"I must see its power demonstrated to be sure it is no fake," Rose said. "Could I hold it?"
"On no account," the Steward said. "That is strictly forbidden."
"Then I will use my magic to prove its power. Lennox, sleight of hand. A lesson."
The Steward frowned. "I am not sure-"
"Accendio retrievio calcifio," Rose began. As she spoke, she moved toward the candle by the window, standing in front of it, so the light was dimmed. "Darkness prove your worth."
As she finished speaking, she flicked the back of her cloak, snuffing out the candle and plunging the room into darkness. Lennox saw the whole thing from where he was standing. He knew at once what she had planned.
In the dark, the staff glowed slightly, a blue tinge to it that spoke of ancient magic.
There was a cry from the Steward when the light died and then a spark of a flint. The sparks lit the taper in the Steward's hand. He used the taper to relight the candle on the wall.
"What dark sorcery is this?" he asked, looking at Rose who only shrugged in return.
"I don’t know what you mean."
"Where’s the staff gone?"
They all looked at the table. The staff had vanished. "You've stolen it," the Steward said, pointing an accusing finger at Rose. "Give it back this instant."
"I have nothing," she said, lifting her cloak to reveal only her bliaut underneath. "Other than proof the staff indeed does have great power."
Lennox held the staff in his hand under his cloak. Sleight of hand, she’d called it. He called it genius.
The staff was trembling as if it had a life of its own. Could the Steward tell she had passed it to him in the moment of darkness while he was distracted relighting the candle?
The furious Steward spun on the spot, looking at each of them in turn before running to the door and locking them all in. "No one leaves this tower until it is returned. What have you done with it? Robert de Ros will hear of your thievery."
"I hope he does hear of the Highlanders who took the staff back from those who stole it," Lennox said, nodding to David. David took the hint, raising his fist and bringing it crashing down on the Steward's head. The Steward opened his mouth but said nothing, slumping to the ground, eyes rolling into the back of his head.
"Is he dead?" Rose asked.
"No, but he will have quite the headache when he wakes."
"It is less than he deserves," Lennox said, reaching down and taking the chain of keys from the Steward's girdle. "He is the one who opened the gates to let the English army take the priory. We leave at once. Philip take Rose and my horse. I will join you anon."
"Aren't you coming with us?" Rose asked.
"I have something I must do first," Lennox replied, unlocking the door with the third key he tried. "Let's go."
They descended quickly, locking each door behind them to give them valuable extra time should the Steward awaken prematurely. Before heading outside, Lennox passed the staff to Rose. "Do what must be done," he said before urging her on.
Once they were in the courtyard, he ducked back into the keep, trying one door after another before finally finding the one that descended to the dungeon.
At the bottom of the steps, a guard slept by a low table, slumped against the wall behind him, snoring loudly, his arms folded across his chest, empty tankard at his feet.
Lennox ignored him, pushing one key after another into the locked door that blocked his way. It took some minutes to find the correct one but at last, he did, and still the guard did not stir, not even when the door creaked open.
Inside, the air of the dungeon was fetid. There was no light source. Lennox whistled and was rewarded by an echoing whistle in return. Highlanders were down here. They were not so tortured as to forget the signal.
He picked up the candle from the guard's table and walked into the dungeon, the flickering flame illuminating prisoners chained to the far wall.
They were emaciated, filthy, and dressed only in rags but their eyes sparkled when they saw Lennox. "You're of the MacCallisters," he said to one. "I know you. Gerrick, I thought you were dead."
"Captured by the rat, my laird."
