"Then I'll see you at supper?"

One corner of his mouth jerked upward before he could stop it. "Aye, miss."

Hannah wondered if he was not allowed to smile, or if he did not like to smile. But he opened the door, and there was nothing to do but to leave him there in the hall and go in.

In the middle of the room was a canopied bed bigger than Hannah had ever seen before, and in the middle of the bed sat a little girl with Lily sleeping in her arms. Her eyes widened when she saw Hannah and she put Lily down, very gently. Then she leaped off the bed and landed with a soft thump.

Hannah had thought her to be young, but she saw now that the girl must be her own age. She was slight, and a full head shorter than Hannah, with a cap of short blond hair as curly as a goat's and sea-green eyes. Her skirt was muddy at the hem, and her feet were bare. There was a smudge of jam on her chin.

She said, "Babies smell sae sweet, dinna ye think? Mally was called awa', and she asked me tae bide wi' them. I'm called Jennet. Was your mither an Indian princess?"

Her tone was curious and forthright and friendly, and it made something small and warm and unexpected blossom in Hannah's chest, so that her throat closed and she had to swallow very hard. She said, "My mother was Sings-from-Books of the Kahnyen'kehâka people, and her mother is Falling-Day, and her mother is Made-of-Bones who is clan mother of the Wolf longhouse, and her mother Hawk-Woman was clan mother before her. She killed an English colonel and fed his heart to her sons." She drew a breath and let it out again.

"Guid for your granny. The English sojers hung my grandda for--" She paused, and scratched her pointed chin thoughtfully. "Nae guid cause. What do they call ye, then?"

"My girl-name is Squirrel, but most everybody calls me Hannah. When the time is right Falling-Day will give me my woman-name."

Jennet smiled so broadly that two deep dimples carved themselves into her cheeks. "I like Squirrel better than Hannah. I'll call ye that." She plucked an apple out of her apron pocket and tossed it in a quick flick of the wrist.

Hannah caught it, and in that moment she realized how very hungry she was.

"I'll tell ye what I think, Squirrel. Ye can tell me tales o' the Indians and the great wilderness, and I'll show ye aa the best bits o' Carryckcastle, aa the secret places."

Hannah went up to the bed to check the twins. They were both sleeping soundly, but it would not be long before they woke. Then they would need new swaddling, and they might be afraid of this strange place.

Behind her Jennet said, "We'll bide here a while, aye? Ye'll want tae eat, and see tae the wee ones. I'll help. Then we'll gae explorin'. Wad ye like tae see the pit?"

"Is that where Mac Stoker is?" She spoke around a mouthful of apple, sweet and tart all at once.

"Och, ne," said Jennet, helping herself to a spoonful of jam from the pot on the table. "They dinna want the pirate tae die, after aa. Wad ye like tae see him? He canna hurt ye--'ationezer Lun stands guard at the door, and he's aye fierce."

"I have seen Mac Stoker," Hannah said. "I saw him shoot a man and kidnap a lady from the Isis. But I would like to see him again."

The spoon paused on its way back toward the jam pot and Jennet turned to look at her. She produced a single dimple. "We'll be fast friends, the twa o' us. Wait and see."

25

In all her time on the Jackdaw, Elizabeth realized, she had never seen Mac Stoker off his feet, but now he was abed. Under a few days' growth of beard he had gone a peculiar ashen shade; even the scar around his neck had gone pale. His temple was swollen, the color of an overripe plum.

Then he opened his eyes--red rimmed and fever bright--and his mouth worked slowly, as if he didn't quite have control over his tongue.

"Bonner," he croaked. "Damn your eyes and liver, you're alive. Have you come to pay me what you owe?"

Nathaniel limped to the chair next to the bed and sat down, sticking his injured leg out in front of him. He said, "We can talk about who owes what later. Now I want to hear what happened to my father."

Stoker raised a hand and let it fall. "Sweet Jaysus, not that again. I'm wishin' I never set eyes on the man, nor on any of youse."

"You can't blame the mess you're in on him. You got that bullet in your gut on your own time," Nathaniel said.

"Did I now?" Stoker grimaced. "I don't recall you bein' there. If you were, you'd know that it was Hawkeye the bastards were lookin' for. Brained me proper with a musket when my back was turned and dragged me away, and now me men are sittin' in gaol cursin' me for a coward and a cur. Granny will eat me heart raw."

"Hawkeye has never set foot on Scottish soil," Elizabeth said. "What can he have had to do with this?"

"Sure and that may be true," said Stoker, wheezing a little now. "But there's plenty what are waitin' for him when he does, and he better keep his wits about him." He turned his head to look harder at Nathaniel, taking in the heavily wrapped shoulder and leg. "But maybe you've learned that for yourself already. Dragoons?"

"Aye."

"A pair of them, I'll wager. The bigger one with gray chin whiskers and as bald as a babby's arse, the other with a scar down his right cheek, and missing two fingers on his left hand."

Nathaniel glanced at Elizabeth, and his expression was not hard to read. Worry and anger, in equal measures. He said, "I never got close enough to see his hand, but that sounds about right. Why do you think they were looking for Hawkeye?"