From that moment on, Ranulf’s bond to Kamcho took on a different meaning. Day by day, week by week, he learned to see through his eyes.
Now, standing by that rock on those dusty plains, he closed his eyes and focused. Slowly, vaguely, the world came into view from high above him, a blur of blue, of sky and sea, and the golds and browns of the cliffs and plains. He could see the blotchy forms of the Tukoran soldiers below and himself, even himself, standing in the distance with the princess by the rock, with Neyruu nearby, and Cevi sitting up against her, enjoying the shade of her wing.
His sight remained blurred, indistinct, but the details were growing clearer every day. Kamcho flew over the edge of the cliff, over the fleet far below, bobbing against their piers. Thousands spread out onto the beach and there was a great rush of motion down there. He saw the great sculpture of Calacan soaring from the cliffside, a sculpture of great likeness he could now attest. As Kamcho circled back around Ranulf sighted the switchback stair, zig-zagging up the face of the rock. The company were at the top now, just about to take the last turn that would bring them up over the lip.
He smiled and withdrew, opening his eyes to return once more to himself. Talasha was looking at him strangely. “You are a curious fellow, Ranulf Shackton. You can truly see through him. This eagle of yours?”
“Vaguely, yes.”
“And you never knew? Of this power hidden in your blood?”
“Never.” Everything happened for a reason, Ranulf Shackton had come to find. Talasha’s coming to the Everwood was one such event. They were twined, now, in their quest. A long bleak flight awaited them. And it will be cold up there.
The company were stepping up the last of the stairs and joining the other men on the clifftops. Ranulf felt a pang of nerves to reunite with Saska again. “How do I look, my lady? Presentable, I hope?”
“You smell of vomit, Ranulf Shackton.”
He sighed. “You are cruel, Lady Talasha. How long are you going to mock me over this?”
“Oh, as long as we know one another.” She spoke with a smile. “Best refresh your breath with a swig of that water of yours. And wipe your chin again. You missed a bit.”
She grinned and set off across the dusty plain, commanding Cevi to remain behind and keep Neyruu company. Ranulf wiped his chin again, though there was no need. The woman was merely teasing him. By then the host at the cliffs had doubled in size, and a party of considerable power, both in land and title and sheer brute force, was approaching across the barren rock.
Saska and Leshie were leading from the front. Both of them were grinning, turning their heads to speak to one another as they came, laughing and shaking their heads. Behind came the Wall, with the Butcher and the Baker for company. Some of the other sellswords had made the climb as well, out of interest most likely; Ranulf knew them by description, if not by sight. So too Robbert Lukar, whom he’d never met, yet who was said to be much alike to his father in look, and so it did seem. He walked at the back looking somewhat perplexed. “A handsome young man,” Talasha observed, upon seeing him. “Even with the eyepatch. Who is this tall one who walks beside him?”
“That would be Sir Lothar Tunney. He is the second of Prince Robbert’s guards, along with Sir Bernard.”
“He must be seven feet.”
“I believe he is six feet and eleven inches.” No doubt that was of great upset to him, to miss out on that vaunted number by so small a margin.
Leshie took it upon herself to rush ahead as they neared, lifting a finger to point right at him. “I know you. I’m sure of it. I know that silly old face.” She hurried along in her fetching red armour, a red silken cape trailing at her back, grinning massively. “Bloody hell, Ranulf. Now don’t tell me you flew here?”
“I had that pleasure, Leshie, it’s so.”
“It’s so,” the Red Blade repeated. “Gods, I don’t miss that stupid phrase of yours. It’s so. What does that even mean?” She snorted, hugged him, grinning and laughing and then drew back and turned to the princess, performing a clumsy curtsy. “Your Highness. We’ve been worried about you. Saska especially. She…”
“Can speak for herself,” Saska said, stepping in behind her. Her eyes flitted between the princess and the adventurer. A smile simmered on her lips. It felt to Ranulf as though she wanted to rush in and embrace them both, though she held her reserve, ever wary of how she appeared. “I’m sure there’s quite a tale to tell here. How is it you came to be together?”
“Oh, that is a story for Ranulf to tell, I think.” Talasha smiled and drifted in to take Saska’s hands in her own. “I’m sorry I left for so long. We had a spot of trouble with Paglar.”
