Casting Is The Hound - Part I

Konnichiwa boys and girls (and assorted others). Welcome to another WTF blog entry (WTF standing for Wooden Tooth Factory, as I'm sure you all realised) in which we find the second instalment of the little series I began last time. As is my wont, I am putting this figment of my imagination out there with very little editing, and since it's a month since my last post, I'm putting it out there now. However, I'm not best pleased with it, so you may see a better/different version in a bit once I've figured out what I'm doing wrong.

Apropos of nothing, I'm also filling up my otherwise unoccupied days with a mad, mad project to teach myself Japanese. Two weeks in, progress is いい (good), but fairly obviously it's taking time away from my writing. Maybe that's why I can't figure this storyline out properly.

Anyway, on with the show. Please feel free to point out things that don't feel right, or don't work for you, or are badly spelled (I seem to have got into a habit of writing 'out' instead of 'the' - don't ask me how :s ).

あいぢに

(love Jenni)


Casting Is The Hound - Part I

April ended on a wet note that year. After nearly two weeks of dazzling sun, the skies clouded over, and for nearly two days the rain poured down.  It was with hope, therefore, that Mayday dawned damp but clear.

In the city of Dore, the four ruling dukes gathered to bid farewell to Lord Gidreus Leighton, Viscount of Coristorn, and courier of a very important message. It was the message that warranted the eight veterans that formed the highly skilled honour guard, not the young Lord himself. Orders, too sensitive to be committed to parchment - orders to the northern Lords in their fight with the rebels.

From Dore, it was a two day ride to Leighton's initial destination, the Barony of Beaslind. Midway, the party would stay the night with Leighton's uncle, Lord Elias Gornton, at his country estate outside the village of Pins. Deep in the heart of the kingdom, the Gornton family had never been concerned with border skirmishes or raids, and the estate reflected that. The single reason the honour guard had agreed to stop there was that it was marginally safer than sleeping outdoors. Still, it was less than satisfactory. Every precaution was taken to ensure Lord Leighton's journey from Dore to Beaslind was as uneventful as possible.

Sharp sword and watchful eye accompanied the group as it rode out of Dore on the first day of May. The cessation of the rain was considered a good omen. Avoiding the main roads, the group set a brisk pace towards Pins.

Two days earlier:

In the back room of Dengrove's village tavern, Sefton Brin stared at the map in front of him, and felt something wasn't right. New markers, indicating guards patrolling in pairs, were being laid out according to information received just that morning. His lieutenant sat on the other side of the table, considering how their plans were to change. For now, he let the litany of positives and negatives wash over him, listened to the rain beating against the walls, and worried about the map.

"Sef."

Of course, it wasn't unusual that Lord Gornton should be tightening his defences. His nephew was an important man, maybe even a game changer. If they could get their hands on the information he was carrying... No, it wasn't a surprise, but there was something wrong with it all the same.

"Sefton."

"What?" He realised someone was calling his name. Lieutenant Lisha Jacquette grinned at his absentmindedness and jerked her head sideways at a new arrival.

"Sorry to disturb ye, sir." A young man was standing just inside the doorway, clearly with a message to relay. "There's a woman just arrived says she wants to talk to ye. Told her ye're in a meeting, and ye weren't to be disturbed, but she insisted. Said ye'd want to see her."

"This woman have a name?"

"Aislin, sir. Wouldn't give me a last name."

"Ais...?" Surprise took his voice for a moment. "Well. Let her... actually, tell her to wait just a minute while I neaten the corners."

"Sir?"

"You heard me. Off you go."

As the messenger hurried away, Sefton stood up, straightening his shirt.

"We'll finish this later."

"We're heading out this evening, Brin." Lisha reminded him.

"I know. We'll finalise something before then. Let me think on it a bit first."

"This Aislin," Lisha asked as she stood. "Anyone I know?"

"She's an old friend of mine."

"Ahh. I'll get out of your way, then."

"Ahh what?"

"Nothing, sir. It's just that you don't try and smarten yourself up for me."

With effort, Sefton stopped running his fingers through his hair.

"It's nothing like that. We grew up together, is all."

"Of course, sir."

Glaring, Sefton ushered her out of the room. As the lieutenant walked away, he nodded for the messenger to bring his guest through. Returning to the table, he glanced back at the map before putting the matter out of his mind.

