answered.
The flagstaff flashed down. At the opposite end of the long field, another man immediately opened a cage and threw the chough crow into the air.
Isobel jerked her arm up, releasing her bird. She held her breath as the two peregrines took to the air. Latharna’s distinctive white-tipped wings beat the air once, twice, three times, and she was up.
The crow had apparently seen the falcons and zig-zagged in the opposite direction, going left then right. Both falcons raced toward the black bird on parallel paths with the gray Crathes falcon slightly in the lead.
With a surge of speed, Latharna caught up to her competitor and they clashed with talons up, each attempting to sink their weapons into the other.
Dinna fight Latharna, let it have the crow. Isobel pleaded silently with the falcon she had trained from a young eyass.
Then, as if they realized their real prey was escaping, the battling falcons disengaged and pursued the black crow again. The smaller bird dodged and weaved expertly until the Crathes falcon snagged it from the sky and took it to the ground.
The crowd erupted into cheers, and the Crathes falconer took off running toward his falcon.
Isobel pursed her lips and whistled for Latharna, who came back to the glove promptly. The bird gobbled up her meat from Isobel while she got hold of the bird’s jesses and carried the falcon back to her perch.
Rabbie and Fin came to pat their sister’s back consolingly.
“So far, so good, Belle,” Fin whispered.
Rabbie gave her a hug. “Go now, lassie.”
Isobel put Latharna’s hood on. When Da came over, she hung her head as if in shame. Da tilted her head up and kissed her cheek. “Good work, Belle, yer a verra good actress too. Now off with ye.”
Fin was up next. He had his falcon, Grizel, on his glove as Isobel walked by. Fin gave her a tiny nod of encouragement.
Continuing the charade of disappointment, Isobel put her hands over her face as if hiding her shame. She jogged a few steps, let out sobs of anguish, and sprinted toward the castle.
The castle halls were strangely silent when Isobel walked quietly and calmly inside. Everyone had gone to the tournament.
With one last glance around, she ducked behind a huge hanging tapestry that she had discovered hid a small alcove. Her bundle lay right where she left it.
Quickly removing the doublet, she opened her blouse far enough to let the top swell of her breasts show. Grabbing up a dull gray skirt, she stepped into it and fastened the waistband. She shoved some clothing inside her blouse and arranged it so the front was smooth, as if she were plump.
With both hands, she carefully pulled several strands of hair loose, careful not to disturb the hidden pick. Then she retrieved a small tray, bottle of wine, and two glasses from the bundle. Arranging everything to play the part of a servant, Isobel took a deep breath and headed for the dungeon.
Crathes was smaller than Dunnottar, so it didn’t take long before Isobel was descending the slippery stone steps. Cool, damp air hit her face and sent gooseflesh skittering over her arms.
Humming the tune to a drinking song her Da would sing, she headed toward the guard’s post. With any luck, she’d get an easy-going, pliable man.
As she rounded the corner, the first hint of the guard was a pair of scruffy boots, propped up on a stool. A loud snore interrupted her humming. The smelly, unkempt guard was sound asleep in his chair with his mouth wide open and his chair tilted back.
How lucky! He was already asleep. This would speed things up.
Now she tried to be quiet when she tiptoe closer and dribbled the potent laudanum into his open mouth. Reflexively, the man swallowed as needed, but did not wake. The sleeping potion would seal the deal. For good measure, she sprinkled him with some wine, took a long drink herself, and left the half-empty bottle beside him. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and softly burped. “Some for me, ye bùr