Wake. The third man was young, probably no more than five years older than she was. They remained seated and watched curiously as she and Wake approached.
“Sath’s niece,” Wake said by way of greeting. “Samantha,” he added and gave her an awkward glance. Sam smiled back suddenly feeling guilty about her mistrust of him. All three men stood, and the eldest came forward with a smile of his own.
“Samantha?” he asked.
Sam nodded. “Samantha Fultan,” she answered softly. “My father was Thomas Fultan.”
“Thomas Fultan!” Wake exclaimed. “I love his ale. Why didn’t you say he was your father?” He added, suddenly looking at her as if she were somehow famous.
“You didn’t ask,” Samantha answered bemused by the turn in Wake’s face, for it was suddenly all smiles.
“Samantha,” the eldest man said taking her right hand as she dismounted. She was surprised that his touch carried with it not even the slightest revulsion. “My name is Otter
Bergman. You will be safe here until the scouts return, then we will take you to your Uncle.”
?
Just before sundown Navarra came to the spot where Samantha had parted from her mule. At first he was confused, but quickly worked it out from the tracks that the horse that carried Samantha continued to follow the Clearwater Creek. He was positive she was following the waterway that eventually led to the Scar, and Lynndon. The mule she had foolishly taken with her was now being led back to the northwest but he was positive she had not fled in that direction. No, she would try to cross the Scar and move to the west, probably to Koshka and Afton Sath.
Navarra found a suitable place not far along to make camp, and quickly settled down for the night.
“Sleep well,” he said to his dogs, as they huddled close to him and the fire. “Tomorrow,” he added, having made the decision not to continue following the river but to break out across country, following a more direct route to the crossing, “we ride hard and fast to Lynndon.”
XIV
The Carol-Anne landed in Heron after nearly three days and nights at sea, and despite Jon’s misgivings and the healthy presence of Deutzani soldiers, no one paid Gwaynn or Krys any special attention. The ship was unloaded quickly with the help of the Massi Prince and his new Weapons Master. Gwaynn thought it prudent to stay with the ship and its crew as they got a feel for the area around the dock, plus it might look odd if two crewmen disembarked just as the heavy work was about to begin. Once the unloading was finished, however, Jon released nearly all of his men for a few days of land living. He kept a skeleton crew to watch over the ship, himself included, though he insisted on coming with the two young men as they traveled to meet up with Paulo and Karla.
It felt strange to Gwaynn, walking the very streets he fled from over a year ago. In some ways it felt like a lifetime, but when they finally came across the house of Paulo, it seemed as if he had hardly been away.
“Yes,” Karla said as she answered the door, at first not recognizing the young man who filled the frame, but then she looked past him, and saw Krys who had visited only a few weeks prior. Her eyes flew back to Gwaynn and darted about his face like bee looking for nectar.
“Gwaynn?” She asked hesitantly, hardly believing that this was the same boy who had cried in her arms that awful night after Solarii’s fall. She started forward to take him into her arms once more but then hesitated. Gwaynn, reading her thoughts, stepped up and hugged her.
“I’m sorry about Karl,” he said softly in her ear. “I know what it is like to loose family.”
Karla hugged tighter as tears welled in her eyes. “Come in, come in,” she said breaking the embrace and discreetly wiping away the tears. “Paulo will be so happy to see how tall you’ve gotten…just like your father.” She led the way in and they all followed, but it was nearly an hour before Paulo got word and joined them. He arrived just as Jon was taking his leave to return to the Carol-Anne.
“Watch yourself. I land at Heron, normally twice a year,” Jon said gripping Gwaynn’s hand firmly. “If you need me, leave word with Paulo, and I’ll get it.”
Gwaynn returned the grip. “Thanks for everything.”
As soon as the door shut Gwaynn immediately turned to Paulo. “Anything from Afton Sath?”
Paulo shook his head. He was having a hard time with the fact that now he had to look up at Gwaynn. Paulo studied the young man for a time. Gwaynn was tall, but he was not just a skinny lad; his shoulders and arms had filled out during his time away. Except for the scruff of beard on his chin, he looked the part of a man, and a King. However, it was not the change of body that struck Paulo so acutely. When the boy had left his entire demeanor had been…soft, but now there was something hard in his eyes. There was also the way he carried himself, there was now an air of confidence about him that was lacking before. The boy had changed, of that there was little doubt.
Paulo sat down and took a cup of tea from his wife. “We sent word nearly three weeks ago, but haven’t heard anything.”
Gwaynn sipped his tea and frowned. “He’s at Koshka?”
Paulo nodded. “In the mountains thereabouts. It does take time to move across the country these days…you can’t be too careful.”
“What is the Deutzani presence like in the west?” Gwaynn asked, his tone no longer a boy’s.
Paulo stared into his Prince’s eyes. “Not strong, but growing. They have an army at Cape, but it hasn’t moved much in nearly six months. They supply it by sea, and every now and then the commander will send out raiding parties inland. They seem to be more worried about the Toranado than the Massi.”
“An army at Cape,” Krys said with a smile for Gwaynn’s foresight. “No doubt the longer ride was the way to go. And what is Afton Sath doing about the army?”
Gwaynn glanced at Krys, noting the steely look in his eyes. Krys reflected his own desire to strike back at the enemy, and for that he was very thankful. But Krys was young, younger in experience than Gwaynn, though chronologically he was nearly two years older. And though Gwaynn considered himself more experienced, he realized that he was also young, and as Nev had warned, the young were prone to recklessness. They would have to be cautious, and ever mindful of that fact.
“We’ll need horses,” Krys said, his tone growing more demanding until Gwaynn reached out and put a hand on his forearm.
“Horses?” Paulo asked, seeing the look that past between the two young men, and suddenly his heart soared. Gwaynn was the leader of the two. He was leading, without words, but he was leading. All at once it hit him that the King of Massi was in his home, and it flustered him.
“Yes,” Gwaynn said nodding. “We will stay here tonight, but leave at first light. Arrange it for me Paulo.”
Paulo blinked. “Of course M’lord, but what if Sath comes to find you?”
Gwaynn shrugged. “Then send him after. We head directly for Manse, then on to Koshka.”
Paulo nodded. “As you say,” he answered. “There’s a logger in Manse, name’s Lonogan Bock. He’s the contact in the area if you haven’t come across Master Sath by then,” he added and tried to bow though he was sitting at a table.
Gwaynn smiled at him and then quickly stood. “Karla, what can we do for our supper?”
?
Samantha felt better in the morning. Otter had given her sole possession of one of the tents, where she could wash her face, brush off her clothes and sleep in privacy, and since she had admitted to being the daughter of Thomas Fultan, Wake had treated her like something precious. His looks and actions however, seemed more like fawning and less like leering to her, and for that she was grateful. She woke to find Scot, the youngest of the three soldiers, busily cooking up some eggs and flapjacks. She emerged from the tent dressed in the skirts she’d not worn
