“As ye wish,” Tamhas said. A muffled thud was followed by a beam of golden light pouring from the small round portal carved into the hillside.
“Come now, my chieftain,” the old one called again. “Once the poultice draws the pain from yer burns, the smoke will no longer offend ye.”
Gray slowly turned back into the room. The low ceiling of the domesticated cave nearly brushed the top of his head. The hovel was so small that if he swung his sword in a circle, the tip of the blade would surely carve a line across each of the walls. A shiver burned through the blistered skin covering more than half his back and spreading down one side. Gray flinched. The pain of raw, stinging flesh didn’t bother him nearly as much as the sensation of walking into a tomb. How could Tamhas endure such a place?
As he straddled the bench in front of the hearth, Gray turned to one side, keeping his face away from the fire. Never again did he desire to see that strange monster lurking among those coals. He leaned forward and gripped the rough-hewn edges of the large wooden bench and scanned the contents of the room. “Why do ye stay in this cave when I swore ye could have yer choice of towers in the keep?”
Tamhas hugged the oversized mortar to his chest, still stirring the oily substance as he hitched his way across the cluttered room. “I told ye I have no desire to live in an infested keep.” The old man squinted down into the bowl, frowned, then rapped the pestle hard against one side of the mortar. He raised it again, then nodded at the contents. “Once ye rid the place of its vermin, I shall be honored to claim a tower.”
What the hell was the man talking about? There were no vermin in the keep. Gray shook his head. “Ye are daft, old man. I admit there might be a wee mousie or two but ye can hardly claim the place infested.”
“Aye. Well...” Tamhas scooped up a handful of the muddy brown mixture and worked the concoction between his arthritic fingers. “Once ye rid the place of the wicked Aileas, I shall deem the infestation under control.” Tamhas motioned toward the length of the bench in front of Gray. “Stretch forward, my chieftain so I might heal ye.”
Aileas again. Gray clenched his teeth as he leaned over the bench. Gripping the thickness of the plank tighter, he locked his elbows. Aileas’s cold, haughty face appeared as soon as he closed his eyes. What the hell had Father ever seen in that vile woman?
“A plump dowry overflowing with cattle, land, and coin.” Tamhas splatted a cold slimy hand onto the center of Gray’s back. His bemused chuckling filled the room as he glopped another handful of the muck down Gray’s side. “Yet and still ... yer father had to be one hell of a man or blind with drink to bed the likes of that woman.” He poured more of the slime across Gray’s shoulder.
“Dammit, man!” Gray stiffened and dug his nails into the wooden plank. A shiver burned deeper through his wounds as gooseflesh rippled across his skin. “Why the hell did ye not warn me the dung would be so cold?”
“Ye nay asked.”
Gray sucked in a deep breath and blew it out slowly. “And how many times must I tell ye to stay out of my mind? When I seek yer counsel, I shall speak it. Aloud.”
“Forgive me, my chieftain.” Another chilly handful of sliminess across his ribs followed the apology.
Gray closed his eyes and bowed his head, forcing himself to relax. Unfortunately, Tamhas spoke the truth. His father’s marriage to Aileas had filled their coffers and stables, and increased the lands of the clan quite nicely. That had to be the only reason his sire would take such an unpleasant woman to wife. Well ... the massive dowry and the fact Aileas’s father had been overly persistent to gain an alliance with Clan MacKenna. The man’s messengers had plied the keep weekly for his father’s decision regarding a union.
“If ye had a daughter such as Aileas, would ye not pay dearly to be rid of her?”
Tamhas made a valid point. “Ye canna resist traipsing through my thoughts, can ye, old man?” Gray relaxed across the length of the bench and allowed his arms to dangle free on either side. He had no idea what was in the nasty mess smeared across his flesh, but once the initial shock of the chill wore off, it felt damn good. The pain of the burns disappeared.
Tamhas shuffled back to the worktable and set the mortar down. “I hear yer thoughts as clear as my own because we share a bloodline.” Tamhas paused. His voice softened as he fingered a faded bit of braided hair looped around his neck. “Ye have truly done my sister proud.”
Gray swallowed hard against the sudden aching lump threatening to choke off his air. “I wouldha rather saved her life than done her proud.” Gray shifted on the bench and turned his face to the wall. “Pray dinna put more wood on the fire until I leave. I canna stomach the roar of the flames. They hold the sound ofMáthair’sscreams.”
“Aye, my chieftain.” Tamhas’s voice held a hollow ring; he cleared his throat with an uneasy cough.
“Show me the traitor, Tamhas. I want the one who set the fire that took my mother’s life. I want the one who lured my father to his death. I shall not rest until I hold the traitor’s neck between my hands.” Gray pushed himself up from the bench and swung around to a seated position. “Ye showed me a monster. A roaring beast with great glowing eyes. Why would ye do such a thing when ye kent that I seek to avenge the death of yer sister and the chieftain ye loved enough to call brother?”
Tamhas stood taller, stroking his gnarled fingers through the thickness of his graying beard. Eyes narrowed, his face darkened into a scowl. “I showed ye the key. Ye need nothing more to find the answers ye seek.”
“Ye showed me nothing. Ye showed me some unholy vision ye might use to scare trespassers away from yer cave!”
Tamhas slammed the stone mortar atop the table. His words rumbled out in a deep, throaty growl, echoing with barely controlled rage. “I showed ye the only answer ye are prepared to see at this time! I would never lead ye astray.” Every bowl, crucible, and pot in the small room rattled on the shelves. Candle flames danced and shivered atop their dripping tapers as though frightened by the power in the old man’s voice.
Gray lunged up from the bench and yanked his plaid off the wooden peg beside the door. “No more of this foolishness.” He had been a damn fool to come here. He should have known Tamhas would be of no help. How many times hadMáthairtold him her brother had long ago been addled by his unnatural gifts and the loss of the one woman he had ever dared love?
Reaching into his sporran, Gray pulled out a pouch heavy with coin. He hefted the small leather bag in one hand and returned the old man’s scowl. “I thank ye for the poultice for the burns, but know this, Uncle. Never again will I make the mistake of seeking yer counsel.” He tossed the bag onto the table between Tamhas’s fists and turned to leave.
“She will be here soon,” Tamhas said in a low, ominous tone.
“Who will be here soon?”
“The one ye need. Yer answer.”
Gray shook his head and yanked open the door. “Enough, old man. No. More. Riddles.”
Tamhas shrugged and turned away to stoke the fire. “As ye wish, my chieftain.”
