“Is this everyone?” Navarra asked mildly, looking over the group standing before him, his eyes lingering on the oldest daughter, the striking one with brown, no red hair. She looked up at him defiantly, as only the very young could do. His gaze traveled up and down her body, though her long skirts effectively hid her figure. Nice chest, he thought before coming back to her face. She pulled the little one standing by her side closer, and Navarra had the distinct impression she wanted to cross her arms in front herself. He smiled again, the second time in as many minutes. It did not make anyone feel any better.
“Yes,” Thomas answered.
“And they are?”
“Wellman, my houseman; Gale, who helps with the ale; Samantha, Beth and Arabelle, my daughters and Murl, my cook and housekeeper,” Thomas answered.
“Ah,” Navarra began while dismounting. Sergeant Lindsay and the others immediately followed suit. Thomas’ heart sank. “We are looking for Afton Sath. He was here.”
Thomas blanched, though struggled hard to control his face. Wellman and Murl could be counted on not to give information away easily, but his daughters were another thing all together. They had all spent hours coaching Beth, knowing that this day would come, but Thomas despaired that the little one would be able to keep the secret under any sort of pressed interrogation. “We have not seen Afton Sath. If he was here he did not announce his presence,” he answered, spelling out for everyone their position on the matter.
The Executioner turned to stare at him for several long moments and then his gaze moved down the line to Wellman before finally settling on Samantha. He moved forward until he stood directly in front of her.
Striking, he thought, looking directly into her eyes. Predictably, she stared back, still defiant. “When was Afton Sath here?” he whispered to her, his voice soft, as if they were two lovers in bed.
Samantha continued to look into his eyes, afraid that if she looked away it would be construed as guilt. “Afton Sath has never been here,” she answered back a little too loudly. Navarra was close enough that he felt her breath on his face, but he moved closer still, his face stopping less than a foot from hers.
“Never?” he whispered, captivated by the flush of her cheeks, her flawless skin. He moved even closer until Samantha began to fear he would attempt to kiss her, or perhaps do worse to make her talk. If he did, she was not at all sure her father would be able to hold his tongue and that could mean death for them all.
“Never,” she answered firmly, finally dropping her eyes.
Navarra stood there, very close and completely still, but said nothing.
“Uncle,” Beth said from down below, breaking the spell which surrounded them.
Navarra glanced down. The little girl was looking up at him expectantly, gently pulling on his riding cloak to get his attention.
He knelt down. “Uncle?” he asked.
“She calls every strange man uncle,” Arabelle explained, her voice fast and high pitched.
“Uncle,” Beth said again, then curled one finger at Navarra, motioning him to come closer still, like she would share a secret with him.
Navarra bent forward and she moved her mouth close to his ear.
“Would you like a sugared biscuit?” she whispered, though everyone in line could hear her in the quiet of the morning.
Navarra frowned, not expecting the question. “Yes,” he answered spontaneously, humoring her.
Beth leaned back and held up both hands apologetically. “Sorry we don’t have any.”
Navarra jerked in surprise, anger suddenly on him, wondering if the little girl was trying to play him for a fool.
“Has Afton Sath been here?” he barked at her, showing his temper.
The little girl went wide-eyed with fear. “Afnnsath,” she stammered, butchering the name. “Is he a dog?” she asked, clearly holding back tears.
Navarra stood up without answering. He realized then that Afton Sath could not have come by here. He turned to Thomas. “If he turns up you will report it immediately or pay the consequences. It would be unfortunate to lose such a charming family,” he added briskly.
Thomas nodded as he watched the Executioner turn away and mount his horse. No one in line dared to breathe or show any relief. Once he was on Kronos, Navarra paused to stare at Samantha for another few moments, he noticed that her breast were moving up and down quickly with her breathing, but otherwise she showed no emotion, then he turned his horse and they headed back the way they had come.
VII
The next evening Gwaynn waited on the extreme western side of the island. He sat on the very edge of a high, rocky bluff, listening to the waves crash onto the shore below. He was gazing out at the horizon, in the direction of the King’s Island. In fact, on extremely clear days, the Island of the High King could be glimpsed in the far distance; at least for those with very sharp eyes. Gwaynn sat quietly, enjoying the breeze coming off of the sea, and watching the stark, white birds drift overhead as they rode the winds.
He waited for nearly an hour before he finally heard footsteps very close behind. He spun around, startled even though he was expecting a companion. He stood up and nodded to the newcomer, who bowed low.
“I have come as you requested, my King.”
“Am I?” Gwaynn asked standing and looking down at the prone young man before him.
Krys took the opportunity to look up at his new liege. “Yes,” he answered, “now and unto death.”
Gwaynn stood in silence for a long moment and then signaled for Krys to rise. “Very well; if you mean what you say I have a request of you.”
“Anything, my King.”
“After the year end Competition, during your leave, I wish you to go and visit the seaport of Heron. There you are to look up a man named Paulo and his wife Karla. You may tell them, and only them, that I am alive and with their help I would like you to start a search.”
“A search for what?”
“Not what, but who,” Gwaynn went on. “I would like you to search for Afton Sath.”
Krys gasped. “The Massi Weapons Master! You believe he lives?”