was going through Gundar's mind. Yet he hadn't made the obvious connection. Ulf had. He grabbed his leader's arm.
"It's him!" he said urgently. "The one who helped defeat the eastern riders!"
Gundar peered at the figure on the horse. He'd heard of the young Ranger apprentice who had fought side by side with the Skandians five years ago, but he'd never seen him. Gundar had been upcountry during the brief, bloody war with the Temujai. Not so Ulf. He'd taken his place in the shield wall during the final confrontation. Now, as Will tossed back the cowl of his cloak and the shock of unruly hair was visible, he recognized him.
"It's him, Gundar!" he told his captain, then added, with a grim laugh, "As well you stopped when you did. I saw him empty five Temujai saddles in as many seconds during the battle."
That wasn't all, Ulf knew. If this were the legendary apprentice he was thinking of, then he was a close friend of the Oberjarl-and raiding in his territory might not be the best career move a wolfship skirl could make. Erak was renowned for his loyalty to friends-and his short temper with those who offended them.
Gundar, not the quickest of thinkers, had reached the same contusion a few seconds after his deputy. He hesitated, not sure what to say or do next. He and his men had an urgent need that had influenced their decision to raid Seacliff. They needed provisions to see them through the long, bitter winter months on Skorghijl. The bare island provided a safe harbor for wolfships but little in the way of food, and Wolfcloud's cruise had been anything but successful when it came to capturing supplies. If they sailed to Skorghijl as they were, they would quite possibly starve to death. At best they would go very hungry. Gundar and his men needed to raid. They needed meat and flour and grain to see them through the winter. And wine, if they could get it, he thought, his tongue unconsciously licking his dry lips as the thought crossed his mind. Friend or not, he thought, the Oberjarl could hardly blame him for looking after the well-being of his crew.
"Ride away, Ranger," he called, making a decision. "I'd prefer not to raise my weapon against a friend of Skandia, so I'll give you this last chance."
He hefted the massive ax again as he spoke. He was a little disconcerted to see a smile touch the young man's face.
"How very kind of you," Will said pleasantly. "And if I do 'ride away,' what do you propose to do?"
Gundar pointed in the direction of the castle and the attendant village that he knew lay some way beyond the trees.
"What we came here to do," he declared. "We'll take what we want and go."
"You won't get much with only ten men," Will said, in a reasonable tone of voice. Gundar snorted angrily.
"Ten? I've got twenty-seven men behind me!" There was an angry growl of assent from his men-although Ulf didn't join in, Gundar noticed.
This time, when the Ranger spoke, there was no trace of the pleasant, reasonable tone. Instead, the voice was hard and cold.
"You haven't reached the castle yet," Will said. "I've got twenty-three arrows in my quiver still, and a further dozen in my packsaddle. And you've got several kilometers to go-all within bowshot of the trees there. Bad shot as I am, I should be able to account for than half your men. Then you'll be facing the garrison with just ten men."
Involuntarily, Gundar's eyes swung to the tree line. He realized that the Ranger was right. He could fade into the forest and keep a constant fire on them as they tried to reach the castle.
"Try to come after me and you'll just make it easier," Will added, and Gundar swore explosively under his breath. Mounted as he was, and with a Ranger's skill at avoiding detection in the trees, Will could evade pursuit easily while he cut the small force of Skandians to ribbons. The wolfship skirl felt rage boiling up inside him. He was trapped here, with no options left to him. On the one hand, if he didn't raid the village, he and his men would starve. On the other, if they tried, a lot of them would certainly die. Will watched him carefully, waiting for the right moment, just before the rage boiled over into frustrated action.
"Alternatively," Will said calmly, "we might be able to come to some arrangement."
7
"They're coming!" The lookout's cry echoed down from the highest tower on Castle Seacliff. Baron Ergell squinted up, his eyes narrowed against the glare, then followed the direction the man's arm was pointing.
A group of Skandian warriors was emerging from the trees into the cleared ground around the castle. A mounted figure rode beside the man who led them. There was also, he made out, a black-and-white dog trotting ahead of the group.
"He talked to them, you say?" Ergell asked, and Norris nodded, standing at the battlements beside his leader. When he had left Will on the path, he had gone no farther than the next bend. He had watched the Ranger meet the Skandians, ready to go to his aid if necessary.
"That's right. He simply barred the way and talked to them. I saw him fire one arrow as a warning-actually, I didn't see it," he added, correcting himself. "It just sort of… happened. They're uncanny, those Rangers."
"And he said something about a banquet?"
This time Norris shrugged. He'd already passed that instruction to Rollo, mystified as he was by it. "A banquet, my lord. Although what he has in mind I can't tell you."
As they had been talking, Ergell had been counting the Skandian force approaching the castle. Nearly thirty of them, he saw. More than they could afford to engage. They'd have to face up to the fact that the village would be plundered and burned to the ground. The villagers themselves would be safe enough inside the castle walls and the livestock had been scattered as Will had ordered. But his people, his dependents, would lose their homes and their belongings, and the Baron knew it was his fault.
