charity. I hoped to learn something of an enemy that’s caused us no end of woe. And I wanted to use that new
knowledge to harm ye and your countrymen
if I could.” The king’s voice crackled
with emotion as he watched his wife settle happily into her
precious chair. “And now ye do me this
great kindness.”
“It was nothing,” Keefe
said. “You gave me a chance at life when
many would have taken it away, whatever
your motives.”
“I’d grant ye a boon, Keefe
Murphy,” the king went on. “I still hold
ye to your word not to leave us, but short of that, I’d grant ye a
request.”
Keefe glanced at Brenna.
For a moment, he consid ered asking for a
kiss from the eldest daughter of the house, but thought better of it. He was pretty sure
the king’s hospitality stopped well short
of his daugh ter’s favors. And besides,
given half a chance, he intended to entice Brenna into kissing him
willingly, and soon.
“I remembered more while I worked on the
queen’s chair.”
“ Then ye know your true name?”
“No,” Keefe said with a
frown. “It was more like remembering how
to do things. Mostly that I seem to have some experience with wood.
I’d like to do some more
carpentry.”
“Sure and if that isn’t the easiest request
I’ve ever granted,” the king said.
“I’ve seen the little
coracles you and your men use for
fishing,” Keefe said. The hide-covered crafts were adequate, nothing more.
“What of them?”
“I can make them better,”
Keefe said. “They need a keel, a sort of
backbone, running down the center. It’ll
make all the difference. If you give me leave, I’ll build a little boat that will sail circles around
your skin-covered hulls.”
“Aye and he’ll be sailing
away at the first chance.” Connor McNaught
jumped into the conversation. “ Now that he
knows the lay of our land, the next full moon, we’ll see a whole great boatload of the Ostman demons landing on
our beach.”
Murmurs of assent greeted
this pronouncement. The support seemed to embolden Connor
further and he strutted over to glare up
at Keefe. If the differ ence in their
heights troubled Connor, he gave no sign.
“I’ve given the king my
word,” Keefe said. A mus cle ticked in his
left cheek. He stifled the urge to knock the mocking expression off
the Irishman’s pugnacious face. “Brian Ui Niall has no reason to
mistrust me.”
“None but the accident of
your birth, Northman.” Connor swiped his
mouth with the back of his hand. His pale
eyes were already glassy from too many pints. “I still say ye cannot rely on a man who
doesn’t even know himself.”
“I may not remember my
name,” Keefe said, flex ing his fingers
and balling them into fists, “but I know
well enough my word is sacred.”
“Sacred! And what might a heathen Ostman know
of things sacred?” Connor spat back at him.
“Connor McNaught, ye’re a
fine one to talk.” Brenna stepped between
them, poking a finger into the center of Connor’s chest. “Ye
promised me only last week ye’d see the harness for the mare
mended, but ‘tis still in
tatters.”
Connor frowned and stepped back a pace.
“Keefe Murphy may be a
heathen Ostman, as ye say, yet he’s not promised but
what he’s delivered.” Brenna’s eyes flashed as she sent a scalding
look toward Connor. “So just ye mind your
tongue.”
Keefe resisted the urge to
laugh out loud. The princess was actually
defending him, but he knew it would be
unwise to point it out to her.
Connor looked to the king
for support. “Ye surely aren’t going to
let him build a twice-cursed dragonship, are ye?”
Brian Ui Niall dragged a
hand over his face. “I of fered the man a
boon. Shall it be said the word of Donegal is taken back just
because ‘tis inconve nient?” He caught
Keefe with his steady gaze. “I’ll be having your word ye’ll not use the ship to sail away without
me favor.”
“You have it,” Keefe said.
“Then I grant ye leave to build it.”
Keefe
knowledge to harm ye and your countrymen
if I could.” The king’s voice crackled
with emotion as he watched his wife settle happily into her
precious chair. “And now ye do me this
great kindness.”
“It was nothing,” Keefe
said. “You gave me a chance at life when
many would have taken it away, whatever
your motives.”
“I’d grant ye a boon, Keefe
Murphy,” the king went on. “I still hold
ye to your word not to leave us, but short of that, I’d grant ye a
request.”
Keefe glanced at Brenna.
For a moment, he consid ered asking for a
kiss from the eldest daughter of the house, but thought better of it. He was pretty sure
the king’s hospitality stopped well short
of his daugh ter’s favors. And besides,
given half a chance, he intended to entice Brenna into kissing him
willingly, and soon.
“I remembered more while I worked on the
queen’s chair.”
“ Then ye know your true name?”
“No,” Keefe said with a
frown. “It was more like remembering how
to do things. Mostly that I seem to have some experience with wood.
I’d like to do some more
carpentry.”
“Sure and if that isn’t the easiest request
I’ve ever granted,” the king said.
“I’ve seen the little
coracles you and your men use for
fishing,” Keefe said. The hide-covered crafts were adequate, nothing more.
“What of them?”
“I can make them better,”
Keefe said. “They need a keel, a sort of
backbone, running down the center. It’ll
make all the difference. If you give me leave, I’ll build a little boat that will sail circles around
your skin-covered hulls.”
“Aye and he’ll be sailing
away at the first chance.” Connor McNaught
jumped into the conversation. “ Now that he
knows the lay of our land, the next full moon, we’ll see a whole great boatload of the Ostman demons landing on
our beach.”
Murmurs of assent greeted
this pronouncement. The support seemed to embolden Connor
further and he strutted over to glare up
at Keefe. If the differ ence in their
heights troubled Connor, he gave no sign.
“I’ve given the king my
word,” Keefe said. A mus cle ticked in his
left cheek. He stifled the urge to knock the mocking expression off
the Irishman’s pugnacious face. “Brian Ui Niall has no reason to
mistrust me.”
“None but the accident of
your birth, Northman.” Connor swiped his
mouth with the back of his hand. His pale
eyes were already glassy from too many pints. “I still say ye cannot rely on a man who
doesn’t even know himself.”
“I may not remember my
name,” Keefe said, flex ing his fingers
and balling them into fists, “but I know
well enough my word is sacred.”
“Sacred! And what might a heathen Ostman know
of things sacred?” Connor spat back at him.
“Connor McNaught, ye’re a
fine one to talk.” Brenna stepped between
them, poking a finger into the center of Connor’s chest. “Ye
promised me only last week ye’d see the harness for the mare
mended, but ‘tis still in
tatters.”
Connor frowned and stepped back a pace.
“Keefe Murphy may be a
heathen Ostman, as ye say, yet he’s not promised but
what he’s delivered.” Brenna’s eyes flashed as she sent a scalding
look toward Connor. “So just ye mind your
tongue.”
Keefe resisted the urge to
laugh out loud. The princess was actually
defending him, but he knew it would be
unwise to point it out to her.
Connor looked to the king
for support. “Ye surely aren’t going to
let him build a twice-cursed dragonship, are ye?”
Brian Ui Niall dragged a
hand over his face. “I of fered the man a
boon. Shall it be said the word of Donegal is taken back just
because ‘tis inconve nient?” He caught
Keefe with his steady gaze. “I’ll be having your word ye’ll not use the ship to sail away without
me favor.”
“You have it,” Keefe said.
“Then I grant ye leave to build it.”
Keefe
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