Loki (5 page)

Chapter Five

The snow had started when they left Clan Grant, but it only lasted long enough to slightly slow their travels from deep in the Highlands to the Ramsay castle on the edge of the Highlands. Loki loved this time of the year, when the leaves were still falling from the trees, whipping around in the cold wind before they tumbled to the ground in the wet snow. The sun came out occasionally to melt the snow in some areas, but the land stayed white in the darkest glades and valleys.

Once they’d come out of the deepest of the mountains, Logan met up with a messenger and spent quite a bit of time chatting with the lad, which gave Loki plenty of time to think about his circumstances. He turned his horse around to stare at the beauty of the mountains behind him, dusted with white, their peaks proud and strong pointing to the heavens. The Highlands were heavenly, ‘twas the only word for them.

Loki hadn’t wanted to leave the Grant keep. Having Bella in his arms for one short moment had brought all his desire for her back with a fury. Hell, but he wanted the saucy lass. He grinned when he recalled how she’d slapped his arm and told him not to break her heart. Och, he hoped she’d be able to do as she promised and wait for him. If he could not find his sire, he could at least do something important for the Scottish crown—something important enough for Bella’s sire to finally accept him.

Once on Ramsay land, they headed to the great hall to greet all the Ramsay cousins. Torrian, son of the laird, greeted them first. Loki and Torrian were of an age, and though they hailed from very different backgrounds, they were the best of friends. Torrian was not as colorful as Uncle Logan—he was more solid and steadfast like his father, qualities that would make him a great leader someday. Loki trusted him completely.

“Glad to see you, Torrian,” Logan said. “I was hoping to take you along with us.”

Torrian didn’t mask his surprise—he only glanced at his sire, Quade Ramsay, to see how his father would respond to his uncle’s statement.

Quade jerked his head toward his brother. “You wish to take my son where?”

Logan replied, “A messenger caught up with us not far from here. He delivered a request for my presence in Ayr. Seems there is something new they’d like me to assist with so I thought I’d take Loki and Torrian with me to Ayr and leave Gwynie behind. I thought ‘twould be a good time for your son to meet King Alexander.”

“Is he in residence?”

“I believe he is.” Logan winked at Loki and Torrian as soon as his brother looked away.

Gwyneth had left his side to head to their chambers, and she returned with their bairns running alongside her. Though she and Logan had a lovely cottage deep in the forest, the children stayed in a chamber in the castle when the two of them were gone.

“Papa!” cried out two of Logan’s daughters as they raced to greet him—Maggie, almost Loki’s age, and Sorcha, now six and ten. Molly trailed along behind, holding the hand of the youngest—Brigid, now five summers—and gave her da a kiss on his cheek. Then she let go of the wee one’s hand so she could launch herself into her father’s arms. Logan and Gwyneth had adopted Molly and Maggie, and Sorcha, Gavin, and Brigid were their natural children.

Gavin and Gregor came tearing inside, running to the dais to greet the newcomers. Now five and ten summers, they were as inseparable as they had been as wee laddies.

“Too much, too much!” Logan yelled as he moved away from the table so he could swing into the air each of the youngsters who had come to greet them.

Quade headed out of the hall, and Torrian and Loki followed behind him to give the family some time alone for their reunion. “Meet me in my solar after the midday meal, Logan. You have a few hours to come up with a good reason to take the laird’s heir off of my land and decide how many guards you’ll take along.”

***

Logan, Loki, and Torrian set out the next day with several guards. Gwyneth had chosen to stay home with the bairns since she had been journeying across the Highlands for a time. They arrived at the outskirts of the village toward the end of the day. As they paid the toll to enter into the royal burgh of Ayr, chills ran down Loki’s spine. This was where his sire had found him. He had not been in Ayr proper since the Battle of Largs in the 1260s, when the Scots had gained the Western Isles back from Norway. Exhausted, he glanced at Torrian, who seemed awed by the place. He was surprised his Uncle Quade had allowed Torrian on this excursion, but Logan had pressured his brother into agreeing, arguing that it would not only be an opportunity for Torrian to meet King Alexander, but for him to learn some basic survival skills.

Loki was so exhausted that he was starting to have strange flashes in his brain. Visions of past experiences that he could not quite identify popped into his mind. People without faces in unfamiliar settings called to him, but naught and no one was recognizable. As soon as they rode past a certain spot at the edge of the burgh, he stopped his horse and called out to his uncle and cousin, asking them to give him a minute.

He dismounted in front of a dingy inn, one for the travelers with few coins. He stood in front of it and stared. The inn his father had found him behind was a place much like this one. Bits and pieces came back to him, memories he had chosen to forget. Logan asked him a question, but he ignored it. Driven by an unknown force, he stepped to the back of the building and found what he’d been seeking.

