high island was a single-masted fishing lugger with a blue hull. It was almost certainly the same boat that had cruised past two tennights ago.
Dear God! Was it possible that Rusgann had signaled Vik Waterfall to come ashore?
In her haste, she tripped and fell, spilling the contents of the basket into a tidepool. She muttered an oath and hurried to retrieve only the important things – the knife and the finely made wooden cups – thrusting them into the capacious pockets of the peasant apron that was part of her everyday garb at the steading. Unencumbered now, she scrambled over the rocks as fast as she could. Some of them were house-sized or even larger, with narrow gaps between them that had to be threaded with care. She was still unable to see much of the cove shoreline ahead, but she was encouraged by the occasional sight of footprints on patches of wet sand. Dyfrig and Rusgann had certainly come this way.
At last she came out onto the narrow beach, and pulled up short.
About twenty ells away, a leather coracle was drawn up on the strand, one of the lightweight watercraft with whalebone frames that the smaller Tarnian sailing boats often used as tenders. Two men stood near it, hailing her approach with eager shouts. Rusgann sat on the pebble-strewn sand a short distance away from them, with her back pressed against a half-buried boulder and Dyfrig huddled against her skirts. The maid’s hair was disheveled and her face distorted by fury.
The older of the two men came striding toward Maudrayne, and her heart sank as she realized that he was not her affable old acquaintance Vik Waterfall but rather the latter’s younger brother Lukort, a character notorious in former years for his violent temper and unsavory dealings. Eleven years ago, the Waterfall clan had banished him for stealing lobsters from the traps of other fishermen. Yet here he was, wearing a skipper’s cap, in charge of his brother’s boat.
Lukort Waterfall was sinewy, straggly-bearded, and not very tall. His eyes, almost as pale as a wolf’s, were close-set under bushy brows. He wore a vest of pieced and embroidered sealskin, canvas trousers cut off at the knees, a belt with a tarnished silver buckle, and high seaboots. His companion was a burly, oafish-looking youth with a soup-bowl haircut, a heavy jaw, and cheeks as smooth as a girl’s, clad in a homespun tunic and trews of undyed wool. His huge feet were bare.
‘Princess Maudie!’ Lukort exclaimed, doffing his cap with a flourish and bowing deeply. ‘You took long enough gettin’ round the point. We feared you had a mishap.’
‘Mama!’ Dyfrig screamed. ‘Run!’
Before her shocked mind could react, Lukort rapped out a command to the younger man, who darted to the boy, wrenched him away from Rusgann, and clapped a big hand over his mouth.
The maid sprang to her feet shrieking, ‘You stinking whoreson, let him loose!’ The youth fetched her a casual blow in the stomach with his fist and she fell moaning to the stony sand.
His mouth temporarily freed, Dyfrig again cried, ‘Run away, Mama!’
‘Don’t move!’ roared Lukort. A split second later his tone was wheedling and conciliatory. ‘Be easy now, princess. My son Vorgo and I won’t hurt the wee smolt and we won’t hurt you…So he’s your boy, is he? Well well! Yon wench said he was hers! A liar as well as a foulmouthed hellcat, ain’t she?’
Vorgo smirked, keeping a firm hold on Dyfrig as he wriggled. Rusgann struggled to her feet and stood a few feet away from the pair. Her face was unreadable.
‘I know you, Lukort Waterfall,’ Maudrayne said in a stern voice. ‘How dare you mistreat my child and my servant?’
‘The twitch needs to be taught good manners. Got a nasty mouth on her. As to the lad, no one’s mistreatin’ him. We just don’t want him runnin’ off afore you and me have a chance to talk business.’
‘Business?’ Her mind was a turmoil of conflicting emotions. ‘What kind of business?’
‘The world thinks you be dead, princess. Your brother Liscanor was in a black rage when the news come to Northkeep. He tried to talk the other sealords into makin’ war on Conrig Ironcrown to avenge the insult to you and your family. Nothin’ come o’ that. Tarn had too many other troubles, and now we’re part of the Sovereignty whether we like it or not.’ He shrugged. ‘But here you be, alive – thanks to the God of Heights and Depths! – and with a fine young son to boot. Imagine that! How old would the little fella be? About four, eh?’
She said nothing, feeling the hairs at the back of her neck creep with apprehension. The crafty devil had guessed who Dyfrig’s father must be.
Lukort murmured something to Vorgo, who hoisted the child to his shoulder and strode to where the coracle lay. He cut off a piece of line to bind Dyfrig’s wrists, put him into the skin boat, and cast off, heading for the lugger anchored behind the small island.
The skipper beckoned to Maudrayne. ‘Come closer. No need to keep shoutin’ one at t’other. Don’t worry about your lad. I told my son to take special good care o’ him.’
She came slowly toward Lukort, stopping well out of easy reach. It would not do to underestimate the cleverness of this villain. She spoke to the maid. ‘Are you badly hurt, Rusgann?’
‘Nay, my lady. The young lout only punched the breath out of me. The lad and I came on the two men here when we rounded the point. Dyfi was all happy and excited, but I warned him he must say nothing at all until we knew they intended no evil. This Lukort was polite enough at first, asked if I knew the Lady Maudrayne Northkeep who lived nearby with the sea-hag. Said he was one of Lord Liscanor’s subjects, come to see if you were being kept here against your will.’
Maudrayne turned her gaze to the fisherman. ‘Two tennights ago, you saw me at Dobnelu’s steading through your spyglass.’
He nodded, all joviality. ‘And wasn’t it a great shock, seeing a queenly redheaded beauty carrying a milkpail from the old hag’s byre! Us seamen give Dobnelu’s fjord a wide berth accounta her curses. But nothin’s to stop us peepin’ at the place as we sail on by. I studied through the glass and nigh jumped out o’ my skin when I realized ‘twas you: Ironcrown’s wife that was supposed to be drownded in Cathra, alive and well and back home in Tarn. I pondered it for days, wonderin’ what to do.’
‘Wondering how he could turn his discovery to profit!’ Rusgann growled.
‘And did you tell others of what you’d seen?’ Maudrayne inquired.
‘Only a few good mates who know to keep their gobs shut. Needed advice, didn’t I, to figger the best way to outwit the sea-hag.’
Maudrayne said, ‘I’m surprised you dared risk her wrath, setting foot on this forbidden shore.’
A look of low cunning spread over the skipper’s face as he took from his shirt a small pouch hanging on a string around his neck. ‘Got me special charms for that. Vorgo, too. Cost every silver mark I owned to get ‘em from Blind Bozuk the shaman. This here lets us cross the hag’s magic circle of stones without her knowin’. Bozuk said it’d only work on Solstice Eve, when the fires of sorcery burn wan in the midnight sun. We waited till the time was ripe, then sailed back here in my lugger Scoter, keepin’ far out from shore. We came into Useless Bay with the centerboard up, mostly using sweeps to drive the boat. Mortal hard work it was rowin’, but we stayed clear of the shoals and made it to this cove, outta sight of Dobnelu’s steading. We was all set to go afoot along the fjord and creep up to the farmhouse, when the wench and the lad come along.’
Rusgann said, ‘I was fool enough to say you were following us along the shore, my lady, when I thought the men might be friendly. This one started whispering to that blockhead son of his. The lackwit blurted out something about hiding behind a rock and grabbing you when you appeared. I tried to run with Dyfrig then, but they caught us and knocked me down.’
‘And now you intend to kidnap us, Lukort Waterfall?’ Maudrayne said contemptuously.
‘Rescue you, princess!’ The fisherman’s voice was laden with false reproach. ‘First I figgered to