“For bringing me back.”
“Ye dinna need to thank for me for that. Ye gave me one hell of a fright when ye collapsed. Getting ye back to Dun Tabor was the onlythink I could think to do.”
She shook her head. “I don’t mean that.” How could she explain that she’d been lost in a void of loss and heartache? That she’d been unable to find a way free until she’d heard his voice and felt his touch? “I just mean… I just mean, thanks for being there, I guess.”
His eyes found hers. “Ye are welcome, lass.”
Jenna felt her cheeks flush and looked away. “So,” she said. “This library of yours. Is it far?”
“On the far side of the keep, away from the kitchens and the risk of fire. My grandfather founded the library. He was a scholar more than a warrior. As the youngest of three brothers, he was destined for the monastery but fate had other ideas. Both his brothers died before he did, and he ended up as clan chief in their stead. So, rather than the life of prayer and study he’d prepared for, he found a life of war and bloodshed instead. The library, I think, was his way of trying to hang on to that life he’d wanted.”
There was something wistful in Arran’s tone and she suspected there was more than a little of his grandfather’s story entwined with his own. It seemed these fifteenth century Highlanders had little choice over their own lives and were often at the mercy of the vagaries of fate.
Their progress through the castle was slow. Not because Jenna had any more dizzy spells or because she felt unwell, but because they were stopped every few yards by someone who wanted to pass on awed greetings and words of gratitude to the “great spellweaver” or because they needed to speak to their laird about something.
Arran listened to them all with infinite patience, giving everyone that stopped him his complete attention, as though for that moment, they were the most important person in the world. Jenna began to understand why his people seemed to love him. He had a sincerity about him that put people at their ease and, despite his sometimes-gruff exterior, nobody seemed wary of approaching him.
He was nothing like Alex. Alex was a sales manager at a car dealership and had been smooth, full of himself, and utterly charming. Everyone had liked him. Everyone had wanted to be in his orbit. And yet, now she thought about it, there had been a shallowness to Alex’s interactions with others, as if his sincerity was only skin deep. Not so with Arran. She could see in every interaction with his people how much he cared for them and how much they cared for him in return. With the surface-level interactions she was used to in her own time, she wasn’t entirely sure what to make of it.
Finally, they reached an age-darkened oaken door, set with riveted bands of iron. Arran glanced at her, took hold of the round iron handle, and heaved the door open. Even with Arran’s bulk behind it, the door swung open slowly, revealing how thick and heavy it was—another precaution against fire, Jenna guessed.
She followed him into the space beyond and stumbled to a stop, mouth falling open. She wasn’t sure what she’d expected of a fifteenth century library, but it was most definitely not this. Hexagonal in shape, it filled one of the keep’s towers, with mezzanine wooden galleries circling the tower’s hollow interior, stretching up as far as Jenna could see. Zig-zag staircases led from one level to the other, and each level was filled with shelves of books and rolled scrolls.
“Wow,” Jenna muttered. “Just… wow.”
“You like it?”.
“Like it? This place is incredible! It must have taken years to collect all these books.”
“Aye,” he agreed. “My grandfather’s life’s work. My father carried on the tradition and collected books and scrolls from all over Europe. Many are ancient Greek or Roman but we even have some rumored to have been saved from the great library in Alexandria, although I’m not sure about the truth of that.” He pointed to a long wooden table that had been polished until it gleamed. “When I was a child, I spent many an hour sitting right there, being tutored in all sorts of things.Philosophy. History. Latin. Back then I thought all the knowledge in the world must be contained in this library and that if I stayed here long enough, I could learn it all.”
There was a wistful note to Arran’s voice and she wondered what kind of child he’d been. Like his grandfather, he’d not expected to inherit the lairdship. Like his grandfather, had he wished for a scholarly life among his books and scrolls before the role of leader was thrust upon him?
“My laird!” said a voice. “I didnae expect to see ye today.”
A skinny man dressed in a long brown robe belted with a piece of rope came hurrying towards them, carrying a pile of books which he put down on the polished table.
“Good day, Brother Merrick,” Arran greeted, inclining his head slightly. “This is Jenna MacFinnan, and she needs to see every bit of information we have on the spellweavers who originally placed the protective magic around Skye.”
Brother Merrick turned to look at Jenna. Clearly a monk, he was bald but for two fluffy tufts of hair that perched above his ears like storm clouds. He squinted slightly, and Jenna guessed he was near-sighted from looking at his books all day. He broke into a wide, gap-toothed smile.
“Ah! So ye are the MacFinnan spellweaver I’ve been hearing so much about! I’m delighted to make yer acquaintance, my dear.” He grabbed both of Jenna’s hands in his and pumped them vigorously. “Honored that ye would deign to visit my humble library! Honored, I say! And perhaps, while ye are here, ye could answer some questions for me? I’m sure ye have knowledge which could answer some of the most pressing scientific questions of our time. For example, was the Venerable Bede correct in his surmise that the pull of the moon is responsible for the movement of the tides?”
“Merrick,” Arran warned in a low voice. “Yer studies will have to wait. We need that information urgently.”
“Of course! Of course!” Merrick said, looking a little sheepish. “I’ll find what ye are looking for, although it will take some time to go through everything we have on the spellweavers. There is rather a lot, I’m afraid.”
“Then leave everything else ye are working on and assist Lady Jenna with whatever she needs.”
“Aye, my laird,” Merrick said, rubbing his hands together with delight. “It would be an honor.”
“And be sure to—”
Arran cut off mid-sentence as a loud clanging noise suddenly started sounding from the bailey outside.
“Damn it,” he murmured. “That’s the warning bell.” He turned to Jenna. “I have to go. Merrick will see that ye have everything ye need.”
“But what—” Jenna began.