A crate.

He nudged the crate with his foot, and it moved just a touch, enough for him to see there were items inside the crate.

It was exactly like the crate he’d lived under in Ayr. Something told him that as impossible as it seemed, this
was
his create. He’d lived in it for many moons before he was invited to come to Grant land in the Highlands. He glanced over his shoulder, taking in all the familiar surroundings, smells, and sounds, which reminded him of what it had been like to live on the roads of Ayr, hungry and alone and cold.

He’d begged for most of what he ate at the time, though he’d found a nearby inn that used to save scraps for him once the travelers moved on.

The sound of running feet came from behind him.

“Leave off, you surly brute. Those are my belongings you’re wantin’ to steal.”

Loki spun around to see a laddie running toward him, a furious expression on his face. Dark disheveled locks that hadn’t seen a comb in days hung to his collar. A dirty face stared up at him with sharp eyes and a fierce scowl, a jutted chin daring Loki to challenge him. He looked to be the same age or just a wee bit younger than Loki had been whilst living in his crate.

“Bugger off, you auld man. Why’d you want my stuff? You’ll no’ get my crates either. I’ve taken good care of all three of them.”

Loki stared about the area, only then noticing that this lad’s home was larger than his own had been. He’d found two more crates and arranged them as additional protection against the approaching cold weather.

“Problem, Loki?” Logan stood at the end of the alley next to the inn, both hands on his hips.

“Nay, no problem, Uncle. I was just leaving.” Loki stared at the lad.

“Aye, he was just leaving. So bugger off, auld man.” His chin lifted another notch and he gave Loki his most aggressive expression, one he’d clearly practiced well.

Loki recalled how often he’d had to keep others from stealing his goods—his crate, his moth-eaten gloves, the one plaid he’d found for warmth, even the pan on which he’d carved his initials with a dagger. Instinct and memory told him that pan sat directly in front of him.

Loki leaned down and picked up the pan, but not before the urchin took a swing at him with his dagger. Catching the lad’s arm just in time, Loki said, “Calm down. I’ll not steal it. I’d just like to take a look at it.”

“That pan is mine, no’ yours. It belonged to somebody special.” The lad continued to grab for the pan, but Loki held him at bay. Logan continued to stand there at the end of the alley, watching and listening.

“Aye, it did, lad.” He turned the pan over and smiled. There they were, his initials—LL for Lucky Loki.

“How would you know? It belonged to a lad named Lucky Loki, and those are his initials he carved in it himself. He was so good with a sling, he became a hero in the battle with the Norse at Largs.”

Loki smiled and peered down at the lad. “Is that so? How did you hear about Lucky Loki?”

“Everyone knows about Lucky Loki. He’s a hero. He fought so hard that Laird Alexander Grant, the Highlander with the horse in chain mail that scart the Norse away, took him to the Highlands to be his son.”

“Truly?” Loki could not help but grin. He had a reputation he’d known nothing about. A hero? Had the lad truly called him a hero?

“You canno’ have it, ‘tis mine. If you try to steal it, I’ll hunt you down.” The cheeky lad bounced up and down, trying to reach his invaluable pan.

Loki didn’t know what to say. Not that long ago, he had stood in this lad’s place, hoping everyday for some meat and enough rainwater to drink. “I’ll not steal it from you, lad.” He handed it back to the boy.

“Nay, ‘tis valuable and ‘tis mine. I’ll sell it someday. Mayhap he’ll come back.”

“Who?”

“Lucky Loki, o’ course. Mayhap he’ll come back and adopt me.”

Loki stared at him in shock. Aye, he should. He should do for this lad just what his uncle had done for him—adopt him and take him back to Grant land. He stared into the hopeful eyes, but it would not do. Not now. He was not in the same place his sire had been.

“We need to move on, lad,” Logan yelled.

“Aye,” he answered. He then turned his gaze back to the urchin. “I hope you meet Lucky Loki some day.”

His eyes lit up. “Or mayhap Laird Alexander Grant will adopt me, too.”

“What’s your name?” Loki asked.

“Kenzie. Sometimes I call myself Lucky Kenzie, but no one else will. Will ye?”

“Aye, Lucky Kenzie it is. Where are your parents?”

“They both died of the fever, so I came to the burgh.”

Loki turned away and headed back to the street, but halfway there, he stopped and glanced over his shoulder. “You’re wrong, lad.”

“About what?” Kenzie gave him a puzzled look, clearly believing he knew all.

“Alex Grant did not adopt him. His brother Brodie did.” He tossed the lad a silver coin, enough to buy him food for a couple of days.

