Warrior Reborn Page 16

  She nodded and dropped to her knees. If he thought to set a proper scene, she would do her part.

  “What?” he bellowed, throwing open the door. “Can you not leave a man to his pleasures?”

  One of the guards Brie remembered seeing inside the hall waited there, craning his neck to cast a leer in her direction.

  “Our lord Torquil would have you attend him in his solar after midday meal on the morrow.”

  Halldor nodded, holding the door open much farther than he needed to do, supporting her suspicion.

  “You may tell him I’ll be honored to be there. And now, if that’s all you have for me, I’ve a meal of another kind what wants attending to, eh?”

  Both men laughed like drunken fools sharing a vile secret, until Halldor slammed the door shut in the other’s face, dropping the bar down to ensure it stayed shut.

  When he returned to her side, he dropped a woolen blanket over her shoulders, covering her nakedness before he sat.

  She looked up at him, trying to find a grateful smile but failing miserably.

  “The good news is, by sunrise, word of your deflowering will have spread to every willing ear on the castle grounds.”

  “That’s the good news?” She could hardly believe how her voice shook. “What, then, could possibly be the bad?”

  He reached for her hand, lifting it to his face. “If we’re to do this in a way that might be convincing enough to save your life, we must do it right. That means you must be strong enough and clever enough to play your part as well.”

  Trickles of fear curled in Brie’s chest at the look he gave her. She tugged at her hand, feeling a need to put distance between the two of them, but he wouldn’t let go.

  “Can you do that? Can you be strong enough for what’s to come?”

  She nodded, and nearly screamed again as he crushed her fingernails into the skin beside his eye, dragging them down the length of face, leaving four ragged trails of blood in their wake.

  Twenty-six

  THERE ARE TINKLERS at Tordenet?” Christiana could hardly believe her eyes. “And you dinna speak of this, Ulfr?”

  “There seemed to be no reason to do so. They’re no allowed entry through the gates, so it’s no as though you’ll have any contact with them.”

  The knowledge struck home painfully. For the first time in many years, she was so close to her mother’s people, yet they might as well have been across an ocean for her inability to speak to them.

  “You want to visit their camp?” Chase asked quietly from his seat beside her. “Just say the word.”

  As badly as she wanted to speak with them, to see if they had known her mother, it wasn’t a word she would say. Torquil would never allow it, and she wouldn’t risk what her brother might do to Chase if he tried to help her.

  She caressed the wagons with her eyes as they rolled past, surprised when a woman jumped down from one of those wagons and started toward them.

  “Keep yer distance, Tinkler!” Ulfr ordered.

  The woman stopped but lifted a hand in greeting, remaining that way until they passed through the opened gates and Christiana could see her no more.

  With a sigh, she pushed the woman from her thoughts. Exhaustion from the long ride and from her restless night dulled her senses. What she needed more than anything was a good sleep before she confronted Torquil. A good sleep, and a hot mug of lavender-and-betony tincture to warm her up.

  The cause of her restless night nudged his leg against hers, sending a wave of the now-familiar fire coursing through her belly, driving away any need for a hot drink.

  As he hopped down to the ground and turned to assist her, she couldn’t help but wonder whether he’d gotten any more sleep than she had after they’d returned to the camp last night. Or had he, too, tossed and turned, his mind and body filled with the same longing that had plagued her?

  She gave herself over to Chase’s hands, holding on to his arms as her feet touched the ground. Even such a small, innocent contact set her wanting more.

  “I’ll make sure we get the wagon unloaded for you,” he offered as he slid an arm around her to support her weight. “You should probably take it easy. You need to rest that foot of yours so it can heal.”

  She had no desire to tell him it was already all but healed. Healed, she’d have no need of his assistance. No excuse for the strong arm around her waist, supporting her as she made her way toward her door. And for that particular pleasure, a little faking seemed a small enough price to pay.

  “Chase!”

  Christiana swiveled her head to see Halldor headed toward them at a run.

  “He’s just going to have to wait,” Chase muttered, shoving open the door to her tower with his foot even as he tightened his hold around her waist. “What the holy hell?”

  When Christiana turned her attention to the sight in front of her, she very nearly echoed Chase’s exclamation.

  “Who are you?” she managed, pushing away from Chase’s arms to hurry to the young woman curled up on the floor in front of her fireplace. She was clearly held prisoner, a rope stretching from the iron loop in the fire pit to tie snugly around the woman’s ankle.

  “Who’s done this to you?”

  “That would be me, my lady.” Halldor stood in the doorway behind Chase. “I’d hoped to warn you before you entered.”

  “Warn us?” Fury crawled up from the depths of Christiana’s emotions. “I’d say you’ve a much greater need for explanation than warning.”

  “Bridget belongs to me,” Halldor answered simply.

  “Belongs to you?” Christiana dropped to her knees to fumble with the knot snug against the obviously frightened woman’s skin. “People do not belong to other people.”

  “That one does.” Artur had joined the men at the doorway. “Our lord himself gave that one to O’Donar as punishment for her attempt at sticking a knife into our good laird.”

  “What?” Christiana’s hands stilled as she looked from the woman to Halldor. “Is this true?”