He barely recognised the woman that walked through the door moments later. Water soaked every inch of her. Pushing rat-tails of hair from her face, she shrugged herself out of a travelling cloak and draped it over a nearby chair.

"It's near heavy enough to swim through out there." She grumbled, wiping a drop of water from the tip of her nose. "Sorry, I'm getting your floor wet."

"It's good to see you too, Aislin."

She looked up, squinted through the water still trickling down her face, and broke out into a huge grin.

With a squelch, they embraced. Sefton shook the water from his hands as they parted.

"I take it it's raining."

"It's just my luck. I've been six days travelling, and every moment has been glorious sunshine. If I'd been here yesterday, I'd have been fine."

Unobtrusively, the door opened again and someone brought in a tray of hot drinks and a pile of towels. Aislin pounced on the towels.

"Six days?" Sefton frowned as the door closed again. "Altran is only a three day ride from here. How did it take you six days?"

"I took a roundabout way."

"I'll say. And, uh... not that I'm not glad to see you Aislin, but why did you come? Messengers have worked fine in the past."

"Not for this." With a sigh, Aislin slid into a chair and picked up a drink. "I had a rather interesting experience with Lord Bethuel last week."

Stunned silence.

"A shiny copper penny if you can figure out how he found me."

The flippant comment couldn't cut through the sombre mood that filled the room.

"Tell me what happened?"

"There's not a great deal to tell." Aislin summarised her last days in Altran. "I lit out of there pretty quick. He wasn't certain it was me until I ran, but I didn't want to leave it till he was certain, or I'd never have got away."

"And that's why it's taken you near a week to get here." Sefton nodded. "He still might have followed you, though. How careful have you been?"

"Don't worry, Sef. I lost him pretty quick. The scenic route was just to make sure."

"You lost him pretty quick? That doesn't sound like the Hound."

"It was luck more than anything. I laid a false trail - subtle enough that he would believe I'd overlooked it, but clear enough that he didn't start looking for other clues. But he's a clever man. It won't work again."

"Then we'll have to make sure it doesn't need to." Sefton sat back down, elbows on table and chin on hands. "We can probably find you another shop somewhere, settle you back down, but I don't want to do that until I know how he found you."

"I'm not sure we should do it at all."

"You don't want to resettle?"

Aislin sighed.

"Don't get me wrong, Sef, I'm not exactly designed for a life on the road, but if the Hound is on my scent, I can't settle anywhere until he's off it again. The way things stand at the moment, that'll happen with my death or his."

"I know which one I'd go for. But it seems a bit extreme. If you stay out of sight long enough..."

"He won't give up that easily, Sef. This is personal for him."

"Personal?"

A grin and a shrug.

"You know me. I get too close to people."

"You had two conversations with him." He objected incredulously.

"Three."

"What the hell did you say to make this personal?"

"It's more what he said."

Sefton, well aware how Aislin could wheedle secrets from the earth itself, leaned forward with interest.

"What did he say?"

"Never you mind. How about, instead, you tell me why you've been messing around with my plan of the Gornton estate."

A quick glance at the map brought back the nameless worries he had.

"Ah. We got some new information. Reinforced patrols, especially in the northern gardens. It looks like he's expecting us."

"Well of course he's expecting us." Aislin shrugged. "His estate is the weakest link in the chain. That's why we were going in through the north, rather than taking advantage of the weakness in the south east corner, where he'd expect an attack. The question is, why would he reinforce the north that much? It's open ground almost to the horizon - a single guard could alert the entire estate before anyone could get close enough to do any good. It's practically a death trap."

"Except we're going to do it."

"We have a plan. Where did you get this information?"

"One of our lads came in from Pins an hour ago. Some guards were talking about it over a drink in the tavern, and he listened in. You don't like it?"

"I don't see why Gornton would put that many extra men into an area that essentially guards itself. But I haven't been keeping a close eye on the situation there. I'll look into it."

"We don't have enough time. We had word this morning that Leighton plans to leave in two days. The men have to leave this evening, or we won't be there in time."

"No worries, Sef. Just give me a room and some time to myself. You'll have your answers by supper."

"Really? It's already past noon. What can you do in a few hours?"

"What I always do, Sef. Come through for you."

