Red Stripe stared at his feet.

"Where were you?"

"I had a drifting watch, sir, going from window to window just as you ordered, sir. I didn't see a thing, sir, didn't hear a peep."

When Waln only glowered at him, Red Stripe offered an excuse.

"The walls are thick, Baron, and at your orders all the windows were locked and shuttered. Not much sound gets through that, Baron, sir, by your leave. It was dark, too, the moon ain't giving much light, and there were clouds."

Waln could see traces of sympathy on a few faces in the crowd. Lest sympathy give rise to rebellion, he strode off the landing and walloped Red Stripe across one side of his face.

The man reeled back. Now Waln saw no sympathy on any face-only fear.He stepped back up onto the landing and scanned the company.

"So," he said, making his voice singsong, like a child's making an excuse, "it was dark and it was cold and you couldn't hear a thing..."

The few sycophantic t.i.tters were silenced when Waln shifted to his on-deck bellow.

"So something comes and does havoc in the night, and that's the p.i.s.s-poor excuse you offer. Would I have set a watch if I didn't think there was a reason to do so?"

There was no reply. He repeated his question, even louder.

"No, Baron," the luckless Red Stripe muttered.

"That's better."

Waln scanned the room. Most of the smugglers were united with him, ready to blame those who had failed the watch. A few, however, were still itching to tell him something. He'd listen, but first...

He wheeled on the cook, a greasy woman with a cook's traditional rolls of fat. She was a Waterland native who-rumor said-had turned cannibal when stranded in a lifeboat some years before. It had been unclear whether her victims had been living or dead when she chose to dine on them, so she had been exiled for her transgression rather than executed for murder.

"Cook, you say the meat has been ruined?"

"Buried in s.h.i.t, Baron," came the blunt reply, "where it isn't torn to shreds."

"Very well. Have someone cut you some nice fresh ham. Our faithful watchers deserve a fit breakfast for their night's work. Season it appropriately. Are there any eggs?"

Cook grinned, appreciating the humor.

"All broken and mixed with straw, Baron."

"What a fine omelet that should make!" Waln said with false heartiness. "Let our watchers have omelet with their ham. Make certain they eat every bite."

Cook chuckled. As she was turning to obey, Waln asked casually: "The contents of the larders are fine, I suppose?"

"Dry stuff," Cook said, "and salted. Nothing touched, though, if that's what you're asking."

Waln nodded.

"Very good. Arrange for the rest of the meals after our faithful five have had their breakfast."

"Yes, Baron."

Having finished with the watchers, Baron Endbrook turned to the gossips. They'd be careful how they told what they had to say lest they, too, end up eating s.h.i.t and straw rather than wholesome food.

"You!" he said, pointing to a big-boned, fair-haired woman. "You've been waiting to get a word in. Go ahead."The woman sauntered forward, enjoying her moment on center stage and clearly unafraid that he would find fault with her report.

"Baron Endbrook," she began with polite deference, "I was one of the first awake this morning, one of the first outside. Everything is just how Longsight tells you, but there's more he didn't tell."

She paused and Waln nodded for her to go on. Judging from the expressions about the room, about half had heard this tidbit and the other half were eager to learn.

"I'm Stonehold-born," the woman said, explaining in those words both her build and pale blonde hair, "and farmed a bit before turning to the sea. My first thought after I saw what had happened was to see what had done the damage."

She paused dramatically, stretching her interlaced fingers, and popping her knuckles into the expectant quiet. Warn let her have her moment. It did him no harm.

"I was taken with the smoothness of the meadow round from the start," she said, "for given the destruction you would have thought an army had been through. There were traces here and there, but to a casual glance there was nothing to show what had pa.s.sed. Not so in the pens, not so at all. There the dirt was churned and trampled, dug and soft, welcoming prints. I found them, too."

She raised two fingers.

"Two sets only, Baron, at least that I could tell. One was of a set of small bare feet, the other from a wolf so large I'd never even imagined the like-not even in my nightmares. These two alone seem to have done the hunting, these two alone all the killing."

Loud, panicked murmuring arose as the Stoneholder stepped back, satisfied to give up the stage now that her report was complete. Her smug smile showed that the effect of her words was all she had hoped.

Waln had felt the color drain from his face, but he steadied himself. There was only one pair who could have left those marks. Best he admit it and minimize the impact of the news.

He was opening his mouth to speak when a high, shrill giggle cut through the noise.

"I know! I know! I know who it is!"

She'd been in the back of the room, so he hadn't seen her before this moment. Now Citrine Shield clambered onto one of the tables and stood dancing from foot to foot, waving her maimed hand in front of her so none could miss it.

"So do I!" Waln bellowed, but he might have held his tongue. No one was listening.

"It's Firekeeper! Firekeeper! And Blind Seer with her! They're my friends!" The little girl laughed hysterically. "They've come to get me."

