But he was now in possession of worthy booty and fair game for any clannsman, save the Hawks and the sister clanns, of course, did any spot him returning to Aberdeen.

He rode through the night, the pace being awkward since he continued to hold on to the reins of the captured beasts, rather than try to herd them. They were unused to him and nervous, after all the excitement, and he was afraid of losing one or more in the night.

He entered Aberdeen in the early afternoon of the following day, both he and the animals exhausted. He had paused along the way only for water. His luck had held, and he had seen no clannsmen, not even his own kyn.

At the gate, the warder goggled at him. The other was a Fielding, not a Hawk, but he knew John well, having stolen a Hawk girl as his bride.

“Where in the name of the Holy did you find those animals, John of the Hawks?” he called.

“It was nothing,” John grinned down at him. “I came out from ambush upon three, nay four, if one counts women, of the Clann Thompson. I confounded them and seized these, their horses, as well as two carbines and these other trappings you see.”

The other was still staring. “Did you kill any?” he demanded, unbelievingly. He was fully aware that John was under no compulsion to tell the truth to him, a Fielding and hence not a clannsman of John’s even though of the same phylum.

“Kill any?” John said loftily, still grinning. “I counted coup on all three!”

The other snorted. “As to that, I will wait to hear your declamation before the muster.” He snorted again. “No one exaggerates before the assembly of the muster. That is the bann.”