Silver Flame. Hannah Howell

him either.

      “Nay, ye havenae. I ken that, my sweet. What burns inside of that knight needs no encouragement.” Farthing sat down beside her and ran a hand through his thick raven hair. “Mayhaps we should flee this place—now.”

      “When we are in such need of money? He has said he willnae kill ye—” she began, knowing that Farthing was no coward but that he loathed bloodshed.

      “Now, there is arrogance. Mayhaps I would kill him should we come to swordpoint.”

      She stared at Farthing. “I dinnae think I should like that either.”

      He put his arm about her shoulders to tug her closer. “Poor, confused Catriona. Ye ken so much more than most young lasses, yet ye ken so little. No matter. Ye are right; we do need money. So, we must stay here, and a curse upon the arrogant Sir Gamel.”

      By the end of the day Farthing was sorely tempted to do more than idly curse Sir Gamel. He ached to run the man through. Gamel haunted their every step, sometimes covertly, sometimes openly. Farthing began to feel as hunted as he knew Catriona did. He could not make a move without finding Gamel’s green stare fixed upon him.

      “That cursed mon hounds me,” he muttered as he joined Sine Catriona and her brothers for their evening meal.

      “Yet he does nothing,” she murmured.

      “True, child. Even so, ’tis as if some adder sets at my side coiled to strike.”

      “I think Sir Gamel troubles ye far more than he does me. Yet that is odd. ’Tis a puzzle with no answer.” She sighed, then shrugged.

      “Life is full of those, dearling.” He looked around, studying the crowd gathered at MacAdam’s inn. “A good crowd and many a full purse at the ready. Prepared to lighten a few?”

      “As ever.”

      “Good. Give these fools a while longer to cloud their senses with MacAdam’s strong ale. Then I shall begin to entertain them. As I work, ye and my skilled lads will set about your business.”

      He smiled at his three companions, then forced his attention to his meal. It was not easy. Gamel sat a mere table away, watching them. Farthing tried to shake off a sense of foreboding.

      Ligulf sighed and shook his head, only briefly distracting Gamel’s attention from Sine Catriona and her family. “I think ye have looked nowhere else all day.” An even mix of concern and irritation darkened his brown eyes as he studied his elder brother.

      “No doubt ye are right.” Gamel smiled faintly. “Master Magnus grows angrier by the moment.”

      “Gamel, she is his. They are a family. Cannae ye leave them be?”

      “Nay. Dinnae ye think I would if I could? There is a heat in my blood that burns away all good sense.” He glanced at a woman who was smiling at him and his companions. “Aye, and all desire for another woman.”

      “Weel, I can see no way to gain what ye desire. Farthing holds her, as he should, and she is no gay lass.”

      “Nay, that is true. Tell me,” Gamel murmured, “what, besides conjuring, requires the skill of sleight of hand?” He watched his companions mull that question over.

      Sir Lesley frowned, then finally asked, “Do ye think they are thieves?”

      “I am certain they are thieves. Howbeit, I have yet to see exactly how she does it.”

      “She?”

      “Aye, Ligulf—she. Master Magnus keeps all eyes fixed upon himself with his clever talk and deft conjuring, while she lightens the gawkers’ purses. The twins are part of it as weel. ’Tis only the how of it that eludes me. When I have that, I will have her.”

      “How so?”

      “I will threaten to cry them thieves unless she comes to me,” Gamel replied.

      “Gamel.” Ligulf’s voice was weakened with shock. “Ye ken the penalties for theft. Ye claim ye want her, yet ye would give her over to branding or worse because she denies ye?”

      “Nay, I wouldnae truly cry her a thief, but they willnae ken that.”

      Ligulf frowned. “Somehow it doesnae seem right.”

      “’Tis not right, but then neither is thievery. Ligulf, this is the least damaging of all the plots I have thought of.” Gamel shook his head when Ligulf prepared to say more. “Nay, dinnae waste your breath. There is no way ye can talk me out of it. If I must, I will answer to my conscience later. Right now I heed another part of me.” He looked at Ligulf and gave the lad a half smile. “And that calls to mind the fact that ye came afairing for a reason ye have done little about.”

      Sir Lesley hooted and Ligulf blushed.

      “Aye, lad. I see more than a few likely prospects, like that one there who keeps smiling at you.”

      As the others teased Ligulf, Gamel quietly returned to watching Catriona. He knew that if he did not find a way to gain hold of her tonight, he could well lose all chance. Instinct told him the Magnuses would slip away at dawn again. Then he would have to search for her, which he could not do until he had returned to Duncoille for a while as he had promised his father. By then, the trail would have grown very cold indeed.

      When Farthing took up a position that made him visible to everyone, Gamel had to admire the man’s skill in drawing all attention to himself even before he started plying his tricks. However, Farthing was indeed a skilled conjurer. Most of those in the inn were easily tempted to watch the man perform, some vainly hoping to see the secret of it all. Even Gamel was tempted, but he kept his gaze on Catriona, his interest fixed upon the tricks she played.

      Sine Catriona began to stroll through the crowd with a feigned idleness, her brothers shadowing her. She used the tavern maids to provide some excuse for her meandering, pausing to speak with each one. The crowd did not expect her to be interested in Farthing’s chatter and tricks, for she had seen it all before. They soon ignored her as she weaved in and out amongst them. As soon as their attention was fixed upon Farthing plying his trade, she began to ply hers.

      Skillfully, with only the faintest thrill of fear, she relieved each watcher of his purse. Swiftly, she extracted half the coin, sometimes less, and in but an instant smoothly returned the purse to its owner. Befuddled by drink as most of them were, they never guessed that a robbery had taken place. The few who suspected quickly doubted, for what thief did not steal all the money? Thieves took every hapenny and kept the purse as well. That belief was her shield, protecting her from any dangerous outcry. The twins stealthily pocketed her gains, then took turns hiding it away.

      The only thing she found difficult this time was keeping her mind fully on what she was doing. Only with effort did she ignore one particular man among MacAdam’s patrons. Gamel was still watching her. There was no doubt in her mind about that. Praying that his gaze was not upon her hands, she forced all thought of him from her mind. He was too great a distraction and the work she did required her full attention.

      “I have her,” Gamel cried in a soft, tense voice as he grasped Sir Lesley’s thickly muscled arm. “Lesley, watch this. Curse their eyes, but they are good. Verra, verra good. Watch her pretty right hand, my friend. See? There. She now has the purse off of that fool, now she takes the coin and, there, she puts the purse back. Now, watch closely as her left hand feints toward young Dane. See it? The lad has just pocketed the spoils.”

      Sir Lesley scowled, then scratched his head. “Weel, aye, I sense that something goes on but, I confess, I cannae see all that ye do.”

      Ligulf frowned in confusion. “But why does she return the purse?”

      “Ah, there is the true cleverness of their game. A mon doesnae cry thief if he still holds his purse and feels coins still weighting it. When the fool does count his coin, he will only be puzzled, not truly suspicious. Did I have three ales or four? he will ask himself. Mayhaps I came with less than I realized.