Siege of Macindaw (35 page)

"Oh, yes, sir. I made sure I opened the place up every few days to let the air in. Place gets musty and moldy else."

She was looking around curiously, and he saw her gaze light on the two bowls that he'd placed outside the front door. He forestalled the next question.

"I left the dog with a friend," he said, and she nodded, not sure whether he thought that was a good or bad thing.

"I'm sure you did, sir. Well, I'll be happy to bring your dinner over directly. Are you hungry, sir?"

Will smiled."I'm starved – and looking forward to your cooking. But I think I'll eat at the inn. Save a place for me, would you? I'll be over in an hour or so."

"Indeed, sir. We'll be honored to have you. And welcome home." She gave a hint of a curtsy and turned away. Will's spirits rose a little. Amazing what the sight of a friendly face and a few words of welcome could do, he thought.

"Edwina?" he called, and she paused at the edge of the porch, turning back to him.

"Yes, sir?"

"Your daughter, Delia, I trust she's well?" He made sure his voice sounded casual. Her face lit up in a smile of motherly pride. "Oh, indeed she is, sir! You've heard, have you?" "Heard? Heard what?"

"Why, the happy news, sir! She was married, not two weeks ago. To Steven, the ferryman's boy."

Will nodded, a smile frozen on his face. At least, he hoped it looked like a smile.

"Excellent," he said. It was an easy word to say with his teeth clenched. "I'm delighted for her."

Some things had changed in Seacliff, he was glad to see. Over the next few weeks, as he settled back into the daily routine of the quiet little fief, he saw a new sense of application and professionalism in the Battleschool. Discipline had been tightened. The drills for apprentices were being properly conducted, and all around there was a greater sense of sharpness. Baron Ergell and his Battlemaster, Norris, had learned their lesson when they had nearly lost the fief to Gundar's marauding Skandians, he thought.

Of course, when he first reported in on his return, Ergell and Norris had both quizzed him eagerly over the reason for his sudden departure some months earlier. But he told them nothing, politely averting their questions.

"Just a little trouble up north" was all he would say. There was no need for them to know details about the actions of the Ranger Corps. They accepted his reticence as the natural secrecy people associated with Rangers.

He did offer to invite Horace to spend some time at Seacliff, to give tuition on sword drill. The Oakleaf Knight was recognized as one of the Kingdom's best swordsmen, and Will knew he regularly visited Redmont to conduct classes. Norris seized on the idea eagerly.

"I'll write to him," Will promised. In fact, the prospect of having his best friend visit from time to time was a decidedly pleasant one.

Before he had a chance to write the letter, however, he received some interesting items of mail himself. Prominent among several envelopes was a large parcel, carefully wrapped in oilcloth and padded with wool clippings to protect it on its long journey. He looked curiously at the place of origin and was interested to see it came from Castle Macindaw, Norgate Fief.

He unwrapped it eagerly. Inside a case of shaped leather lay a beautifully formed, gleaming mandola. There was a brief note as well.

I felt I owed you this. Perhaps a better instrument will improve your technique. My thanks once more. Orman.

He inspected the beautiful instrument, his hands running over it reverently. On the head stock was a single word in elegant script:
Get.

Gilet, he thought, the master luthier renowned for creating some of the finest instruments in the Kingdom. Quickly, he tuned it and played a few notes, marveling at the richness of its tone and the silky smoothness of its touch. But, much as he admired the i nstrument, he felt little desire for music in his life these days. Somewhat sadly, he set the mandola to one side.

There was a letter from Crowley, a general dispatch alerting Corps members to a self-proclaimed prophet and his followers who were working their way through the Kingdom – and bilking people of their savings. In addition, there was a note from Gundar. The skirl had paid a professional scribe to write it for him. The new ship was nearly ready, he said. They had decided to call it

Will smiled to himself. Doubtless one of the Skandians would carve a suitably horrific figurehead for the ship. He hoped Gundar would honor the joking promise he'd made at their parting and come visit one day. He began to tidy away the oilcloth and torn envelopes and found another letter that had been concealed when he tossed the mandola's wrapping aside. He ripped it open without looking to see the sender's name.

His heart lurched as he read the first few words. It was from Alyss.

Dearest Will,

I trust this letter finds you well and happy.

Lady Pauline is keeping me busy, but she gave me some time off to entertain Horace last week. He was visiting for one of his swordsmanship classes. He said to give you his best wishes. While he was here, I told him about a strange dream I keep having. We're back in the tower, and I have Keren's sword in my hand, and he's teiiing me to hurt you, and I cant refuse him. But then you say the most amazing and wonderful thing, and it completely breaks his hold over me.

Horace says it might not be a dream. He believes it's a memory. I wish with all my heart that he's right, and that you did say what I think you said. He also told me that people like you and me spend too much time thinking things over and not enough time just coming out and saying them. I think he's right. Write to me please and tell me what you did say. In the meantime, I'll take Horaces advice and just say it myself.

I love you.

Alyss.

He dropped the letter on the table, staring at it. He could write to her. A letter would take a week to reach Castle Redmont. But Tug was outside, saddled and ready, and he could be there in less than three days. He dashed to the bedroom and began cramming spare clothes into his saddlebags. He'd leave a message at the inn, telling Baron Ergell he'd be gone for a few days.

Or a week.

His boots rang on the floorboards as he made his way to the door, stepped down from the veranda and slung the saddlebags over Tug's back. The little horse looked up in surprise. There was an energy and a purpose about his master that he hadn't seen for some time. Will was about to mount, then he hesitated. He ran back inside and picked up the Gilet in its case, slinging it over one shoulder. Suddenly there was room for music in his life after all.

Making his way outside again, he paused for a second as he locked the cabin door behind him. He was conscious of an unfamiliar sensation, something he hadn't felt for some time. Then he realized what it was and smiled quietly.

It was happiness.