AS THEIR MINION LITTER SOARED HIGH OVER TAMMERLAND, Tristan grinned at Rafe’s expense. Serves him right, he thought, after the way he kept me standing in the Sippora River that night.
Tristan believed Rafe to be an immensely brave man. But it was becoming clear that the highlander’s idea of travel was sitting atop a horse or a wagon-not flying through the sky in some contraption carried by Tristan’s bizarre Minions. As he fidgeted nervously in his seat, Rafe grasped the litter’s sides so firmly that his knuckles had gone white.
Ox and Abbey had also come along. Tristan smirked as he heard Ox occasionally bark out seemingly unnecessary orders to the litter bearers. At first Tristan couldn’t decide who the gigantic warrior was trying to impress-him or Rafe. Finally deciding that it was probably a little bit of both, he leaned back and watched the scenery go by.
The prince had several reasons for visiting the highlander camp. He wanted to be sure that everyone had arrived safely, and that Clan Kilbourne elders were content with where Tristan had asked them to stop. He also wanted to order the clan horsemen to the palace, so that they and the Minions could become acquainted with each other’s customs and tactics.
Then there was the need to be sure that the clan was properly supplied with food and other goods. Tristan knew the highlanders’ ways, and he wanted to stem as much thieving as possible. To that end, his reply to the elders through Hector had suggested that they make camp on the northern bank of the Sippora River. The river would grant them all the freshwater they might need, yet also separate them from the many temptations the capital city would present. Should added food and supplies be needed, he had every intention of ordering the Minions to deliver it.
Tristan looked over at Ox. From the first moment he had met Rafe, Ox had been highly skeptical and perhaps more than a bit gruff. He has been listening to Abbey, Tristan surmised. The same sense of distrust had possessed Ox when he had first met Scars, but later the two had become fast friends. Tristan hoped that Ox would also accept Rafe, but he wasn’t betting that their friendship would bloom overnight.
Abbey was no happier to be on this journey than Ox. Tristan also had his motives regarding the herbmistress. If there was a key to Wigg’s heart, it was she. If he could convince Abbey that his bargain with the clan was a good idea, she might help temper Wigg’s protests. Either way, Tristan reasoned, he had nothing to lose by bringing her along. Leaning forward, he decided to have some fun by testing the chilly waters between Ox and Rafe.
“You know,” he said to Ox as he thoughtfully rubbed his chin, “if the clan runs low on food I might have to order you and some other warriors to keep them supplied.”
Ox gave Tristan a respectful look, then glared angrily at Rafe. “IfJin’Sai want Ox to do, Ox will do,” he answered. “But if highlanders go hungry, Ox no care. Why they not just steal food? Wigg say they steal everything anyway.”
Looking away, Abbey snorted out a laugh. Despite his uneasiness, Rafe laughed too. He gave Ox a wry look.
“I wouldn’t worry if I were you,” Rafe said. “You Minions are so fearsome that I wouldn’tdare try stealing anything from you.”
Unsure of whether Rafe was being sarcastic, Ox screwed up his face. “Good,” Ox finally said. “It best you remember that.”
Suddenly the litter banked sharply right. Gripping the litter’s side even harder, Rafe started to appear a little green.
“I no worry if I be you,” Ox said, doing his best to mimic Rafe’s earlier comment. “While Abbey andJin’Sai aboard, warriors nodare drop you!”
Beaming at his own cleverness, he smiled, then folded his arms across his barrel chest. Tristan and Abbey couldn’t help but to laugh. Trying to quell his uneasy stomach, Rafe scowled back grumpily. So much for diplomacy, Tristan thought.
After a time Tristan saw the camp come into view, its colorful wagons dotting the lush fields on the Sippora’s northern bank. He was relieved to see that the clan elders had taken his advice.
“Put us down in the camp’s center,” he ordered Ox. After nodding back, Ox barked out some orders and the litter started downward.
As the passengers disembarked, hundreds of highlanders walked toward them. Looking around warily, Ox stayed close to Tristan. The prince thought about telling him that it wasn’t needed, then decided to let the giant warrior persist in his overly protective ways. Tristan cast his eyes around the growing crowd.
He did not see Yasmin, but something told him that she was somewhere near, and that her seductive eyes were on him. He pursed his lips as he partly came to regret bringing Abbey along. Perhaps it was just as well that Yasmin hadn’t greeted him, for he didn’t need her included in Abbey’s report to Wigg. Not to mention what kind of bawdy outbursts Rafe might utter, should he see them together again!
