“Och, ye’re a thrawn wee lassie,” the innkeeper said without trying to mask it as a compliment. “Oh, well. Expect no more help from us, Blair. If we do help ye in this mad escapade, we’ll have folks breathing downournecks when something terrible happens to ye. Just pretend ye were never here if ye’re set on going along this reckless path.”
Blair, while refusing to give up all hope, did not relish leaving her allies, the Hardies, on bad terms.
“Good people, I am grateful for yer concern,” Blair said, while still fully resolved to rescue her father, “and after yer wise words, I...I have decided on a different course of action.”
She waited to see what effect these words had on the Hardies and was pleased when they relaxed their frowns and began smiling and nodding instead.
“I think it will be best for me to hire someone to look for Faither in me place. What d’ye think of that?”
“I always said ye were a clever girl, Blair,” Mr. Hardie said, his face now wreathed in smiles. “And as luck would have it, there’s a ship lately come to port with some new mercenaries on board—the last ones the town hired proving to be less than ideal. I will send one o’ the grooms to the harbor and he can make inquiries on yer behalf. He can gather up some of the more agreeable ones, and bring them here for our inspection.”
Hoots! The last thing I need is to interview a bunch of heathenish mercenaries under the watchful eyes of the Hardies. They would soon cotton on to the fact that I plan on accompanying the man I choose on his quest.
“That sounds like the perfect plan, sir,” Blair agreed, “but ‘twould be best if I go in place of the groom. Y’see, me funds arenae plentiful, and I wouldnae feel comfortable sending one o’ the grooms all the way to the harbor if I cannae pay him.”
The Hardies insisted it would cost her nothing to send their groom, but in this instance, Blair remained unmoved. She asked to settle her account in full, breaking into one of her father’s gold sovereigns in order to do so, and included the watering and feeding of her horse in the total. Before the sun had even reached its zenith, Blair had bid the kind couple a fond farewell and ridden off in the direction of the harbor.
I refuse to put one of the most important tasks of me life into the hands of some stranger I’ve only just met! Rescuing Faither from this silly mischief could possibly be the thing that makes him see the error of his ways. But first, I need to find the right companion for this temporary alliance.
The harbor was bustling with men, women, and horses. Cargo was offloaded onto carts and drivers would give the command for the horses to pull away, only for another horse and cart to take its place. Some of the women standing around, lolling against the warehouse walls, looked cheap and painted. Blair cast her eyes down when the women called out to her in mocking tones as she rode by.
“Have ye come by lookin’ for yer man, dearie? I swear he wasnae here above an hour or so!” and they would laugh and jeer until Blair had left them out of earshot.
It was with some relief when Blair reached the harbormaster’s shed. She knocked politely, but on receiving no invitation to enter, pushed the door open and stepped inside. The little wooden shed was full of maps and logbooks and was empty. Blair had no concerns about this; it was still relatively early in the day and she would have all evening to look for a traveling companion in the nearby alehouses too. She walked around inside the little shed; it was well lighted by the sun streaming in through the dirty window casement, and she enjoyed looking at the beautifully detailed maps tacked to the walls. She was busy doing this when the harbormaster returned.
“Well, well, well! What are ye snoopin’ about here for, missie?” the old man said. Blair whipped her head around at his words.
“Pardon me, sir, but I am so intrigued by these wonderful drawings! ‘Tis hard to imagine our part of the world looks like that from so high up.” She pointed at a pale chart showing the Scottish coastline. Blair stopped, remembering why she was there. “That is to say, I’m looking for the ship lately come to port with the new mercenaries.”
Blair was slightly flustered at being caught all unawares, but she remained adamant to see her plan through.
The harbormaster could see at a glance that Blair was an upright young girl, not yet quite a woman, but definitely well brought up.
“I didnae mean to bite yer head off, lass,” he apologized. “‘Tis only that I get all types in here and nary one o’ them is a fine young lady, such as yerself.” He went to the logbook lying on the dusty desk in the corner, licked one finger, and began to turn the pages. Blair waited patiently; there were more than enough maps within her line of sight to keep her attention engaged.
“Here ye go,” the harbormaster said. “TheDon de Dieu.Only dropped anchor here on Friday. Ye’ll find it docked at the last wharf on the right. Is it yer brither ye’re looking for on board?”
Blair bobbed a curtsy and replied, “Nay, thank ye. I have need of a mercenary to help me out in a private matter.”
The man’s eyes widened in alarm. “Ye, a young lass…looking for a warrior for hire? Well, I never! Listen, lass,” he said as Blair walked to the door, “dinnae go onboard, ye hear? Ask for the captain at the gangway, and he’ll do the looking for ye. Understand?”
Blair waved a hand in thanks and went to untether Pooka outside. Then she changed her mind and stuck her head back in through the shed door. “Please, may I leave me horse and saddlebags here? Ye have a water trough and the crates and boxes make riding difficult.”
With many more unsaid protestations on his lips, the man nodded in the affirmative. Blair walked with a firm step to the last wharf. The ship docked there looked empty, but undeterred, she raised her voice and hollered from the edge of the gangway, “Ahooooooy! Anyone here?”
She shouted a few more times before a frowsy-looking man popped his head out of the deck hatch.
“Who’s making that awful racket?” he snarled. When he saw the sweet and shapely red-haired girl shouting and waving on the wharf, his manner underwent a significant change. “It’s me lucky day, it seems. Come aboard, ye pretty young thing. Tell yer keeper I’ll reward them handsomely for such a fresh prize.”
Blair had no real idea as to what the man was alluding to, but she remembered the harbormaster’s words and shook her head. “Nay, I’m advised nae to board this ship, sir. I only seek to speak with one of the soldiers or experienced warriors about a job.”
The man lost interest and began lowering the hatch closed, saying, “It’s past noon, and they are warriors, missy. Use yer head—they’re at the alehouse,” and with those words, the hatch snapped shut.
“Alehouse, alehouse…” Blair began her search anew after retrieving Pooka from outside the shed.
Following a drayman who offered her directions, she found the harbor alehouse. It was bustling with sailors, dockworkers, and longshoremen.
She loitered at the door of this intimidating establishment for a few minutes, checking to see if it was dangerous or not. The sight of busy—and apparently unmolested—women, rushing from table to table with large trays of food and beer reassured her. Blair stepped inside.
