“Get you home,” he said, not mentioning the part where he would give the key to the barefoot man. He began marching again, barely slowing down as they started the climb up the far side of the valley. The grass petered out, becoming bare rocks. The only signs of natural life were a few sprigs of heather that blew in the light breeze, releasing a fragrant scent that Wallace had not smelled for a very long time.
“And just how do you plan to do that?” She was panting for breath as she talked, the climb taking far more effort for her than for him.
He stopped, frowning. “I haven’t thought that far ahead.”
“So you don’t know. How do you know I can even get home?”
He shrugged. “Maybe you can’t.”
“That’s great. You make a deal with me to show me around the Middle Ages in return for the silver key. I come back here and all I’ve seen so far is an island in the middle of nowhere. Now don’t get me wrong, it’s a nice island, but it’s not quite what I had in mind.”
“Down there.” He stopped at the top of the hillside, pointing down toward a huddle of shacks by the water’s edge. From the end of them a jetty pointed out into the sea. Rocking on the choppy water, a single rowing boat called out to them.
“We’re going to get back to the mainland in that?”
“Aye, why not?”
“Because we’ll capsize before we get ten feet. Have you seen the size of the waves?”
He looked out at the sea, the white foam as water crashed into the jagged rocks that jutted out into the air as if guarding the island from what lay beyond. “Where there’s one boat, there’ll be others,” he said, starting on the long descent to the village.
Gradually, the shacks grew larger. As they approached, Wallace saw some signs of life down there. Chickens roamed across the dirt paths,pecking at the few straggly weeds that managed to survive in the salty air.
A fisherman was mending a net down by the water’s edge. From two of the huts smoke rose up through the thatch and a voice could be heard singing inside. “I saw some ships come sailing by, sailing by, sailing by. I saw some ships come sailing by, but my bairn was not upon them.”
“I ken that song,” Wallace said. “It was in the book.” His stride lengthened and he was at the door of the shack in under a minute. He rapped on the wood with his knuckles.
The song stopped and there was a scraping sound within before the door swung open and a middle aged woman leaned out, a ball of yarn in one hand and a kitten in the other. She looked surprised for a brief moment but then anger flashed across her eyes. “You interrupted play time,” she said. “This better be important.”
“We need a boat,” Wallace said. “At once.”
“No pleases, no thank yous?” The woman stood to one side, waving them both in. “Honestly, you’d think the next laird would be more polite to one of his own.”
“You’re a MacGregor?” Wallace asked. “How do you ken me?”
“I see the mark on your arm. I hear your accent. Most of all, I helped to raise you before the war and my banishment.”
By now they were all inside and the door was closed again. The shack was dark with only one tiny window which faced out to the sea. There was just enough light for Wallace to see where she was pointing, a wooden bench by the fireplace.
He sat with Natalie beside him. The kitten immediately hopped onto her lap and promptly curled up, purring as it went to sleep.
“Who are you?” he asked the old woman as she put the ball of yarn away.
“Deirdre is my name for now, not that it matters. What matters is sitting next to you.”
He turned and looked at Natalie who was gently stroking the kitten. She glanced up at him, and then looked away. “Her?” he said, turning back to Deirdre. “What about her?”
“She has the silver key.”
“How do you ken that?”
“Did you leave your brains in that dungeon. You appear at my house demanding a boat. That means you dinnae have one of your own. That means you did not row or sail to Knife Island. Unless you have wings I cannot see, that means youused the key to go through the door to get here. Or am I mistaken?”
Natalie spoke up for the first time. “What is this key?”
“It is very special,” Deirdre replied, sinking into an armchair and folding her arms across her chest. “As are you. You are a woman from the future, aren’t you?”
“How did you know that?”
