Drago followed his gaze, then spun round, his face both fearful and livid. His massive hands twitched around the shaft of his axe.
‘Lay down your weapon, Morlider,’ the Queen said again. ‘Unless you want a dozen arrows in you.’
The lights moved nearer to each other. The circle was closing.
Yengar had seen the Muster in action, both as mass cavalry and individual skirmishers. Their speed, manoeuvrability and discipline were awe-inspiring, and in his mind they were always associated with pounding irresistible power. But subsequently his memory of them would come to be dominated by their silent approach out of the Riddin darkness that night; strange, towering shapes shifting and changing in the swaying torchlight. Yengar felt primitive childlike fears stirring inside him faintly at the sight of these eerie, menacing night creatures advancing unhurriedly but relentlessly towards him.
Whether Drago felt the same is a matter of conjec-ture, but with an oath he threw down his axe. Following his example, his companions threw down their weapons also.
As they did so, the circle closed and the Morlider found themselves torchlit and exposed, between the words of the High Guards and an impassable wall of silent riders.
Drago looked at Sylvriss. ‘I knew you were trouble as soon as I looked at you, woman,’ he said.
‘Watch your tongue, sea thief,’ came a voice from just behind Sylvriss. The speaker edged his horse forward. His cloak glistened with rain, and the torch-light threw grim shadows on an already gaunt face.
Drago stared at him, unrelenting. ‘For now, horse rider,’ he said unrepentantly. ‘But our time’s coming soon.’
Sylvriss raised her hand and spoke to Drago again.
‘The line leader tells me you have indeed hurt no one during your… visit,’ she said. ‘We will therefore escort you to your ship and allow you to leave.’ She looked at the still motionless figure of Symm, and at the man Yengar had struck, now gingerly checking his nose and teeth and wiping away the blood that still flowed from his nose periodically. ‘We’ll tend to your injured for you, as well,’ she said.
‘No,’ said Olvric sharply. ‘They mustn’t be allowed to leave. They must be kept here.’
Yengar nodded in agreement.
The man by Sylvriss leaned forward. His face showed his fatigue. ‘You’re free with your orders, Fyordyn,’ he said coldly. ‘It’s not our way to feed and house these scoundrels. And it seems you’re as disre-gardful of your Queen’s will as you are of her safety.’
Olvric’s eyes narrowed slightly, and Yengar laid a hand on his arm gently. ‘That’s a fair reproach, line leader,’ Olvric said after a moment. ‘We were remiss in our guard and will account for it to our superiors in due course. But we’d not expected to find Morlider wander-ing loose, least of all so far inland when the Muster patrol the coast so thoroughly.’
His tone was acid and the line leader’s jaw twitched angrily.
His horse took half a pace forward.
‘Enough,’ Sylvriss said severely. ‘I don’t intend to hold a debate in the pouring rain, and in the middle of the night. We’re all tired and cold. With your permis-sion, line leader, I suggest we make camp unless there’s any pressing reason why we should be elsewhere. We’ll have time enough to talk tomorrow.’
Still glowering at Olvric, the line leader reined his horse back. ‘As you wish, ma’am,’ he said.
The following day dawned to a clearer sky but a chill wind blew down out of the snow-covered mountains and rattled the tents and shelters of the hastily rigged camp.
Their immediate task completed with the capture of the Morlider, the Muster was effectively stood down and the line leader made no effort to rouse his riders early following their recent prolonged riding.
Pulling his cloak about him he left the tent which housed the captives and walked towards the Fyordyn’s small shelter.
Discreetly he eased back the entrance flap and, crouching down, peered inside. As he did so, a hand moved quickly in front of him. He caught a glimpse of a knife but, before he could react, the blade was resting against the side of his neck, and the edge of the hand pressing against his throat. The contact of the hand had a purposeful reality in it more awful than the cold blade, and while he sensed no real danger, he knew that an unpleasant death could be less than a breath away.
‘Don’t move,’ said a soft voice needlessly.
Without turning his head, the line leader cast a sideways glance at his captor. ‘I was coming to apologize anyway, Goraidin,’ he said. ‘A night’s sleep makes a difference.’
The knife disappeared and Olvric laughed.
‘It does indeed,’ he said. ‘The Morlider caught us both by surprise, I suspect.’
The line leader nodded his head in agreement, then shook it to decline Olvric’s beckoned invitation to enter.
‘We must talk,’ he said simply. ‘Will you join me for a meagre portion of cold field rations?’
‘Oh, dear,’ said Yengar, sitting up. ‘Too long in the saddle eh, line? Does that mean it’s going to be short commons all the way to Dremark?’
The line leader looked appreciative. The Fyordyn would decline to eat well while their rescuers fasted; it was a heartening gesture.
‘No,’ he said. ‘Perhaps only for a day. I’ve sent mes-sengers out with the news of the capture of the Morlider and asking for more supplies. I told them to make no mention of your arrival. I thought that best until I’d spoken with you. The unexpected arrival of the Ffyrst’s daughter with such a small escort obviously betokens trouble somewhere.’
Olvric nodded.
‘Be quiet and shut the door,’ someone said sleepily.
The two Goraidin exchanged a glance and then joined the line leader outside. Before leaving however, they folded back the entire front of the shelter.
As the three walked through the wakening camp, the line leader introduced himself. ‘I’m Girvan,’ he said. ‘Girvan Girvasson, brother to Girven, head of the third house of Orness in the Decmill of Westryn, cousin to Rannag, daughter of… ’
Yengar laid a hand on his arm. ‘Please forgive us,’ he said. ‘But Riddin lineages bewilder us Fyordyn at the best of times and, to be honest, both Olvric and I have difficulty beyond our own first cousins. Girvan will suffice.’
Girvan looked at him uncertainly for a moment, then he nodded significantly. ‘I take no offence,’ he said. ‘I seem to remember some such problem with Fyordyn in the past.’ He wrinkled his forehead in concern. ‘It must make your lives very difficult,’ he added.
‘We manage, Girvan,’ Yengar said. ‘We manage.’
Girvan led them to one of several large tents. Inside was a scene of modest chaos as its occupants were rousing themselves and preparing for the day with varying degrees of stoicism and dignity. They all stopped and stared as the two Goraidin were ushered in, but the brief unease passed as Girvan appeared behind them.
‘Riders,’ Girvan called out. ‘I need to talk to our friends.’
Without debate a space cleared around what Yengar took to be Girvan’s sleeping area. Girvan beckoned to a young woman nearby. ‘Lennar,’ he said. ‘Could you fetch us whatever the cook’s managed to scrape together this morning?’ He held up three fingers.
The woman nodded and smiled, and pushed past them to reach the entrance. As she passed Yengar, she looked him up and down curiously. Yengar smiled uncertainly then started, as with a resounding thwack her hand landed on his behind. It was followed by some laughter and applause from the other Riddinvolk. Yengar felt himself blushing.
‘Lennar!’ Girvan said with stern paternalism, then reassuringly to Yengar. ‘It’s all right,’ he said. ‘She’s just skittish. You’ll have no problem while we’re in camp. Sit down, sit down.’
Yengar did so, quickly.
Girvan came straight to the point. ‘Why are you here, Fyordyn?’ he asked. ‘With the Ffyrst’s daughter amp;mdashyour Queen. And why do you ask us to keep these Morlider amp;mdashsomething we’ve never done.’
Yengar looked around the tent. People were coming and going, stowing their equipment and generally preparing to break camp. None seemed curious about their line leader’s private conference. He realized it was a protective habit that the Riddinvolk must have developed through spending much of their lives in such communal quarters.