"Franc!" she gasped. "How did you know it was me?"
They both jumped from their horses, and he caught her in a rough hug. "I didn't. My watch spotted you. We don't get many guests at this time of an evening in the autumn, so I decided to come and see for myself. I could tell you weren't from these parts."
"How?"
"Northerners don't ride so badly," he teased. "Besides, I had a feeling you'd show up sooner or later."
"Why?"
He shrugged. "Intuition," he said vaguely. "So, are you coming in? That horse looks like she'll barely make it to the castle gates, so you might as well stay the night."
Hal smiled. "I was hoping the offer was still open."
"Come on, then."
They headed up the last section of track to the fort, leading their horses by the reins. Unable to disguise his delight, Franc asked her so many questions about Colvé, the court and the academy that she did not have chance to answer them all. She tried to explain something of her reasons for leaving the city, but he stopped her.
"All in good time, Hal. Let's get inside to the warmth. You're hungry, I take it?"
She nodded, realising that she had eaten nothing since Brennac.
The gates were opened by a large, burly man-at-arms. Franc addressed him with no show of formality. "Take the horses to the stables, would you, Arec? Treat the mare well, she's come a long way."
Arec eyed Franc curiously, and then peered at Hal, his eyes rounding in surprise and then creasing in mirth.
"What is it, man?" Franc snapped, his voice edged with irritation.
"Nothing, Sir." The man took the horses as bidden and Franc shook his head.
"Reprobate!" he called after him, his jesting tone at odds with his grave expression.
"What's the problem?"
"Nothing," he replied quickly. "The man's a half-wit, that's all. And sometimes, lass, I wonder who's in charge here: him or me."
He led her across the courtyard. She could make out little in the shadows, although the torches of a guard crossing their path or walking the battlements revealed the doors to stables, magazines and workshops. As they passed through into the keep itself, she stared up at the wall above them to notice two lanterns hung precariously aside an enormous, carved stone shield bearing the emblem of an eagle, its wings outstretched. Of course!
"Franc I must pass on to you something Marc gave me," she began.
"All in good time, girl. Let's get some food inside you first."
The warmth of the great hall was welcoming: a massive chamber framed by long trestles and benches, the darkness punctured by candles and torches which burned on the walls. Several men, women and children sat along the tables eating supper, sleeping or talking in low voices. Some turned and nodded to Franc as he headed across the room. Others barely looked up. Hal was faintly surprised at this lack of interest in the Master of Hannac himself, but thought better of mentioning it. Franc beckoned to a girl who seemed to be waiting on a few of the others with a pitcher of beer. "Elis, bring some food up to my chambers, would you?"
They passed out of the hall and headed up a narrow, winding staircase.
"My chamber is one of the smallest rooms in the entire fort, but it's the only place I truly call my own. As you see, I share the fort with everyone else who treats it as their home."
"And what do they do, these people?" she asked breathlessly.
"Many of their families have been here for as long as the Hannacs. A lot of them are tenant farmers. When the weather is better, they farm down on the lowlands. Half of what they produce comes to the fort, and I sell it in Dal Reniac or Colvé. In return, they spend the winter here in safety from the cold. Here we are."
A heavily-bolted wooden door stood at the very top of the staircase. He took out a set of keys, and unlocked it. Franc's chamber was cramped but cosy, with wood panelling lining the walls, a shaft of moonlight creeping through its tiny mullioned window and a small fire spitting in the grate. He lit a pair of candles in the hearth and set them upon his desk before unlocking the cupboard beneath it and pulling from it two glasses and a corked bottle of wine. Franc gestured for Hal to pull up a chair, and poured her a generous glass.
There was a knock at the door and the girl from the main hall entered bearing a platter of meat, bread and fruit which she set down between them. Ravenous, Hal attacked the food without another word and gulped down the wine, immediately feeling drowsy and light headed. His lips curling in amusement, Franc filled her glass once more, and they sat back comfortably in their chairs.
"Better?" he asked with a smile.
"Much better." She patted her belly in satisfaction.
"Good. So, let's talk. What brings you to Hannac at this time of year and in such weather?"
Hal paused and studied him intently. Eyes, sapphire blue, shone out of his tanned, coarsely-handsome face. His untamed shock of dark curly hair made him appear younger than he was. Only the wrinkles furrowing his forehead bore testament to a life which could not have been easy, up here in the North far from Colvé.
