Blind Seer rolled onto his back so that she could scratch his belly. After a thoughtful sigh, he conceded.
"And what shall I do, then?"
"Watch from the ground," Firekeeper said promptly. "That lighthouse has more doors than a hive has bees. Baron Endbrook strikes me as the type of coward who may try to run while others fight his battles. He might manage this if mere humans opposed him, but not against you."
Blind Seer rumbled his pleasure.
"I cannot watch everywhere," he cautioned.
"I know that, sweet hunter, but those blue eyes of yours see far better than anything humans have—especially by night. I plan to ask Bold to scout for you. He will not be needed above once we are inside."
"Bold only? What of Elation? That bird has rested from her journeys hither and yon. I weary of her bragging."
This last was said affectionately. In truth, Blind Seer felt nearly as much pride in the falcon's doings as she did herself. Nor had he forgotten his gratitude to both Elation and Bold for protecting Firekeeper during her escape from Thendulla Lypella.
Firekeeper hesitated, her fingers pausing in their scratching.
"If she would be of use to you," she said at last, "I would ask her to scout. However, if you can manage with only the crow…"
"If!" the wolf said indignantly.
"If you can," Firekeeper said, resuming her rhythmic scratching of the wolf's chest, "then I thought to ask Elation to defend Derian as best she can. I would not rob Fox Hair of this chance to prove himself before a One of his pack, but for all his courage during the past war Derian is not yet a blooded warrior. I fear that when the time comes to trade blows with sword or knife, he will falter and be killed."
"Wise," Blind Seer said. "There is some thought behind those doe eyes of yours."
He rolled when she would have punched him, coming up lightly and wagging his tail.
"Come and ran with me," he said, bouncing a bit. "You have been serious too long."
Firekeeper shook her head, resisting, though Blind Seer darted away and back again, wagging his tail as if inviting her to grab hold.
"Later," she said, "when all this is over. I have too much to worry me."
Blind Seer relented, but she could see he was disappointed.
"You are becoming as grim as a she-bear with two cubs," he grumbled. "Remember your promise."
"I will," she said.
Fleetingly, she remembered the moonstone ring.
Perhaps, sweet hunter, I will truly run with you and not trail along behind.
The attack was set to begin well after nightfall. In order to minimize the need to show lights, the troops advanced into the swamp at twilight, stopping a fair distance from their destination, beneath where the canopy—from Elation's perspective—protected them from being seen, even from above.
Dark lanterns were permitted, as were hot drinks. Elation and Bold periodically checked, making certain that no one showed a light that could give them away.
At the prearranged hour, Firekeeper and the scouts—Edlin the newest and proudest recruit among their number—led the way deeper into the swamp. Despite paths marked out with guidelines and infinite care, one or two soldiers stumbled into the morass and had to be dragged free and dried.
The cold weather, however, protected them from the worst of the swamp's hazards. The poisonous snakes and insects were dormant for the winter. The stinging nettles and rash-inducing plants had lost their leaves.
The attackers approached from four different points. Three groups were to advance and, using thin blades and rods, break the ground-floor windows. Then they were to set torches—now smoldering in carefully covered buckets and pots—to the shutters and drop coals inside.
There was no real hope that a fire would catch within; rather, the hope was that a panic might arise that would lead to a door being opened. At the very least, this would prove a distraction from the attackers' other activities.
A fourth group—under the command of Princess Sapphire, who had reluctantly admitted she couldn't climb a rope on a dare—was to assault the original lighthouse door with a makeshift ram cut from a massive poplar that might have once sheltered the farmyard.
Again, they did not hope to burst in the door, but with this as the apparent focus of their attack, attention and fighters should be diverted from the fifth group.
This, of course, was the one led by Prince Shad, the band of climbers, including Firekeeper, who would go in through the top. Baron Archer and the best of his band would break the windows with specially prepared blunted arrows. Then they were to drop back and provide cover for the squad on the ram, for these would be unable to protect themselves.