She waggled the index finger of her maimed hand at Waln.

"You don't want to see Firekeeper when she's angry! Ask Prince Newell! Ask his ghost, rather!"

Longsight Scrounger had pushed his way through the gathered pirates and now he hauled the girl off the table. The thump he gave one round cheek silenced Citrine, but from across the room Longsight's own mother cackled.

"Look sharp now, my boy," the crone said, her cracked voice full of concern. "Don't break the little la.s.s.Her friends are coming for her and they'll not be kind to those who hurt the little dear. I've always been her friend so I'm not afraid but those who've hurt her..."

The implied threat melted into broken, vindictive laughter. Longsight let Citrine slide from his arms and onto the floor. The girl struggled to her feet and ran-weaving a bit-to the shelter of the old woman's arms.

The eyes that turned on Waln now were fearful indeed, but less so at him than at what he had brought upon them. Anger glinted here and there. More than one hand drifted near a sheathed dagger.

Waln sensed he was losing control of the situation. At that very moment he was saved by a thunderous pounding on the lighthouse door.

Since she couldn't avoid meeting Baron Archer, not without stirring up rumors that they were at odds, Elise decided that her first duty on the day following that upon which Sapphire had arrived with her troops was to hunt out her father. To be completely honest, she wasn't certain that they weren't at odds.

Elise had written to say that she was safe and to tell her parents not to be angry with Earl Kestrel for letting her go, emphasizing that she'd given her host little choice. However, the peculiar combination of circ.u.mstances that had led up to her departure from the Norwood Grant for New Kelvin didn't permit detailed explanations. Even a sealed letter could be read and too much was at stake for her to risk a diplomatic incident.

Before departing the camp, Sapphire had suggested that Elise wait until the next morning to seek out Baron Archer as, at Sapphire and Shad's request, he was in charge of posting sentries around the fringes of the swamp. After all, the current policy of letting the pirates leave the area did not include not keeping track of the situation, and those disaffected enough to steal away might be willing to sell information.

Elise had slept restlessly the night before, unable to relax when images of Firekeeper prowling through the dark right up to the pirates' doorsill kept intruding. An hour or so after Firekeeper had departed, she had given up the pretense and joined the others around the campfire.

Firekeeper had arrived some interminable time later, absolutely covered in blood and with two gutted goat carca.s.ses slung over her shoulders the way a more ordinary maiden would wear a garland of flowers. She had seemed honestly astonished that they had been worried, had even insisted on going back into the swamp to fetch out two large bags-one filled with dead poultry, the other with equally dead rabbits.

Only after Edlin had agreed to take on the grisly task of gutting and skinning the lot had Firekeeper permitted Wendee to haul her off so that the lady's maid could rea.s.sure herself that all the blood was indeed-as Firekeeper swore-someone else's.

A small smile quirked Elise's mouth as she recalled Firekeeper's protests, but she thought that the wolf-woman didn't particularly enjoy being blood-covered and filthy-she just wasn't repulsed by it as Elise herself would be.

Indeed, Elise had noticed that Blind Seer-contrary to the popular image of the savage wolf-was quite fastidious. Immediately after hunting he would be completely begored-as if he had waded chest-deep into his kill. Soon after he fed, however, the wolf would seek out the closest running water and wade in as deeply as possible so that the current might scrub him clean.

Such thoughts distracted Elise as she went about her morning grooming. She wondered what Ninettewould think when she saw how independent her mistress had become, and smiled.

Finding Baron Archer was amazingly simple. The Archer coat of arms, a gold field emblazoned with a man shooting scarlet arrows from his bow, fluttered on a pennant over her father's field pavilion. What she had not counted on was finding Jet Shield first.

Afterward, Elise would chide herself for being so foolish as not to realize that Sapphire-and Citrine's-ambitious and glory-hungry brother would have insisted on being part of the rescue mission.

His disgrace during King Allister's War would only make Jet more determined to enhance his damaged character.

However, Elise had so effectively dismissed her onetime true love from her thoughts and memories that his voice speaking her name was her first reminder of his existence.

"Elise," Jet said in his deep, sensual voice-a voice that could, if he wished, make every word seem as intimate as a caress. "Or should I say, Lady Archer? No, let it be Elise."

As she had been avoiding use of the formal t.i.tle that she must a.s.sume on her coming birthday, Elise could hardly protest. Turning so quickly that her skirt and cloak swirled about her, she found Jet emerging from what must be his own tent.

He wore black, as always, a dull black in this case, befitting a man whose sister was endangered. Even in this, he looked strikingly handsome. His thick dark hair resisted being pulled back into a queue. His dark eyes hinted at suppressed pa.s.sion.

