Page 7 of Time of the Warlord (Stones of Scotland #5)

S adie could not remember ever being so angry. With Ciaran, with Matthew, with herself. She was so close to solving the mystery of Norah’s disappearance - she just knew it. The people in this place were hiding something important, and the mysterious lord and his equally mysterious foster son were at the heart of it. But if neither of them would talk to her, what more could she do?

Matthew had refused to tell her anything. He wouldn’t talk about his early childhood or how he came to be in Dal Riada, and he certainly wouldn’t talk about his father, the man Sadie knew as Professor Lucan Edmondson. The man most likely responsible for Norah’s disappearance and probable death. Sadie had assumed that the man’s missing wife and son were dead, along with the group of vanished women, but Matthew’s existence gave her new hope. If he wouldn’t talk to her, though, what could she do next?

Well, she certainly did not need to do whatever Ciaran told her. As if he had the right to keep her away from Matthew, the only other person here who came from her time period! Admittedly, Sadie did not know what else she could ask Matthew, but she resented Ciaran feeling as if he’d won. She was not going to sit meekly in her room and wait for him to send her home - however he planned on doing that.

Buoyed by this new resolution, Sadie began making plans. She sat through an interminably long dinner beside Niamh, whose friendly act had evaporated entirely. The siblings talked only to each other, acting almost as if Sadie did not exist. It only made her resentment burn brighter.

No one commented when she left the hall early. She returned to her room and changed back into her own clothes, delighted to be out of the ridiculous dress. Then she waited.

Darkness gradually fell. Peering out of a small gap between her shutters, Sadie watched as men lit the torches one by one, illuminating the alleyways that led from building to building. Despite the brightness of the flames, the shadows were still deep and rich. Plenty of space to hide.

Sadie waited until the alleyway outside was empty. She couldn’t go back through the women’s weaving room, not when the soft chatter of voices still drifted through her door, but the window was large enough, and low to the ground. She managed to squeeze through, landing lightly on the ground on the other side. The night air was cool and crisp, although a little tinged with the smells of livestock and manure.

Keeping to the shadows, Sadie made her way back towards the main hall building. The hall itself could not possibly contain the kind of clues she needed - it was far too busy, with people coming and going at all hours. No place for secrets. And there was no point in returning to Matthew’s room - he had made it clear that he had no interest in talking to her.

No, Sadie was sure of her destination: Ciaran’s room.

This would be difficult, she knew. He was clearly an experienced warrior - a warlord, perhaps, judging by all the armed men who lounged around the hall during the day. If Sadie was to creep in and out of his rooms undetected, she would have to be very fast, and very secretive.

She drifted closer to his door. Thankfully, although his room was beside the hall, it was reached from the outside. She could never have stayed out of sight in the bustling main room. If only she knew the layout of the room beyond. Did he have a suite, or just a bedroom? How was the furniture laid out? She would just have to hope for the best.

Sinking down into the shadows opposite, Sadie once again waited.

She had no idea how much time passed before the door opened and Ciaran finally appeared. He was frowning, the expression drawing deep lines on his shadowed face. Sadie waited as he walked towards the main door of the hall. Then she darted forwards, pressing herself flat against the wall beside his door. She felt ridiculous, like a character in a bad spy movie, but she didn’t know what else to do.

The door opened easily and Sadie slipped inside. She was in luck - candles still burned on the tabletop, giving her just enough light to work with. The room was larger than she’d expected, with a bed in one corner, and a variety of tables and chests scattered around the rest of the space. Where to start?

Sadie bit her lip as she realized she had absolutely no idea what she was searching for. Scouring the room of a medieval warlord was a little different from interviewing witnesses or scouring the Internet. She wasn’t exactly trained for this sort of investigation. Journalists were not supposed to break and enter.

Still, she was here now. She opened the nearest chest, straining a little at the weight of the wood. It looked mostly full of blankets, but Sadie rifled through anyway, feeling for anything out of place.

There . Something thin, almost like paper, tucked between the woolen folds. Sadie yanked it out - a piece of parchment with some words scratched across it in black ink.

She pulled it up to the candle light to read, and then immediately felt like an idiot. Of course it was in a language she couldn’t read. The language chip was no help with this. Frustrated, she turned the parchment over. On the other side, written in messy handwriting, like that of a child, were two words she could read: CAUGHT YOU.

She gasped and dropped the parchment.

A slow clap came from the other side of the room. Sadie whirled around. Ciaran stood in the doorway, smiling sardonically. Matthew stood beside him, clutching a lighted torch. Sadie couldn’t believe she hadn’t heard them.

“You know, Sadie, you’re a rather predictable woman,” Ciaran said. “Why don’t we all sit down and have a little chat about what you were looking for?”