The old Tenzanese story-teller throws a handful of powder on the fire. The flare of the flames lights up his smirking face.

"Long ago, the heather mountains of Innesmoor bloomed violet in the summers, water cascaded from granite peaks on which stubborn Innesfolk farmed and kept their sheep, and woollen-mills. It was a place lost in time, remembered only in myth."

The old man smiles, his eyes narrowing as he raises a finger.

"Unless you went to Inverray."

He holds his hand out to fire, smiling wistfully.

"I have been there. It is a dream awake, a delusion sane, a truthful lie, a caricature of real faces. A place lost in time, even when it became a bastion of stable time. A world apart, yet as grounded as the mountains themselves.

"There ruled the Lairds of MacBoon, audacious, hospitable, hot-headed, resourceful, friendly and bloodthirsty, warriors and protectors all."

The old man raises one hand.

"Join me now, in their castle keep, and with me meet one of the lights of their maddening constellation, and see how one of their Lairds started on the path to becoming the man he would be..."

---

Thunder.

Gerrick paused at the arrow-loop to witness the roaring downpour outside.

It was good Innesmoor weather. He wanted to go out in it and play, maybe take Ansley with him for a tumble on the forest floor. His hot blooded 14-year old body stirred at the thought. He knew she, differing in age only a little, would be amenable.

But there was more to do. It was nearly dinner-time, and dinner was serious business around here. He grumbled silently, putting on his best face as he descended the stairs.

A figure fell into perfect step with him, a boy a head taller, his clothes squared away like a military uniform, his jet black hair slicked back from his sallow face, showing eyes of jet black.

"You're tense," Jonas said.

"Aye."

"It's not just you."

Gerrick glanced at him.

Jonas went on, quietly. "I think there's war brewing. Your parents and brothers were in a meeting until late with two of the other free lords and master Scott, MacBannion, and MacAigh."

Gerrick smirked. "At least they hannae seen fit tae involve me yet."

He was lying. He knew Jonas could sense it. Gerrick did wish he could have sat in. He did like to keep a finger on the pulse of the goings on. He hated himself for it, though; he was the youngest son. Malcolm would get the Hammer and the seat, and Gerrick could live in leisure, like Donalban.

Still, he knew Jonas could sense the twinge of regret. Thankfully, the young Ender did not comment.

Instead, Jonas said, "I took the liberty of asking Sine to monitor, and I helped. Some outsiders are getting ambitious in Marsaukan."

This time, Gerrick smiled genuinely. "Well done."

Jonas smiled a twisted smile. "You should put peppers in Donald's soup tonight. It'll make you feel better."

Gerrick laughed. "Aye. I hannae snogged 'im off in a wee, hae I?"

Jonas chuckled with him.

Gerrick thought to himself, "It's the only joy when I cannae go oot on a rainy night..."

As they cleared the archway into the great hall, a girl fell into step with them, smiling, a slight happy bounce to her walk. She gave Gerrick a peck on the cheek and a look full of promise. A warmth spread to Gerrick's heart.

"Well, maybe not the only joy..."

"Watch oot, yer dad's in a rare mood taenight." Ansley glanced around, but Gerrick's large boistrous patriarch was nowhere to be seen yet.

"That'll be fun. Whaddya think then?"

"Lay low," she said. "Just feel it oot. Doon't dae anythin' cheeky until yer sure."

Gerrick nodded. "Soond advice."

"Gerrick!"

The voice of Malcolm. It had the tone of anger. Gerrick looked toward the spiral staircase up into the bedroom wing as his brother emerged.

Malcolm, the tallest in the family by a few inches, was dressed for the field today. His sleevless shirt revealed arms full of muscles that had butchered their fair share of Vesturians and reevers. He kept his dirty blond hair tied back from a stern face behind a short beard. His Highland eyes flashed with frustration. He held a small brown-haired teenage boy by the collar. Gerrick could see the boys fear turn to mortal terror when he saw Gerrick. "Oh no. No no no no no..."

Gerrick looked intrigued at the stranger. "What's that?"

Malcolm gave the boy an angry shake. "Dinnae try tae pull that bollocks wi' me, boy. I caught 'im tryin' tae steal from me."

The boy began to panic. "You gotta turn me over to the watch, you can't give me to him!"

Ansley arched one eyebrow. Jonas only squinted.

Malcolm glared at Gerrick. "Ye keep yer troublemakers oot a me stuff, Gerrick."

But this was no troublemaker. Gerrick studied the boy, wondering what the boy was really up to. "Let him go, Malcolm."

The boy met Gerrick's gaze and blanched. "No...No, it was the first time! I'll never do it again I swear!"

Jonas gave Gerrick a subtle tap that was a signal for the boy telling the truth. Gerrick nodded once, almost imperceptibly. Jonas would get it.

"And what do I get in return?"

Gerrick straightened up. "Ye get back what we really stole." He smirked. He watched to see if Malcolm went for the bluff.

He did. Malcolm's face twisted into angry admiration. He nodded. "Ye're a right bastard. I knew stealin' me money was beneath ye."

"Aye." Gerrick began to pace. "Noo let 'im go."

Malcolm set the terrified boy down.

