But she didn't know if the dream reflected what had really happened or something she wanted to have happened. They looked at each other, both uncertain, both unwilling to declare themselves.
He shrugged.
"Perhaps we should leave it until you're stronger," he said. She studied him carefully. "Was it really that awful?" she asked.
A dark look entered his eyes as he remembered those grim moments.
"Yes. It was, Alyss. But as I told you on the night, you saved my life. And that's the important thing." There was a long silence.
"Any sign of the relief column from Norgate?" she asked. She sensed that he was relieved to hear the conversation move on to a safer, more general, topic.
"Our scouts say they're ten days away."
"What about the Scotti?" she asked. After all, they were an immediate threat, and they were closer than the Norgate forces. But Will shrugged.
"I doubt they'll be coming. You knew we let MacHaddish go, didn't you?"
She sat up straighter at that news. "Let him go? Whose idea was that?"
"Mine, actually. And everyone else reacted pretty much the way you just did when I suggested it."
"Well, then – " she began, but he cut her off.
"We brought him here first and showed him that the castle was fully garrisoned by wild Skandians. Plus some of Orman's original men have begun to filter back in. So we showed him around, told him the relief force from Norgate was due any day, then turned him loose to report back to his commander."
He didn't mention that he had also taken MacHaddish to one side and made him a personal promise: If your army comes back here, you will be the first one I look for. The Scotti general hadn't been frightened by the threat. But he knew it was genuine, and he respected it.
"So," Alyss said thoughtfully, "he'll report that Macindaw is back in enemy hands, and probably a tougher nut to crack than it was before."
"Exactly. Skandians will be much harder opponents than your average provincial soldier. They're professionals, after all." There was a note of pride in his voice, and she couldn't help smiling at him.
"You really like them, don't you?"
"Skandians?" he said. "Yes, I do. Once they give you their word, they will never go back on it. They're terrible enemies, but they make the best allies you could ask for. Horace says if he had an army of them, he could conquer the world."
"Does he want to conquer the world?"
He smiled. "Not really. It's just the sort of thing warriors say."
"And what about you? Any dreams of world domination for you?"
He shook his head. "I just want to get back to my peaceful cabin at Seacliff Fief."
"I seem to recall there was a pretty little innkeeper's daughter back there?" she said. Her tone was light and teasing, but there was a purpose behind the question. Will shrugged.
"Oh, I'm sure she's forgotten all about me by now."
"I doubt it. You're not an easy person to forget."
He said nothing. He didn't know how to answer that, and the silence between them grew longer. Abruptly, he became aware that he was still holding both her hands. He released them and stood, sending the chair skating back on the floorboards.
"I'd… better be going," he said. "Malcolm told me not to tire you out."
She forced a yawn in reply to make things easier for him. She was, after all, a trained diplomat.
"I am a little sleepy," she said. "Come by tomorrow and see me again?"
"Of course." He made his way to the door, unwilling to turn his back on her, and sidled out, half waving, half saluting as he went. "Well, I'll see you then, then." He realized how stupid that phrasing sounded.
She waved, just fluttering her fingers at him, and smiled goodbye. He groped for the door handle, got it open somehow and went out, closing the door behind him.
In the anteroom, he paused, leaning his forehead against the rough stone of the wall.
"Oh, damn it all," he said quietly.
In the bedchamber, Alyss was saying exactly the same thing.
39
The relief force from Norgate clattered across Macindaw's lowered drawbridge and filed through the gatehouse into the courtyard.
There were twenty mounted knights and a hundred marching men-at-arms, and all of them stared around curiously at the grinning Skandians who manned the battlements. Sir Doric, the Battlemaster of Norgate, who was leading the force, saw the small welcoming group waiting in front of the keep and turned his horse toward them. Will noted that there was a Ranger riding beside him. That would be Meralon, he thought, the Ranger assigned to Norgate Fief. He knew little about the other man, but he had heard that he was inclined to be stuffy and a little set in his ways.
Orman, wearing a heavy gold chain from which hung the official seal that marked him as chatelain, stepped forward to meet the two riders. Will, Horace and Malcolm stayed back, in deference to Orman's reinstated authority.
Sir Doric raised his hand and called the order for his men to halt and stand at ease. He and Meralon continued to walk their horses forward. It was a formal moment, but the formality was shattered when a figure burst from the second rank of mounted men. He was riding a horse much smaller than the battlehorses who surrounded him, and up until now, he hadn't been visible. Now, however, he slid out of the saddle and raced across the intervening space, falling to his knees before Orman.
"My lord!" said Xander. "We're here at last. I'm sorry it took so long! I did all I could!"
Will, watching Sir Doric, saw a frown of disapproval cross his features. There was a certain protocol that should be followed at moments like this, and the Battlemaster seemed to feel the secretary should know that.
Sir Doric, it should be noted, was something of a snob.
" That's all right, Xander," Orman told him. Then, in a lowered tone, he added, "Do stand up, there's a good fellow. The leader of the relief force wants to tell us that we're safe."
Xander took up his position behind Orman. Doric and Meralon brought their horses to a standstill, and both men dismounted. It was Will's turn to frown. Politeness dictated that they should have waited until Orman invited them to step down. If Orman was offended, however, he showed no sign of it.
"Welcome to Castle Macindaw. Sir Doric of Norgate Fief, isn't it?" he said. "I'm Orman, castle lord."
Sir Doric slapped his gauntlets on his thigh once or twice. He looked around the courtyard before answering brusquely, and a little distractedly, "Mmmm? Yes. Yes. What the devil are all these Skan-dians doing here?"
A tiny frown creased Orman's forehead. In the weeks since he had been forced to flee his own castle and hide in the forest, he had lost much of the sardonic behavior and superior attitude that Will had first noticed in him. It was remarkable what a few weeks spent roughing it in the forest could do for a man, Will thought.
" They appear to be defending the castle," Orman said quietly. "Surely Xander told you they were helping us?"
But Doric's eyes were still roving the battlements. "Mmm? Yes. Your man said something about mercenaries. But I thought you would have got rid of them by now. Not safe to have them inside the castle, what?"
"Some of their friends died getting in here," Orman told him. "I thought it would be churlish to ask them to leave straightaway."
Doric made a shooing gesture with the back of his right hand, rather as if he were brushing flies away. "No. Get rid of them. My men are here now. You don't need these damned Skandians!"