The lad caught it and yelled, “My thanks,” his eyes lighting up.

Loki caught up with Logan. “My apologies.”

“Something you wish to share? You know this area?”

“Aye, I do. I lived here for a time.” Loki mounted his horse, not willing to talk about it any further. Fortunately, Logan mounted and left him alone with his thoughts.

His first consideration was whether or not his birth parents could have died of fever, too. Nay, he didn’t think it was possible because Kenzie remembered his parents. Loki did not. Though he’d tried scores of times to force himself to remember aught about them—a face, a name, a piece of clothing—naught had ever come to him.

Logan led the way through the burgh to another inn near Doongait.

Loki pushed himself to get past the guilt for leaving the lad on the streets. Mayhap he could ask his father or his uncle to adopt him. Logan and Gwyneth already had adopted two lassies, so they would surely take him in. Because even though he fancied the idea of giving the lad a home, what would he do with him? It would be different if he were married to Bella. He smiled as he pictured sharing a home and a family with Arabella. He knew she would cook for the skinny lad until his belly was full. First they had to marry.

He would need to prove himself worthy of Bella before they could consider adopting Kenzie. He’d done the best he could by giving the lad enough to buy food for a couple of days. He wondered what Kenzie would buy himself first, a meat pie or a pastry. Brodie’s friend Nicol had bought Loki the biggest pastry he’d ever seen for giving them information about missy angel, his mother.

The inn on Doongait actually had a stable for the horses, something the other one lacked, but that was why Loki had lived near the inn in Woodgait. Sometimes he would earn a coin by grabbing a man’s horse and tying it up for him. Unfortunately, the travelers with coin were more likely to stay at the nicer inn.

He followed Logan and Torrian inside, where they were led to a large chamber outfitted with four pallets on the floor, a table and chairs, and a washstand. Loki washed his face and hands and lingered in the room while Logan headed to the inn. “I’ll get us some food after I meet with Hamilton’s man. Meet me in the tavern room in an hour.”

Hamilton was Logan’s contact with the Scottish crown—the man with the information and the man with instructions. If all went according to plan, he would soon be
Loki’s
contact. His uncle would be gone for a while, so Loki settled on the pallet and closed his eyes, his mind focused on a thin lad who lived in a crate.

Chapter Six

Three hours later, they sat in a private chamber in the inn, enjoying pottage, thick brown bread, and cheese. Loki wished there was a certain young lad seated beside him, enjoying the stew, but he knew it couldn’t happen at this time.

Logan Ramsay had worked for the Scottish crown ever since the Battle of Largs. The confidentiality of the work varied depending on the mission. It warmed Loki’s heart to know his uncle wished to work with him.

Unfortunately, Loki couldn’t make up his mind, especially when reddish gold curls and luscious lips popped into his mind. Part of him wished to run from the Grants and part of him wished to never leave them. They’d given him more than anyone else. But something was missing from his life, and he had to discover it or go mad.

Logan spoke in a level tone, cutting himself off whenever the servants entered the room. “Lord Hamilton’s instructions are simple. We are to find out whatever information we can on the royal jewels. The jewels disappeared from the last time the king was in residence, and he has no idea where they are.”

“What kind of jewels?” Torrian asked.

“Rubies, sapphires, emeralds, and one ring. We are to glean what we can at the feast at King Alexander’s Royal Castle on the morrow’s eve. We’ll find appropriate clothing for both of you at the weaveries before then. Any questions?”

Torrian set his knife down. “They do not have any idea who stole them? Has something happened we should be aware of?”

Logan shook his head. “Sometimes, Hamilton gets a sense, a feeling, that something is not right. He’s received information that something is about to happen, and he believes the jewels are about to surface in the hopes of being sold. I’ll remind you that oft times you will receive no explanation for your duties, you must simply do as ordered.”

Loki’s heartbeat sped up. This was it. He would be helping the legendary Logan Ramsay with his covert work, and this assignment involved the royal jewels. Mayhap if he could uncover them, he’d be deemed a hero. Mayhap this would be his long-awaited opportunity to prove himself. He could not wait until the next day.

Loki stared at Torrian, beaming with excitement. Torrian looked a mite green.

“Plans before then, lads?” Logan quirked his brow at the two of them. “If not, I suggest you practice with your dagger and your sword.”

“You know I prefer archery, Uncle Logan. But mayhap I’ll practice all three.” Torrian gulped down the rest of his ale in one swallow and stood. “Let’s carry on, cousin.”

