“Get back inside, you rat-bitten, motherless dog.”
Arutha looked downward into the courtyard and saw Amos Trask kicking at the panic-stricken figure of a fisherman, who dashed back into one of the many rude huts erected inside the wall of the castle to house the last of the displaced townsfolk who had not gone south. Most of the townspeople had shipped for Carse after the death raid, but a few had stayed the winter. Except for some fishermen who were to stay to help feed the garrison, the rest were due to be shipped south to Carse and Tulan this spring. But the first ships of the coming season were not due in for weeks. Amos had been put in charge of these folk since his ship had been burned the year before, keeping them from getting underfoot and from causing too much disruption in the castle. The former sea captain had proved a gift during the first weeks after the burning of the town. Amos had the necessary talent for command and kept the tough, ill-mannered, and individualistic fisherfolk in line. Arutha judged him a braggart, a liar, and most probably, a pirate, but generally likable.
Gardan came up the stairs from the court, Roland following. Gardan saluted the Prince and Swordmaster, and said, “That’s the last patrol, sir.”
“Then we must only wait for Longbow,” said Fannon.
Gardan shook his head “Not one patrol caught sight of him, sir.”
“That’s because Longbow is undoubtedly closer to the Tsurani than any soldier of sound judgment is likely to get,” ventured Arutha. “How soon, do you think, before the rest of the Tsurani arrive?”
Pointing to the northeast, Gardan said, “Less than an hour, if they push straight through.” He looked skyward. “They have less than four hours of light. We might expect one attack before nightfall. Most likely they’ll take position, rest their men, and attack at first light.”
Arutha glanced at Roland. “Are the women safe?”
Roland grinned. “All, though your sister might have a few harsh words about me when this is over.”
Arutha returned the grin. “When this is over, I’ll deal with it.” He looked around. “Now we wait.”
Swordmaster Fannon’s eyes swept the deceptively peaceful scene before them. There was a note of worry mixed with determination in his voice as he said, “Yes, now we wait.”
Martin raised his hand. His three trackers stopped moving. The woods were quiet as far as they could tell, but the three knew Martin possessed more acute senses than they. After a moment he moved along, scouting ahead.
For ten hours, since before dawn, they had been marking the Tsurani line of march. As well as he could judge, the Tsurani had been repulsed once more from Elvandar at the fords along the river Crydee and were now turning their attention to the castle at Crydee. For three years the Tsurani had been occupied along four fronts: against the Duke’s armies in the east, the elves and dwarves along the north, the hold at Crydee in the west, and the Brotherhood of the Dark Path and the goblins in the south.
The trackers had stayed close to the Tsurani trailbreakers, occasionally too close. Twice they had been forced to run from attackers, Tsurani warriors tenaciously willing to follow the Huntmaster of Crydee and his men. Once they had been overtaken, and Martin had lost one of his men in the fighting.
Martin gave the raucous caw of a crow, and in a few minutes his three remaining trackers joined him. One, a long-faced young man named Garret, said, “They move far west of where I thought they would turn.”
Longbow considered. “Aye, it seems they may be planning to encircle all of the lands around the castle. Or they may simply wish to strike from an unexpected quarter.” Then with a wry grin he said, “But most likely, they simply sweep the area before the attack begins, ensuring they have no harrying forces at their backs.”
Another tracker said, “Surely they know we mark their passing.”
Longbow’s crooked grin widened. “No doubt. I judge them unconcerned with our comings and goings.” He shook his head. “These Tsurani are an arrogant crew.” Pointing, he said, “Garret will come with me. You two will make straight for the castle. Inform the Swordmaster some two thousand more Tsurani march on Crydee.” Without a word the two men set off at a brisk pace toward the castle.
To his remaining companion he spoke lightly. “Come, let us return to the advancing enemy and see what he is about now.”
Garret shook his head. “Your cheerful manner does little to ease my worrisome mind, Huntmaster.”
Turning back the way they had come, Longbow said, “One time is much like another to death. She comes when she will. So why give over your mind to worry?”