"Has Moncrieff met Somerville?"

Robbie let out a soft laugh. "Aye, he has. But our Angus Moncrieff is no' on verra guid terms wi' Pink George."

Nathaniel had to grin at Somerville's old nickname, but he did not want to be distracted by a discussion of the man, his oddities or his faults, and so he turned the topic to more practical matters. In a few minutes he had extracted from Robbie the whole story of what had happened here, and it was as brief as he had expected: Hawkeye had come to take Otter home, and they had both been arrested. The authorities said they wanted Hawkeye for questioning about the Tory gold, but it was clear to Robbie and Iona both that something else was at the bottom of it all.

"What is it that Somerville wants from them, then?" Nathaniel asked. "Do you have any sense of it? Did he find out about Otter and Giselle, is that it?"

Iona was sitting on a small stool near the hearth with knitting in her lap, and she did not look up. "He may suspect, but he only knows of his daughter what he chooses to see. Which is very little."

"Then why are my father and Otter still in gaol?"

Robbie spread out his hands. "It's verra simple. Somerville canna risk Otter leavin' Montréal. The governor wants the boy here, ye ken. Otter's the only road they've got to Stone-Splitter."

Nathaniel sat back and rubbed his burning eyes with one hand, trying to make sense of it.

Stone-Splitter was a Kahnyen'kehâka sachem who had never given in to O'seronni ways, and for that reason alone the English feared him above all others: he had a keen understanding of their weaknesses, no need of their gifts, and no taste for their whisky, and thus they had no way to control him. He was a warrior in the ancient tradition, the kind they still told stories about, the kind whose furiosity on the battlefield kept old soldiers jerking and muttering in their uneasy sleep. And the young men of his village were trained in the same manner.

Of all the Kahnyen'kehâka sachem, Stone-Splitter was the only one who had refused to take sides in the war for independence and as a result his people had survived where others struggled. If the governor wanted Stone-Splitter's attention, it had to be because he was arming himself for another war and hoped to have the sachem's support and his warriors. Stone-Splitter was blood kin to Otter.

Nathaniel turned to Iona, and he saw that she had been watching him, and probably knew exactly what was in his thoughts.

"The smell of war is in the air," she said. "But perhaps not for a few years yet."

Another war. Men had talked of it uneasily ever since the last one, for nobody quite believed they had heard the last of the English king. And now here it was, within reach. The urge to be away was stronger than ever.

He said, "Once we get Otter out of gaol, will it be hard to get him out of Montréal?" Nathaniel was slow to meet Robbie's gaze, but he found no reproach there.

"If ye're askin' aboot Giselle, ye'd ken the answer better than I, laddie. Ye walked awa' frae her once, wi' your faither pushin' frae behind."

Nathaniel wasn't easily embarrassed, but he didn't especially like being reminded of the hours he had spent with Giselle Somerville. He had been young, and healthy and ready to learn; she had been just as young, anything but innocent, and she had enjoyed teaching him. It was almost twenty years ago, but Nathaniel recalled certain moments with perfect clarity, when he let himself. Hawkeye had shown up and asked him straight-out if he wanted the girl to wife, and if she would come home with them to Lake in the Clouds.

And that had been the end of it. Enough to wake him up to the truth: he could not live in Montréal, and she would have laughed at the idea of a life on the edge of the wilderness. And so he left Montréal with his father, and ended up spending the hunting season with Stone-Splitter's people. That was when he had taken note of the oldest granddaughter of the clan mother of the Wolf, Sings-from-Books, who had become his first wife. Out of the pan and into the fire.

He shook his head to clear it of the past. "Giselle will try to hold on to Otter, if she's given the chance," Nathaniel said. "She collects men like other women collect jewels."

Iona's head was lowered over her knitting, but Nathaniel saw a tightening of her mouth, and then she spoke up: "That's not very charitable of you, considering what you once were to each other."

It was a well-deserved rebuke, and Nathaniel accepted it with an inclined head. "You're right. I shouldn't pass judgment. But my worry now is for Otter."

"He's a bonnie lad, and gey canny," Rab said. "But he's young, forbye, and--curious. It's a guid thing he's wi' yer faither."

"We need to get him out of here. And us, too."

"Tomorrow, if possible," Iona agreed.

"Aye," said Robbie. "Ye'll get nae argument frae me."

"Have you got any ideas?" Nathaniel asked.

Robbie grinned. "Have ye got iny money?"

When they had talked for another hour, Robbie returned to the lodgings in the rue St. Gabriel, so as to keep Nathaniel's presence a secret for the time being. In two days' time, if all went well, they would be out of Montréal, and Moncrieff would never know he had been there. For a moment Nathaniel could almost feel sorry for the man, who wanted nothing more than to fulfill an obligation to his employer, an old man with no heir and no hopes. But stronger than that was the need to protect his own, and Nathaniel would turn his back on Montréal and Moncrieff without a moment's hesitation.