The cursed towers 211

Meghan's eyes glittered with anger. "Once I find out, I swear on Ea's green blood that they will be sorry!"

Dillon sat on the stone wall and kicked his legs angrily, his dog Jed lying curled by his side. Below him the
loch gleamed in the bright spring sunlight but Dillon was in no mood for enjoying its beauty. He was angry
that Lachlan had, at the very last minute, decided to leave his squires behind with the healers and the
servants. Dillon had been looking forward to the battle at Arden-caple, which many said would be the
final confrontation before the Bright Soldiers were sent back to Tirsoilleir with their tails between their
legs. He had dreams of so dazzling Lachlan with his fighting prowess that the Righ knighted him there and
then on the battlefield. Although he knew fourteen was rather young to win one's spurs, such speedy
advancement did sometimes happen in times of war and Dillon saw no reason why it could not happen to
him. He had practiced his fighting skills every day and listened fervently to all that was said by the
soldiers, iing it away for future reference.
Dillon scowled at the dazzle, of light. He knew his fellow squires were relieved at the Righ's decision, and
were down in the castle kitchen at that very moment, begging the caretaker's wife for bits of candied
peel. He scorned them for their childishness. He bet Duncan Iron-fist had not been so silly when he was
fourteen.
His fingers found a loose piece of paving, and he prised it loose, tossing it in his hand. Then he scrambled
to his feet and tossed it out into the loch, counting the number of skips it made across the water's surface.
Five, he counted, pleased with himself, and looked about for another bit of rock. Out of the corner of his
eyes he saw a flash of white and he stared in that direction, wondering if it was the tail of a deer. City
born, Dillon was not too old to get excited at the idea of seeing a wild stag.
Then his eyes widened. Running low along the edge of the loch was a man in a long white surcoat. The
next instant he had ducked out of sight but Dillon had seen all he needed to. He dashed back into the
keep, calling, "Master! Master!" Jed bounded along, barking in excitement.
Jorge was dozing by the fire, his beard flowing over his lap and down to the floor. He woke with a start
and said irritably, "I do wish ye would stop calling me that, lad. I was born the son o' a thief in Lucescere,
same as ye, and I am no man's master but myself."
"Master, soldiers come!" Dillon cried, almost beside himself. "I saw them creeping along the shore."
"So this is the place," Jorge murmured. "I wondered when I felt that shiver o' lightning last night . . ."
He got slowly to his feet, fumbling for his staff. The lump of crystal at its apex caught the light of the fire
and flashed suddenly red. Dillon helped him up impatiently, saying: "We should make sure the gates are

shut and see what weapons they have here, should we no', master? Though it is naught but a wee castle,
it is stout. We should be able to hold them off for a while, though there are only a few o' us and most
naught but silly lasses."
"Aye, do what ye can to hold them off," Jorge said. "I shall try and reach Meghan and let her ken we are
under attack. Though if we are being attacked, I think she must be also. Indeed I have been feeling
uneasy all morning but thought I must be growing auld and foolish to feel so ill at ease in this peaceful
place."
Dillon went running to alert the handful of soldiers that had been left to guard them, first making sure the
gate in the outer wall was securely fastened. The soldiers were down in the kitchen, talking and laughing
with the squires. At Dillon's hurried explanations, they were on their feet in an instant, alarm and