Of Firekeeper's former companions, Derian was with Shad. Edlin was with the scouts and, later, would join the archers. Doc and Elise, of course, were with the hospital crew. Wendee Jay had elected to stay with them. Firekeeper did not doubt that the latter's steadiness would be greatly valued if injuries mounted.
She was parting from the scouts, her hand buried in Blind Seer's fur in silent farewell, when a familiar voice said rather diffidently:
"I say, won't you give your brother a kiss for luck, what?"
Firekeeper knew well that what Edlin felt toward her was more than brotherly affection. For a moment she considered turning away without a word. Then she recalled that, like Derian, this was Edlin's first taste of battle.
She lifted herself on her toes and kissed Edlin lightly on one cheek.
"Good luck, Brother."
She melted into the darkness before he could say more. As he trailed her, Blind Seer seemed less than pleased.
"You didn't kiss me!" he sniffed.
She knelt and wrapped her arms around him.
"You I expect to see again, fool! Him I am not so sure."
Blind Seer gave her a sloppy lick on one cheek and then went to begin his patrol.
The ascent of the lighthouse went more smoothly than Firekeeper had dared hope. In her mind she renamed Shad "Spider" for the incredible dexterity with which he climbed the knotted rope. Derian, going up third on one line, made the climb easily as well.
Although—remembering her avowed purpose for making the ascent—Firekeeper had agreed to let those better armed and trained climb before her, she itched for her chance. She had practiced some on the farmhouse wall, and although different types of climbing were second nature to her, she did wonder how well she would manage when the time came.
She got to the top—though no one would dub her spider for her grace, and her leather trousers saved her from a nasty scraped knee. As she mounted, Elation's shrieks and Bold's rough caws warned her that she was ascending into a battle.
Coming to the top, Firekeeper poised on the broad window ledge, waiting for a clear spot of floor to jump down. Chance let her make it for herself when one of the defenders, stumbling back from an attacker's blade, came within range.
With a sharp thrust of her Fang's pommel, she knocked the man cold, leapt down and over him, and charged into the shadowed stairwell.
Another might have been blinded here, but Firekeeper had learned to see in the dark. She saw the darker darkness that was the ascending man and kicked out. Her foot was bare—she had forsaken boots for comfort when climbing—but her heel was hard and made contact directly with his forehead. He fell back, landing against another and causing him to stumble in turn.
Firekeeper was tempted to take time to finish them, but neither man had Citrine. Below, the thudding of the ram against the door seemed like the beating of the lighthouse's own gigantic heart, as if the stone walls had come to life and were siding with the attackers.
The odor of smoke would have kept even Blind Seer from tracking Citrine by scent, but the traces eddying in were not enough to do more than make Firekeeper's eyes water slightly.
She dashed past the fourth-floor landing, past the third, certain from the minimal noise that no one of importance was here, and that those who remained here were occupied in try
ing to attack those on the ground below.
Reaching the second floor, the wolf-woman paused for a moment at the dormitories. They reeked of unwashed bed linens, but their only occupants proved to be a handful of panicked pirates.
One of these darted forth to offer their group surrender, but Firekeeper cared only that Citrine was not among them. Ignoring the man's pleas, she rushed down, feet slapping on the smooth polished stone, her ears alert for the little girl's voice.
At last she heard it as she burst into the open on the ground-floor landing. Most of the pirates were scattered about the room. Some stood by the door, watching in horror as the metal bound wood splintered beneath the repeated blows. More were gathered in front of the windows, damping coals, trying to get an angle from which they might stab or shoot those without.
In passing, Firekeeper hoped that the troops remembered what they had been told about keeping close to the walls. Then her attention centered on where a big man stood near the center of the room, Citrine crumpled in a weeping heap at his side.