“Paglar?” repeated Leshie. “That was the big dragon at the lake?”
“A fearsome beast, but ultimately overmatched. Drulgar is not the only titan to have returned.”
The two girls shared a confused look, as the Butcher stamped forward, smirking from ear to ear. “Ersel!” he roared. “Ersel San Sabar!” He stepped straight in to pick Ranulf up off his feet in a chest-crunching bear hug. “What a joyous day! Ersel San Sabar has returned to us. I have missed you, Ersel!” He shook him from side to side. Ranulf’s legs swung freely like a rag doll. “Where have you been? The Everwood. Yes, we know. But why is the true question? Why have you not returned? And these others who went with you? The Sunrider and his men and that funny little gardener…”
“Let him go and perhaps he’ll answer.” That came from the Wall, a booming thunderclap of a voice that was not easy to mistake for another. “He can barely breathe, Butcher. Put him down.”
“Ah. Sorry, Ersel. I am getting overexcited to see you, I think.” The Butcher lowered him to the ground, and Ranulf tried to remain dignified while refilling his lungs. A great paw shook his shoulder. “So? So? Let us hear this tale from the famous tale-teller. Wine. Yes, there is wine aboard the ship. We should go down and drink wine and you can speak of your adventures.”
“You’ll forgive my brother. He is a child in a man’s body.” The Baker pushed his golden spectacles up his nose. “A very ugly scarred man, and a very simple child.” He smiled, showing his odd, unnaturally white set of teeth. “How are you, Ranulf Shackton? Still trying to avert your eyes from Ana, is it not so?”
“Ana!” The Butcher burst out laughing. “Yes, you tried so hard not to look, Ersel. A very pretty girl. Do you remember her?”
How could I forget? It had been Ranulf’s first meeting with the Bloody Trader brothers in their pavilion outside Eagle’s Perch. Never in his life had Ranulf Shackton entered a scene of such debauchery, with couples writhing in every corner and naked singers prancing about among the cats and dogs and goats that roamed freely through the scented smoke. Ana had been the nude girl who served their wine, a very nubile girl whom Ranulf had been very careful not to look at below the eyes. Of course, that had been of tremendous amusement to the sellswords. “I recall Ana, yes,” he said.
“You could have recalled her better if you’d taken her to bed, Ranulf,” the Baker informed him. “We did offer.”
“And I politely declined. I remember.”
“A gallant fool you are, Ersel San Sabar.” The Butcher laughed fondly. “Not so Denlatis, oh no. He took Ana to union many times that night, kept her up through dark and dawn.” He prodded Ranulf in the chest. “Do you think you could do that, Ersel? Keep a pretty girl up all night?”
Ranulf smiled politely. “A gentleman never tells.”
“You are saying that Denlatis is not a gentleman? Yes, yes! You are right! All that silk and satin and he still has the stink of a dock-man’s son.” The Butcher laughed loudly. “Ah, but he has risen yet higher, Ersel. Denlatis pulled a great trick on the Sunny Snake, and it won him the hand of the Lady Asherah Tamaar. Can you imagine? He is one of the most powerful men in Aramatia now.”
“And one of the most frightened,” the Baker added. “He is terrified that Krator will seek vengeance.”
“I know about Cliffario,” Ranulf said.
“How?” the Butcher demanded. “Where did you hear of this?”
“The Second Elder told me. He had an eagle watching at the time.” Ranulf suspected that would stump the big sellsword, and duly it did. The Butcher frowned, the scars twisting on his forehead. It gave Ranulf enough time to slip away to the others.
Prince Robbert and Princess Talasha were being introduced as he joined them. Saska did the honours. “Robbert, I’d like you to meet Talasha.” The prince gave a well-rehearsed bow, the princess a smile and a playful curtsy. “I think you’ll get along well.”
“Oh, I am quite sure of it,” Talasha said. She kept eye contact with the prince, who seemed more shy in her company. That was only natural. He was a boy of eighteen, Talasha a decade his senior and ravishingly beautiful, wielding her beauty like a well-honed weapon. “I am told you have had some struggles at sea, Prince Robbert. A manator attacked you, am I right? And you were becalmed for several days.”
