Page 35 of Darro

Chapter Nine

Amuch-needed bath and clean clothes cleared out all of the cobwebs from Esme’s head. When she went downstairs with Elspeth for the evening meal everyone kept giving her odd looks while trying not to look like they were staring.

“I guess everyone knows I slept for three days, huh?” she said to the chambermaid, who grimaced.

“Pay no heed to any gossip you hear, my lady,” Elspeth said after she glared at a couple of whispering kitchen maids. “Whatever these silly wenches say, ’tisnae your fault the days and nights have quickened.”

Blame the outsider, Esme thought as she approached the platform where the other women from her time were dining.

Ava stood and gave her the same warm, welcoming smile she had just after she’d come into the spell trap. “I’m so glad you came down tonight.”

Esme glanced at the window slits as the darkness outside paled to daylight in a few seconds. “You mean, this morning?”

Murmurs of surprise swept through the hall, and collectively all of the maids serving the meal hurried back to the kitchens, followed by several guards. Everyone else looked as if they’d lost their appetite, including Olivia and Grace.

“If no one wants those berries, I’m going to eat the whole bowl,” Esme mentioned as she reached for the oatcakes and cream pitcher.

Ava exchanged a look with Olivia before she said, “You mentioned after you woke up that you needed to speak to our armorer. Why is that?”

“I’m not going to hit him over the head again, if that’s what you’re worried about,” she assured the other woman as she heaped blackberries onto the oatcakes and poured cream over them.

“’Tis fine, my lady,” a deep voice whispered from behind her. “What need you say to me, Mistress?”

Esme looked up at the giant clansman she had attacked in the lists. Rory McKeran had the most beautiful features she had ever seen on anyone, male or female. The way he smiled at her made her wonder if he’d forgotten how she’d cracked him over the skull with a log. Or maybe he was trying to psych her out with some kind of weird medieval payback.

She had to stop reading into things, she told herself firmly.

“Hi, my name is Esme Martinez. In the world outside I’m a reporter with Monterey Today.” Her gaze shifted to his head, which looked fine, but she still tried to sound apologetic as she said, “I’m sorry that I hit you over the head in that practice fighting place. Nobody told me you guys do that, so I thought you were trying to kill Darro. Also, thank you for the sling shot. How did you know I wanted one? And why are you whispering?”

“I passed by your chamber when you spoke to the chieftain about the weapon you desired.” His smile disappeared. “My mortal weakness is my voice. If I speak too loudly, it cracks stone, and causes walls to collapse.”

He was the clansmen with the most dangerous power, and she’d clubbed him with a log? Esme almost made the sign of the cross over herself. “I’m really very sorry about hurting you, Armorer.”

“I seek no vengeance, Mistress Martinez,” he assured her. “You’ve my thanks for defending my brother. Although ’twasnae needed, we’re happy to welcome any lady with a warrior’s courage. In that sense, all women from the outside world are much the same.”

Although he kept his voice low, it seemed easy to understand him. She also liked that he was kind enough to not only forgive her, but praise her for attacking him.

“You’re too nice to someone who knocked you out,” she assured him. “And please, call me Esme. You’ve already healed up, haven’t you?”

“Aye, the wound’s gone.” He touched the back of his head and then regarded Ava. “Might I share your meal, my lady?”

The laird’s wife handed him a plate before pouring a mug of brew and adding some honey to it. Esme watched the interaction between them and got the impression they were more like best friends than acquaintances. Since Ava was somewhat reserved around everyone else, Esme wondered how she had grown so close to the armorer. Then she noticed the similarities in their features, particularly the eyebrows, nose and jaw lines, which were almost identical.

She doesn’t just like him. She could be related to him.

Over the meal the women talked about foods they missed, keeping the conversation very light and quite wholesome. Esme played along, mentioning chilaquiles with green sauce as her favorite brunch dish. As they discussed what they could and couldn’t make with the ingredients available in the spell trap, Rory only listened and ate a huge bowl of porridge with chopped apple. Despite the roaring fires in all the hearths, the air grew noticeably colder, until every word they said added a puff of white breath in the air. The rest of the clansmen and vassals in the hall left, and a few maids returned to clear the trestle tables.

The daylight outside began to darken to night again, making it obvious that the length of a day had now dwindled to about an hour and a half.

“I think I’d better direct the chambermaids to bring in more wood,” Ava said, rising to her feet.

Olivia and Grace also made excuses and left with her, leaving Esme alone with the armorer.

She eyed his empty bowl. “If you’re finished, why don’t we take a walk?”

Esme considered asking Rory to take her to Darro’s chamber, but that was probably in the garrison hall, which was off-limits to all females unless they had been invited. She also wasn’t sure where he had gone or what he was doing now.

“I’ve been interviewing everyone about what they know of the spell trap and this Bodach creature that cursed the clan,” she told the armorer as they made their way through the passages, where annoyed-looking vassals were lighting the torches. “While I was unconscious I had a very strange dream, too. Would you mind answering some questions?”