‘You’re going to tell them that the woman they are no doubt searching for has been safely found and is at the tavern.’ Sandulf inclined his head and permitted a humourless smile to cross his lips. ‘Safe for a hefty price, I’d imagine. I, too, have encountered men like that tavern keeper before.’
The boy’s eyes bulged. ‘My Lady Ceanna shouldn’t be wandering around on her own, getting lost and into mischief. My master decided...given that...the Northman warrior...that is to say...’
His voice trailed away again, but Sandulf knew he was being used as a scapegoat.
‘I’m a good guesser.’ Sandulf struggled to contain the surge of excitement. Provided he kept feather-brained Lady Ceanna alive and progressing on her journey, he stood a chance of arriving in Nrurim before Lugh learned of him. She knew where the guide was and no one, particularly not the tavern owner and his lad, would keep him from achieving his goal. Lady Ceanna would be going to Nrurim if he had to carry her every step of the way. ‘Your task will have to wait.’
The lad closed one eye and peered at him. ‘To wait? Why?’
Sandulf reached for a length of rope. ‘Your lady has business elsewhere.’
Chapter Two
No one lurked outside the tavern in the late afternoon sunshine. Even the handsome stranger with the hard eyes had vanished. Ceanna shut the door with a quiet click. Her luck had held, but she wondered about unseen eyes watching her, waiting for her to make a mistake. She quickly shook her head. Far too late to worry about them.
She snapped her fingers. Vanora, her wolfhound, trotted out from the shadows. The dog gave a sharp bark and licked her hand. There was something in the way Vanora held her head that made her seem overly pleased with herself. Ceanna dismissed the notion as fanciful. She needed to break her habit of making Vanora seem more than she was. Another saying for her list: dogs were dogs, not people.
‘Some guard you are.’ Ceanna crouched down and gave her dog’s ears a stroke. ‘It looks like you’ve been busy searching for food. We need to go now before they start looking for me in earnest. Bertana could talk the hind legs off a donkey. I was certain she was stalling for some reason, but she ran out of excuses and I escaped.’
Vanora looked longingly back towards the shadows. Ceanna peered into the darkness, but nothing moved.
‘I mean it, Vanora, now. I’ve wasted enough time. Our luck holds.’ Ceanna held out a meat pie. ‘Bertana sent this for today’s journey. You need it more than I do.’
Vanora downed the pie in three gulps. She then sat on her haunches and looked hopefully for more.
‘We go now. No looking back. Or hoping for more. That’s all I have until we reach Urist. And he will be waiting. I know it.’
Vanora nodded as if she understood.
Ceanna quickened her footsteps away from the tavern, putting distance between her and the building, turning this way and that as she went towards the river and then doubled back to the track which led towards Taigh an Uillt and the Pass of Brander towards Ben Cruachan.
Once she was in the woods properly, she paused to take a lungful of fresh air and tuck her gown higher. The narrow skirt made walking normally nearly impossible and she dreaded to think about the state of the slippers she wore. Stout boots and a roomy wool gown were safely tucked away in the trunk Urist had appropriated. When she found him, he’d wish he had chosen a different course of action.
Vanora did her usual circling about her. She noticed that the dog kept going behind her, but every time she glanced around, nothing was there and Vanora did not appear to be unduly worried. Ceanna pushed the concern away. Her stepmother’s lover wasn’t that subtle. Nerves—that’s all it was. She would stop jumping at shadows starting now. Face forward.
On the bend before the river, a twig snapped in the stillness. She quickly turned and saw the Northman from the tavern following her. When he spotted that she had seen him, he gave a little wave.
‘Why didn’t you tell me that he was following?’ she asked Vanora. The traitorous dog smacked her lips, sat down and refused to move.
‘Is that your dog?’ he called.
Ceanna wrapped her arms about her waist. Out here, he loomed larger than he had in the tavern.
‘I should warn you that she can be quite fierce if provoked.’ Her voice sounded unnaturally thin and high. She pushed an errant plait behind her ear.
‘Saves her fierceness for your enemies, I assume. We became friends earlier.’ He crouched down and beckoned to Vanora who obediently trotted over. He handed the hound a morsel of dried meat.
The traitorous dog licked his hand and looked up at him in mute adoration. Ceanna ground her teeth. Normally, Vanora was wary of strangers and particularly men. However, she appeared to have made an exception with this man from the North.
‘I refuse to think it is mere coincidence.’ She stomped her slipper hard against the dirt.
‘Coincidence can be a wonderful thing.’ He made a bow, the sort which was more suited to the King’s court than a muddy track in the middle of nowhere. ‘Under such pleasant circumstances. I suspected this delightful creature belonged to you, Lady Ceanna.’
He stroked Vanora under the chin. The dog flopped down beside his boots and revealed her tummy. Ceanna wished she would display a little more dignity. And somehow, this man had discovered her name.
Ceanna tugged Vanora’s collar and the dog gave her a hurt look. ‘She can be quite ferocious. Truly. One word from me and...’
‘She senses I mean you no harm. We both want the same thing—to travel to Nrurim untroubled.’
No harm.
Ceanna knew what men from the North were like and how they raided. She took several steps backwards when her feet caught in the gown and she went tumbling. A very unladylike oath
