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  Vad knelt before one man, who stood at his approach. The man touched Vad’s head and broke the tense silence. “Rise.”

  Gwen noticed he was not called “esteemed warrior” here, as he had been in the fortress.

  Vad walked the table and accepted a similar touch on the head as he knelt at each chair. When he returned to the original man, he placed the jeweled dagger on the table. A murmur ran the length the table.

  “Most esteemed High Councilor, I have brought you the dagger,” Vad said. “I have also returned the maidens.”

  So this was Samoht. He was younger than she’d expected. He was also lean and handsome, his hair more brown than blond. His bright blue eyes raked the women. “This is most unexpected.”

  Vad nodded, and Gwen guessed the less said the better.

  Samoht returned his attention to the dagger. He examined it, and finally twisted off the handle.

  He upended it. An audible moan rose from the councilors. Samoht shook it, peered into it. “Is this some jest?”

  All eyes turned to Vad.

  “There is no jest,” Vad said. “I gave the map to Ruonail’s partner in this treacherous kidnapping. The man’s name is Narfrom. I exchanged the map for Liah. I do not regret it.”

  No one spoke. Several heads turned toward Liah, then back to the high councilor. Finally Samoht cleared his throat. “What of Kered? Why is he not with you? Did you find him?”

  Vad nodded. “I did. He had no intention of using the dagger, and knew nothing of its contents. It is a slave who holds him there, in a place called Ocean City, far across the ice fields. It is not a desire for treasure, or worse, a desire to plan treachery against Tolemac. He and his woman await the birth of their first child.”

  “How can we know this to be the truth?” asked one of the councilors. He was obese, overflowing his stool, his stomach straining his rich red robes.

  Vad turned to him. “Because I say it is. And I do not wish to be questioned by a man who cannot even rise to welcome home his daughter.”

  A gasp ran the perimeter of the tent. Senga burst into tears. An expression of pain crossed the fat man’s face, then his countenance smoothed to a doughy impassivity. His voice was low and trembled as he spoke. “I am at the tenth level of awareness. Do you think it worthy of me to show such emotion?”

  “Aye. It would bespeak your concern for her.”

  “You tread without fear,” Samoht said to Vad.

  Vad swung in his direction. “What have I to fear? That I will be accused of treacherous acts? Or that I will be asked to a trek across the ice fields, a journey to almost certain death? Or should I fear the consequences of returning here to men who said they wanted one thing, but really wanted another?”

  Several councilors put their heads together and whispered urgently.

  The fat man rose. His stool fell over. “Let us be done with pretense. Our daughters,” he stabbed a finger at six men at various points about the table, each one a lesser councilor, “were taken, their lives threatened unless we tried to change the ice treaty. We have not tried, have we?”

  “That is so.” Samoht nodded. “Continue.”

  The other men rose. First one, then the other gave a piece of the story. Their beloved daughters had been taken, but they were determined that no matter what—even the painful deaths of their loved ones and the inconsolable misery of their lifemates—they would stand firm and do nothing to change the ice treaties.

  Two other maidens began to weep. Gwen wanted to hug them, but she was disguised as a male servant and knew she couldn’t do it.

  Liah hid her face in Ardra’s skirts.

  Samoht sat heavily in his chair. He rubbed a hand over his face. “Sit.” The seven men sank into their seats. “This is a diabolical mess. When may we expect more of Ruonail’s demands?”

  “Ruonail will be troubling you no longer,” Vad said. “He has banished himself.” Ardra made a small sound in her throat, and Gwen forgot her role and squeezed her hand. Vad continued, “I have brought his daughter, Ardra, to offer her father’s sincere apologies.” He beckoned her near.

  Ardra went, her head held high, but Gwen saw the small trembling of her hands. She dropped to her knees before Samoht. The maidens crowded about her. “My house has always been honorable. I offer no excuse for my father, save madness.”

  Why didn’t she mention Narfrom?

  “Perhaps, if no harm has been done to the treaties, the councilors could step down, and the issue could be put in the past,” said a councilor who was in a favored chair near Samoht. His long hair was gray and thick, his robes the white, black, and gold of Vad’s uniform. He had a military air.