Two hours had passed. Aislin had taken some dry clothes and her meagre pack and disappeared into one of the inn's unoccupied rooms. Sefton held off his curious and impatient lieutenant, hoping that, whatever the Spider was doing, it would cast a light onto what their next move should be. When Aislin eventually emerged, however, neither he nor Lisha were encouraged by her expression.

"Get your men ready, Sefton. They need to move out."

"Our plans are still on?"

"No. The information was correct, but your lad was followed. Whatever men you have billeted here, they need to leave before official eyes see them."

"Followed? By whom?"

"At least a dozen people. I can't be more specific, but the numbers suggest a squad of soldiers."

"Wait." Lisha stepped forward. "How can you know that? You haven't left your room since you got here."

"It's my job to know." She told her briskly. "And those men will be here before evening, so unless you want your position compromised, your troops will have to go."

"A dozen soldiers?" Sefton mused. "We have the manpower to fight them."

"And when they don't report back, someone will come looking. The best you can do is make sure they go home with nothing to report."

"I don't like it." Lisha frowned. "Even if there are soldiers coming in from the northwest, what's to say they followed our lad? Sefton says he knows you, but I don't. Maybe you brought them here. Maybe you have more soldiers ready to take out our men when they leave the village."

"Ahh..." Sefton stood up, intervening. "It's hardly the time, but I guess introductions are in order. Lisha Jacquette, Aislin Kay."

"Jacquette?" Aislin nodded. "Of course. The Tigress of Thern. I should have guessed. You have a fiery tongue."

"You've heard of me? I can't say the same for you."

"She's the Spider." Sefton said quietly.

Surprise stole Lisha's voice, but only for a moment.

"No."

"No?" Aislin smiled.

"The Spider is a man."

"I've heard that. But, moving on," She turned back to Sefton. "The forest to the north would be a good place to camp out until it's safe. It's dense cover, and well away from the road. I also think your lad ought to find a place to camp out for the night too - it'll be easier to fool the soldiers if they don't find him here."

"Agreed. Lisha, move the men out. Take them round the back, though - we don't want to alarm anyone. And get the boy to come and see me. I'll let him know what's going on."

"But..." Lisha stared, then shook her head as though clearing unwelcome thoughts. "So what about Leighton? If we want to get to him, we have to do it at his uncle's, and if we want to do that, we have to leave tonight."

"Not necessarily." Aislin said. "I've been thinking about that. Lieutenant Jacquette, would you pick me out half a dozen men - they don't have to be the best - and get them ready to go to Pins."

"We can't attack the Gornton estate with half a dozen men."

"We're not going to attack the estate. The increased patrols across the northern gardens could be coincidental, but it could mean they've heard of our plans. Either way, we can't risk going in. We'll take Leighton on the road instead."

Silence greeted her announcement, Sefton looking worried while Lisha looked outraged. Lisha's voice returned first.

"You want to take on his honour guard with six men?"

"What's your plan, Aislin?" Sefton asked quietly.

"My plan is to deal with the guards myself. I'll need our men to help escort Leighton back here, but they won't have to square up to professional soldiers, don't worry."

"You think you can take all eight of them out?"

"I do. As long as you have someone in the village who works with leather. And I'll need to talk to the blacksmith, too."

After a quick discussion with the village blacksmith, Aislin retired to a room above the workshop, resolved to stay out of sight of the approaching soldiers. Although it was probably too soon for word of her to have spread through the kingdom, there was no point taking unnecessary risks.

Barely an hour later, a party of soldiers rode into the village and stopped outside the inn. Two men dismounted - a captain and a sergeant - and leaving the others outside, they entered the building.

Sefton, in his role as innkeeper, was there to greet them.

"Evening, sirs." He tugged his forelock respectfully.

"How many guests have you here this evening?" The captain demanded.

"Not many with rooms, sir. Four, at my last count. But the taproom is doin' good business."

"Anyone upstairs, I want them down here where we can talk to them. Same with your staff. You have many people working for you?"

"Not many, sir. There's just Edette, who sees to the cleaning and the kitchen, and Michal to help in here."

"Wife and children?"

"None of either, sir. Not anymore."

"Right. Get on, then. Every soul in this inn, I want them in here."

"Yessir."

It didn't take long to chivvy the guests downstairs. Most people were in the taproom already, and the ones that weren't were more than agreeable once they realised the alternative was an angry soldier hauling them away. Once the innkeeper had returned, the sergeant checked the rooms, then rejoined his captain for the questioning.

