Page 22 of Dorchad

Dorchad regarded him. “How long ’tis been since you last lost control?”

“Half a moon.” He looked at his boots. “I lost my temper with a gardener, and spent the next week in the tower to calm myself.”

The watcher, whose mortal weakness turned him into a mindless berserker whenever he grew angry, had long been practicing self-discipline. When he couldn’t control his rage, he retreated to a remote tower where a guard locked him in a sturdy iron cage until he could act as a rational man again. The fact that he had broken his very necessary discipline twice in the last month meant something had gone amiss.

“Shall you tell me the rest, or must I guess?” Dorchad asked him.

“’Tis that druid lad who came twice now.” Janys hunched his shoulders. “Bruce, he’s become overly fond of him, and speaks of him for hours and hours.” A flash of ire burned in his eyes as he added, “He doesnae come to me since the night Dugal died.”

The gardener he mentioned had been Janys’s lover for some years. While outside the clan most mortals disapproved of men facking men, among the MacRune the relationships were tolerated.

“We cannae wed mortals, especially you to Bruce,” he reminded him. “You’ve no right to stop your lad from making friends, nor may you force him continue as your lover.”

“Our happiness ended when that druid came to the island, Chieftain, but ’tis more than stealing Bruce from me.” He met his gaze, his own dark now. “’Tis something about Kiamh that seems devious. He’s ever and always skulking about the passages, yet visits no one. That and he smells wrong, like those odd things we find washed up on the shore now and again.”

“You smell Fae magic on him?” When the watcher nodded he thought for a moment. “Very well. I shall speak to the laird about the druid, and ask that he’s no’ permitted to come to the island again. ’Tis naught I may do to reunite you with your lover, but in time he should forgive you. For now you must school yourself, else you end up harming the one you favor.”

“My thanks, Chieftain.” Janys bowed and left looking a little happier.

Dorchad thought of Rebecca, and how she had responded to him unlike any other female he’d encountered. Had she grown as fond of him as Janys was of the gardener? It seemed too soon for such. The men of her time must regular abuse their wenches, but if that were the case, she would run from him to avoid more of the same. What about him could lure such an innocent sweet lass into lavishing him with her affections?

I need cease brooding about the wench, and get on with my duties.

He returned his attention to the map, and looked for spots where the brigands might hide during the daylight hours. After sunset the darkness on the island proved so complete that only the laird could detect anything at a distance, thanks to his night vision. There was one other who had surveyed the island after sunset and advised Tair of the best spot to begin building.

He went to Lochran’s quarters in one of the towers, where the Chief of the Night Watch hid from the sun that could blind him. He slept most of the morning, watched over by his mortal steward Ninian, who also served as his eyes during the day time hours.

“My lord Lochran only just awoke,” the steward warned as he met Dorchad at the threshold. He carried a tray with the Night Watch chief’s morning meal and brew.

He opened the door for the fretful vassal. “I shall speak softly.”

Inside the sparsely-furnished tower room Lochran sat by the hearth with his back to the shuttered windows. He had not yet dressed, wearing only the loose trews he favored when alone. The blindfold over his eyes once more reminded Dorchad that there were far worse weaknesses than his own.

“Fair day, Brother.” He sat down in the chair across from him, knowing Lochran would recognize him by his smell as well as his voice. “How went your night?”

“Worrisome.” The blind man smiled as the steward set his food and drink on the small table between them. “Reports of a dark monster in the woods near the village pour in now. The watchers saw movement on our island circling round the outer wall, likely eejit mortals come in hopes of stealing from Gealladh.”

“Mayhap they mean to hide here for a time.” He told him about the report concerning the band of thieves, and how they’d discovered a skiff hidden where they had probably landed. “They’re likely running out of food, and dinnae ken enough to live off what they may gather or kill in the forest or fish from the loch. If they wished conceal themselves, where on the island should they do thus?”

“If they could find the entry, likely in the old troll’s ha’,” Lochran said. “I found it during my first survey of the island. ’Twas never blocked off or filled in.”

Dorchad recalled the deep, dark cave, the sight of which had terrified the few vassals that had come upon the entry while gathering herbs and berries in the forest. “I shall inspect it, then.”

“Best wait for them to come out after dusk,” the chief told him. “They may decide to retreat deeper into the cave, and fall over the edge into the troll’s pit.”

He rubbed his brow. “’Tis a pit inside the cave as well?”

“Aye, at the far end. I never fathomed how far it drops, but ’tis deep enough to end mortals.” Lochran’s mouth hitched. “That ’twould save you some work.”

“I dinnae drive mortals to their deaths, as well you ken,” he countered, annoyed now. “We shall capture and deliver the thieves to the magistrate.”

“Who shall then sell the poor bastarts into slavery, as he’s done for every criminal brought before him.” The chief’s smile widened. “Shall we then rescue the very brigands we earlier sent for justice?”

The new magistrate had been a problem since he’d arrived, but this prospect was actually no joke. “We need remove that greedy eejit from his position.”

“’Tis said the king appointed him, so I wish you much luck with that.” Lochran toasted him with his brew before taking a sip. “What of the monster plaguing the villagers?”

“Bid Sgathan investigate the claim when he next attends the market,” Dorchad said. “He may persuade the truth out of those eejits without breaking their heads.”