‘So we find the temple and steal the Crown?’ said Ballistar. ‘It would be best to enter it at night.’
Sigarni rose, stretched and walked away down the port side of the vessel. A soldier smiled at her. ‘Stay with your friends,’ he said. ‘Soon it will be so dark you will not be able to see your hand before your face.’
She thanked him and returned to the others, seating herself on a coil of rope. The light faded fast, and soon the barge was engulfed in a darkness so complete that Sigarni felt an edge of panic.
‘It’s like being dead,’ whispered Ballistar. Sigarni felt his hand brush against her arm; she took hold of it and squeezed his fingers.
‘No, it isn’t,’ said Ironhand. ‘Death is not dark; it is bright and vile.’
‘How can they see to steer?’ Ballistar asked.
‘Quiet back there,’ came a voice. ‘We’ll see the city within an hour.’
There was little sensation of movement within the all-encompassing blackness and Sigarni found herself thinking back to her days with Fell, when they had hunted together and made love before the fire. He had been able to read her moods so well. There were times when she had wanted nothing more than to curl up beside him, stroking his skin. On such occasions he would hug her and kiss her fondly. On other nights, when the fey mood was upon her she would desire to make love with passion and fire. Always he responded. I was good for you too, Fell, she thought. I knew you, your thoughts and your dreams.
The first kiss had been shared on the slopes of High Druin, on a bright summer’s day. They had raced over the four miles from Goring’s Rock to the White Stream. Fell was faster and stronger, but his staying power could not match Sigarni’s; she had doggedly clung to his trail, always keeping him in sight until the last, long rise. Then, as he faltered, she drew ori her reserves and passed him.
At the White Stream he had sunk back to his haunches and fought for breath. Sigarni brought him water in a hastily made cup of bark.
‘You are a wonder, Sigarni,’ he said at last, taking her hand and kissing it.
She sat beside him, looping her arm around his neck. ‘My poor Fell! Is your pride damaged beyond repair?’
He looked at her quizzically. ‘Why would my pride be hurt? I did my best.’
‘I liked it when you kissed my hand,’ she said, changing the subject.
‘Then I shall do it again.’
‘I would like it more if you kissed my mouth.’
He smiled then. ‘You are very forward for a Highland girl – I shall put it down to Gwalchmai’s poor teaching. I don’t mind losing a race to a woman like you, but it is not meet for you to do the seducing.’
‘Why?’
‘Because I sat up through most of the night trying to think of a way to get you to kiss me. It makes a mockery of all my planning.’
Sigarni lay back on the soft grass. ‘Not at all. Go ahead. Show me your strategy.’
He chuckled. ‘Too late. I think the fox is already in the henhouse.’
‘Even so, I would like to hear it.’
Rolling to his elbow he lay beside her, looking down. ‘I wanted to tell you that I have never known anyone like you, and that when I am with you I am happier than at any other time. You are the delight in my life, Sigarni. Now and always.’
‘You’ve won me over with your fine words,’ she said. ‘Now the kiss, if you please.’
Ballistar’s voice cut through her thoughts. ‘Your hand is very warm,’ he whispered.
‘I was thinking good thoughts,’ she told him, keeping her voice low.
The journey continued, until at last they could see the faint lights of the city ahead. The barge moved on, approaching an arched portcullis gate. The helmsman flashed a signal with his lantern which was answered from above the arch. Then, with a great creaking and groaning, the portcullis rose and the barge passed beneath it.