Arran clapped him on the shoulder. “Good man. Send for me when ye find aught.”
He turned and strode to the door of the library but paused on the threshold. Jenna and Rosaline were engrossed in their reading again, but both looked up as he paused. “I’ll be back for the evening meal,” he said. “Neither of ye are to leave the castle in my absence.”
He turned and left, hurrying through the castle towards the stables where he would find a fresh horse. If luck was on his side, Mal and the others had managed to capture some of the raiders and Arran could start getting some answers. If luck wasn’t on his side… Well, he didn’t want to think about that.
Chapter Eleven
Midday came andwent, and Jenna ate a meal of bread, cheese, and apples, which Ingrid brought to her desk in the library. She’d been invited to the great hall to eat with everyone else—as seemed to be the custom for every meal in Dun Tabor—but she was reluctant to halt her research. The answer must lie in these books somewhere and she was determined to find it.
She sighed, leaning back and rubbing at her eyes. Aunt Rose was more of a scholar than Jenna was. She’d spent years tracing their family tree and researching the magic, and no doubtshewould have figured out a way to restore the magic almost as soon as she arrived here. But if there were clues in these semi-allegorical ramblings and exaggerated accounts, Jenna was damned if she could see them.
I mean, seriously, Jenna thought as she tossed the latest account away in disgust.How am I supposed to call down lightning from the sky and command it to do my bidding? I’d be burned to a crisp!
No, she was sure the answer was far simpler and less grand than any of that. The web of earth energies she’d felt at Bail Nan Cnoc needed to be restored and she suspected it had to do with the keystones she’d sensed at the cardinal points of that web. But try as she might, she could find no mention of those keystones or where they might be located.
Merrick pottered over, humming to himself, and carrying anotherstack of books, which he placed on the desk in front of Jenna. The stack wobbled dangerously, and Jenna put out a hand to steady it.
“What are these?”
“Records of local festivals,” Merrick replied. “Yule, Midsummer, Harvest, and so on. The islanders like to cling to their superstitious ways even though the Good Lord’s word was brought here from Iona long ago. I thought there might be some clues in them.”
“Thanks,” Jenna said, forcing a smile even though inside she was cringing. She didn’t think tales of burning wicker men or dancing around maypoles was going to help her much, but at this stage she was willing to try anything. She nodded at a rolled-up scroll tucked under the monk’s arm. “What’s that?”
Brother Merrick blinked, looking surprised to see it there. “This? It’s just a land grant from the laird’s grandfather’s time. I meant to reshelve it.” He put it down on the desk with the rest. “I’ll put it back later.” He wandered off among the shelves, humming to himself again.
With a sigh, Jenna pulled over one of the records of harvest celebrations and began reading. Hours passed. Rosaline came to check on her following the midday meal, and Ingrid came to bring her a drink of ale, but Jenna barely looked up from her reading.
The news that Arran had brought back with him only made it even more imperative that she finish her task here and get home. She wasn’t cut out for this time, with its dangers and uncertainty. And now she’d become a target for the raiders? She shuddered. She’d never been threatened with violence in her life unless you included fights in the school playground. But she had no illusions as to what the raiders would do if they got their hands on her, and it left her feeling unsettled and vulnerable.
I will keep ye safe,Arran had said.
Her thoughts drifted to the golden-haired laird. They did that a lot. No matter how hard she tried to concentrate on what she was doing, thoughts of him kept popping into her head with alarming regularity.
Annoyed with herself, she tossed the book aside and plonked her chin on her hand, scowling. Outside, the sun was setting, turning the sky into a sea of gold and crimson streaks and sending dazzling beams of light through the windows. They lit a patch on the desk in front of her in which the scroll that Brother Merrick had placed was sitting.
Hooking it with a finger, she dragged it over, unrolled it a little, and leaned her elbows on it to keep it flat as she read. Hmm. It was nothing important, just a dull land grant like Merrick had said. She was just about to roll it up and toss it onto the ever-growing pile of discards when something at the bottom caught her eye. Looking closer, she saw that it was an ink drawing of the four compass points—the kind that you would find at the top of a map.
Intrigued, she unrolled the scroll the rest of the way and discovered that it was much bigger than she’d originally thought. Although the top half of the scroll contained the legal jargon about granting land rights and blah blah blah, the bottom half contained a map of the whole island. Jenna rolled out its full length across the desk—using books to weigh down each corner—and then peered closely at the ink-drawn map.
Towards the top of the island, the area of land contained in the grant was clearly marked—but that was not the only thing. Dun Tabor was labeled as well, as were other settlements, most of which she’d never heard of. Then, at certain points around the coastline, she noticed that smaller compass-like symbols had been drawn, each bearing a single-word label. Clach.
She felt a shiver of excitement. “Merrick! Can you come take a look at this?”
The monk appeared from among the shelves. “Aye?”
Jenna pointed at the symbols etched around the edge of the map. “Can you read this word? I just want to check that it says what I think it says.”
Merrick leaned over the map, squinting in the fading light. “Aye.It’s the same word for each of those symbols dotted around the coast. Clach. It means stone.”
A sudden rush of triumph went through Jenna. With a jubilant cry, she grabbed Merrick and planted a noisy kiss on his cheek. “Ha! You did it!”
The monk’s cheeks flushed scarlet. “I did?”
“You bet you did! It was in that land grant all along and you found it! This might be the very thing that helps me stop those raiders!”
“Well,” the old man said, a delighted grin spreading across his face. “Who says old records are dull, eh?”
*