He saw Balthazar and Gunther approach. Gunther was not smiling, leading Tristan to wonder if he ever did. But the look on the elder’s face seemed to carry more respect for Tristan than before. Apparently Tristan’s unmasking of Arwydd had done much to raise his esteem. The prince reached out and shook Gunther’s hand.
“Is everyone safe and well?” he asked.
“Yes, Jin’Sai, ” Gunther answered. “And you?”
Tristan nodded, then introduced Abbey and Ox. When Gunther extended his hand to the herbmistress, Abbey acted like she was being forced to touch a snake. Tristan cleared his throat and gave her a harsh look. Finally she shook the clan elder’s hand.
“It is a pleasure to meet you,” Abbey said tentatively.
“And you,” Gunther answered. He skeptically raised an eyebrow, reminding Tristan of Wigg.
“I sense that you have your doubts about my clan’s arrangement with your prince,” he added. “Perhaps we can change your mind during your visit. Anyway, rest easy. Our agreement is not permanent.”
Trying to be a bit more cordial, Abbey forced a smile. “I meant no disrespect,” she said apologetically.
Tristan looked over at Balthazar. His fists on either hip, the huge highlander was smiling at Abbey’s expense. His shoulder was still wrapped in Yasmin’s expertly wound bandages.
“And you, Balthazar?” Tristan asked. “How is your wound?”
“Better,” Balthazar answered. “Yasmin has a healing touch. But you’d know all about that, wouldn’t you?” Laughing, he slapped Tristan on the back.
“What does he mean?” Abbey asked. “Who’s Yasmin?”
“A highlander healer,” Tristan answered simply. “She dressed my wound.” He looked at Gunther again.
“Does the clan have enough food and supplies?” he asked.
Gunther nodded. “We have enough for now. Our horsemen are wondering about your plans for them.”
“That’s another reason why I have come,” Tristan answered. “I want them to travel to the palace. They can live among the Minions, in tents set up on the surrounding palace grounds. But I believe it best that they leave their families here. We do not know when the Conclave fleet will come home. During the intervening days I want the warriors and horsemen to learn each other’s tactics. I want them working as a cohesive unit, and the sooner the better.”
Balthazar stepped forward. “That brings us to another question,” he said to Tristan. “If you are killed, who do we take our orders from, eh?” He pointed at Ox and gave the warrior a disparaging look. “If you believe that we will take our direction from those like him, you think wrong,” he added nastily.
Glowering, Ox grabbed the dreggan handle at his side. Freeing the sword a few inches from its scabbard, he took a quick step forward. Tristan quickly shook his head at him. Several tense moments followed as Tristan sized up the situation. This was Balthazar’s first test of Tristan’s leadership, and the prince knew it.
“The Minions have no more right to order you about than you do them,” he answered sternly. “I command you both. In the event of my absence or death, all forces will take their orders from my sister Shailiha. Should she fall, you come under the command of my wizards. In any event, your orders will likely come to you through Rafe, just as my orders to the Minions go through one called Traax. Our foes will be of the craft, and unlike any you have ever fought. If you want to keep your head I suggest that you follow orders, and fully honor your elders’ commitment to me.”
Commanding stares passed between Tristan and Balthazar. After glancing at Gunther and Rafe, Balthazar finally relented. Snorting out a short grunt of approval, Ox shoved his dreggan blade home.
“Very well, dango, ” Balthazar said. “We already know that you are a good fighter. Soon we will see what kind of leader you are.” Then he turned on his heel and walked away.
Rafe leaned closer to Tristan and gave him a sly smile. “Well done,” he whispered. “Balthazar can be difficult to manage. He isn’t known for giving his respect and friendship easily. But once he does he will gladly die for you. I believe you know the type.”
As he watched Balthazar stomp away, Tristan thought of Ox and Scars. “I do indeed,” he answered softly.
Tristan looked at Gunther. “I would like the horsemen assembled,” he said. “For the time being they should say their good-byes to their families. They will be allowed periodic visits back to the camp.”
“There is no need to assemble them,” Gunther answered. “They are practicing their maneuvers as we speak.”
Realizing that this would be a perfect opportunity to show Ox and Abbey what the horsemen could do, Tristan smiled.
“We will go and watch,” he said. “Then Abbey and I will return home. Ox and Rafe will wait here until the horsemen are ready to leave. Then they will escort them to the palace.”
Rafe grinned; Abbey sighed. Ox gave Tristan an obedient but disappointed look.
“Ox do asJin’Sai say,” he answered.
