"No problem," she said. "We go by night."
The man gaped at her and a new flurry of protest would have begun then and there had Princess Sapphire not turned a very cool blue gaze on those who would protest.
"Any thoughts on how we might get those ropes anchored?"
Her tone made clear that any thoughts on any other topic were not welcome.
Baron Archer said, "We might work something with arrows, Princess, but I'm not certain any of our bows have the range and the power. Another problem would be securing the ladders, even if we broke through the window glass."
Looking exquisitely unhappy, Firekeeper said:
"Plan as if those ladders or ropes—no more than two or three to start—were hanging down."
She turned to leave. Princess Sapphire called after her:
"Where are you going, Firekeeper? This is your plan."
"I go," Firekeeper said, her expression no less unhappy, "to work how those ropes will fly."
She forestalled further questions by moving toward the door. When Blind Seer rose to follow her, not even the most sycophantic member of the gathering tried to stop her.
There certainly something to be said for having a wolf on your side
, Derian thought, and hoped that Firekeeper was indeed the wolf on Hawk Haven's side, as devoted to that kingdom's efforts as Blind Seer was to the wolf-woman's own safety.
Eventually, Sapphire and Shad decided to trust that Firekeeper would deliver what she promised. A night attack did have its advantages—among them the unspoken one of giving the smugglers more time to sweat and maybe even to surrender.
They ordered their commanders to plan for both a more usual ground assault and for one that would include sending a team in through the glass windows at the top. Some debate was raised as to the possibility that these, too, might be shuttered, but everyone seemed to think that this could be worked around.
Prince Shad, as comfortable as a squirrel in the treetops when confronting riggings, set up a testing ground for those who wanted to volunteer for the topside assault. It consisted of a rope ladder attached not all that firmly to the one remaining wall of the former farmhouse. Alongside it hung a rope with knots interspersed down its length.
Derian wandered over to watch, arriving in time to see one candidate succeed, and another brilliantly and memorably fail.
Doc and Elise had volunteered to be on hand to treat those who might injure themselves during the trials. Derian gave them a nod and a grin as they hurried off to check the man sprawled on the ground, then strolled over—with a confidence he didn't precisely feel—to stand near the prince.
Shad nodded to Derian, motioning him over.
"Come to watch?"
"Come to audition," Derian said, "if that's permitted for someone not enrolled in a militia unit."
Shad hid his surprise quite well.
"It's permitted," he said, "since I permit it. Can you really manage it, or are you being supportive of Firekeeper?"
In answer, Derian walked over to where the ropes were slung. He'd put on soft boots so he'd be able to feel with his feet and light doeskin gloves that kept his hands warm without crippling his sense of touch.
The rope ladder—like so many rope ladders he'd climbed into haylofts and silos—proved no real challenge. Indeed, it bounced less than many of those he'd climbed, since he could always brace himself against the wall.
It took him a moment to remember how to get the right start on a rope, but once he was up he swarmed to the top nearly as nimbly as a sailor.
"Sign him up!" Shad called to the sergeant who was assisting him. Then to Derian, "Have you been to sea?"
"Never," Derian said, pleased that his muscles hadn't forgotten their training, "but my dad had a thing about rope ladders to the haylofts—said it kept down the traffic when the girls had to manage their skirts."
He winked and the prince gave a knowing chuckle.
"And when I was a boy," Derian said, "one of our favorite games was to climb a rope up over the haycart and swing out for a soft landing. We did something similar at the swimming hole in the summer. I must admit, I never thought those games would come in so handy."
Shad nodded, his attention on the next candidates.
"Handy, yes," he said, "though I wonder if your father would think so if he knew that those games would put you in the front of a battle."
Derian, thinking of how Colby Carter still mourned the siblings he had lost in earlier battles, really couldn't answer.
Prince Shad waved to the sergeant.
"Take that one and we'll have enough. Tell those I've chosen that they're to beg or borrow strong, soft gloves and boots—if they don't have them already. We meet in one hour to discuss tactics."