"A young man came this way from Pins earlier. Early twenties, fair hair, just under six foot, wearing a hemp jacket with embroidery on the cuffs and collar. Has anybody seen a boy matching this description?"

There was silence, filled with the exchanging of glances and the shaking of heads. After a moment, the innkeeper stepped forward.

"There was a boy in around midday, sirs." He offered. "Dunno about his jacket - he had it off, sir, it's such a muggy day for all it's wet - but the rest fits him."

"What did he want?"

"Some food, and a tankard of ale. He seemed in a mighty rush. I couldn't say where he came from, though, or where he was going."

"Did anyone else see this?" The captain asked the room at large. Again, there were shaking heads and negative mutters. The innkeeper offered another comment.

"Place was near empty at the time - I get folk in for a midday pint round noon, but this was just before that"

"Is there anyone who can corroborate your story?"

"Corro...?"

"Back up. Confirm. Prove."

"No one who's here now, except my girl Edette."

"Anyone who isn't here?"

"Master John Perry had a couple of friends in at the time. He's a shipping agent, comes through Dengrove a fair bit, and stays a while too. Dunno the fellas he was talking to  I expect they've moved on, since they ain't staying here - but Perry'll tell ye straight."

"I'll discuss the matter with him." The captain assured. "Sergeant."

Smartly, the captain and the sergeant marched out of the inn. In the taproom, not knowing whether they were dismissed or not, the patrons ordered another round and gathered around the windows, staring at the crowd gathering outside.

On the common in front of the inn, the boys of the village were being lined up for inspection, bewildered and afraid. Around them, in disapproving but respectful groups, the families of the boys watched and waited for an explanation.

Eventually, the last of the soldiers returned, shepherding the last of the boys. Every young man in the village, from twelve through to nearly thirty, were gathered on the common. The captain gestured a corporal from the ranks, and the soldier began a slow walk along the line.

The younger boys were passed over almost immediately, as were the very oldest. Those in between warranted more scrutiny, with the corporal taking long minutes studying face, hands, and clothes. The village was not a large one, but despite that, it took until full dark before the corporal was satisfied. Shaking his head, he returned to the captain's side.

"He's not here, sir. The boy must have passed through."

"Have we tracked down this Master Perry to confirm the innkeeper's story?" The captain asked the sergeant, waiting nearby.

"Yes sir. His story matches."

"Then get the men mounted and ready to leave. We've wasted enough time here."

"Yes sir."

Almost as suddenly as they had arrived, the soldiers were gone. Not a word was said in apology for damaged property or battered nerves. The youngest boys on the common were almost in tears, while the older men shook with the tension. The grass they stood on was churned up by horseshoes, and the houses they returned to were turned upside down.

In the blacksmith's home, Aislin had been more or less overlooked. The soldiers had taken her for a daughter of the smith, and had passed on in search of male children. Now, she ventured out into the riotous village.

"...no respect for the working man..."

"...know how long it took me to make that pot..."

"...won't be able to save those beans..."

She surveyed the damage she could see from the common. Meticulously-kept gardens in front of houses were trampled, and some housewives had already started sweeping shards of pottery and splintered wood from their homes. In the background, she felt Sefton approach, but didn't turn to greet him.

"So much damage for so little reason." He muttered.

"Soldiers are the same no matter who's in charge." She replied sadly. "Fighters get restless when there's no one to fight."

"You're not defending them?"

"No, I'm not defending them. But whoever owns an army ought to be able to control an army."

"Let's do something about that, then." Sefton smiled down at his childhood friend. In lieu of a reply, Aislin held up a small vial in which a thick liquid sloshed. "What's that?"

"This," She said with a grin, "Is what will get us Leighton."

Accompanied by six men and a protesting Lieutenant, Aislin left Dengrove to their repairs and set off for the village of Pins. It was a day's easy ride from the village. Despite the urgency of the mission, Aislin didn't make them hurry. The men were concerned - understandably, since they were hardly the most skilled with a sword, or accurate with a bow - but Aislin kept their spirits up and attentions occupied.

 Lisha Jacquette argued almost constantly over being left out of key parts of the plan, but Sefton had insisted. Aislin is in charge on this trip, Lieutenant. You take over if there's any fighting, but until then, follow her instructions, and listen to what she tells you. Believe it or not, she's very good at this. Trust her. But orders were only orders - trust couldn't be assigned. Aislin did her best to keep the Lieutenant as passive as she could, and hoped that her attitude would change when they returned with Leighton.

