Page 32 of Darach

“Aye, for the passage leads under the walls and opens onto the walking trail,” the old sage said. “Only we mustnae, for should even one spore find a tree, well, ’twould end with the highlands buried beneath a mountain of the same.”

“I hate to agree, Elder Sgur.” Emery appeared with a broom and a bucket, and a small army of maids following her with the same, as well as large crocks. “Hey, Charlotte. I see you two have already met.” She leaned closer and murmured, “Sgur is the oldest member of the enclave, and kind of the medieval version of John Dalton. If Dalton were a mad scientist, I mean.”

“Yes.” Charlotte saw the old man hurry with the two younger sages as they chased some escaped mushrooms down the hall. “I got the same impression.”

“He’s mostly harmless, and we all love him.” The laird’s wife glanced up just as the last mushroom overhead burst and showered her with pebbled spores. “Well, most of the time.”

Chapter Eight

“The men need occupation, my lord,” Eamon, the chieftain in charge of the Carack garrison, told Struan during their morning meeting in the great hall. “They’ve spent weeks drinking and whining while mourning for the laird, but ’tis making them soft. Soon I wouldnae trust them to face a pair of sages, much less the facking MacRoss.”

Although it angered him to hear the chieftain’s claims, Struan knew he was right. The clan’s grief over Callum’s death had dwindled, and left idle the men had grown surly and morose. If he continued to enforce the mourning period the clan would end brawling in the chambers and halls.

Och, get on with life, Brother, Callum would say. The dead can do naught but sleep.

“Very well. You’ve my permission to drill them from dawn until dusk. I shall come at noon to watch individual bouts.” He looked up as the chieftain continued to hover. “’Tisnae enough?”

“’Tis the garrison that concerns me, my lord. Some of the lads, they’re no’ easy facing Hunter Fyn,” Eamon admitted. “You ken how foolishly he behaves in the lists. He draws blood and wins every match, but of late...” He stopped and sighed.

“Naught you say shall astonish me,” Struan assured him.

“The lad’s harming himself.” The chieftain grimaced. “I’ve seen him bite his lip or tongue so he may spit his own blood in the face of the maids, my lord. He doesnae limit such torments to the vassals. Some days past I saw him pacing the hall and gnawing at his fingernails until they bled. I dinnae ken why he’d do this, and I’m no’ inclined to ask.”

Struan had always known this day would come, so it wasn’t a surprise. Still, he hated what would have to come next.

“Go to Fyn’s quarters and remove all the weapons, and then escort him there after the evening meal. Tell him only ’tis punishment from me for setting the fire in the hall, and that I shall speak with him on the morrow.” He knew giving the hunter any hint of his fate would only make him run. With his knowledge of the Carack lands and the many hunting blinds he’d made Fyn could spend years eluding capture. “Once he’s inside bar the door from the outside, and put two guards to stand watch for the night. That shall be enough.”

The chieftain nodded, and bowed before he backed out of the room.

Only after he had gone did Struan rub a tired hand over his face. He had spoken to Callum in the past about Fyn’s unstable nature, and what they might do once his madness became unmanageable. His brother had always favored indulging the hunter for as long as possible, but agreed that in time it would be too dangerous to permit him to roam free.

“He’s like a wild thing himself,” Callum had said. “’Tis too cruel to lock him away in the dungeons or anywhere secure enough to hold him. We cannot exile him, nor hand him over to the magistrate to be imprisoned with the other lunatics. In the end Fyn’s Carack blood would expose us all.”

“When the time comes, and you give me leave, my lord,” Struan said, “I shall send him along to our sire.”

The laird had put a hand on his shoulder. “I but beg you keep his end free of pain and fear. I dinnae wish Fyn suffer for what ’twas never his fault.”

Callum had already gone to join their sire in the next life, however, leaving Struan in charge of Fyn and the rest of the clan. Tomorrow he would ride out with the hunter to his favorite spot up in the slopes, and there share a meal and some tales he had never told him of Callum. Then, as Fyn gazed out at the beautiful forests surrounding Dun Deigh, he would plant his dagger in the hunter’s heart, and keep his promise.

Struan looked up as a knock sounded on his chamber door. “Enter.”

The new kitchen maid came inside, a tray balanced on one arm. “Eventide, my lord.” She tried to bob, thought better of it, and brought the food to him. “Cook bid me bring your evening meal to you.”

“Put the tray there.” He nodded toward a side table, and as Revna turned away inspected her gown. It looked newer than the one she had been wearing in the forest, although he could see it had been made from cheap hemp cloth instead of wool. Contrary to the laundress’s claims she also wore a shift beneath it. Her feet remained bare, however, and the sight of her dusty toes annoyed him. “Didnae the steward give you new boots to wear?”

“Aye, he did, my lord.” The tray clattered as she put it down. “I dinnae wish to dirty them.”

Struan saw her hands twist the sides of her apron, and then he understood. “You’ve never worn shoes or boots, have you?”

“No, my lord.” Revna met his gaze, her own shamed. “’Twas no coin for such when I lived with Da. I didnae mind.” Her nose wrinkled. “They’re pretty, the new boots, only they make my feet itch.”

Struan heard a rusty sound come from his mouth, and realized it was a chuckle. How long had it been since he’d laughed?

“You’ll be glad of them when winter comes.” He saw a handful of dark purple berries on the plate by his bread, meat and cheese, and a mug of cider. “Who prepared the food?”

“I did, my lord.” She glanced at the tray. “Cook said you wouldnae want stew or pottage. If ’tisnae what you wish, I may fetch more–”

“I dinnae favor berries, nor hot foods,” he told her. “I drink only cold water.”