If they were anywhere but inside that ring of emerald, he would know it. He would find them.
He would find them and make them pay for their disloyalty.
AGREAT WHOMPof wings overhead had Brie scanning the dark sky above her. There was no moon, but she possessed the excellent night vision of a born hunter.
High above her, an enormous bird circled against the backdrop of clouds. If only she had her bow she could easily pick it from the sky. A creature that size could feed the Tinkler families she traveled with for a good two days.
But her bow was neatly stored in her room at Castle MacGahan, and her sights were set on larger prey. Tonight she foraged for information to help her in her quest for revenge. Tonight she tracked Torquil MacDowylt. Once she had a feel for his routine and habits, then she could formulate a plan to make him pay.
She pulled the cloak she’d borrowed from Eleyne closer around her face. It was too short by far, but in her experience men didn’t waste time looking at a woman’s feet. It was her face she wished to hide. If she slumped down a bit and kept her face to the shadows, she stood a chance of being mistaken for one of the old women who lived here at Tordenet.
If she were careful enough, she just might manage to avoid contact with everyone.
Though the iron gates had been shut for the night, the small wooden entrance to the massive castle wall had been left open. She could thank the small but steady stream of women from the castle out to the Tinklers’ wagons for that. Women everywhere loved an opportunity to inspect the Tinkler wares, even if their laird did not approve.
She crossed the empty courtyard and made her way up the main staircase, expecting at any moment to be challenged as to her intent.
But not even when she slipped into the dark entry hall inside did she see anyone. Her luck was holding! And luck, as her da had been fond of saying, could often save a man. Or, in her case, a woman.
If the little kitchen maid had told her true, the stairs toward the back of the great hall should lead her where she needed to go. The young woman had been adamant in her claims that though the lord and master of Tordenet slept in the laird’s chambers on the second floor, he spent all his days in this tower.
If this was where he spent the better part of his time, this would be where she would learn the most about him.
Brie’s feet slowed as she reached the heavy wooden door at the top of the narrow staircase. What if Torquil MacDowylt had not yet retired to his chambers? What if she walked in on him? It would be the end of her schemes before they’d even begun.
No! No morewhat ifs. She was here and she would go through with it.
The door opened easily, allowing her entrance into a tiny room illuminated only by dying embers in its small fireplace. This hardly looked to be a place for the great Torquil MacDowylt to spend his days. Castle MacGahan had storage rooms larger than this. This room, with its solitary chair, presented itself more as a guard’s outpost than a room a laird would use.
Brie turned in a tight circle, scanning the walls until she spotted a narrow door. A door with a slit of light splashing out where the wood didn’t quite meet the stone floor.
Her breath caught in her chest. A light that bright could mean he was in there. She crossed to the doorand positioned her ear against the wood. Holding her breath, she listened for any sound coming from the other side. Nothing. Perhaps with his great wealth, MacDowylt thought nothing of leaving a fireplace burning in an unoccupied room.
Only one way to know.
Squaring her shoulders, she leaned against the door, pushing it ever so slightly open. A space large enough for nothing more to enter than her fingers. She waited, breath held, for the sound of boots against stone.
Not a single noise met her straining ears.
Another push and she slipped inside.
This room, many times larger than the one before it, was more like what she had imagined the laird of the MacDowylt might occupy. A great table, strewn with papers and a jeweled wooden chest, sat directly across from the door, an enormous candle burning brightly on either end. Two more candles blazed on the stone shelf behind the table, illuminating the bound manuscripts stacked there.
She stepped slowly across the empty floor, curious as to what might occupy the days of the beast of Tordenet.
Like many elder sons, Torquil appeared to have been well educated. Scrolls and manuscripts littered his table. One, apparently more special and obviously older than the others, lay neatly rolled in the wooden box next to the most fantastic sword she’d ever seen.
Her fingers itched to lift the weapon, to feel its heft balanced in her palm.
She resisted, though it took great self-control, satisfying herself with a stroke of her finger down the length of the engraved blade. The symbols there were unlike any she’d seen before, though they seemed similar to those on the unrolled scroll lying next to the box. Not numbers, not any letters she knew of, these were entirely foreign markings.
Only with a great force of willpower was she able to step away from the intense lure emanating from the box. She wasn’t here to steal from the laird, she reminded herself. Only to kill him. She might travel with Tinklers, but she was not one.
The thought had barely formed before a wave of guilt washed over her. Nothing she’d experienced of the Tinklers supported the rumors she’d heard her whole life. They’d been nothing but kind to her, and they’d certainly done nothing to make her think they were thieves. If anything, the minstrels were more likely to fit that mold than the Tinklers.
Another step back from the table and the pull of the sword weakened enough to allow Brie to collect her thoughts.
She was here for information, not treasures. Information that could help her determine the best way, the best time, the best place to gut the beast who’d murdered her father.