***

That eve, Loki and Torrian mounted their horses and headed toward the royal castle, Logan riding ahead of them quite a distance. He didn’t wish to be seen with them initially. Loki glanced at Torrian. Torrian was the first son of his father, so he would be laird one day. A youthful illness had left him weak and sickly, and he had lost his mother at a tender age. Loki thought it was this shared difficulty in their youth that made them understand each other so well. His cousin’s father had since remarried Loki’s aunt, Brenna Grant, who had discovered the source of Torrian and his sister’s illness: wheat. Their recovery had been remarkable, or so he had heard.

“We’ll learn much today, Torrian.”

Torrian nodded in response, but his coloring was still a wee bit green, and his hands still showed a fine tremor when he wiped the sweat from his brow. Once at the castle, the stable lads took care of their horses, and they made their way through the cobblestoned courtyard and up the entryway to the great hall. The royal castle was impressive, and the bailey was full.

Torrian looked quite spectacular in his white
leine
and his
breacan feil,
the Scottish belted plaid he wore over his linen shirt and braies. He didn’t wear his clan crest or anything else to identify himself as the laird’s son, as this would work against their ultimate goal of gathering information without attracting notice. Logan had promised to introduce both lads to King Alexander on the morrow. They’d agreed to separate and then meet outside in a few hours for updates.

Loki wore his red Grant
breacan feil
, but he could not help wondering what his true colors should be. His first impression once inside the hall was that it was not larger than the Grant great hall, but tonight it was filled to capacity. Clasping Torrian’s shoulder, Loki led the way around the long chamber, stopping to speak to a few people here and there, but also recognizing that this was not the time to be questioning people about the missing royal jewels. It would be easier to gather information after the meal, after much whisky had loosened tongues and ale had been passed around to all who were attending.

Torrian whispered, “What are we to do now?”

“I’ll tell you my plan. I expect to get to know the layout of the castle, move myself down the passageways to find the garderobes, the kitchens, and all the storage. I want to know where the wine and whisky are kept, for that is where the scum of Ayr are most likely to be found. The only place I am not going to visit is the king’s chambers. His wife is here, and I have no intention of meeting her near her chambers.” Loki tipped his head toward the far passageway. “I’ll head that way. You make your way around the hall, see who you recognize, and look for certain types of characters. I’ll return before the meal is served.”

Loki made his way to a corner of the room, only to be waylaid by a beautiful redhead, a fine wench who grasped his arm and pressed her breasts against him as she whispered in his ear, “I’m afraid we’ve never met. Introduce yourself.”

Loki’s gaze ran down the length of her fine pastel blue gown and back up again. “You first, my lady.”

She snickered. “I’ve not seen you here before. I’m certain I’d remember you if I had. My name is Tessa. Would you like to sneak into an alcove with me before supper is served?” She waggled her brows at him and thrust her breasts toward him.

Loki was not interested in any woman other than Bella, though Tessa was certainly pretty. Besides, something told him that he could not trust her. “Are you here often, lass?”

“Aye, I am often at court.”

“Well, I’m headed to the garderobe, so you must excuse me, but I hope to see you later. Come find me after the meal.” Loki rubbed her backside, making her squeal and run off toward the hall, peeking at him over her shoulder all the way. He didn’t wish to question her yet, but she could know something useful. If she was a loose wench, she might have heard all kinds of tales in a lord’s bedchamber.

He continued down the way and turned a corner, only to nearly run into a gentleman. “Pardon me, my lord.” He had no way of knowing the gent, so he felt it best to consider him nobility.

The man had unkempt wavy brown hair and wore a patch over his right eye. He took an alarmed step back as soon as he set sights on Loki. “Who the devil are you?”

“My lord?”

“I’ve never seen you at the castle before. Who are you?” the man barked at Loki. The haughty expression on his face implied he was used to getting his way.

“I’m Loki Grant of Dulnain Valley. And you?” Loki’s gut told him not to trust the man.

“You’re of no import, so get out of my way.” The man shoved Loki aside so he could move around him.

Loki’s gaze followed him, memorizing every detail he could.

The rest of his excursion was uneventful, though the castle had a maze of passageways, chambers, and alcoves. He ran into a few couples, but did not bother them. Most were clearly on their way to the hall for food, so he turned around and headed in the same direction.

Once he was back inside the hall, his gaze immediately searched out Torrian. Fortunately, they both towered over most of the men in the hall, though Loki was taller than Torrian. Loki indicated for him to find them seats at one of the trestle tables since the serving women had started to bring out food. Every tray or trencher that passed by him smelled wonderful, setting his stomach to grumbling.

He found himself hoping Kenzie had saved enough of his coin to eat again this eve.

