Sorcerer of the North (7 page)

"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."

"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 Apparition'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.

"No. I'm sure you have lots to discuss together. You don't want me along."

Alyss, she noticed, made no move to contradict her. Will, a little awkwardly, said: "Well, if you're sure then." He sensed the tension in the air but had no idea what to do about it. Delia was already gathering up the small earthenware pot that she had brought for his evening meal.

"I'll take this back," she said. "It's just a stew, and I'm sure Mother will want to do something special for a dear friend of the Ranger's."

"That's great," Will replied automatically, completely missing the irony in her tone. His eyes were still fastened on Alyss.

Delia waited a second or two, then asked: "What time would you like to dine?"

Alyss answered for him. "I have a meeting with the Baron first," she said. "And I'd like to settle into my quarters and have a bath before that. Perhaps in two hours' time?"

"Two hours it is then," Delia replied. Then she added to Will, "And I saw Mother making one of her special flaky pastry berry pies earlier. Perhaps you'd like some of that for dessert?" Will nodded cheerfully, welcoming the idea.

"That'd be great. Thanks, Delia," he said. She forced a smile, nodded a farewell to Alyss and turned away, walking quickly toward the village.

"Why did you have to offer them pie?" she asked herself softly as she went. It was almost as if she were trying to make matters worse for herself, she thought, adding bitterly, "Perhaps you could come back and light some romantic candles for them as well?"

She glanced back once as she rounded the edge of the grove but Will and Alyss were paying no further attention to her. Sourly, she noted that they were holding hands once more.

"You're making quite a name for yourself," Alyss said, smiling at Will across the dinner table.

"I'm just blundering through," he said. "It's all a little overwhelming, really."

Alyss's steady gaze told him that she saw through his pretense of diffidence.

"Inviting a wolfship crew to a banquet?" she said. "Preventing a pitched battle by handing over a few beasts and a skin or two of wine? I'd say you handled things pretty well."

Oh, Skandians aren't so difficult to deal with once you know them, Will replied. Then he grinned at her. He was actually quite proud of the way he had handled the potentially ugly situation. "Besides," he added, "it was worth it to see all those stuffy knights and their ladies sitting down to dine with a crew of bloodthirsty corsairs."

Alyss frowned slightly as she ran her finger around the top of her glass. "Wasn't that a bit risky?" she asked. "After all, anything could have happened with that mix of people."

Will shook his head firmly. "Not once Gundar had given me his word as a helmsman. No Skandian would ever break that oath. And I knew Norris would keep his people under control—it was the least he could do," he added meaningfully. Alyss picked up on the unspoken message and raised her eyebrows in a question. Will hesitated a moment, not wanting to air Seacliff's dirty linen in public. Then he realized that Alyss was a member of the Diplomatic Service, and accustomed to hearing secrets far more important than this one.

"Norris and the Baron had let things become very slack around here. They wouldn't have stood a chance in a battle. Their men were badly trained, badly drilled and out of condition. At least Norris realized the fact and went along with the banquet idea."

"And a good idea it was," Alyss said quietly. Will pursed his lips thoughtfully.

"I suppose it helped that I'd made the crossing of the Stormwhite when I did," he said. "I realized they were short of provisions and they mightn't last the winter without them. By doing things my way, they didn't have to fight for them—and they got to go to a banquet as well." He grinned at the memory once more.

"So they're safely out of the way?" Alyss asked casually. Will shook his head.

"They're still butchering and smoking the meat so it will see them through the winter," he said. "They'll be at Bitteroot Creek for another two or three days, then they'll be on their way."

"Does that mean they're still a danger to the fief?" she asked, but Will hurried to reassure her on that score.

"Gundar's oath still holds," he said. "I trust him totally." He grinned as he added, "Particularly as he knows I'm a personal friend of the Skandian Oberjarl."

"You'll still report on Norris's neglect of his duty, won't you?" Alyss asked. Like the Rangers, the Couriers' main allegiance was to the King. Will nodded.

"I'll have to," he said. "But at least I can report that he's learned his lesson. His men have been drilling nonstop since the morning after the banquet—and that was unpopular timing, I can tell you. In another month or so, he'll have them whipped into shape."

"So things are in good order here?" Alyss said, then added casually, "There'd be no problem if you had to leave for a while?"

Will was reaching for the water pitcher as she said the last few words. His hand froze in midair and he met her eyes. They were serious now, with no hint of the humor and warmth that had been so evident earlier. This, he realized, was business.