Firekeeper howled as the wolf howls to intimidate the prey and rushed across the room. Her advent was too sudden and too startling for any of the pirates to react swiftly. Moreover, at that moment, a panel in the door buckled and snapped beneath the force of the ram.
The general rush in her direction was redirected toward the door. Firekeeper reached the man—he could only be Baron Endbrook, though she had never seen him—and pressed her Fang against his throat. She would have pushed it home that instant, never mind the shower of blood, but he wheezed out a single word.
"Wait!"
She froze, pressing hard enough that blood oozed around the blade.
Baron Endbrook took this as a prompt.
"I have to trade," he hissed, "for my life."
Firekeeper barred her teeth.
"Nothing," she snarled. "No diplomacy!"
"Lady Melina's necklace!" he screamed.
Firekeeper froze. The desperation in his eyes told her that if this was a feint, it was one he thought he could somehow make good. That alone was enough to make her spare him—for the moment. She had been among those who had assisted Sapphire in freeing herself from Lady Melina's enchantment and she knew that without proof Melina no longer had the necklace, similar freedom for Citrine and her siblings might well be impossible.
Howling her frustration, Firekeeper turned the blade in her hand, bringing her balled fist down to punch into the hollow between his upper ribs. Baron Endbrook gasped and sunk to his heels, surrendering.
Firekeeper slashed the rope that bound Citrine to him. She could hear the clumping of booted feet on the stairs and knew that Prince Shad and his men were behind her. The door was cracking underneath the ram.
Bending, she gathered Citrine into her arms and held her close, sheltering the child's weeping form as the battle was joined, raged, and ended almost in a heartbeat.
Thumping down the stairs a few paces behind the bulk of Prince Shad's more seasoned fighters, Derian could hardly comprehend what he was seeing.
At one end of the huge, round room an iron-bound door was splintering under the blows of the ram. From two side rooms soldiers wearing Hawk Haven's scarlet and silver were rushing into this central chamber. In the center of this chaos stood Firekeeper, Citrine clasped in her arms, Baron Endbrook collapsed at her feet.
Later, Derian would learn that some of the pirates, hoping for amnesty and seeing Baron Endbrook attacked, had flung open the outer doors to admit the enemy. What it seemed at the time was that somehow Firekeeper's solitary presence had been enough to end the battle. This impression was not reduced when Blind Seer, Bold soaring over him, had leapt into the room and come to stand at her side.
Firekeeper, however, kept everything in perspective. She waited for the worst of the chaos to end, for the remaining defenders to be disarmed and herded into a corner under guard, and for Sapphire to turn her way. Then she smiled and held out Citrine.
"Your sister needs you," she had said, her voice ringing out so that all fell silent to listen.
Sapphire, bloodied yet wearing that battle aura that was already making her a legend, crossed and took the girl into her arms. Someone started a spontaneous cheer into which Firekeeper raised her own voice.
It's as if she realizes that Sapphire needs to be flattered else she'll become an enemy. If she does realize this my wolf-woman has learned a great deal.
When that ruckus died down, Firekeeper gestured derisively toward where Baron Endbrook sat on the floor, Blind Seer keeping watch over him with the air of a wolf who very much wants to bite the sheep.
"This one say," Firekeeper continued, "he have something to offer for his life. You is princess. You is decide."
Derian winced, wondering if Firekeeper deliberately lost her grammar under such circumstances.
Sapphire handed Citrine to Shad, who had come to stand beside her, his expression as grim as the wolf's. She glared down at Baron Endbrook and said:
"What is it you have to offer us?"
"Your mother's necklace," Waln gasped. "I have it hidden away. I demanded it and your sister as hostages against Lady Melina's good behavior. She gave them—and seems to have renounced them."
Even with everyone in the room—pirate and soldier alike—straining to catch what was being said there was a murmuring. Most had not realized to what extent Lady Melina was involved in Citrine's misfortune.
There goes keeping that quiet, Derian thought, but then silence is probably not the best course in this matter. I suspect news of where Lady Melina is will get across the border. She isn't exactly hiding herself away.