They were in place in plenty of time. Two days later, the small group watched Leighton and his troop of guards ride around Pins and towards Gornton's estate. Once they were certain the group had reached the halfway point safely, Aislin led them about an hour towards Beaslind, and had them camp out of sight of the road. Nothing was said about separating Leighton from his guard. Aislin simply assured them all that it would not be a problem.

The morning arrived. Aislin disappeared for an hour not long after dawn, and when she arrived back, she ordered the men to ride out.

"And the guards have been dealt with, have they?" Lisha asked, ever sceptical.

"They have. Let's get into position."

'Position' was another random point along the road, and they rode hard to reach it. It was almost noon, with the sun high overhead, when a group of riders were spotted on the distant road.

"The guards are still with him." One of the men observed nervously.

"For now." Aislin told him. "We'll need to get as close to the road as possible, but we can't let them see us yet. I'll get Leighton's attention, give you a chance to surround him. If he tries to run, chase him down."

"And if we get into a fight?" Lisha asked casually.

"Then you're in charge, Lieutenant." Aislin smiled. "But I doubt he'll try to fight once he sees that he's surrounded."

"It's not Leighton I'm worried about."

"I know. But he's really the only one worth worrying about. Look, they're stopping to rest their horses."

The group had indeed slowed, and they guided their horses to a grassy patch just off the road. Dismounting, one guard took a mouthful of water from a flask, then handed it round to the others. From their vantage point, they saw Leighton refuse - instead, he pulled out his own flask.

"Wine, no doubt." Lisha said scornfully. "I hear he never drinks water if there's something stronger to be had."

"And yet the king has trusted him with this. Yes, he drinks, and indulges in other things as well, but don't underestimate him. As far as I've learned, he never incapacitates himself. Right, let's move a bit closer. Keep it quiet, though. We don't want to spook them."

They dismounted, and led the horses up the shallow slope towards the road, keeping to the trees.

It didn't take long for Aislin's plan to become apparent. There was a sudden flurry of uncoordinated movement among the guards, each drawing their sword and looking around as though hoping to find an enemy close by. Lisha and the men watched in amazement as, one by one, the eight guards staggered and dropped. After only a few minutes, Leighton was left standing alone.

Aislin left her horse and walked purposefully towards him, making it to the road before approaching. The young lord looked uncertain, vulnerable, and hadn't seen her yet. He clearly wanted to run, but had no one to run from. Hopefully, he wouldn't see her as enough of a threat to make him bolt.

"Gidreus Leighton." She called as she got closer. Stooped over the body of one his fallen guards, she caught him by surprise. He stood, made to run, paused, stooped again to collect the sword of a fallen comrade.

"Stop where you are." He called back. Aislin took one, two, three more steps before obeying.

"I'm not going to hurt you, my lord. I just want to talk."

"And you can talk from there." He gestured with the point of the sword. It was clear he was practiced with the weapon. "I recognise you, woman. You troubled us this morning. Did you do this?"

"I did."

"A rebel, then."

"Oh, I wouldn't say that, my lord."

"You won't take me, traitor. You're no match for me."

"No, I'm not. I'm not a fighter. I'm just here to talk."

"I don't care what you have to say."

"Well, I hope I can change your mind about that, my lord. But this is hardly the place." Aislin smiled, and nodded towards him. "I'm not a fighter, my lord, but my friends are." As he turned and saw himself surrounded, she added, "Please put down the sword. I don't want to see you hurt."

"If you want to take me, you'll take a corpse. I won't reveal what I know."

"I don't want you to."

That made Leighton pause.

"You're carrying orders from the king. Orders concerning the fight between the northern Lords and the rebels." Aislin shrugged. "I can find out about them anywhere. No, Lord Leighton, I don't want you to tell me what you know. I want you to listen to what I know. Afterwards, you'll be returned home, safe and unharmed. Surely it's worth it, for the chance to gather intelligence on us?"

The young lord seemed uncertain. Aislin pressed her advantage.

"I swear that not a single person will ask you about the plans you are carrying. You have very little to lose here, my lord, and so much to gain. Please put the sword down."