  “I’ve not the time for explanations now. Our laird himself awaits me. And you, little brother”—he slapped Chase on the back—“are exactly the one I’d have accompany me.”

  “But what about this—”

  “Leave her as she is. She knows what will happen if she tries to escape. Best she tells you about that while we’re gone. Come along, little brother.”

  Chase followed as Halldor stepped out the open door, but quickly returned carrying the clay jar Christiana had protected all the way from Orabilis’s cottage.

  “Artur’s men are unloading your bags into the storage room. Do as I said and get off that foot. And don’t worry. I’ll find out what’s going on and I’ll get back to you.”

  Christiana nodded, accepting the jar containing her precious elixir before the men filed out of her tower, leaving her alone with her unusual guest.

  “Well,” she said at last. “Bridget, is it? Let me put this away and I’ll find a blade to free you up from that binding.”

  Surprisingly, the woman laughed. “Dinna be daft, Mistress Christiana. I could remove this at any time I chose. Were you no listening to O’Donar? It’s no the binding about my ankle keeping me here, but fear over the alternative.”

  “The alternative?” Christiana echoed, not at all understanding what was happening.

  “Aye,” the other woman replied. “The wrath of the beast that O’Donar goes even now to see. The beast you call a brother.”

  “WHAT THE HELL is going on around here?” Chase caught up with Hall, matching his steps to the big man’s. “Who is that woman? Where’d she come from?”

  He had a million other questions, like, what had happened to Hall’s face? But the ones he’d asked would suffice to start.

  “She’s one of Malcolm’s people. From Castle MacGahan. An innocent, seeking revenge for her father’s murder.”

  “And let me guess. . . . Torquil had a hand in that.” Even more confirmation he’d picked the wrong s
ide on which to fight.

  “So it would seem. Bridget’s father was one of the guards accompanying Malcolm’s wife when she brought ransom to gain his freedom a few months back. On Torquil’s order, all the men who accompanied her rode the horse of the hanged.”

  “Rode the . . .” Chase struggled to hide his irritation at his own inability to understand what Hall was telling him. “You mean he had them killed?”

  “On his order they were put to the gallows, their only crime serving the wrong master.”

  “Is it possible there’s more to it than that? Something we don’t know. Maybe there were circumstances that—” Chase pressed his lips together, remembering all that Christiana had told him about Torquil. What he already knew to be true about Torquil pushed aside any possibility of the laird’s innocence.

  “There’s aplenty we don’t know, that’s sure enough,” Hall agreed. “For instance, were you aware that our little healer travels the Vision world?”

  Chase nodded slowly, wondering how Hall had learned of it.

  “Were you also aware that you somehow figure into those visions? That Torquil hopes through his sister’s visions to determine which of the two of us is meant to suit some purpose of his?”

  That, he had not known.

  “I thought as much.” Hall ran a hand through his hair, blanking the expression of worry from his features. “The web is already woven, little brother. We can but pick our way through, hoping we choose the best paths.”

  They’d reached the main hall of the keep. As they drew to a stop, Hall knocked upon the door of Torquil’s solar.

  Chase watched as the familiar, carefree grin returned to Hall’s face just before Torquil opened the door. It was a skill he could only hope to copy.

  “What’s this?” Torquil asked, looking directly at him as a wide smile spread over his face. “You’ve returned. Excellent. Saves me the trouble of repeating myself.”

  They were hardly inside the door when another knock sounded and Artur and Ulfr joined them.

  “I thought you were unloading the wagon?” Chase knew for a fact Ulfr had intended to do exactly that. Perhaps he’d learned of this meeting from Artur.

  “There were others for that sort of work,” Ulfr said.

  “Very well,” Torquil began, seating himself behind the big table at the side of the room. “Since everyone is here now, I want you all to be aware that I’ll be sending you as a delegation to call upon the old Sinclair, announcing my desire to bring together the northern clans to counsel on what challenges we could well face in the near future if, as is rumored, the English march against us.”

  Chase wondered how great a part Christiana’s visions played in Torquil’s preparation for these challenges.

  “Only to Clan Sinclair?” Hall asked.

  “Of course no only to the Sinclair. I’ve already dispatched riders to the other houses in each direction within a three-day ride. I’ve but a few preparations left before I send you on yer way. Ulfr, see to it the Tinklers break camp and move on before our guests begin to arrive.”

  “We stand ready to do yer bidding, my lord,” Artur offered, earning himself a glare from Ulfr as they all filed out of the solar.

  Hall scratched his beard thoughtfully, visibly wincing as his finger passed over the recent wound.

  Artur, unwisely, could not let the movement pass unnoticed.

  “It’s yer whore what’s done that to you?” he asked, an idiot-like grin breaking over his face.

  Hall didn’t answer, but widened his stance, arms loose at his sides.

  Chase backed away from the two of them, having seen such a move often enough. You didn’t need to be a body language expert to recognize someone preparing for a fight.

  “She’s highly spirited, that one,” Hall said at last.

  A normal man would have let it go at that, but Artur didn’t seem to notice the threat he faced. Instead, he pushed forward with another foolish question.

