DESPITE THE EXCRUCIATING pain flaring from the empty eye-socket, the Baron Ranulph Gottasson enjoyed the awestruck and fearful expressions of the men before him. Idly the fingers of his left hand stroked the carved dragon claws on the arm of the ornate chair. Sharp they were, as they gripped the globe of ebony. The men waited silently below the dais. He knew their thoughts and, more importantly, their growing anxiety. They had failed - the woman who had robbed him of his eye was still at large. The Baron leaned back on the high carved chair and stared balefully down at the twenty men before him, his single eye blood-shot but its gaze piercing.

'So,' he said softly, his voice sibilant and chilling, 'tell me that you have captured the woman and the renegade.'

The officer before him, a tall man sporting a square-cut beard but no moustache, cleared his throat. His chain-mail leggings were mud-smeared, and his right arm was clumsily bandaged. 'We have not caught them yet, my lord. I brought the men back for fresh supplies.'

'You did not catch them,' repeated the Baron, rising from his chair. 'One woman and a forester, riding double on a stolen stallion. But you did not catch them.'

Slowly he descended the three steps from the dais and halted before the officer.

The man dropped his head and mumbled something. 'Speak up, Chard. Let us all hear you!'

The officer reddened, but he raised his head and his voice boomed out. 'They fooled us. They turned the stallion loose and cut out across the valleys. Then the storm came and it was impossible to read sign. But we followed as best we could, thinking the woman would return to her people. The renegade forester, Fell, shot at us from ambush, wounding two of my men. We gave chase, my lord, but heavily armed riders are useless in the thickets. We left our horses and tried to follow on foot. It was like trying to catch a ghost. I had no archers with me.

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Three more men were struck by his arrows. Happily their armour saved them from serious injury, though the mercenary, Lava, still has an arrowhead lodged in his shoulder.' Chard fell silent.

The Baron nodded solemnly. 'So, what you are saying is that thirty Outland warriors are no match for a woman and a clansman.'

'No, my lord. I am saying ..."

'Be silent, fool! Did you think, at any time during the four days you have been gone, to send back to Citadel for trackers? Did you not consider hiring the services of the Finder, Kollarin? Did you set the renegade's own people to hunt him?'

'His own people ..."

The Baron half turned away, then swung back his fist, smashing the officer's lips against his teeth. The skin split and blood sprayed out as Chard was hurled backwards. He fell heavily, cracking his skull against the base of a statue. Chard gave out one grunting moan, then slid into unconsciousness. 'You have all failed me,' said the Baron, 'but his was the greatest sin. He will suffer for it. Now you!'

he said, pointing to a burly soldier with close-cropped fair hair. 'You are Obrin the Southlander, yes?'

'Yes, my lord.' The man bowed.

'You have fought barbarians before, I understand. In Kushir, Palol, Umbria and Cleatia?'

'Yes, my lord. And served also in Pesht under your command. I was there when you stormed the wall, sir, though I was but a common soldier then.'

'And now you are a sergeant-at-arms. Answer me well and you shall assume command of the hunt, and become a captain. Tell us all now what errors were made by the idiot lying at your feet.'

Obrin drew a deep breath and was silent for a moment. The Baron smiled. He knew what was going through the man's mind. No enlisted soldier wished to be made an officer: the pay would not cover the mess bills, and from its meagre supply he would have to purchase his own horse and armour and hire a manservant. Obrin's round face paled; then he spoke. 'The trail was cold from the moment the storm broke, my lord. We should have headed for Cilfallen and taken hostages. Then the foresters themselves could have hunted down their comrade. I would also have posted a reward for their capture, just in case. There's not much coin in the Highlands. And there's always some bastard who'd sell his mother for a copper or two, if you 105.

take my meaning, my lord.' Obrin paused and rubbed his broad chin. 'You have already mentioned the Finder, Kollarin, but - I'll be honest with you, my lord - I would not have thought of him, sir. and, if it please you, I don't want captain Chard's command. I'm no nobleman. And I wouldn't fit in. I don't have the brains for it. But I am a good sergeant, sir.'