"You swear?" Leighton found a point he could argue. "And I should trust you, law-abiding citizen that you are?"

"On that point, nothing I say can really make a difference. If it helps, we could have taken you already. We took out your guards - it wouldn't have been hard to take you the same way." She paused to let that sink in. "But I'm a great believer in talking. I'd much rather you came with us willingly, if not completely happily, than we knock you out and drag you off." She shrugged again. "But either way, you will come with us, my lord."

Silence fell. Aislin let it stretch out, giving Leighton a chance to consider his options. He wasn't a foolish man - there was clearly a much greater chance of escape if he was conscious and cooperative. She watched the reluctant decision take hold.

"Very well." He threw the sword down. "But I will hold you to your word, woman. No one is to enquire after the plans I carry."

"Thank you, Lord Leighton."

"One thing I would like to know, before we leave."

"Of course."

"How did you do it?" He looked down at the eight bodies sleeping peacefully on the grass around him.

Aislin smiled, and motioned for him to step back. Her own men manoeuvred, keeping him contained.

"It was in the water, as I'm sure you've realised." She reached down for the water flask lying discarded where the guard had thrown it. From the seam, she withdrew a long, thick needle, cleverly adapted by the blacksmith in Dengrove. The head had been sharpened, the point blunted. The hole through the head served as a well for the concoction she had brewed in Dengrove, with two grooves skilfully ground into the length increasing the well size. Once the specially sharpened head had punctured through the seam in the leather, the poison had dissipated quickly, turning the water into a powerful sleeping potion.

Leighton, aware of none of the craftsmanship of the needle, saw only the needle and the bodies on the ground, and grew very still. It was with less bravado that he mounted his horse and rode where he was told, surrounded by rebels. Aislin rode at the back of the group, and with her present but out of sight, Leighton was a model prisoner for the entire journey.

They didn't ride back to Dengrove - it was too important a stronghold to risk. Instead, Aislin and her troop took Leighton to a temporary camp half a day's ride north. They arrived after dark, escorted Leighton to the one solid structure at the centre of the group of tents, left him in the care of fresher guards. With the pressure of her first real mission over, Aislin barely made it to her tent before giving in to weariness.

Her day wasn't over, though. Sleep may have come, but that never meant an end to her work. In the darkness of her mind, with dreams pattering at her thoughts, Aislin summoned up the stars.

Understandably, it took a while for Leighton to fall asleep, but once he did, he dreamt of the woman. He didn't know her name, didn't know anything about her, but in his dream she smiled and beckoned him forwards. Together, they picked their way through the bodies of the eight fallen guards, watching the slow rise and fall of their chests as they slept.

He asked why she hadn't killed them.

She told him she didn't kill people for what they believed.

He said she wasn't much of a rebel.

She agreed.

They walked in silence for a while longer. The woman led them away from the guards, across soft grass and into the cool shade of the trees. She had her arm linked with his. It was peaceful.

She asked if he believed that all the rebels should be killed.

He said he did. He added they disturbed the peace, were a threat to other citizens.

She asked what he would think if they wanted to make peace.

He said rebels wanted the king dead, so there could never be peace.

She agreed it was difficult. She explained that she wanted peace.

He asked if she wanted to king dead.

She said no.

He said there should be more rebels like her. He thought that, if there were, maybe they could talk about peace.

She smiled, and said she was glad to hear it.

They continued to walk, but the trees around them began turning to grey. Mists rose up and began swirling around their feet.

The woman said she had to go. He nodded, and the mist rose up further, obscuring everything. When it receded, Leighton was in another dream, and the woman was not there.

Later, when he awoke, the dream left no impression on his memory except for a feeling of tranquility.

"What was the point of taking him if we're not going to ask about the king's plans?" Lisha argued angrily. "I thought you told him that just to get him to cooperate."

They sat in the camp commander's tent, Aislin explaining her intentions while Lieutenant Jacquette and the Commander, Pace Wayland, listened with incredulity.

"Not just, although I guess it helped." Aislin shrugged with indifference. "We don't need to ask him about the plans. They'll be changing them as we speak anyway, so whatever he tells us will be wrong."

"So what was the point of this?" Commander Wayland asked.

"The point was to upset their plans. Just kidnapping Leighton was enough."

"So what do we do with him now he's here?" Lisha wanted to know.