Franc gave little away, she knew that. Yet she had never had any reason to doubt his loyalty. Lying to her friends had only brought her more trouble than she had bargained for. "Well, Franc, the thing is, I'm er..."
"Yes?" He gazed at her down the aquiline length of his nose.
"I'm in love." She looked down at the floor, the heat of embarrassment spreading to her face, aware that she was now turning red.
Franc surveyed her for some time, a smile he could barely suppress twitching at the edge of his lips, before he could stand it no longer. Throwing back his head he laughed, tears leaking from the corners of his eyes. Hal crossed her arms in irritation and glared at him. He caught her expression and forced himself to stop.
"Ah, I see..." he managed to gasp. "You're serious?"
"Yes. I am. And if it's such a matter of amusement for you I see I could have saved myself the journey." She raised herself angrily from the chair.
"Oh, Hal sit down, for the Emperor's own sake. You're not going anywhere. You can hardly blame me for being surprised given your past record, can you? From what I recall of your romantic career, you were barely over one lass before you'd taken up with the next. And now you've ridden all this way to tell me that you're in love? Of course, I can't deny I'm honoured." He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand and sighed, choking back another laugh.
"It's more than that, Franc. I'm in trouble."
"Ah." His expression resolved itself into one of concern. "What do you mean, trouble?"
She took a deep breath. Better tell him. He'll find out from Marc anyway.
"Her name is Meracad. Meracad Léac."
"Not as in Salius Léac's daughter, I hope?"
Biting her lip she studied the floor.
"Hal, what have you been up to?" His tone changed completely, his voice now strained and anxious. "Because if I'm not mistaken, my neighbour in Dal Reniac recently took as his bride the daughter of a Colvé merchant who..."
"Yes, alright. It's her," she interrupted, now impatient. "Look, Franc, I'm sick of people telling me that I've been a fool, or that I shouldn't have allowed it to happen, so please don't even try. You can say what you like, but you won't stop me. I'm not right without her, Franc. I have to get her back. Whatever it takes, but I have to get her back."
He stared at her in amazement. "I do believe you are in love. I never heard you say such things before."
"It's like being deprived of air, Franc. I need her."
Shocked at her own confession she lapsed back into silence, staring into the glowing embers of the grate. Franc shook his head, pouring more wine. He passed her a glass but she ignored him.
"I know you well enough to realise that if your mind is made up nothing will persuade you from your course. But let me ask you just one thing. Are you sure you understand the risks of what I believe you're planning? Because one does not simply walk into Bruno Nérac's fort and carry off his wife. He has a certain reputation."
Hal's smile was bitter. "I've taken many risks over the past few months. I seem to be getting used to it."
He appraised her intently. "Well," he said at last, "you certainly won't get as far as the gates of Dal Reniac without my help."
"You want to help me?"
"Yes, of course. Why wouldn't I?"
"Well, in general, it seems that people try to stop me from doing what I want."
"I know you too well to waste time trying to stop you. The way I see it, only an utter fool would think they could run off with Bruno Nérac's wife and get away with it. But then you've never been to Dal Reniac. And you've never seen his fortress. So I'll take you there. If you're still set on getting the lass out of there, at least you'll have somewhere to run to."
"Thank you. I wasn't counting on so much help and I have to tell you that I don't know if I can ever repay it."
Narrowing his eyes, his expression inscrutable, Franc peered into his wine glass, swirled the contents around and then drained it. "You don't have to pay me back, Hal." He set the cup down. "It's getting late and you must be exhausted. I'll show you to a room."
As she rose, now unsteady with fatigue, she recalled the ring Marc had asked her to deliver. "Good grief! I almost forgot." Hal pulled it from her pocket and slid it across the table to him.
"What's this?"
"Marc asked me to give it to you. I hadn't realised what the emblem was until I arrived here...are you alright?"
Franc stared down at the ring, turning it over in the palm of his hand a few times, his face now pale and his hands trembling.
"Franc what's wrong?"
He made no answer. Clutching his fist around the ring he squeezed it tight, his gaze focussed inwards. She sat down again and waited.
"Hal," he said at last, his voice dry and gravelly. He avoided her gaze. "Could you give me a few minutes? Just wait outside the room for a moment, would you?"
"Of course." Nerves cancelling out her weariness, she went out onto the top of the staircase, closing the door behind her. What memories had that ring invoked?