But there was still one more test. A quick visual scan told Gerrick he was unarmed. "Noo gee 'im back 'is weapons."

"He dinnae have any, Gerrick. Noo piss off."

No weapons. How interesting. Gerrick smiled. "Good."

The boy tried to bolt, as Gerrick knew he might. Two of the family guards moved to block him. He tried to muscle past but they were too strong for him. The boy looked to Gerrick in terror.

And then, Gerrick saw something strange. The boy's face took on a mask of resolve. He gulped, heaving terrified breaths, but looked Gerrick in the eye.

"Make it quick."

"Easy lad." Gerrick held up one hand. "Just talk tae me. Start with yer name."

"Fearghas."

"Fearghas." Gerrick squinted. "Kieran?"

"Half." His breath relaxed somewhat. "My mother was a Corbannon."

Ansley smiled broadly. "Wait. Fearghas O'Toole?"

Gerrick turned to her. "Ye know him?"

Ansley grinned. "Wanted by the toon watch along wi' a gang called th' Fenian Fog."

Gerrick looked to Fearghas. "That ye, lad?"

Fearghas sighed defeatedly. "Aye. But I dinnae do the stuff they blamed on me!"

Jonas tapped Gerrick's back again. The truth. In this case, it meant he didn't break anyone out of the town gaol, or beat up the Lord Mayor. It also meant he didn't commit any number of petty thieveries and vandalisms if he took Jonas's signal literally, but he suspected that was more about the important stuff.

Gerrick began to pace. "Gave 'em up awfully quick, dinye?"

Fearghas narrowed his eyes. "I'm not with 'em anymore."

"Then who are ye wi'."

Fearghas did not answer.

Gerrick stepped up close to him, fixing him with his best predatory glare. "Well?"

Fearghas shivered. "I can't say."

Gerrick looked at him with a harsh glare and a playful smirk. "Ye were right scared a me a minute ago."

Jonas said, "He's protecting someone."

Fearghas glanced toward Jonas in fleeting alarm. Gerrick saw it.

Gerrick studied Fearghas a moment longer. "Aye. He is." He gestured to the two guards. "Check 'is left arm."

"No!" Fearghas fought them as if his life depended on it--which it did if Gerrick was right--but they rolled up his sleeve effortlessly, revealing the very tatoo Gerrick was looking for.

"Aha." He smiled.

Ansley looked. "Ooooh. Initiate. Ye must hae really impressed Mother Duck."

Fearghas winced. "I'm a dead man! Do you understand that?! You sentenced me to death!"

"It was a test, wannit?" Gerrick began to pace again. "The Laird's eldest son is the shrewdest business man in th' family, likely in all a' Inverray. He probably keeps a hoard a gold in 'is chambers, carefully locked and well guarded, like a dragon's lair. Lift it, bring it back..." He turned to Fearghas, "And we'll promote ye tae novice."

Fearghas shook his head, staring in wonder at Gerrick. "How do you even know Mother Duck's name?"

"I dinnae." Gerrick looked at him seriously. "No one does. I just know his title. I also know what me da' says. The Prince a' Duckness, as he hates me da callin' 'im, is an old friend a' me da."

Fearghas took a deep breath, shuddering. "Then you know my fate."

Gerrick tried not to glance at Jonas, to see how he ws enjoying the boy's fear. Instead, he said, "And ye'd hae carried that secret tae the grave."

Fearghas nodded resolutely. "Aye."

Gerrick stopped pacing, right in front of Jonas, making a leap of faith he had so far never regretted making. "And if ye worked fer me, would ye as fiercely defend our secrets?"

Fearghas squinted. "What?"

He could almost feel Ansley and Jonas staring at him in mild surprise.

"The pay is variable," Gerrick went on. "It depends on what we can take. But it's a hell of a lot of fun."

Fearghas looked back over his shoulder, then back to Gerrick. "Fun?!"

"Look me in the eye laddie." Gerrick approached, smiling sadistically. "Ye were in Malcolm's sanctuary. His temple, his lair, stealin' from him. Beardin' the dragon in 'is own palace. How'd it feel?"

Fearghas considered for a moment, and then his eyes hardened. "I was..."

"Aye?" Gerrick grinned.

"I could have done anything." Fearghas whispered. "My stomach...It was like..."

"Like ye were a god."

Fearghas nodded slowly. "Aye."

Good. Time to move in for the kill. "I'll ask again. Ye work fer me, will ye carry me secrets tae the grave?"

Fearghas straightened up. "Aye."

Gerrick felt Jonas tap his back again.

Gerrick looked to the guards. "Let 'im go. He's wi' me."

They released Fearghas. With a dismissive wave, Gerrick sent them back to their duties.

Fearghas rubbed his arms, breathing a sigh of relief. "But...Mother Duck..."

"I have tae maintain good relations wi' 'im." Gerrick looked out the door. "After dinner, ye and I will go see 'im, and I'll negotiate fer yer life personally. Meanwhile, sit wi' us at dinner." He slapped Fearghas on the arm. "Tonight, ye'll meet the other troublemakers."

Gerrick turned toward his seat at the table, smiling in triumph. He did not need to look--Ansley and Jonas followed, and so did Fearghas.

This might be a good evening after all.