Mac hefted the rucksack, adjusting the supplies from Lord Newalden. “I can’t thank you enough,” he said.
The lord, a middle-aged man who time had treated better than Mac, smoothed the front of his already perfect doublet. “I wish it were more. You’re sure you wouldn’t rather travel with us? We’re headed in the same direction.”
It was a kind offer, and certainly would make travel easier, but noblemen and their baggage didn’t travel fast. If Kaelyn wanted her memory back as soon as possible they needed to cross the Halyn Mountains before the first snowfall. If they didn’t, they wouldn’t get another chance at the pass until the spring melt.
“Thank you, but no. Our schedule is tight.” Besides, Mac didn’t know how long he could keep up his rusty court courtesies. He’d forgotten how uncomfortable he was with those games–and he’d only seen a hint of it last night. Of course, most of that was the poor minstrel, Talar, fending off the affection of Lord Newalden’s daughter and her two ladies in waiting. But the more time he spent traveling with the nobleman, the more he’d become embroiled in their world and the more he risked revealing his identity.
“Well then.” Lord Newalden leaned close. “Are you sure the young lady isn’t from Vitreah? It’s been a while since I’ve been to court, but she looks awfully familiar.”
“I’m quite certain. Thank you.” Mac turned and left before Newalden could capture him in another conversation. That Newalden thought he recognized Kaelyn didn’t mean anything, and yet Mac couldn’t deny the gossip he’d heard on the ship when they’d left Norwell. Kaelyn Wintherford was missing, and Prince Harcourt was looking for her. In his youth he’d have laid a wager against his Kaelyn being Wintherford’s daughter. The most powerful merchant baron in the kingdom would not send his daughter to a seaport on the edge of civilization.
He shrugged and motioned to Kaelyn to follow. When they reached the northern oracle and her memory was restored she’d be able to tell him.
She fell into step beside him without a word. Not her usual demeanor, but then, a dunk in a fast-moving river could do that to a person. She’d perk up soon enough. He chuckled, and she glanced at him but didn’t comment. He doubted there was much that would keep her down or at least nothing she wouldn’t fight first. If he hadn’t been standing right there when it had happened, he wouldn’t have believed that she’d draw his dagger to hold half a dozen soldiers at bay.
As they rounded a curve in the path, Talar stepped out of the forest. His gaze rested on Kaelyn for a heartbeat before jumping to Mac.
“I think you’re going in my direction,” he said. A muscle in his jaw twitched and he shifted his pack, revealing thick tattoos around his wrists.
Mac narrowed his eyes. Here was a clansman, with binding tattoos, dressed and groomed as a southerner. He did not seem like a man who wanted to return home. Maybe it was a new southern fashion and Talar didn’t realize the trouble he’d get into, showing up with sacred markings.
“I’m not sure north is your direction,” said Mac.
“Neither am I.” Talar rubbed his wrists. “Nevertheless, I wish to travel with you.”
“I believe I have a say in this matter,” said Kaelyn, hands on her hips.
Maybe she was the merchant baron’s daughter. From the set of her jaw, she was going to give Talar an earful. The cat slunk up beside her and puffed up his tail.
“You have martial experience?” she asked.
Talar nodded.
“With a dagger?”
This was not the direction Mac thought she’d take the conversation. He leaned close to her. “We don’t know who he is.”
“He fished me out of that river which he didn’t have to do. Another experienced fighter might prove useful. Until”–she lowered her voice–“you get back into practice.”
Well, he couldn’t argue with that logic. It stung, but that had never stopped him from considering practical options.
She crossed her arms and took one step toward the minstrel. “I can’t offer you employment.”
Talar snorted. “I wasn’t looking for a job. Just . . . company.”
“Deal.” She didn’t look happy about it, but Mac couldn’t figure out why.
“At least tell me this,” asked Mac. “Do you know the significance of your tattoos?”
Talar sighed and rubbed his wrists again. “All too well.”
“So you are a shaman.”
“No.”
Bird song filled the silence. The cat bounded after something in the underbrush and disappeared with an un-catlike crash.
“Well, come on then,” said Kaelyn, and she marched a few steps ahead of them, her back ramrod straight, with all the dignity of a court lady. Mac had to admit, she wasn’t as much of a child as he’d first thought, but a young woman. It was her figure that had fooled him. He was more accustomed to a fuller hip and bosom.
But maybe the minstrel had seen something Mac hadn’t. He was certainly much closer in age to Kaelyn than Mac was. Of course, it looked like Talar had as many secrets as Mac did and was just as inclined to talk about them. Well, he’d keep an eye on him.
The bushes ahead rustled. Probably that ridiculous cat. Mac turned his face to the sunlight slashing through the canopy above. It felt good to be moving again, to have a purpose.
More rustling. That was the loudest cat he’d ever come across.
Kaelyn gasped and men poured out of the bushes and formed a four-man barricade. They looked a lot like the thugs who’d attacked them the other day. He inched up to Kaelyn’s side, keeping his gaze locked on the men.
“Are we going to run away again?” she asked.
That sounded like a good idea. But he had a sneaking suspicion that if he didn’t make a stand now those bandits would keep harassing them. Although he had no idea what those men thought he and Kaelyn had that was of any value. Of course, if Kaelyn was Wintherford’s daughter he might pay a good ransom to get her back. And the bandits didn’t act like ruffians, more like deserters. Maybe one had recognized her from Court and thought to make a quick fortune. He really hated when things got complicated.
He drew his dagger and held it out to Talar. “Now’s your time to prove you can use it.”
“It’s a little short.” Talar flashed a dark smile.
“Well, just take one of those,” said Mac, pointing at the bandits’ swords. For a moment it felt like old times: Queen’s knight and clansman fighting side-by-side to stop the evil manipulating both their kingdoms. Boy, he’d had some great adventures. Except back then his left shoulder and knee hadn’t hurt and his vision was clearer.
Oh well. He drew his blade. No time like the present to find out if he still had what it took.