  A frown knit Samoht’s brow, and Gwen felt a shiver of fear again. “You are generous with your advice this night, Tol.” Samoht seemed a hard man, and Gwen pitied the Selaw princess whom he would wed.

  “The young often need advice.” Tol smiled. “If Ruonail has banished himself, we are saved a visit to that cruel clime to take him. You know we would have lost many men trying to breach such a fortress. Let us be practical. The beloved daughters are returned.” Tol pointed a finger to a councilor in ivory and blue. “Ranoc shall make what amends he can to his lifemate.” His finger then shifted to a man who wore black and purple robes. “Srob’s mate shall be scourged, as is proper in a faithless woman. All will then be as it was. New men will join the council; peace will continue.” Tol yawned and scratched his own ample belly.

  Scourge the woman, do nothing to the husband? Gwen had to bite her tongue.

  “And what of our warrior here?” Samoht pointed the empty dagger at Vad.

  “Ah. He has performed most admirably. As these fathers will attest.” Tol smiled about the table. Seven heads nodded agreement. “He must be endowed with more than just a beautiful face to cross the ice fields and return. Surely, to keep his arm rings, he can be persuaded to show us how he did it. If not, I imagine he will spend his days as a pleasure slave to a woman whose mate is no longer capable of servicing her.”

  Laughter broke out around the table.

  How could Vad stand there so calmly? Gwen’s hands were locked in painful fists at her sides. She wanted to choke someone.

  “Speaking of servicing,” Samoht interjected, “are any of the maidens soiled?” Every head turned in their direction.

  The young girls crowded close to one another, Senga at the center.

  Vad answered. “Senga was attacked by her guard, but she fought him valiantly and is still intact. She should be rewarded for her bravery, equal to that of her esteemed older brother, who I know commands his own company.”

  “Hmmm,” Samoht said. “And the others? Untouched, are they?”

  “By men? Aye. But they need the comfort of their mothers.”

  “Take them away,” Samoht said to several of the sentries standing by the tent flap. Ardra rose and shepherded the young maidens ahead of her. “Nay,” Samoht barked. Everyone turned. “I wish Mistress Ardra to remain.”

  Gwen made a decision to stand unobtrusively by Ardra’s side, her eyes downcast. Perhaps she’d just be considered an invisible servant.

  “What have you to say for yourself, Mistress Ardra of the Fortress?”

  She dropped back to her knees. Torchlight cast her hair in a golden crown. “I humbly ask to return home.” Her voice trembled. “If it is as Vad states, and my father is…gone, the people will need me. They are as loyal to me as to my father. I ask if I might offer my allegiance to you, the Tolemac council, that you will trust me to maintain the treaty.”

  “Nonsense. A man must be appointed,” Tol said. “Then we can get back to these mating plans for you.”

  Samoht nodded. “Aye.” He pinched his lower lip and contemplated the pleated ceiling of the tent. His gaze returned to Vad. “You failed to bring Kered home,” he said.

  Vad nodded, but his gaze was steady.

  “He brought the dagger,” Tol said.

  “Empty!” Samoht roared. He slammed a fist on the
table. “What use is an empty dagger?”

  Tol ignored the outburst. “Forgetting the dagger for a moment, I never understood what use Kered could be to us, Samoht. The man was besotted with his slave, a lamentable folly to be sure, but hardly worth our notice. If he wished to make a fool of himself, so be it.” Several heads nodded in agreement, and Gwen felt a loosening of tension in the tent.

  Then Samoht turned his eyes on those who were nodding. Several froze. “You consider Kered’s desertion of his duties mere folly?”

  “Kered was as brave a warrior as ever wore the Tolemac colors,” Tol said softly. “He did all we asked and more. I begrudge him nothing, especially as he so willingly gave Vad the dagger. He did give the dagger willingly, did he not? He is not lying dead somewhere, a knife between his shoulder blades?”

  Everyone turned to Vad.