"Oh, I have plenty of questions for Lord Gidreus Leighton. I won't let your work go to waste, Lieutenant, trust me."

"And you still intend to release him at the end of it?"

"Of course."

"I don't like it." Wayland protested. "We can't just let an enemy soldier return to his ranks. And you've said yourself, Leighton is a formidable man. Why should we return an advantage to them when they'll only use it to hurt us?"

"Because we're fighting for a more civilised future, Commander," Aislin reminded him sternly, "And you can always spot an uncivilised person by how they treat their enemies. Besides, he could be of further use. Why burn bridges?"

"We burn bridges to stop the enemy following us over them." Wayland reminded her.

Aislin sighed, and ran a hand over her face, muttering "I hate having to explain this to new people."  She took a breath. "Commander Wayland, I am responsible for the collection of the information that we use to fight this fight. It's not an easy job, but I have my methods, and they're not always transparent. I need Leighton to be returned to the king alive and well, because I believe I can get more information out of him that way."

"That is an explanation that makes sense. Why didn't you say that to start with?"

"Because I'm a hopelessly optimistic person who would rather think that people make decisions based on compassion than opportunity." She sighed again. "I know, Commander, you can't think like that when you're responsible for other people's lives. That's why you're a soldier and I'm not."

"We'll still be taking a risk returning him. Convince me that your advantages will outweigh that risk."

"There'll be a risk whatever we do. We kill him, we deprive them of an intelligent man, but they'll retaliate. We return him, it'll take the edge off their need for vengeance, but he could help them in their fight. The advantage in returning him is that we don't just learn what he knows now, but we can find out what he'll learn in the future."

"And he'll tell you, will he?" Lisha asked innocently. "You'll just walk up to his, ask your questions, and he'll answer them?"

"Like I said, Lieutenant, I have my methods. I think it's worth the risk. There may come a time in the future when you'll be glad to have him back where he's supposed to be."

Lisha grudgingly accepted that. Wayland was harder to read.

"He could compromise my men."

"He hasn't seen your men, and there's no reason for him to see them. He's only seen me, Lisha, and her troops, and he doesn't know any more of us than what he's seen. If I'm the only one to question him, then I'm the only one exposing myself."

"You can't go in there alone." Lisha said. Aislin heard an unexpected note of concern in her voice.

"The sorts of questions I'll be asking him, I've got to go in there alone." She half-smiled an apology. "I appreciate the danger, Lisha, but I'll have a hard enough time getting him to trust me as it is. It'll be impossible if there's anyone there with me."

"Trust you?" Wayland exclaimed. "He's never going to trust you."

"Of course he is. He'll trust me because I am trustworthy. I don't betray confidences."

"And yet you work as an informant. That's a fine line to walk."

"Extremely. But it's worth it."

Wayland sat back, thoughtful and silent. His eyes studied a point between Aislin and Lisha as he considered his options. After a while, he sighed.

"I need more time to think through the ramifications of this, Mistress Kay. I suggest you get to work, and I'll get back to you."

"Very well. You know where I'll be if you have any questions."

Aislin spent the rest of the day closeted with Lord Leighton. It came as a surprise to everyone when, despite being larger and stronger, the prisoner didn't attempt to use the Spider to escape. Lisha sat guard outside the hut all day, against that very eventuality, and when evening arrive and Aislin emerged, tired but unhurt, she was hard-pressed to keep the surprise from her face.

The second day was spent in a similar way to the first until, as the sun began to dip below the distant hills, a rider galloped into camp and almost fell from his horse with haste. Lisha, recognising him, hurried over.

"Brin! What are you doing here? We can't risk Leighton seeing you."

"I have to talk to Aislin. Is she still here?"

"Of course she is... wait, Brin. Wait!" She had to hurry after him to stop his advance. "You can't go in there. Wait here, I'll bring her out."

A tap on the door of the hut was all it took to bring Aislin out. She blinked in the bright evening sun, and glanced quizzically at Lisha.

"Sefton's here." Lisha muttered, gesturing to where the rebel leader waited. "He wants to see you."

"You shouldn't be here." Aislin called as she walked over.

"Aislin. Thank gods."

"What's wrong?"

"I've got a problem, Ais. I need your help."

"What kind of problem?"

"It's the Hound. He's in Kilmerrow. Ais, he's been on my farm - he's found my family. Please, you have to help."

...To be continued