  “Perhaps you’d care to share her with some of us, now that you’ve had yer fill of her, aye?”

  “And perhaps you’d care to impale your skinny arse on the pointy end of my sword.”

  In a flash of polished metal, Hall drew his weapon, the ring of steel loud in the stone entryway. He pointed the blade toward Artur, its tip mere inches from the man’s throat.

  “You’d do well, little man, to mind what business is yours. I’ve not yet had my fill of what she has to offer. And as I told our good laird last night, I’m not a man to share what is mine. Best you remember that and keep your distance, aye? I won’t take it well if I find you sniffing around Mistress Christiana’s tower as long as the woman is there. Do I make myself clear?”

  Artur nodded frantically, turning and running the instant Hall lowered his sword.

  “I’d be watching my back if I were you,” Ulfr warned, his gaze following after the departing soldier. “He’s no likely to forget this incident.”

  “Neither will I, good captain.” Hall’s smile had returned to his face. “Neither will I. Come along, little brother. We’ve much to do to prepare ourselves.”

  What Chase wanted to do was to go check on Christiana. Unfortunately, there didn’t seem to be a way for him to do that without drawing attention to both the women staying in her tower.

  “I’ve a suspicion about our good laird.” Hall clasped his hands behind his back, increasing the speed of his stride.

  “Only one?” For his own part, Chase had many. “I’m pretty sure we aren’t working for the good guy, Hall.”

  The big man answered with a snorting noise. “Of that I have no doubt. At the moment, my concern is more centered on the possibility that Torquil attempts to deceive us.”

  Them and everyone else on the planet, would be Chase’s guess. “What exactly makes you think—”

  “The man lied to us in there. No riders have left Tordenet. Not a single one. I know the faces and none are missing. If he can’t be honest regarding something that seems so small, chances are good that it’s not small. The time has come to be tying up our loose ends and making preparations to leave this place. And that’s exactly what we go to do now.”

  Chase agreed wholeheartedly. Nothing around here felt right, except Christiana. She was one loose end he definitely intended to tie up.

  “Where are we headed?”

  “To have ourselves a chat with the Tinklers,” Hall answered, wearing the first real smile since Chase had returned to Tordenet. “To seek out the assistance of your people.”

  Twenty-seven

  IS THERE ANYTHING else you need?” Christiana watched doubtfully as her guest drew a stitch through her ripped chemise.

  “No,” the other woman replied, head bent to the task at hand.

  Christiana had found an old overdress, but it was much too short for Bridget, making it all the more important that they repair the rent in her chemise so that she would have something to cover her legs from her shins down.

  “In that case, I’ll retire to my bedchamber. Don’t hesitate to call me if you need anything.”

  Though she was exhausted, it wasn’t sleep on her mind as she picked up the clay pot holding the elixir Orabilis had prepared for her. There was much she needed to know, and a visit to Skuld’s world was the only place she could find her answers.

  She began the slow trek up her winding stairs. Her ankle was healing but stairs, she’d quickly found, aggravated the injury.

  After shutting the door to the room at the top of her tower, she dragged the heavy wooden bar over and fought it into place to ensure she wouldn’t be interrupted. Had she not been tired before she began, that effort alone would have seen to it.

  But tired or not, she had to do this now. Torquil had twice sent word for her to hasten to his tower that he might be present while she traveled the Visions, and twice she had sent her excuses.

  Her half brother was not a patient man. He would not take no for an answer the next time, and she desperately needed to know what she wo
uld confront before she was forced to share that information with him.

  She removed the stopper from the clay jug and lifted it to her lips. Flavors of the infused herbs flowed over her tongue, coating her mouth in a burst of familiar sensation.

  A sigh of relief heaved up from deep in her chest. At last, she was within reach of that which she needed most—foreknowledge.

  She stretched out on her little bed, closing her eyes and clearing her inner senses. Within seconds a tiny speck appeared in her mind’s eye, growing into the brilliant doorway she sought.

  Stepping through the opening, she filled her lungs with the warm, moist air permeating the center of the Nine Worlds, then slowly made her way toward the figures sitting under the sheltering arms of the great ash tree.

  They ignored her completely, their hands flying over the colorful threads forming the tapestry on which they worked. All was as it had been before, reassuring her that her last encounter with the goddesses had been nothing more than a bad dream seated in the depths of her own imagination.

  She paused at the Well of Fate, dipping her hand into the icy depths of a freshly drawn bucket and lifting the magical water to her lips. The liquid rolled down her throat, sparking a tingling sensation in every part of her body and lifting her from the ground upon which she walked, allowing her to float high over the gates guarding Past, Present, and Future.

  “Wait,” she whispered, and her body hung motionless in the air.

  Though her time here was always limited and she had much to discover, she shifted her weight to veer off toward Urd’s world of the past. She’d done this only once before, to confirm her suspicion as to what had caused her father’s sudden “illness.” Since finding that proof, she’d avoided this area, finding it more unsettling than that which was yet to come.

  But this time something from the past called to her, demanded that she see it. Filling her thoughts with an image of Chase, she pushed forward.