Silver Flame. Hannah Howell

left the shadows beneath Gamel’s window as soon as he saw Sine Catriona approach. Without a word he held out his arms, and pulled her close when she stepped into them. He could see that she was unharmed, but he knew she was now changed. He also sensed that she was deeply troubled. Guilt gnawed at him. He had brought her to this impasse but could now only stand by helpless and sympathetic.

      “Do ye give up your quest now?” he asked.

      She shook her head. “Nay, I cannae. ’Tis not only for me, is it? ’Tis for the twins as weel. Aye, and ’tis to ease the souls of my murdered father and their murdered mother.”

      “Then we best flee from here—now. The twins are already in the cart. ’Tis wise to be as far away as we can be ere that knight rouses,” he said as he released her and started toward their conveyance.

      Hurrying along at his side, she asked, “Do ye think he will give chase?”

      “Aye, if he has no commitment to draw him elsewhere for now.”

      “We could never outrun him, Farthing.”

      “Nay, but there are only four of them. They dinnae ken where we head. That leaves them with a dozen or more routes to choose from. That gives us an admirable advantage.”

      It was not until she, Farthing, and the still-sleeping twins were all well on their way down an obscure, little traveled route that Farthing touched upon the matter of Gamel again. “Ye considered staying with him.”

      “Aye.” She sighed. “He didnae make clear what he intended for me but, aye, I thought on it. ’Twas difficult beyond words to leave him this morning.”

      “Ah, poor Catriona. To find the one who lights the flame, only to have to leave him behind?” He shook his head.

      “Ye dinnae appear surprised. Ye could see how it would be?”

      “Aye.”

      “Then what was the cause of all your fury?”

      “It had many causes. The mon gave ye no choice. We didnae, and still dinnae, ken who he is. He meant to dishonor ye. So too did I sense that ye would find yourself as torn as ye are now. I sorely wished to save ye from that. Then again, he is a bastard, said so himself. Ye are legitimate and highborn.”

      “That matters little. ’Twas verra clear to see that he is learned, trained, and not poor.”

      “Verra clear. Are ye sure he couldnae be the knight ye seek to aid ye?”

      “Sadly, aye, verra sure. As he told us, he is a bastard. They dinnae command armies.”

      “Rarely. They are mercenaries usually. They arenae liege lords who could demand service. A shame. He was an admirable swordsmon.” He eyed her closely. “Catriona?”

      “Aye?”

      “The Land of Cockaigne?”

      She smiled, although it was an expression heavily weighted by sadness. “Oh, aye. Aye. Innocent though I was, with naught to compare it to, I think there can never be any to excel. At least I have tasted that.”

      “Remember it, dearling. ’Twill ease the loss. Recall that ye have tasted what few of us have or ever shall have.”

      “I think it will come to ye someday.”

      “Mayhaps, but I think I will have to leave it behind as ye have. In truth, I have e’er been careful to guard my heart and not try to win some lass’s affections, for I possess nothing to give the giver.”

      “Bah, ye have yourself, Farthing Magnus. ’Tis no small prize.” She glanced behind them. “Do ye think he follows?”

      Farthing shrugged. “Whether he does now or later, we best hope we can evade him.”

      As each hour passed and there was no sign of Gamel’s pursuit, Farthing could see Sine Catriona relaxing. But she looked sadly torn between relief and hurt. Farthing tried to get her to share his conviction that only a prior commitment or an inability to find their trail would keep Gamel away from her. The look in her eyes told him that he failed, that she began to fear that brief moment with Gamel had been no more than passion for him, no more than a brief flirtation.

      They were nearly twenty miles away from Dunkennley, a long tedious day’s journey, when they began to search for a campsite. They met up with others who clearly had the same plan. Farthing scowled as they slowly approached the group of people just ahead of them. Few clearings existed along the somewhat obscure route he had chosen. The caravan they now neared had taken one of the best and driest. Suddenly, he recognized the people and slowed up instead of passing them by.

      “Weel, may I be roasted in hell’s stinking fires.”

      “No doubt ye will be,” drawled Sine Catriona. “Howbeit, why make mention of it now?”

      The grin that curved Farthing’s mouth was one of both relief and amusement. Sine Catriona had been very quiet, withdrawn, and sad. Her tart remark was very like the ones she had tossed his way before Sir Gamel had intruded in their lives. He grew less concerned that she suffered beyond repair.

      “I think, sweet shrew, I recognize the people resting so comfortably in the spot I chose for us.”

      “Aye? What impudence to steal your chosen place,” she murmured. “Who are they then?”

      Before Farthing could reply, a tall, slender man moved forward. Farthing could tell by the wide-eyed look on Sine Catriona’s face that her question had been answered. The man’s face was illuminated with happiness as he hurried over to them.

      “Farthing, m’lad! ’Tis truly ye?”

      “’Tis indeed me, Father.” Farthing leapt from the cart and was immediately clasped in Lord Magnusson’s arms.

      Gripping Farthing by the shoulders, Lord Magnusson stepped back a pace to look him over. “I have been searching long and hard for ye, son. God’s beard, but ye are as elusive as a shadow.”

      “Searching for me? Why? I keep ye weel informed as to how I fare.”

      “Aye, ye do. What ye dinnae tell me is exactly where ye fare. I have a great need for ye now, a great need.”

      “How so?”

      “Ah, son, the plague settled over us a few years back. My wife and both my children were taken.” He nodded when Farthing clasped his shoulder in a silent gesture of sympathy. “Many another was lost as weel. Most of my other kin. Your cousin, wee Margot, who sleeps in the cart o’er there, is about all that is left. Ye are my heir now, Farthing.”

      “Your heir? Nay, I am a bastard. Ye cannae make a bastard legal, can ye?”

      “’Tisnae done too often, but ’tis done nonetheless. Ye have been named my heir these three years, and with the king’s approval. Ye will gain the barony, lands, and what meager fortune I may leave behind. There will be no quarrel o’er it even if there is anyone left with a remote claim. The king owed me. Aye, and ye. This is how he repays us both—by approving my choice. Dinnae fret. I have it all written out and afixed with the king’s seal.”

      “This news will take time to swallow fully. Catriona, ye can set the wagon over there.”

      “A fair maid,” murmured Lord Magnusson when she was out of hearing. “When did ye marry her?”

      “We arenae wed,” Farthing replied somewhat absently.

      Lord Magnusson was unable to hide his relief. Farthing puzzled over that. Sine Catriona was not a woman any man would think a poor choice for a bride.

      “She is your leman then. I see.”

      Farthing suddenly understood that his father thought Sine Catriona was some lowborn lass, and his smile was cynical as be said, “Nay, not my leman either. I begin to suspect my change in fortune brings curses along with blessings. Nay, Catriona isnae my lover at all.