The Baron ignored the soldier and climbed to the dais to return to his seat. His eye-socket was throbbing and tongues of fire were lancing up into his skull. Yet he kept his expression even and showed no trace of the pain he was feeling. 'Find Kollarin and take him with you when you have your supplies. Take fifty men.

Split them into two sections. One will ride to Cilfallen and post a reward of one hundred guineas; this group will also take four hostages and return them to Citadel. The second group, led by you, Obrin, will include Kollarin. You will start your search at the woman's cabin. And before you leave you will take the former Captain Chard to the whipping post, where you will apply fifty lashes to his naked back. With every lash I want you to consider this: Fail, and one of your men will be lashing you.'

'Yes, sir,' said Obrin miserably.

The Baron waved his hand, dismissing the men. 'Not you, Leofric,' he said, as the slender blond-haired cleric was about to leave. 'Shut the door and come to me in my study.' Leaving the dais the Baron strode across the hall and through a small side door, leading to a flight of steps that took him up to the parapet study. A goblet had been placed on the desk, filled with dark, noxious liquid. The Baron hated medicines of any kind, and pain-masking opiates in particular. But the injury was now interfering with his thought processes and he drained the foul brew and sat with his back to the open window.

Leofric knocked twice, then entered the study. 'I am sorry, cousin, for your pain and your disappointment,' he said uneasily.

'The pain is nothing, but I am not disappointed, boy,' the Baron told him, motioning the younger man to a seat opposite him. 'Far from it. The Highlands need to be purged, and the excuse has now fluttered in on the wings of a dead hawk. A woman rebel was arrested after attacking the King's Emissary.

Highlanders raided the dungeons to release her. Then they attacked the King's soldiers. When word reaches the south the King will send another five thousand men to serve under me, and we will march from Citadel to the sea and wipe out the clans once and for all.'

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'I don't understand,' said Leofric. 'How are the clans a danger to the empire?

They have no military organization, indeed no army, and there is no insurrection.'

The Baron smiled. 'Then we cannot lose, can we, Leofric? And at the end I will have an army as large as Jastey's. The King grows old and soft. You think Jastey has no plans to seize the crown for himself? Of course he has. And I can do nothing to stop him while I am stuck away here in this God-forsaken wilderness.

However, a war against the clans, well that has great merit. In the south they still fear these northerners, and old men recall with dread how the shrieking savages erupted from the mountains bringing fire and death to the Lowlands. You will see, Leofric. As soon as news reaches the south of this latest outrage, the price of land south of the border will plummet. The weak-hearted will sell up and move and panic will sweep through the immediate Lowland towns.'

'That I do understand,' said Leofric, 'but what if the Highlanders do hunt down this. .. Fell... and the woman? What if they surrender them to us to save the hostages?'

The Baron shook his head. 'It won't happen. I know these barbarians; they're all too proud. I'll hang the hostages as soon as they reach Citadel, and leave their bodies on the north wall for all to see. And if that doesn't force at least a show of resistance, I'll burn Cilfallen and a few of their towns.'

'And what task would you have me perform, my lord?' asked Leofric.

'There will be no major invasion of the Highlands until spring. We want time for the fear to grow back home. I intend to attack with six thousand fighting men and five hundred engineers. You must put your mind to the question of how we feed and supply this army all the way to the sea. Also, I want you to study the maps and locate three sites for our fixed camps and fortifications. You know what is required: the forts should be situated close to the lands of the Pallides and the Farlain. Choose open ground, yet close enough to the woods for the men to be able to gather timber for the walls. Questions?'

'Yes, my lord, the fortifications. I am well aware of the standard design used for the construction of temporary fortifications during punitive raids into hostile territory. But these are rough constructions, not intended for more than a few nights. Will they suffice?'

The Baron considered the question. The Highland winters were 107.

notoriously savage, and the forts would need to be manned throughout the long, bitter months until the invasion. More important than this, however, was the likelihood of Highlanders attacking the outposts. There would be no way to reinforce them once the snow blocked the passes.

'You misunderstood my use of the word standard,' said the Baron smoothly. 'This is not a punitive raid, but should be considered as a full invasion. The forts therefore will have regulation defences, earth barriers at least ten feet high, topped with timber walls to another fifteen feet. Weighted portcullis gates will also be constructed. You are familiar with the design?'