The meal was uneventful except for the constant attention Tessa gave him from across the room. She’d found a friend and they sat together amongst a group of young lads who were doing their best to entertain the two lasses, but that didn’t stop her gaze from finding Loki’s again and again.

“Torrian, we’re going to meet with two lasses after dinner. Can you accept that?”

Torrian’s gaze widened, but he nodded, apparently willing to go along with him. “Aye, I’ve not much experience with lasses, and mayhap ‘tis best to gain some here, away from my clan.”

Loki couldn’t disagree with his reasoning. “As soon as the minstrels and the fiddlers start, we’ll get up and move toward that passageway. I’m quite sure we’ll be stopped along the way.”

Later, once the music got underway, they moved toward the outside of the hall. Just as Loki had predicted, they had only taken two steps into the passageway when high-pitched giggles sounded behind them. Sure enough, Tessa came toward him, her arm intertwined with her friend’s.

Loki whirled around and flashed a grin at the ladies, stopping them both in their tracks. “Evening, Lady Tessa. Have you met my friend, Torrian?”

Tessa gave Torrian a lingering look and then sidled up to him and rubbed her body against his. In a husky voice, just loud enough for Loki to hear, she whispered, “Nay, we have not met, but I’d sure like to get to know him better. This is my friend, Dona.”

Loki bowed to Dona. “Good eve to you, lass.” Giggling and lowering her dark lashes, she slipped her hand around Loki’s elbow.

Tessa grabbed Torrian’s arm and said, “Follow me.” She led them through the torch-lit maze to a small chamber.

Just as Loki was about to step into the chamber, he recognized the man he’d seen earlier. He was headed directly toward them, so Loki motioned to Torrian. “Go on in, I’ll be right there.” Loki and Torrian had discussed how to go about ferreting information from the lasses, but he did not trust the man with the eye patch. Addressing Dona, he said, “I’ll return in a moment.” He hurried down the corridor, but suddenly the man with the patch increased his pace. Loki caught up with him, but the two collided, and the man fell to the floor. He cursed fluently, and when Loki offered him a helping hand, he shrugged it off and headed back toward the great hall.

Loki shouted, “My apologies.” Patch man ignored him. Loki’s gaze searched his clothing for any indication of who he was or what he was about. Giving up, he hurried back to Dona’s side and held the door for her to enter the chamber. Inside, there were two small pallets and a small table surrounded by four chairs in front of the hearth. Goblets of wine sat atop the table. Torrian and Tessa had already started to drink wine.

Tessa said, “This is much better than the ale. You should try it.” She glanced at Loki and fluttered her eyelashes, implying that her flirtation with his friend had changed nothing between them.

Loki sat on the corner of the table. “Nay, mayhap in a few minutes. Tell me about Ayr. We have not been here in a while. We’re from the Highlands.”

“What do you wish to know?” Tessa asked.

“Who’s the most powerful man in the area, besides the king?”

“I do not know. Why do you ask?” Tessa answered, a subtle movement in her lower jaw.

Loki was quite sure Tessa did not like the direction of the conversation, but he didn’t allow her body language to stop him. If anything, it made him more intrigued. “Is there a certain earl or viscount that is the primary vassal to the king?”

“Alexander of Dundonald is still his favorite, but there are others.” Tessa took a sip of her wine, a suspicious look in her eyes.

Loki tired of her game, for he knew it
was
a game. He decided to move things along. “Just wondering who would be powerful enough to steal the king’s jewels.”

“What do you know about the jewels?” Dona asked, her back straightening.

“I know naught. I heard the missing jewels mentioned in the great hall. As I explained, we just got here from the Highlands. Do you know what happened to them?” Loki caught the glance exchanged by Dona and Tessa, and a sour feeling crept into his gut.

“Nay,” Dona replied. “But I’d sure be appreciative of anyone who gave me gemstones like the royal jewels.”

Loki tipped his head toward Torrian. “I’ll return in a moment. Need the garderobe.”

“Again?” Tessa asked.

Loki winked at her, “Aye, I drank quite a bit of ale with my meal. I promise to return post haste.” He crept out of the chamber, looking both ways before he stepped into the passageway. His intuition was not telling him anything good. As he made his way to the garderobe, he listened for any strange sounds, checking every nook of the mazelike corridors before making his way back.

When he entered the chamber, the first thing he heard was a gurgling noise.

A bald muscular man was holding a dagger to Torrian’s throat.

Loki’s gaze searched the room. The two girls stood in opposite corners, as far from the mischief as possible. The man was of rather large proportions, and it was clear he was waiting for Loki to act. There was noticeable sweat across Torrian’s brown, but Loki was pleased to see there was also fury there.

Humph. This would be easy.