  Vad nodded. “He is well. Indeed, as I said, Kered was as ignorant of what the dagger contained as I was. He gave it with his blessing.”

  “And so we come again to the empty dagger and the map that is now in the hands of Ruonail’s partner, this Narfrom.”

  Gwen held her breath. She felt as if a judge were about to issue a sentence. Vad looked unconcerned, calm. What did he feel inside?

  Tol continued. “I have loved and lost children. I believe I, too, would have exchanged a piece of paper for a child.” The tension loosened in Gwen’s chest. “It seems Kered was never out to harm Tolemac. Only you, Samoht, seemed intent on his return and punishment. Perhaps you allowed your personal enmity to cloud your judgment?”

  “This man’s loyalty is still in question!” Samoht said, rising from his place, his long robes swirling about his legs. “You may be sure there is nothing to Kered’s departure, but I choose to believe otherwise. For all I know, Kered is here, the map in his hands, seeking the treasure as we speak.”

  “You go too far,” Vad said. Gwen saw his hand go to the hilt of his knife. “I have stood here and heard myself and my friend maligned. If you wish some proof of my loyalty, I can think of no other. You bade me return with the dagger and I have. I cannot return the map. It is in the hands of a man who will surely use it for ill. But at the time, I felt I had no choice. You cast aspersions on my good name.”

  “Your good name?” Samoht said with a sneer. “Who is your family? How many generations back can you trace your roots?”

  “Enough.” Tol slapped the table with his palm. “Let us put him to another test.” At the word test, Gwen felt sweat break out on her skin. “Have him draw what he remembers of the map, and then use it. Have him obtain the treasures for us. If this other villain, Narfrom, has it, it is in Vad’s interest to get there first.”

  Gwen felt sick to her stomach. No, she thought, don’t ask him to get the treasures.

  “As for Ardra,” Tol said, “until we decide what is best for the fortress, she should remain here. Perhaps as a reward for bringing us the treasures, we could mate her to Vad.”

  Samoht crossed his arms over his chest. “And should Vad decide to keep the treasures for himself?”

  “Everyone knows only a brave and honorable warrior can use them. That makes such treachery pointless.”

  A murmur of satisfaction swept the table.

  Resuming his place at the table, Samoht held up his hands for silence. “This is my decision. Should anyone wish to oppose me, he must do so now. The seven councilors must step down for keeping silent about the abductions. They will take their families back to their chiefdoms, and make penance of two arm rings to the Tolemac council.” One man moaned and dropped his head. “Their daughters of mating age will be given lifemates immediately. Should their maidenheads prove to have been breached, they will be sold as slaves. Mistress Ardra will remain in our custody until Vad obtains the treasures. He has five sun-risings.”

  “Five,” Ardra whispered. “Impossible.”

  “You have something to say, Mistress Ardra of the Fortress?” Samoht impaled her with a glare. Gwen felt its ice, as if he’d sent a winter wind whipping through the tent.

  “No, Esteemed Councilor.”

  “Excellent.” Samoht held out the jeweled dagger. It was passed from one councilor’s hand to another until it reached Vad. He took it.

  “And if we send this warrior to gain the treasures, what weapons do we grant him?” the man called Ranoc asked hesitantly, almost apologetically.

  “Weapons?” Samoht repeated.

  “Aye. We do wish him to succeed, do we not?” Ranoc said.

  “Tol, you have more experience in such matters. What weapons should we grant this man?” Samoht asked.

  The older man pursed his lips and stared at the ceiling. “We have taken his sword,” he said finally, “so it is not possible to give him another. Let him request one weapon to aid him in his hunt—save, of course, a sword.”

  Samoht threw his arms out in a deceptive gesture of generosity. No kindness or concern lit his austere features. “Name your weapon.”

  Vad answered with little hesitation. “I have the use of a sturdy bow, but could use a supply of arrows.”

  Samoht nodded his head and raised his hand. The guard at the tent flap disappeared and returned in a few moments to drop three arrows in a clatter at Vad’s feet.

  Three! Three would never be enough. Gwen bit her tongue to keep silent.