Not so long ago, Elise would have nearly swooned at the smile that curved his lips, a smile that hinted of past intimacies while promising eternal discretion. Now she was simply annoyed to find Jet slowing her progress.

With a smoothness that amazed her-for she had thought her hands tucked securely in her m.u.f.f-Jet took her hand and lightly kissed the fingers.

"I am so pleased to see you again, cousin."

He paused slightly before using the familial address, as if hinting that he might have said "darling" or "love"

but for the possibility of listening ears.

Elise drew her hand back and tucked it securely into her m.u.f.f, intertwining the fingers lest he draw it forth again. She was so astonished by Jet's behavior-he acted as if they were still courting!-that she said what she was thinking.

"What are you doing here? Sapphire didn't mention you were among her troops."

Momentarily, Jet's dark eyes flashed at what Elise realized with guilty hindsight he must take as an insult.

Jet could hardly have expected Elise to know he was among the company, but he had certainly expected Sapphire to mention his presence-and his rivalry with his sister was so long-standing that he would balk automatically at being named one of "her" troops.

"If Hawk Haven is to go to the rescue of my littlest sister," he said, recovering after the briefest of pauses, "then certainly I must be among her soldiers."

"Of course," Elise said. "Duty to our families is of paramount importance. In fact, I was about to call on my father. If you will excuse me..."After his own melodramatic speech, Jet could hardly delay her. With a flourishing bow and elegantly voiced hopes that he would have the privilege of her company sometime soon, he let her pa.s.s.

Elise arrived at her father's pavilion without further interruptions. She found Perr, her father's body servant, without, packing away the pans in which he had doubtless cooked the baron's morning meal.

"Good morning, Lady Elise," he said, giving her his usual bow.

She tried to read her father's mood from his servant's greeting, but Perr had never been a great intimate of hers and his manner was, as always, correct and without undue familiarity.

"Good morning, Perr," she replied. "Is my father in?"

"The baron is, my lady. One moment while I see if he is receiving."

As Ivon Archer might have been dressing or otherwise indisposed, Elise tried not to read too much into the delay. Perr emerged quickly enough.

"The baron says he will be happy to see you, Lady Elise. Please go inside. I will follow with tea. Have you breakfasted?"

"I have Perr," Elise said, feeling a touch more hopeful. "Thank you."

Ducking under the cloth door panel, Elise found herself in the very pavilion in which she had lived during King Allister's War. Perr occupied the side chamber that she had shared with Ninette, but otherwise it was much as it had been.

Baron Archer had apparently been dressing, for he was tying his neck cloth as he came from his bedchamber.

"Elise," he said, holding out his hands to her.

She put her own in his, while shaking down the hood of her outdoor cloak. Baron Archer paused in the process of giving her a parental embrace and gaped at her.

"What have you done to your hair?" he asked, the question more exclamation than mere inquiry.

"I cut it, Father," Elise replied meekly. "In New Kelvin. It was necessary if we were to get into Thendulla Lypella without raising undue suspicion."

"You cut it," he repeated, something odd in his tone. "To get into Thendulla Lypella."

"Yes, sir."

Belatedly, Elise realized what the new note in her father's voice was. It was pride. Ivon Archer was fairly bursting with pride in his daughter!

Perr entered the pavilion at that moment, bearing a tea tray. The baron dismissed him, asking him to make certain no one drew close enough to overhear their discussion. This done, Baron Archer set Elise on a camp chair and poured her tea with his own hands.

"I know something of the situation," he said. "Princess Sapphire has been good enough to take me into her confidence. Now I wish to hear everything from you."

Floating on the unexpected euphoria of her father's approval, Elise recounted everything that hadhappened since her departure from the Norwood Grant. She glossed over her early discomfort, and tried to make light of the encounter with the bandits. Something of her terror during the last must have crept into her voice despite her efforts, however, for she saw Baron Archer's eyes narrow and saw his fists clench in unvoiced anger.

Elise didn't forget-she couldn't have even if she wanted to do so-to highlight the other's roles: Firekeeper's courage and reluctant patience, Derian's steady competence, Wendee's wonderful combination of practical management and artistic flourish, Edlin's unexpected depths. She tried not to praise Doc above the others, but here as elsewhere she knew that her voice betrayed her. Her admiration for the man was so complete-he was strong yet giving, brave without being brash-that she knew it flowed into her voice.

Baron Archer neither chided nor questioned her about her feelings. He respected her heart's privacy and reserved his questions-and he had many-for the tactical matters. He was also very curious about Grateful Peace.

Elise was telling him about how Peace had been taken to Sir Jared's relatives when Perr called from without: "Baron Archer, there is a messenger here. The crown prince and princess request your attendance at the command tent. They also wish to know if you know where Lady Archer might be found."

Baron Archer rose, saying, "Tell the messenger that I will attend upon Their Majesties immediately and that Lady Elise is with me."