Sapphire blanched at the mention of the necklace. She might have renounced her mother's hold, but that necklace was a powerful talisman nonetheless—and it held the Citrine's eventual freedom in its glittering arc.
"And what do you want for it?" she asked. "Your life?"
"My life," Waln Endbrook said, a trace of his former dignity returning, "and my freedom."
"I cannot offer you a pardon for what you have done here," Sapphire said, "and would not if I could. That is King Tedric's to give, for in allying yourself against our enemies you have forsaken any diplomatic privileges you had been given."
"Enemy?" Waln said haughtily. "Are you saying the Isles are your enemy? Or New Kelvin?"
"No." Sapphire's smile was both polite and cruel. "These smugglers and pirates. These are our enemies."
Waln hung his head, knowing himself beaten. Had Citrine not lived, had the pirates not been present in such numbers to tell of his actual doings, he might have tried to bluster. Derian could see it in his face.
Watching, again, he laughed to himself.
He felt a heaviness on his shoulder as Elation glided in for a landing.
"It's almost over, girl," he said softly. "I can see it."
She nipped the finger he raised to stroke her feathers, but so gently that it felt like the needle bite of a kitten's milk teeth.
Sapphire had been conferring with Shad, Baron Archer, and several other ranking nobles. Citrine had been turned over to Jet, who was trying hard to look both compassionate and heroic. Neither expression was natural to him, so all Jet ended up looking was foolish.
"Baron Endbrook," Sapphire said at last, "as much as I would like to deal with you on my own, the decision is not mine to make. However, come with us to Eagle's Nest and we will put your case before King Tedric. I, certainly, will offer my hope that he accept your trade—I have reasons for wanting that necklace, but I am not the monarch."
Not yet, her stormy blue gaze said, reminding Waln that here was yet another formidable woman with whom he must deal.
Baron Endbrook nodded. "I give my word to go with you, and I promise to keep it," he added bitterly, "better than your mother did hers."
"One thing more," Sapphire said, and something in her bearing made the captive baron wilt where his sense of his own wrongs had been enough to make him at least a shadow of his former self.
"Jet Shield, who is Citrine's guardian since Lady Melina is not here, has made a demand of me. It is a demand I feel I cannot refuse even though since my adoption by King Tedric I am technically not of his family. Even so, in a matter of family justice, I feel competent to make a ruling."
Derian thought that Jet looked more confused than anyone else present, but in this circumstance, at least, his habitual posing stood him in good stead. Realizing that Sapphire was using him for some end of her own—and doubtless thinking he could expect favors in return—Jet straightened and tightened his hold on Citrine.
"Speak for me, Princess," Jet said in the vibrant tones that had thrilled many a lady's heart. "I am overcome with emotion."
If Sapphire felt any gratitude for this accomplished acting, she gave no sign of it. Her attention was solely for the now trembling baron.
"I have said I could not rule as to whether you could buy your life…" she said, drawing out the moment. "However, you have taken something from Citrine and it is only fair that we take the same from you in return."
A murmur, half-approval, half-shock rippled through the gathered soldiers. Baron Waln gave a low moan, but that was all. He neither begged nor pleaded nor threatened, only turned his head away when Sapphire stretched his hand on a makeshift block.
Nearly as neat as a surgeon, she cut free the two smallest fingers on the baron's left hand.
Absolute silence fell as she completed the mutilation, silence broken by a shrill cry from Citrine.
"He cut off a lock of my hair, too!" the little girl called out with all the anger and frustration she had kept buttoned inside. Then she burst into tears and buried her face in Jet's collar.
Jet looks, Derian thought unhappily, as helpless as I feel.
The general celebration that spread as the troops prepared to spend the rest of the night at Smuggler's Light took longer to reach the hospital. The victory had not been without cost—though given what could have happened, the bill was light indeed.
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