When Derian started to withdraw, Shad put a hand out to stop him.
"Hold a moment, Counselor," he said. "I have to ask you—here where no one can overhear us—what do you think Firekeeper is up to? Do you think she can indeed get us in?"
Derian frowned.
"Two questions, Prince, and two questions for which I have no definite answers. If you would accept guesses instead…"
Shad nodded.
"Then my guess is that Firekeeper is trying to convince some of what she'd call the wingéd folk—birds who are to other birds what Blind Seer is to the wolves we know—to carry ropes up for us. I saw her talking with Baron Archer a while ago and my guess is that she was learning if his archers could make the hole. Then the wingéd folk could carry the ropes up and maybe anchor them somehow. They could also guard from above while we climbed."
Shad's eyes shone.
"That's wonderful! I remember the crow who brought Sapphire her letter. It was a marvelously intelligent bird. Do you think Firekeeper can make them?"
"It's closer to 'convince' than 'make,' " Derian replied carefully. "Firekeeper is always saying how they are not hers."
Sometimes
, he thought, leaving that dangerous idea unspoken,
what is more accurate is that she is theirs
.
Shad was so delighted that Derian couldn't keep from saying a bit more.
"Take care how you voice your pleasure, Prince," Derian said. "I sense that Firekeeper is not completely happy about making public how intelligent the Royal Beasts can be. Even if she pulls this off, it might not be a bad idea to spread a rumor that the animals are her trained pets or something."
"I thought," Shad said slowly, "that she was offended if you referred to Blind Seer or Elation as her pets."
"True," Derian assured him. "Absolutely the correct etiquette—to her face. However, well… When I first met Firekeeper, less than a year ago, her relationships with animals fell into pretty much two categories: those you ate and those you befriended. I remember that she thought we were pretty clever for bringing horses along so we wouldn't need to hunt our meat. It took me a while to show her they had other uses."
"And," Shad said with a laugh that was a touch too hearty, "she clearly still prefers not to ride."
"I suspect that when she finds the right horse," Derian said, "her opinion will change. For now, though, most horses shy when they see Blind Seer and prove more a problem than otherwise.
"The point I'm trying to make, Prince," Derian continued, returning to his original subject, "is that Firekeeper never thought of using animals to do tasks for her—the way we use horses, oxen, hunting birds, dogs…"
"And," Shad said, understanding more quickly than Derian had thought he would, "she is unhappy with the idea that we might transform her wingéd folk into mewed hawks, her wolf companion into a war dog."
"Precisely," Derian agreed. "It might be possible, too, but to do so we would need either to befriend them…"
Images of Elation drowsing on a chair-back in his room flitted through his mind.
"… Or enslave them. If we did the latter, we would make Firekeeper our enemy. She is my friend, but I can say without hesitation that she would make such a vicious enemy that we would welcome Lady Melina back into our homes."
Shad opened his mouth as if to protest, then snapped it shut.
"You may be right. I just remembered how she single-handedly slew all the livestock at Smuggler's Light."
"And came home laughing and thinking it all a great game," Derian reminded him steadily, "except that so much meat had to be wasted."
L
ater that day, Firekeeper came to Prince Shad just as he was dismissing his squad of climbers. Derian had been about to leave with the rest—in addition to the prince and himself there were eight others—when he saw the wolf-woman making her way to the across the meadow. He hesitated, touching Shad lightly on one arm.
"Prince," he said, "I think you may wish to wait a moment. Firekeeper…"
He pointed.
"Red Fox!" Shad exclaimed in soft-voiced surprise. "I never saw her coming and it's broad daylight yet. How did you?"
"I happened to be looking the right way," Derian said dismissively, "and I've learned to keep an eye open for her. Wolves have a sense of humor, you know."
"I didn't know," Shad said curiously.
"They do," Derian grinned. "Mind, it's not very subtle. It falls more into the 'hide behind a tree and jump out at you' category than anything else… so you can understand why I've learned to look for her."
