‘Yes,’ said James, ‘but Gorath has pointed out the one thing in this that makes no sense: why go to the trouble of frightening the Baron, but not kill …’ Suddenly James’s eyes widened. ‘Peter!’ he called.
The patron of the inn returned in a hurry. ‘Sir?’
‘What was it you just said about the Baron, about you not seeing him.’
‘I just said the Baron leaves his home only rarely, and then with armed guards.’
‘When did this start?’
‘Right after the Nighthawks started hunting him, I guess.’
‘You know about the Nighthawks?’ asked James.
‘Well, we know what people say.’
‘And what would that be?’
‘That the Guild of Assassins has set up shop around here and they’ve marked the Baron for some sort of punishment.’
James said, ‘Thank you, Peter. Sorry to have disturbed you.’
Owyn said, ‘Why did you want him to come back?’
‘To help me think this through,’ said James. ‘Look, the Nighthawks aren’t trying to kill the Baron. They’re trying to make the Baron stay in his house.’
‘Why?’ asked Gorath.
James said, ‘To stop him from rebuilding the keep.’
Owyn said, ‘What in the world good would that do? It’s an old fortification, and if there’s an army heading this way, it’s not going to cause them much trouble.’
James said, ‘I don’t think anyone cares about the keep. I think they care about what’s under it.’
Owyn’s eyes widened. ‘The run?’
‘You said there was a secret passage into caverns that run under the mountains, and the old keep’s armoury and storage are down there. You could hide an army under there, I bet.’
‘Or a nest of Nighthawks,’ added Gorath.
Owyn said, ‘But how would they know?’
‘The run isn’t a family secret is it?’
‘No, a few others know of its existence, but finding the entrance from outside would be nearly impossible.’
‘Owyn!’ a female voice cried happily from across the inn.
They turned to see a tall, leggy young woman in a simple dress hurrying across the room. She nearly knocked Owyn back into his chair as he tried to stand up while she threw her arms around him.
‘Uh, Ugyne!’ said Owyn, grinning and blushing at the same time as she hugged him.
The girl was pretty in a sunburned, wild fashion. Her hair was windblown and unkempt and she looked as if she had been sitting on the ground, as her dress was streaked with dried mud in the back.
She stopped hugging him long enough to deliver an enthusiastic kiss on the lips, then she stood back, holding him at arm’s length as she studied her cousin. ‘You’ve grown into a fair-looking man, given what a pathetic little boy you were,’ she said with a laugh.
Owyn blushed deeply and laughed. ‘You haven’t changed, I see.’
She pushed him back into the chair then sat down imperiously on his lap. ‘Of course I have. I was a little girl the last time you saw me; now I’m a grown woman.’
James grinned. This grown woman appeared to be eighteen at the outside, and while she was striking in her vivaciousness, she was still a little gangly and moved with a studied purpose, as if to mask her uncertainty.
Owyn said, ‘Ugyne, these are my friends, James and Gorath.’
She nodded and smiled as she said, ‘Hello.’ Of Owyn, she asked, ‘Have you seen Daddy yet? I assume you did. Tad was the one who told me you were here.’
‘We did, and if we’re here on Sixthday, we’ll be dining with you.’
‘Oh, please do stay. Supper alone with Father is such a bore.’
James said, ‘We may be gone, Ugyne. We have pressing business.’
‘What sort of business?’ she asked with a pout. She looked at Owyn. ‘My favourite cousin comes to town after too many years and wants to bolt the next day?’
Owyn said, ‘No, but we’re on … business for the Crown.’
‘Oh?’ she said with raised eyebrows. ‘Really?’
James nodded. ‘Really.’
‘Well, then,’ she said, ‘I’ll have to insist that either Father have you over earlier or you stay, but you’ll not leave town until we’ve had a chance to visit.’
‘What have you been doing with yourself?’ asked Owyn. ‘Your father seems very concerned about how you spend your time.’
She turned up her nose at the mention of her father’s opinion and said, ‘Father wants me to sit around all day in that dark house, waiting for some noble to ride up and take my hand in marriage, and is terrified I’ll run off with someone.’
‘Anyone in particular?’ asked Owyn.
She reached over and took his mug of ale and took a delicate sip from it, as if it was the most brazen act imaginable. ‘There’s Myron, Daddy’s solicitor here in the village. He’s a widower with a lovely little girl I adore, but he’s so …’
‘Dull?’ supplied James.
‘No, predictable. He’s a nice man, but I want something more.’
‘Anyone else?’ asked Owyn.
‘Why? Did I say there was anyone else?’ she asked with a glimmer in her eyes and a smile on her lips.
‘No,’ said Owyn, ‘but your father did.’