Seizing on the opportunity to badger the warrior yet again, Rafe walked over and put one arm around Ox. He winked at Tristan, then good-naturedly jostled the massive Ox as best he could.
“We’ll do fine, won’t we, Ox?” he chided.
Ox looked at the ground and growled something unintelligible. Sighing, Tristan looked at Gunther.
“Please lead on,” he said.
After nodding back, Gunther started wending a path through the crowd. As Tristan made his way among the highlanders, he saw fewer disparaging looks this time. He took that as a hopeful sign. The highlanders didn’t have to like him, but he needed their respect. That was especially true of the horsemen.
Finally Gunther and his group found their way to the crowd’s farthest edge. A long green field stretched before them. The highlander horsemen were going through their paces.
Gunther called for chairs, and soon some were brought. Tristan recognized them as the same red upholstered ones the elders had used the night he had exposed Arwydd. When the chairs were arranged in a line before the crowd, Tristan and his group took seats. Abbey sat on his left; the one to his right lay empty.
The late Royal Guard cavalry members had been wonderful riders, but even their talents paled before those of the highlanders. While the Royal Guardsmen had learned their disciplined horsemanship on parade grounds, the highlander riders had developed their skills on rough-and-tumble fields and plains, relying on them not only for their defense, but also to produce much of their food. That’s what makes them better in some ways, he realized. They do it because they must, to stay alive on a day-to-day basis.
Some highlander horsemen held swords; others carried bows. Recognizing the prince, they stopped their maneuvers and gathered their horses together. After talking for a moment, the colorful riders started lining up across the field.
Rafe sat on Abbey’s left. Leaning toward her, he smiled.
“It seems that we are in for a show,” he said. Still unconvinced, Abbey said nothing.
A series of targets had been set up midfield. They included straw men and various types of fruit impaled onto poles set into the ground. One by one, the riders carrying bows started galloping toward the straw men.
Yelping wildly, the first one expertly swung out of his saddle, sliding down alongside his horse’s right flank. Gripping his reins between his teeth he hung sideways, nearly touching the ground as his horse thundered forward. Tristan was horseman enough to know that this trick was difficult without simultaneously trying to shoot an arrow. He had seen the highlander riders perform before, but he couldn’t believe that one could hit his target from that position.
Charging hard, the highlander guided his horse toward one of the straw men. With only his left leg over his saddle to hold him in place, he notched an arrow onto the bowstring. Then he pulled the string back and held it there for a moment before releasing it.
Tristan held his breath as he watched the colorful arrow arc through the air. The rider quickly reclaimed his saddle like he had been born in it, then charged his horse to one side. As Tristan watched, the arrow buried itself squarely in the red heart that had been painted onto the straw man.
The crowd cheered and applauded loudly. Tristan found himself on his feet, raising his fists and shouting in admiration. As the cheering died down he reclaimed his chair and cast Abbey a knowing look.
“Well done for a ragtag group of thieves, wouldn’t you say?” he asked.
Scowling, Abbey crossed her arms. “It will take more than that to convince me,” she answered.
Tristan smiled. “Then prepare to be convinced,” he said.
One after another the highlander bowmen each performed the same feat. Not one missed the mark. Then it came the swordsmen’s turns. Shouting vigorously, they started charging toward the impaled fruit pieces.
Like the first riders, they took their reins in their teeth. Tristan watched in rapt fascination as most of them produced not just one sword, but two. Waving their swords in circles, one by one they charged toward the targets.
Rather than approaching one of the targets on either end, the first rider drove for the line’s center. Raising each sword high, he cleanly severed two fruit pieces at once, one on each side. As the others followed suit, the same amazing feat was accomplished over and over again.
Their practice done for the day, the riders turned their horses toward the spectators. In a show of respect, they formed battle lines before Tristan’s chair. As their lathered mounts whinnied and pawed the ground, the horsemen stared calmly at him, waiting for some type of acknowledgment.
Tristan knew that a respectful gesture was called for. Turning to his left, he beckoned everyone to stand. When he bowed, they did as well. The crowd cheered again.
As the riders walked their horses away, Tristan and his group reclaimed their seats. Gunther clapped his hands. Soon some serving girls brought wine, and trays laden with sweetmeats. Not standing on ceremony this time, Tristan helped himself. When Abbey and Ox did not, he gave them stern looks. Finally they relented and joined in.
“Now do you see why I want them with us?” Tristan whispered to Abbey.
Abbey scowled. “All right!” she whispered back. “I’ll admit that they’re excellent riders. But are they more than just a carnival act? Can they fight?”
