Page 69 of Bride of Ice
If the outcome turned out to be unfavorable to Morgan, it was up to Colban to find a way to seize the advantage.
His glance fell on the notebook. The castle plans sketched there might help. If he could hide it somewhere until he had a few hours to study them…
“The Rivenloch warriors have guarded the border for centuries,” she told him, “conquered many a rival army. The shields of the fallen line the great hall.” She set the bottle back down. “I saw no such shields on the walls of Creagor.”
In the Highlands, resources were scarce. If you were lucky enough to obtain a shield from your foe, you didn’t hang it on the wall. You repainted it and put it to good use. But he wasn’t going to brag about thriftiness. Instead, he gave her a cocky grin.
“They wouldn’t all fit.”
She smirked at his boast. Then she began drumming her fingers on the table, an inch from Ian’s notebook.
He had to find a way to lure her away from the precious thing before she discovered and confiscated it.
“Why would a Highlander want to live at Creagor anyway?” she mused. “Wouldn’t you rather be among your own kind?”
“My own…”
He tamped down rage at her obvious slight. His own kind indeed. She was poking him. He refused to be goaded into anger. Besides, he could give as well as he got.
“We’re not so different, Highlanders and Lowlanders,” he said. “We serve the same king, do we not? Ye and I have a sworn duty to protect the innocent. Defend the weak.” He shrugged. “Why else do ye think I leaped from the window?”
It took an instant for her to realize he’d just insulted her, calling her weak. Her eyes frosted over like ice crystals. But she too refused to be prodded to anger.
“’Twas a wild and reckless move,” she claimed.
“Ye say that as if ’tis a bad thing.”
“’Tis bad when one is responsible for keeping the peace at the border.” She leaned back against the table, blocking his view of the notebook. “Oh, I’m sure you’d frighten the English with your undisciplined brawling. At first. But they’d return again and again. For that, you need a trained army. A killing machine that operates smoothly and efficiently.”
“And Rivenloch has that army?”
“We do.”
He hated to admit she was right about their smooth operation. He’d witnessed that himself, battling against them. But there was something she’d overlooked. “So ye’re predictable.”
“What?”
He limped closer with the aid of the crutch. If he could reach the table, he could tuck the notebook out of sight behind the basin before she noticed it.
“Ye say ye’ve fought the English for centuries, aye?” he asked.
“Aye.”
He sidled up to the table and set his crutch against the wall, resting his fingers on the lip of the basin.
“Then they know your every move,” he said. “How ye form your lines for battle. When ye’ll advance. When ye’ll retreat. They know how ye deploy your archers and at what point ye send in the men-at-arms. They likely even know who your best swordsmen are.” He leaned forward to confide, “Rivenloch is…predictable.”
While she was reeling from that insight, he pretended to lose his balance. Flinging his arm out for the crutch, he missed and sent it clattering to the floor.
In the moment while her eyes were drawn to the fallen crutch, he slid the basin in front of the notebook, concealing it from view.
It was a matter of reflex for Hallie to lunge for the falling crutch. But even as her fingers closed around the freshly smoothed wood, she realized she’d made a tactical mistake.
Colban had dropped it on purpose. As a distraction.
Like her, he must have spotted Ian’s notebook.
Ian never went anywhere without it. It contained all of his notes, sketches, plans. It also contained something that might be of use to a hostage. A detailed map of Rivenloch and an accounting of its defenses.
