Star of the Morning (20 page)

Nay, that was a pleasure he would enjoy on the morrow. He went happily back to camp, setting aside the more serious matters of the realm for the less serious but more pressing matter of supper.

Ten

It was mid-morning when Morgan walked with Miach up to Hearn's keep. Aherin was an impressive stronghold and she supposed she could understand why. Hearn of Angesand obviously valued his horseflesh. Her heart sank within her. She wasn't one to give in to discouragement, but she suspected that twenty gold sovereigns would not buy her a ride on one of Angesand's horses, much less allow her to take even the worst nag away.

“Not to worry,” Miach said cheerfully.

“I wasn't worrying.”

“You were muttering threats under your breath.”

“I was preparing.”

He laughed shortly. “Keep those threats to yourself, please, lest we not see the inside of the gates. I will negotiate for us.”

He would have to have a golden tongue far more skilled than Glines's to get them in the door, but he seemed to be sure he would manage. She had no choice but to trust him, so she turned her mind to other things in an effort to distract herself.

She looked about as they made their way through a village. If she'd been planning an assault, she wouldn't have relied on a siege. The castle walls were too high and the space they enclosed too large. She wouldn't have been surprised to know Hearn had a vast quantity of things stored for such a possibility. Oats, at least. She wondered, absently, how hungry he would have to be before he began to eat any of his animals. Probably very, if ever. If that was the case, she suspected Miach would be hard-pressed to convince Hearn to part with any of his horses.

Well, at least he looked the part of a decently funded lord. She was appalled to find that her first inclination with either of these two brothers was to ascertain their handsomeness. Then again, there wasn't much to recommend them as far as their skill with weapons went, so perhaps it was natural. She had to have something with which to occupy her mind, especially since she wasn't feeling overly confident in the outcome of their current undertaking. She continued to observe Miach out of the corner of her eye.

He was, she had to admit upon further inspection, easily as fair to look upon as Adhémar. But his eyes were different. In this light, they were a blue so pale they made her shiver. What sorts of things had he looked at with those eyes that had rendered them so ageless?

She wasn't sure she wanted to know. What she did know, however, was that Miach was much better company than his brother. If she was going to choose a traveling companion, it would surely be him.

She could only hope his honeyed words would serve them here.

She dragged herself back to the present with an effort. “Have you met this man before?”

Miach only hesitated briefly, but that was enough.

“Did you mistreat one of his beasts?” she asked sternly.

“I didn't,” he said, “and I am a fair horseman so Hearn will have no complaints on that score.” He paused. “I have had speech with him before, and while it was not unpleasant, I would prefer that he not think on it overmuch.”

Morgan came to a stop and looked at him. “Why are you here at all, traveling with us?” she asked. “You said you were from the north, and if so you are very far from your home.”

“I came to find Adhémar.”

“Why is he here? Did he flee from your lord?”

“He”—and here he paused for quite some time—“he was about an errand and it was taking overlong for him to return home.”

“He is a grown man. Surely he did not need you to come fetch him. Unless your lord grew weary of waiting for him.”

“Hmmm,” Miach said noncommittally. “Nevertheless, I worried that something had befallen him and came to see what that was.” He smiled briefly. “I daresay it was you.”

“I felled him, 'tis true,” she agreed, “and it was easily done. You would think that he would be a better swordsman, but he is all bluster.”

Miach laughed. “Poor Adhémar. I daresay his pride suffers from your tender assessments of his skill.”

“At least he had a sword to fight with,” she said, looking at him down her nose. “You haven't even that.”

“And you think I should?”

She frowned. “Don't you think so?”

“I have one at home. Perhaps I could purchase another from Hearn.”

She shook her head and started walking again. “I can't imagine not having some sort of protection. Your dagger is not up to a serious fight. Then again, I suppose if you're going to shapechange, you don't exactly want to take a sword with you.”

“Shapechange?” Miach echoed. “What an extraordinary idea.”

“I saw you,” she reminded him.

“We've discussed this before, haven't we?”

“I was dissatisfied with your answer.”

He smiled. “You were dreaming, Morgan. Out of your head with fever.”

Why was it her name could sound so very ordinary when Glines said it, but something far different when a stranger did? And this wasn't even a stranger she had given more thought to than to wonder how he'd gotten this far without losing his head to any number of ruffians. She shook her head and sighed. She hardly recognized herself anymore and she could lay the blame for that at Nicholas's feet. She would have to write him and tell him in what a sorry state she found herself.

“Besides,” he said with a smile, “do I look like a shapechanger?”

“You look like a village brat who hasn't the sense to even use his eating dagger as a weapon. How have you managed thus far?”

“I try to avoid battles.”

“That's a very unmanly attitude, Miach.”

He only shrugged, seemingly unoffended. “So it is.”

“I had more sword skill than you when I was ten.”

“Did you?” he asked, looking interested. “That is a tale I would like to hear. But perhaps later. Here are the gates.”

He pulled his hood over his head, which left his face in shadows even under the flat gray of the winter morning. “Leave me to do the talking, if you would.”

She nodded, resigned. Her first instinct would have been to draw her sword and demand to see Hearn, but perhaps diplomacy would be the better course of action.

They were stopped at the gates. Miach was polite, but not overly. Perhaps he did not look like a lord who had the money to purchase an Angesand steed, but he certainly carried himself like one. It took only a handful of moments before a message was dispatched to Hearn, a message returned, and they were being escorted into the courtyard. There, they were bid await the lord's pleasure.