  Vad did not blink or glance down. Any anxiety he felt at being sent on a treasure hunt with few weapons was well concealed behind his seventh-level awareness training.

  “And…” Vad continued.

  “And?” Samoht dropped his hand. “One weapon is all we will grant you.”

  “It is not another weapon I request, but two horses.”

  Samoht nodded his head and crossed his arms over his chest. “Vad shall deliver the treasures in five sun-risings. Is there any dissent?”

  No one spoke. Gwen looked at Tol, who had seemed more reasonable than the others. But Tol was picking his nails with his own dagger point.

  Vad bowed to the council and turned on his heel. When Ardra tried to follow him from the tent, Samoht called her back with a sharp command.

  Gwen’s mouth dried. She glanced about. No one was watching her. A Tolemac guard picked up the three arrows and followed Vad. With her head down, she ducked out of the tent. No voice called her back; no heavy hand fell on her shoulder. She almost ran to stay close on Vad’s heels and avoid notice.

  Once he was a few yards from the council tent, Vad turned and took the arrows from the guard, barked an order for him to remain where he was and stomped away.

  Vad muttered all the way through the city of tents. He stopped once, kicked a pot from the three-legged iron stand on which it sat by a fire, grabbed it by its long handle, and thrust it into Gwen’s arms.

  Gwen shook at the idea of a treasure hunt with only Vad’s long knife and a handful of arrows. They stopped in an area on the outskirts of the tents, where a rope cordoned off a section filled with horses and guarded by a dozen men. Surely they would question her presence? Hanging back near a tent, she glanced about. Every eye was on Vad as he examined horses and selected two, and no one seemed to pay any attention to her, so she picked up a leather pack lying on the ground. A quick peek told her it wasn’t a feed bag.

  At the riverside, Vad tethered the horses to a low branch and ordered Ardra’s men after their mistress. When they were gone, he kicked dirt on the coals of the fire, tore the coverings from the seven bribery boxes, stared at the contents, and swore. “Even in appeasement, the man was treacherous.”

  Dirt and stones spilled from the boxes as he threw them into the river. “Mount up,” he ordered her.

  “We can’t go now,” Gwen said. “You can hardly see your hand in front of your face, it’s so overcast. There’s no moonlight.” Every muscle in his body was tense with anger. “Get a good night’s sleep, and we’ll start when the sun rises.”

  “By the sword,” he swore, and disappeared into the shadows.

  Gwen ran to the edge of t
heir small camp, then stopped. He was angry and disappointed, and probably felt betrayed on all sides. Maybe he needed to let off some steam. After all, he had expected to get his sword back, not go on an impossible treasure hunt.

  But that left her alone with a fire that was almost out. She did what she could to coax it to life, but succeeded only in extinguishing it completely. Finally she admitted defeat and wrapped herself in a blanket.

  What if Vad didn’t come back? What if she was abandoned here? A rustle in the undergrowth reminded her that she was in an alien place. What creatures were stirring? What became of women slaves who had no one to look after them?

  He wouldn’t abandon her, would he? Exhaustion tempted her to lie down by the cold fire, but fear kept her sitting upright, peering into the trees where Vad had disappeared.

  “Come back, Vad,” she whispered.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Vad woke her by brushing a finger over her cheek. She struggled up on one elbow, but could not see his face to gauge his temper.

  “Come.” He offered his hand and pulled her to her feet. They walked along the river for about half a mile, then stopped at a grassy bank. The air was almost warm. Or was it his presence that warmed her inside?

  The clouds had parted, and the Tolemac moons were high overhead in a purple velvet and diamond-studded sky.

  “Gwen?” She smiled up at him. He lifted her fingers to his mouth. “Forgive my temper.” He turned her hand and touched her palm with his lips.

  “You’re not angry anymore?”

  “I have had much time to think. Perhaps this is for the best. I will obtain the treasures and demand the ultimate reward.”

  “Ultimate reward?” She could barely talk. His tongue traced a figure eight on her palm.

  “Aye,” he whispered against her skin. “I shall ask that they grant you at least one arm ring, that we might lifemate.”