‘You spoke to me in Citadel town,’ she said. ‘You urged me to flee.’
‘Yes.’
‘And you fought for me when I was a child. You slew the last Hollow-tooth.’
‘That also.’
‘Why?’
‘For love, Sigarni. For a love that will not accept death. Will you walk with me awhile?’
‘I will,’ she said, tears brimming.
And she stepped forward to walk upon the water.
6
DESPITE THE EXCRUCIATING pain flaring from the empty eye-socket, the Baron Ranulph Gottasson enjoyed the awestruck and fearful expressions of the men before him. Idly the fingers of his left hand stroked the carved dragon claws on the arm of the ornate chair. Sharp they were, as they gripped the globe of ebony. The men waited silently below the dais. He knew their thoughts and, more importantly, their growing anxiety. They had failed – the woman who had robbed him of his eye was still at large. The Baron leaned back on the high carved chair and stared balefully down at the twenty men before him, his single eye blood-shot but its gaze piercing.
‘So,’ he said softly, his voice sibilant and chilling, ‘tell me that you have captured the woman and the renegade.’
The officer before him, a tall man sporting a square-cut beard but no moustache, cleared his throat. His chain-mail leggings were mud-smeared, and his right arm was clumsily bandaged. ‘We have not caught them yet, my lord. I brought the men back for fresh supplies.’
‘You did not catch them,’ repeated the Baron, rising from his chair. ‘One woman and a forester, riding double on a stolen stallion. But you did not catch them.’ Slowly he descended the three steps from the dais and halted before the officer. The man dropped his head and mumbled something. ‘Speak up, Chard. Let us all hear you!’
The officer reddened, but he raised his head and his voice boomed out. ‘They fooled us. They turned the stallion loose and cut out across the valleys. Then the storm came and it was impossible to read sign. But we followed as best we could, thinking the woman would return to her people. The renegade forester, Fell, shot at us from ambush, wounding two of my men. We gave chase, my lord, but heavily armed riders are useless in the thickets. We left our horses and tried to follow on foot. It was like trying to catch a ghost. I had no archers with me.
Three more men were struck by his arrows. Happily their armour saved them from serious injury, though the mercenary, Lava, still has an arrowhead lodged in his shoulder.’ Chard fell silent.
The Baron nodded solemnly. ‘So, what you are saying is that thirty Outland warriors are no match for a woman and a clansman.’
‘No, my lord. I am saying …”
‘Be silent, fool! Did you think, at any time during the four days you have been gone, to send back to Citadel for trackers? Did you not consider hiring the services of the Finder, Kollarin? Did you set the renegade’s own people to hunt him?’
‘His own people …”
The Baron half turned away, then swung back his fist, smashing the officer’s lips against his teeth. The skin split and blood sprayed out as Chard was hurled backwards. He fell heavily, cracking his skull against the base of a statue. Chard gave out one grunting moan, then slid into unconsciousness. ‘You have all failed me,’ said the Baron, ‘but his was the greatest sin. He will suffer for it. Now you!’ he said, pointing to a burly soldier with close-cropped fair hair. ‘You are Obrin the Southlander, yes?’
‘Yes, my lord.’ The man bowed.
‘You have fought barbarians before, I understand. In Kushir, Palol, Umbria and Cleatia?’
‘Yes, my lord. And served also in Pesht under your command. I was there when you stormed the wall, sir, though I was but a common soldier then.’
‘And now you are a sergeant-at-arms. Answer me well and you shall assume command of the hunt, and become a captain. Tell us all now what errors were made by the idiot lying at your feet.’
Obrin drew a deep breath and was silent for a moment. The Baron smiled. He knew what was going through the man’s mind. No enlisted soldier wished to be made an officer: the pay would not cover the mess bills, and from its meagre supply he would have to purchase his own horse and armour and hire a manservant. Obrin’s round face paled; then he spoke. ‘The trail was cold from the moment the storm broke, my lord. We should have headed for Cilfallen and taken hostages. Then the foresters themselves could have hunted down their comrade. I would also have posted a reward for their capture, just in case. There’s not much coin in the Highlands. And there’s always some bastard who’d sell his mother for a copper or two, if you take my meaning, my lord.’ Obrin paused and rubbed his broad chin. ‘You have already mentioned the Finder, Kollarin, but – I’ll be honest with you, my lord – I would not have thought of him, sir. and, if it please you, I don’t want captain Chard’s command. I’m no nobleman. And I wouldn’t fit in. I don’t have the brains for it. But I am a good sergeant, sir.’