Morgan had no trouble recognizing Hearn when he arrived. He was dressed no differently than his men, nor was he the largest or strongest of them, yet he carried himself in a way that left her with no doubt that he was lord and master there.

He stopped in front of them and looked them over. It was a very long look, but Miach did not shift and neither did she. He finally returned his gaze to Miach.

“My man said there were a pair of travelers at my door—”

“I am . . . Buck,” Miach interrupted. “Buck, um, Bucksson.”

Morgan snorted before she could stop herself. Finally, someone without delusions of grandeur.

“Buck Bucksson,” Hearn drawled. “Is that so? Well,
Buck
, what are you here for?”

“A horse, my lord. Actually seven horses, if they are to be had.”

“Seven,” Hearn said, raising an eyebrow. “But there are only two of you.”

“Our company waits without,” Miach said easily.

“Why did they send you?”

“We have the gold.”

Hearn grunted. “I don't sell my horses to just anyone.” He looked at Morgan. “What skill have you with beasts?”

“I prefer my feet,” Morgan answered without hesitation, “but, er, Buck assures me that if there is a horse worth riding, it comes from your stables.”

“Does he indeed? Then Buck has a keen eye and a good ear to have harkened to those tales. But the question is, do I want to let you up on one of those wonderful beasts?”

Morgan had never owned a horse. Indeed, if the truth were to be told, she'd never ridden one. But over her long and illustrious career as a mercenary, she had seen beasts well cared for and ones mistreated. She knew what sort of mistress she would be and she told Hearn as much.

He studied her, then looked at Miach. “What are you willing to offer for these seven steeds?”

“I have twenty gold sovereigns for each horse.”

Hearn blinked, then laughed heartily. “You jest. One beast is worth all of that several times over. Still, let us not be overly hasty here.” He folded his arms over his chest. “What else have you to offer? Have you any magic, either of you?” He paused. “Buck?”

Miach folded his arms over his chest as well. “A little.”

“A little,” Hearn repeated. “Well, perhaps it will be enough. I have a well needing a bit of sweetening.”

“It would then be my pleasure, my lord, to attempt the deed,” Miach said, inclining his head.

Hearn turned to Morgan. “And what of you, wench? Do you have anything to offer?”

Well, magic was certainly out. Morgan looked at him steadily. “I could improve the state of your garrison.”

“Whoo-hoo,” Hearn said with a grin. “Do you think? And just how will you do that, missy? Sing for them? Dance for them? Instruct them in the wifely arts?”

Morgan was accustomed to that sort of thing. Her usual response was to leave the fool lying on the ground moaning in agony, but she could not do the like here. The speed of her journey lay in this man's hands. She bit back a tart reply, content to let her skill speak for itself.

“Let me see your second-fiercest guardsman,” she said. “If I can best him on the field, perhaps you will see that I have something to offer your garrison besides a tuneful bit of singing and lessons in stitchery.”

“My second fiercest?” he asked. “Why not the fiercest?”

“I prefer to leave myself something to look forward to after a long day of training those less skilled,” she said smoothly.

Hearn stared at her in surprise for a moment or two, then laughed out loud. “Indeed. Well, lassie, I'll have the second fiercest fetched posthaste.” He looked at the man who had brought Miach's message to him. “Athol, take our young gel here to the lists and have Rupert fetched. Don't let them begin, though, until I'm there to watch.” His eyes twinkled. “I wouldn't miss this.” Then he turned to Miach and rubbed his hands together. “Now, you, my little friend Buck, come with me. I have work for you. And then,” he said with a pointed look at both of them, “and only then will I decide if it is enough to purchase a partially lame nag or two.”

“Do you have any nags, my lord?” Morgan asked politely.

Hearn looked at her, then laughed again. He clapped Miach on the shoulder and walked off with him.

Morgan was not reassured. Indeed, though she had what would no doubt be a decent morning of deeds ahead of her, she was not at all hopeful that she and Miach would come away with what they needed. And if they did not, she had no idea what she would do. The burden of her quest demanded that she continue on, no matter how.

She watched until Miach and Hearn disappeared into another part of the castle, then turned to whom she assumed was a member of Hearn's guard. He was still staring at her as if he couldn't quite believe he was being asked to take her to his domain.

“A woman, no less,” he said doubtfully.

“Amazing, isn't it?” she asked. “Now, if you'll lead me to your lists, we'll be about our business.”

“Hearn's lads are not unskilled.”

“I daresay not, but I need several of Hearn's horses and this is the purchase price. Lead on.”

The man frowned at her, then led her away, grumbling.

 

 

The rest of the morning passed quite pleasantly. Morgan made quick work of Angesand's second-best guardsman, entertained herself with the rest of the garrison singly or in pairs as they desired, then paused for a small bite of luncheon with Hearn. She contentedly saw to the rest of his men that afternoon. The sun was low in the sky when the fiercest of the lot stepped onto the field and grinned a most unpleasant grin.

Morgan paused to rebraid her hair.

She took another look at the man and asked him if his wife had any pins she might use to get it completely off her neck.

The garrison roared with laughter.

Pins were fetched posthaste from some obliging miss. Once her hair was seen to, she politely invited the man to begin. He did and she felt the first crossing of their swords clear to her center.