Arran put his fingers to his lips and whistled. Bran’s ears pricked and swiveled towards him, then he came trotting over, whinnying in greeting. Arran reached up and patted the horse’s sweaty neck.
“Ye did well, boy,” he murmured. “But I’ve got one last favor to ask of ye and then I promise ye can spend the next few days eating carrots and lazing in yer stable. How does that sound?”
As if he understood every word, the horse snorted and bobbed his head. Grabbing the reins, Arran vaulted on the horse’s back, gripping with his knees.
“Mal is in charge here,” he shouted to Tollman’s Gate’s defenders. “Do as he tells ye.”
“Where are ye going, my laird?” one of them cried.
“To Dun Tabor. I have urgent business there.” Patting Bran on the neck he said, “One last run, boy. Run home like the wind, Bran. Like the wind.”
Nudging the horse’s ribs, he urged him into a gallop towards home. Towards Jenna.
Chapter Ten
“Here ye go!”Brother Merrick said enthusiastically, thumping down another load of books on Jenna’s table. “I think ye’ll find plenty about the spellweavers in these.”
Jenna stifled a groan and forced a smile. “Thanks, Merrick.”
“Dinna ye worry, lass, there is plenty more where they came from.” He shuffled off, humming to himself.
To be honest, Jenna was beginning to regret asking to see everything that Dun Tabor had on the spellweavers. There was alot. Books and scrolls already covered the desk and Brother Merrick had taken it upon himself to dig out every last scrap of information, no matter how obscure. Jenna had been reading for hours already—using a steady stream of magic to translate the Gaelic, Latin, and Old English they were written in—and so far she’d found nothing useful. They were all handwritten, some with beautifully decorated pages, but her head was starting to hurt from trying to decipher the tiny, ornate writing that most of the authors seemed to favor.
She thumped shut the latest book and pushed it away with a sigh. Most of what she’d read was nonsense. So far she’d learned that MacFinnan spellweavers could turn themselves into birds and fly away over the sea, how they regularly slayed giants, and protected Skye by calling up fearsome sea monsters that would swallow ships whole and destroy any fleet intent on attacking the island. She might notunderstand the magic that protected the island, but she did know one thing: sea monsters were definitelynotit.
Stretching her arms over her head, she yawned hugely. Rosaline, who was sitting opposite her, gave a sympathetic smile.
“Not found aught yet?”
Jenna shook her head. “Not unless you count how one of my ancestors battled a dragon atop Bail Nan Cnoc or punished a wicked lord by turning him into a giant fish. Honestly, this is more folklore than history.”
“Folklore is how we make sense of lives,” Rosaline said. “It’s how we remember where we come from, and how we orient our place in the world.” She smiled ruefully. “Although, I must admit, those stories aren’t much help when ye are trying to conduct serious research.”
Jenna nodded. She’d been surprised when Rosaline had volunteered to help Jenna with her research, and even more surprised when she’d taken to it with almost as much enthusiasm as Brother Merrick. There was more to Arran’s mother than met the eye.
“You sound like you’ve done this kind of thing before.”
“Aye,” she replied. “In my youth I was something of a scholar. These days keeping my errant son out of mischief and running this place leaves little time for aught else.”
Jenna could well imagine. Although Arran was the boss and everyone deferred to his wishes, in the short time she’d been here Jenna had come to learn that it was Rosaline and her army of helpers who actually ran the place.
“Tell me more,” Jenna said, propping her chin on her hand. “What did you study?”
“Oh, anything and everything,” Rosaline replied, waving her hand. “I was the younger daughter and escaped the rigorous training in how to run a household that my elder sister was subjected to. As a result, I was allowed to indulge my insatiable curiosity. I was tutored in history, philosophy, languages—everything I could get my hands on. Iwas what ye would call a ‘bookish’ child. While my brother and elder sister rebelled against everything our tutor tried to teach us, I lapped it up. My father even sent me to Paris for a while where I learned scribing and arithmetic. Except for when Arran and his brother were born, it was the happiest time of my life.”
She sighed wistfully, and Jenna had a sudden image of a young, eager Rosaline rubbing shoulders with the scholars and thinkers of Renaissance Paris. It was no wonder she looked a little wistful.
“How come you ended up here?” Jenna asked. “We’re a long way from Paris.”
Rosaline shrugged. “My father arranged a match for me with the heir to the lairdship of Clan MacLeod. So I came here and here I’ve stayed.”
It all sounded rather clinical to Jenna. Rosaline’s father arranged the marriage? What about how Rosaline herself felt about it? “Didn’t you have any say in the matter?”
Rosaline laughed lightly. “No more than a horse at market would have a say in who it’s sold to.” Jenna was surprised to detect no trace of bitterness in the words, just calm acceptance. “It is the way of the world,” Rosaline continued. “And a woman’s lot in life. It wasnae a bad marriage. My husband was courteous and treated me well and his father had a love of books that matched my own. He gave over care of this library into my keeping and I’ve been adding to the collection ever since.”
That explained how the collection had grown so huge. But Rosaline’s words troubled her. The way of the world? A woman’s lot in life?
It was most certainlynotthe way of Jenna’s world and would most definitelynotbe her lot in life. She’d already been hurt by one man, and she was never, ever, going to let any man have that kind of power over her again.
