If it’s still there. And if it’s not, we need to find it. Otherwise it’ll be the end of Dun Crin and Edana’s resistance. Only takes one tongue to wag, and there’s altogether too much silver in that chest for everyone to resist. Loyalty only goes so far . . . He’d explained as much at the council meeting. Edana had backed him completely, and Pendathran had grudgingly agreed that the silver posed a danger that should be investigated.

He stood and stepped onto dry land, gave himself a moment for his legs to adjust.

Camlin had planned most of this incursion, but Drust was clearly in charge here, Camlin recognizing most of the warriors as Drust’s crew. A few of Roisin’s shieldmen had volunteered as well, though – Brogan one of them. He looked over at Camlin and smiled cheerfully.

You’d think he was still at the feast night.

They had had quite the celebration at Dun Crin on the evening that they’d arrived, three nights gone now, a lot of sore heads the next morning. Edana and Roisin had been all business, though, pulling him to one side the next day.

‘What is it?’ Camlin had asked them.

‘Much rides on this,’ Edana had said to him.

He nodded. ‘Some objections to your right to lead?’

‘I had not expected more politicking,’ Edana sighed. ‘Here, amongst my own people, my own kin.’

‘Huh,’ snorted Roisin. ‘Family is politics, the hottest forge you’ll find.’

Aye, and some come out sharp as iron, others bent and twisted. Some a little of both.

‘So my little trip needs to be successful,’ Camlin said.

‘Exactly. Eyes are watching, and judging.’

‘I’ll do my best.’ Camlin mustered a smile he didn’t feel.

‘You always have,’ Edana said, and then walked away.

So here he was, three days later, standing on a riverbank, nominally leading thirty men into enemy-infested land in search of a chest of silver that was probably no longer there.

Beats sitting by a lake eating frogs. Besides, it’s my fault I’m here, nobody else’s. No one made me open my big mouth.

He reached inside a pouch and strung his bow.

‘You ready?’ he said to Drust as the warrior approached him.

‘Are you?’

‘Course.’

Drust gestured for him to lead the way, then leaned in close as Camlin was passing him.

‘Don’t go getting my lads killed, or me, for that matter.’

‘Do my best,’ Camlin said with a sour twist of his mouth.

They crept single-file along the riverbank, Camlin’s eyes and ears working ceaselessly. When the village came into view he hadn’t heard or seen anything that set his hairs tingling. Birds were singing, insects buzzing.

Buzzing a little too much, he thought as he paused behind the last cover between them and the first buildings.