The Skandians had stopped now, some two hundred meters from the castle. He saw the Ranger lean down from his saddle to talk to their leader, a massive man wearing a horned helmet and carrying a double-bladed battleax. Some form of agreement seemed to pass between them and Will turned his horse toward the castle, letting him break into a fast canter. The dog accelerated from a standing start as only a sheepdog could, to keep station ahead of him.
"Perhaps we should go down and see what's in his mind," the Baron said, and he and his Battlemaster headed for the stairs leading to the courtyard below.
They had reached ground level by the time the gatekeepers were letting Will through the small wicket set into the main gate. He nodded to the Baron and to Sir Norris as they approached.
"We have an agreement with the Skandians, my lord," he said. Ergell realized that he had spoken in a carrying voice, and used the word "we" so that those wi
thin earshot would assume that he had been acting on the Baron's instructions. It was a tactful thing to do, Ergell realized. It would have been easy for the Ranger to have undermined his authority in front of his own people, yet he had chosen not to do so.
"I see," he replied gruffly. It wouldn't do to let people know that he didn't have the slightest idea what Will was talking about. The young Ranger stepped closer and lowered his voice so that only Ergell and Norris could hear him.
"They need provisions for the winter," he said quietly. "That's why they're here. I've told them we'll let them have five bullocks and ten sheep, plus a reasonable amount of grain for flour."
"Five bullocks!" Ergell began indignantly, but Will's cold glance stopped him in mid-protest.
"They'll take them anyway," he said, "and destroy the village in the bargain. It's a small enough price to pay, my lord."
His steady gaze held the Baron's. Unspoken was the thought that Ergell was in this position because of his own neglect-his and Norris's. In that sense, it was a small price to pay. He saw Norris nodding agreement with Will.
"The bullocks can come from my herd, my lord," he said. Ergell knew his Battlemaster was declaring his share of responsibility for the situation. He sighed.
"Of course," he said. "And the sheep from mine. Give the orders, Norris."
Inwardly, Will heaved a small sigh of relief. He had hoped that the two men would see that this was the best solution. Of course, Will could have made good on his threat to Gundar, but he had no wish to shoot down helpless men. Besides, even ten Skandians could cause a lot of damage and injury, he knew. And frankly, since Ergell and Norris were to blame for the situation, they deserved to pay for it.
"In the meantime, my lord, I've arranged for Gundar and his men to feast with us. I take it Sir Norris mentioned the idea to your Kitchenmaster?"
Ergell was taken aback by that. "Feast with us?" he said. "Skandians? You want me to let them in here?"
He glanced quickly at the thick walls and the stout wooden gate. Will nodded.
"Gundar has given me a helmsman's word that there'll be no trouble, my lord. A Skandian will never break that vow."
"But…" Still Ergell hesitated. The idea of letting those wild pirates inside his stronghold was too outlandish. Norris returned at that moment, having dispatched one of the herders to round up the scattered animals. Ergell turned to him helplessly.
"Apparently we're to let these pirates inside the walls-and provide them with a feast!" he said. For a moment, he could see Norris reacting as he had done. Then the knight remembered the sight of the lone, small figure waiting in the road to meet the Skandians and his shoulders dropped.
"Why not?" he said in a resigned tone. "I've never met a Skandian socially before. It should prove interesting.".
Will grinned at the two of them. "It should prove noisy," he said, then added a warning, "But don't try to match them drink for drink. You'll never manage it."
8
"Graybeard Halt is a fighting man. I've heard common talk that Graybeard Halt he cuts his hair with a carving knife and fork. Fare thee well, Graybeard Halt, fare thee well I say. Fare thee well, Graybeard Halt, tomorrow's another day."
Will hit a final chord on the mandola as he finished the last words, letting the notes ring on. Delia clapped and laughed delightedly.
"You're very good!" she said, with a note of surprise in her voice. "You should come over to the tavern and sing sometime."
Will shook his head. "I don't think so," he said. "Your mother wouldn't really appreciate my emptying her bar with my singing and playing."
To tell the truth, he was sure that the idea of singing and playing amusing folk songs in a tavern didn't sit with a Ranger's dignity or air of secretiveness. He wasn't totally sure that he should even be playing to Delia, when he came to think of it. But she was pretty and friendly and he was young and just a little lonely and he'd decided that he could give himself a little leeway in the matter.
They were sitting on the verandah of his cabin. It was late afternoon and the autumn sun was slanting low in the west, the light dappled by the half-bare branches of the trees. In the past week, since the banquet with the Skandian crew, Delia had begun to take her mother's place in delivering his evening meal. This evening, as she'd arrived, he'd been sitting practicing the instrumental break from Graybeard Halt, a complex sequence of sixteenth notes, played in a driving rhythm. She'd asked him to play it again, and sing it as well. The song was a traditional one, originally titled Old Joe Smoke, and it was about an unwashed, unkempt herder who slept among his goats to stay warm. When Will first began to learn the mandola, he had jokingly retitled it Graybeard Halt, as a comment on his mentor's unkempt hair and beard.