'Of course, my lord. It was devised by Driada during the Cleatian Wars in the last century, but was possibly based on an earlier ...'

'I did not ask for a history lesson, Leofric. You will take two hundred engineers and three hundred infantrymen into the Highlands. Then you will oversee the building of these forts and within them storehouses for supplies. Make sure the storehouses are watertight. I want no rotting meat, nor mildewed cereal when I arrive with the army.'

Leofric stood and bowed. 'I thank you for your trust in me, cousin. I will not fail you.'

Sigarni opened he.r eyes and saw the flickering flame shadows on the cave ceiling. She watched them for a moment, then felt the onrush of pain from her wounded body. A voice spoke from her left. 'She is awake. Pour some broth for her.' Sigarni rolled her head towards the sound, focusing her eyes upon a wizened old man with deep-set pale eyes.

'Taliesen?' she whispered 'Aye, lass, Taliesen. How are you feeling?'

'Hurt. What happened to me?'

'You don't remember the attack in Citadel dungeons?'

She closed her eyes. 'Of course I do - but that was years ago. I meant why am I injured now? Taliesen leaned forward and helped her to sit up. Pain lanced through Sigarni's right side and she groaned.

'One of your ribs is cracked. It will heal soon,' said Taliesen. Another figure moved into sight, child-small, yet bearded. Sitting at 108.

her right, Ballistar handed her a wooden bowl and spoon. The broth was thick and salty and Sigarni became acutely aware of her hunger. She ate in silence.

When she had finished Ballistar took back the bowl. Sigarni felt her strength returning, but still she was confused.

'Why did you mention the ... attack on me?' she asked Taliesen.

'Because it happened three days ago,' he said slowly. 'You have been spirit- wandering in a place where there is no time.'

'I remember,' she said. 'He took me by the hand.'

'Who took her?' asked Ballistar. Taliesen waved him to silence.

'Yes, you walked with him,' said the wizard, taking Sigarni's hand. She wrenched it back, her eyes blazing.

'Do not touch me! No man will ever touch me again!' The violence in her voice was startling, surprising Ballistar who dropped the empty bowl. It rolled across the cave floor, coming to rest against the far wall.

Taliesen seemed unmoved by the rebuff. 'I am sorry, my dear, that was remiss of me. Did you learn much in your time with him?'

'It is hazy now,' she said sleepily. 'But he said he would teach me ... would always ... be with me.' Sigarni stretched out again and closed her eyes. Taliesen covered her with a blanket of wool.

'What was she talking about?' asked Ballistar. 'When did she go walking? And who with?'

Taliesen rose and walked to the fire. 'Time to gather more wood,' he said.

'Who did she walk with?' repeated Ballistar.

'It's not for you to know, dwarf. Now go and fetch some wood. The black man will be here soon, and then you'll understand a little more of what is happening here.'

'I'm not your servant!' snapped Ballistar. 'I don't have to jump through hoops because you say so!'

'No,' agreed Taliesen, 'you don't. But I am trying to keep her warm, and I am a little too old to relish walking around a forest and stooping to collect dead wood.

You, on the other hand, do not have far to stoop.'

Ill do it for her,' said the dwarf. 'But know this, Taliesen, I do not like you. Not one bit.'

'How wise of you,' Taliesen told him.

Ballistar stomped from the cave and out into the afternoon sunlight. Fallen wood was plentiful, following the storm, and he spent an idle hour gathering armfuls of fuel and carrying them back to the 109.

cave. TaJiesen spent the hour sitting silently beside the sleeping Sigarni. Bored now, Ballistar returned to the poolside and stared out over the water. It was smooth and motionless here, and the reflections of the trees on the opposite shore could be seen growing upside-down in the pool. Ballistar moved to the edge and knelt, leaning out over the water. His own face looked back at him, the deep- set brown eyes gazing into his.

'What's it like in an upside-down world?' he asked his reflection. 'Are you happy or sad?' The face in the pool mouthed the same words back to him. Ballistar moved back and sat with his back to the trunk of a weeping willow.