“Yes,” Tristan answered. “They are among the fiercest I have ever seen.”
Despite viewing the recent demonstration, Abbey shook her head again. “But they’rehighlanders, Tristan!” she protested. Turning to her left, she saw that Gunther was trying to have some semblance of a conversation with Ox. She was sure that the warrior’s conversational skills were not taxing Gunther’s acumen. She turned back to look at the prince.
“If we don’t watch them like hawks, they’ll steal us blind!” she added. “When Wigg and Faegan hear about this, they’ll be positively livid!”
Tristan took another sip of wine. “I know,” he answered. “That’s why you’re going to help me convince them.”
“Why should I?” she asked. “Wigg will believe I’ve gone crazy.”
“Because this arrangement is good for everyone,” Tristan answered. “We get these fighters to help us. In return, the highlanders get a homeland and they promise to give up their thieving ways. I’m not naive enough to believe that all will be converted. But if some are, so much the better.”
Abbey snorted, laughing. “All right, all right,” she finally agreed. “I’ll talk to Wigg for you. But don’t you dare blame me if it doesn’t work!”
Smiling, Tristan lightly clanged his silver wine goblet against hers. “You’ve got a deal,” he said.
Just then Tristan sensed a presence on his other side. He turned to see that Yasmin had slipped into the empty chair on his right. She was dressed beautifully, and her exotic perfume reminded him of recent events that he would rather Abbey didn’t know about. He smiled at her.
“Good afternoon, Jin’Sai, ” she said. She turned her eyes to his bandaged forearm. “How is your wound?”
“It’s healing nicely,” he answered, “thanks to you.”
Leaning forward, Yasmin looked at Abbey. “And who is this lovely lady?” she asked.
For the first time since arriving in the camp, Abbey smiled knowingly. Tristan let go a little sigh of defeat. With a single glance from Yasmin, Abbey understands, he realized. How is it that women always know? Sometimes their unendowed powers of perception rival Wigg’s and Faegan’s magic.
Tristan gestured toward the herbmistress. “Abbey of the House of Lindstrom, I’d like to present Yasmin,” he said simply. “Yasmin is the highlander healer I mentioned.”
“It is a pleasure to meet you,” Abbey said.
“And you,” Yasmin answered.
The three of them chatted for a time; then Abbey placed her lips near Tristan’s ear.
“So that’s the highlander healer who helped you, eh?” she asked. She gave him a coy smile. “From the looks of her, I’d say that their men might gladly be wounded! I’m sure Balthazar was right about her healing touch…”
Saying nothing, Tristan sighed and pushed his tongue hard against the inside of one cheek. He decided that it was time to go-for more than one reason. Standing, he gathered everyone’s attention.
“Rafe and Ox, you stay here and collect the horsemen,” he ordered. “Escort them to the palace as soon as you can. Have them take tents among the Minions and see to any other needs they might have.”
Rafe smiled and slapped Ox on the back. “We’ll join him soon, won’t we, Ox?” he said. Shaking his head, Ox scowled darkly.
After saying his good-byes to Gunther, Tristan looked at Abbey. “It’s time to go,” he said. Turning to look at Yasmin, he smiled at her, then kissed the back of her hand.
“Until next time,” he said. As he let go her hand, her perfume lingered.
“Until next time,” she answered back. “I look forward to seeing the palace.”
“Uh, er-yes,” he answered. Abbey grinned widely again.
After wending their way back through the camp, Tristan and Abbey boarded the litter. Soon six stout Minion bearers had taken them skyward. As Tristan watched the camp grow smaller, his mind turned to the Conclave fleet.
They would be nearing the Citadel by now, he realized. Then he thought about what the Crysenium Envoys had told him. Knowing that he had been unable to warn the fleet, a grim silence overtook him. Seeing the change in him, Abbey leaned closer.
“What is it?” she asked.
“I have something to show you,” he answered. “It is time to see what it can tell us.”
Reaching down, Tristan lifted the gold medallion from his chest; then he closed his eyes. Unsure of what was happening, Abbey looked at him curiously.
In his mind’s eye Tristan envisioned the twin medallions. Just as the Envoys had described, the gold discs started glowing in his mind, then merged to form one.
When Tristan looked again, he saw that Abbey’s face had come alive with surprise. He had expected as much. But then Abbey saw the scene depicted on the medallion, and a look of terror seized her.
Quickly turning the medallion up, Tristan looked at it. As he did, his heart skipped a beat.