Firekeeper was close enough that she must have overheard the last, but she didn't choose to comment. Her expression remained serious, holding a trace of the unhappiness Derian had seen earlier. For a moment, he thought she was going to admit defeat, but her first words dispelled that notion.
"I see your climbing," she said, offering the prince an abbreviated bow. "Good. There will be ropes."
She outlined her plan then and there. In substance, it was much like what Derian had envisioned. Baron Archer had agreed to delegate archers to break the windows. Bold and Elation would drop the ropes into place, then fly a high guard.
"Am sorry," she said, "I not get more help, but gulls refused and is no time to find others."
Shad smiled reassuringly.
"You've done brilliantly," he said, "and this is best. I'll let the word go out that you're having two of your trained beasts help us."
A flash of anger lit Firekeeper's eyes. Then she seemed to understand. A small smile chased the misery from her features.
"That is good," she replied. Then she returned to the more immediate problem. "Still one thing. How to make the ropes hold. Someone in meeting mention something but I not know the word."
"Grapples," Shad said. He made a series of hooks with his fingers. "Rather like this but made of metal. The rope is fastened to the base. I must see if we have any with us that will be of a weight the birds can lift. If not, the farrier will have to manage something."
He offered them a weary smile.
"I had better go. First I need to tell Sapphire and our commanders that I will be taking in a group through the top. Then I need to speak with the quartermaster and the farrier."
"I'll do that," Derian offered. "You concentrate on the people. I can handle gear."
Shad accepted with a nod and began to walk toward the encampment. Derian's route was slightly different. He glanced at the wolf-woman.
"And where are you off to, Firekeeper?"
"Am going to see Captain Wheeler," she said. "And tell him that I will run front guide through swamp if he wishes."
"Think he'll accept?"
She nodded confidently.
"He rather have me and Blind Seer in front," she said with a wicked grin, "than know that there are wolves in the darkness where he not see them."
T
he letter had provided Waln with a way out—though certainly not the way those who had written it must have assumed he would take. It had been delivered into his hands, its passage through the common room shifting attention from Citrine back to Waln himself.
Breaking the seal, Waln read the long text. Initially, the contents panicked him. He couldn't see a way around the trap that had been laid for him. A strong impulse to fold the letter away took command of him. He was in the very course of doing so when he felt an inkling of the way out.
He laughed, a deep belly laugh that invited everyone present to join in the joke. A few did, though the laughter tapered off uncertainly as they realized that they had no idea what the joke was.
Masking his face with a broad smile, Waln shook out the letter. He almost wished he wore spectacles so he could make a production of putting them on. Omitting that, he angled himself so that the best light was on the page.
"We've received a letter," he said. "I've heard of good gimmicks in my time, but this one about beats them all for brass. Let me read it to you."
Without further hesitation, he read the letter aloud. Normally, Waln didn't consider himself terribly good at such things, but the same manic impulse that had prompted him to bull this through gave him style.
He read, not overdoing it, but shifting his tone slightly to make certain phrases such as "no longer to tolerate your illegal residence upon our lands" and "forcible measures" sound vaguely ridiculous.
When he came to the passages demanding the surrender of himself and Citrine Shield as a guarantor of safety for those who wished to depart, he laughed so hard that he wiped tears from his eyes.
"As if they'd keep
that
promise!" he said, before returning to the text.
He concluded with a rolling recitation of the honors and titles attached to the signatures. Since many of the pirates viewed such nobles' flourishes as unzoranic, these did not intimidate as was apparently intended. Rather they seemed empty braggadocio, like the strutting of a rooster.
"Pretty good rack for a couple of fawns," Waln commented.
A brief, heated discussion of the letter's contents followed. By its end, Waln felt that he could sort the company of smugglers into three parties.
One consisted of those who—although they had heard the letter—did not believe for a moment the likelihood that the terms within would be kept. Many of these had committed crimes in their native lands and had turned to piracy after fleeing. Although a few, like the cannibal cook, might have done nothing illegal in Hawk Haven—other than smuggling, that is—they still did not expect a warm welcome from the local authorities.