Asmidir came riding down the slope and Ballistar stood. The black man was wearing clothes of brown and russet, with a deep green cloak. He sported no burnoose and upon his head he wore a helm of burnished iron that rose to a glistening silver point at the crown. Seeing Ballistar, he drew rein and stepped from the saddle. 'Where is she?' he asked.

Ballistar pointed to the cave. 'There is a wizard with her. Unpleasant little man.'

'How is she?'

'Beaten and abused. She will get better though. I know it.'

The black man nodded. 'I know it also. What news of Fell?'

'I've heard nothing,' the dwarf told him. 'I've been here for three nights. But I don't think they'll catch him. A canny man is Fell, and stronger than he believes.'

'You see much, Ballistar. You are no man's fool. I shall be taking Sigarni to my house. You are welcome to join us. I think she will feel better with you there.'

'She may not want either of us,' said the dwarf. 'She just told Taliesen that no man will ever touch her again - she may hate us all for the sins of a few.'

Asmidir shook his head. 'She is too intelligent for that, my friend. Will you come?'

'Of course I will come. She is my friend.'

'Mine also,' said Asmidir softly. 'And I will defend her with my life. You believe me?'

Ballistar looked deeply into the man's dark eyes. 'Aye, I believe you, black man. I don't like you, but I believe you.'

'There is much in me to dislike, Ballistar. I have been a harsh man, no and at times a cruel one. Despite this I have never betrayed a friend, and treachery is utterly alien to me. I intend to help Sigarni, to teach her all that I know."

'About what?' asked Ballistar.

'About war,' Asmidir answered.

There was little conversation as the five men moved through the forest, each locked in his own thoughts. Fat Tovi the Baker kept thinking of his eldest son, and how proud he was of the boy. When the soldiers had selected him as one of the four hostages he had stood tall, straight of back, and he had shown no fear.

Like me, when I was younger, thought Tovi. Then he shook his head. No, he's better than me. There's a lot of his mother in him, and she comes from good stock.

Beside him walked Grame the Smith, his thoughts dark and brooding. Grame stood by while the soldiers selected the hostages, but he was holding the forge hammer in his hand, and using all his iron will to stop himself from running forward and braining the grinning officer. That I should live to see this, he thought, foreigners riding into our villages unopposed and stealing away our people. The smith felt the shame as if it were his alone.

Ahead of the two old men walked the three foresters, Fell at the centre. Bakris Tooth-gone was to his left, Gwyn Dark-eye to the right. Gwyn's thoughts were all of Fell. He loved him better than he loved his own brothers, and was racking his brains for a fresh argument to use to stop Fell from surrendering to the Outlanders. But nothing would come. Four lives were at stake, Tovi's son, the Widow Maffrey, the cattle-herder Clemet, and Nami, the fat daughter of the shepherd Maccus. Fell was a man of honour, and once he had heard about the hostages there was only one course of action left to him. It broke Gwyn's heart to make this journey.

Bakris was thinking about what would happen once the arrogant Fell had been hanged. Surely his own skills would be recognized and he would be elected Captain of Foresters?

Fell himself could think only of Sigarni, and all that might have been. Taliesen had ordered him to lead the hunters deep into the forest, and this he had done, wounding several of them. They had almost caught him twice, but his woodcraft saved him - that and his in fleetness of foot. What will happen now, Sigarni, he wondered? Will you remember me kindly?

In his mind's eye he could see himself standing on the scaffold, the hemp rope at his throat. Will you die like a man, Fell, he asked himself, standing tall and proud? In that moment he knew that he would. No Outland audience would see a Highland man scream and beg for his life.

Fell glanced up at the branches above him, the sun dappling them with gold and sending shafts of brilliance to the undergrowth below. Through a break in the trees he saw High Drain, rising majestically above the other peaks. 'Be with me, Father!' he whispered to the mountain.

'What's that, Fell?' asked Gwyn.

'Talking to myself, man. Ah, but it's a fine day for a walk, to be sure.'

'That it is, my friend, but I'd be happier if we were heading north.'

'I cannot do that. I'll let no Highlander die for my crimes.'