"But doesn't Ranger Halt object to you making fun of him like that?" Delia asked, a little wide-eyed. Halt's grim reputation was known throughout the kingdom. The idea of satirizing him seemed a dangerous one to her. Will shrugged.
"Oh, Halt's not as serious as you might think. He actually has quite a sense of humor," he said.
"He was certainly chuckling the time he made you spend all night up a tree for singing that song," came a voice from behind them. It was a familiar voice. Low-pitched, feminine and with a unique cadence that reminded Will of a stream flowing over smooth stones. He recognized it at once and leapt to his feet, turning toward the speaker where she had approached the end of the little porch.
"Alyss!" he said, a delighted grin spreading across his face. He stepped to meet her, his hands out in greeting, and she took them in her own as she stepped onto the verandah.
She was tall and very elegant, dressed in a beautifully cut white gown. It was the official Diplomatic Service uniform and its simple lines belied its stylishness while it set off her slender, long-legged figure to perfection. Her ash blond hair was straight and shoulder length, falling on either side of her face and framing her features. Gray eyes sparkled quietly at a private joke between her and Will. The picture was completed by a straight nose, a firm chin and a full mouth that echoed the hint of amusement and genuine pleasure in her eyes.
They stood wordlessly for a moment, delighted to see one another again. Alyss was one of Will's oldest friends, having been raised, as he was, a ward of Redmont Fief. In fact, when Will had returned to Redmont, heartsore at his parting from the Princess Cassandra, they had gradually become somewhat more than friends. The graceful apprentice diplomat had sensed his need for warmth and feminine company and affection and had been more than glad to supply all three. It hadn't progressed past some tentative embraces and kisses in the moonlight, and perhaps because of that, there was a sense of unfinished business between them.
Delia, seeing their obvious pleasure at each other's company, sensed the relationship and reluctantly surrendered. She was realistic enough to know that she was pretty and vivacious and probably the most attractive girl of her age on the island. But this elegant blonde in the soft white gown was more than pretty. She was poised, graceful and, in a word, beautiful. There was no contest, she thought resignedly-and just as things had been starting to thaw with this interesting and handsome young man.
"What are you doing here?" Will finally found his voice and led Alyss to where he and Delia had been sitting. The village girl noted that he retained his hold on one of Alyss's hands and she made no move to break the contact.
"Oh, just a routine diplomatic pouch from the court," she said, tossing her head to signify that her mission was an unimportant one "They're going out to half the fiefs. Nothing earth-shattering. I heard you were here at Seacliff, so I traded assignments with another courier so I could come see you."
She glanced meaningfully over his shoulder, raising one exquisite eyebrow to remind him of his manners. Will realized that he had forgotten all about Delia, and now he turned hurriedly, knocking the mandola over where he had leaned it against his chair. There was a moment of confusion as he regathered it. At least, thought Delia, it meant he had to let go of the Perfect Apparitio
n's hand.
"I'm so sorry!" he said in a rush. "Alyss, this is Delia, a friend of mine here. Delia, this is Courier Alyss, one of my oldest and dearest companions."
Delia winced inwardly at the "dearest" but smiled valiantly as she took Alyss's proffered hand. It was smooth and warm, of course, with a surprisingly strong grip.
"Pleased to meet you," she said. Alyss smiled, knowing that Delia was anything but pleased.
"How do you do?" she said. Will looked from one of them to the other, rubbing his hands uncertainly, not sure what to do next. Then his delight in seeing Alyss again took over.
"So are you staying long? Will you have time for me to show you the island?" he asked, and Alyss shook her head regretfully.
"Just tonight and tomorrow," she said. "There's a formal banquet tomorrow, but I'm free tonight and I thought…?" She let the sentence hang and Will seized the opportunity eagerly.
"Well then, dine with me tonight!" He gestured toward the cabin behind them. "I'll ask Edwina if she can cater for another person."
"Edwina?" Alyss repeated, raising an eyebrow. She glanced at the cabin, wondering if Will kept a tribe of women here with him. Delia answered before Will could explain.
"My mother," she said. "We run the local tavern." She smiled over-brightly at Will. "I can tell her if you like. It'll be no trouble for her at all, and it's time I was getting back anyway."
Will hesitated, not sure how to handle this turn of events. "Oh… well… good." Then, having left it just a shade too long, he added, "Why not join us? We can all have dinner together?"
Delia felt a small thrill of triumph as the smile on Alyss's face faded slightly, and for a moment she was tempted to accept. But she realized almost immediately that this small triumph was likely to be the only one she would enjoy that evening.
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