Isla sighed with relief and nodded, smiling warmly.
“Aye, that is good advice. Even talking about this hae helped,” Isla said. “Now, I hae better get back tae the bar. And ye should get some rest. Thank ye again. I’ll make sure that ye get a filling breakfast taemorrow,” Isla said, smiling warmly.
Elvira returned to her family. Mirella smiled. “Ye are just like yer mother,” Mirella said. Elvira took it as the compliment that it was intended as, but inside she was haunted by the memory of her mother and all she had endured. Elvira did not want to suffer the same fate and was determined to forge a different path for herself and her family. All she wanted was to keep them from danger, but it seemed as though it followed them, no matter how far they went.
The hour grew late.The family had been squashed into a large room. Mirella was sleeping with Tereza, while Elvira shared a bed with Ollie. He seemed to grow as he slept, becoming gangly, taking up far more room than was warranted by his size. He fidgeted terribly, and Elvira felt a hand pressing against her mouth and a foot into the small of her back. Eventually, it became too much to cope with. This, coupled with her incessant fears of the future, gave her a restless night. It didn’t help that Mirella snored as well, so there was utterly no hope for Elvira.
In between these snores, she did get a hint of an argument between Torrin and Isla from below. Elvira crept out of her room and listened at the top of the stairs.
“I am gaeing and that’s that. There is nae more urgent business than this. The clan could depend on it!” Torrin cried out, and then slammed the door beside him. Isla cursed under her breath and disappeared to the back room.
Elvira glanced back at the room, tempted to leave. Even as she was justifying this course of action to herself, she was already slinking down the stairs and darting out of the tavern, following in Torrin’s footsteps. If she were to take care of her family, then she needed to know what kind of place this was. She needed to understand the undercurrent that flowed through the clan, and the only way to do that was to listen in on forbidden conversations. The more she learned, the more she might be able to steer her family to safety. She moved through the shadows, nimble feet drawing no attention. She only paused when she realized Torrin’s destination.
It was the forge that had once belonged to Ian McKendrick, the forge that now belonged to Rory. What could a hard-hearted man like him have to do with Torrin? Elvira was convinced that it could not be anything good.
5
Rory opened the door to find Torrin standing there.
“Ye are late,” Rory scowled. “The rest of them are below.” He wasn’t about to start referring to the group as ‘us’.
“Aye, sorry, Isla was wagging my ear. She just will nae let it well enough alone.”
“I’m sure she dinnae want ye tae get intae trouble, that’s all.”
Torrin waved a dismissive hand through the air. “Ye sound just like her now.”
“Perhaps that’s because we are reasonable,” Rory said, but his words fell on deaf ears and he knew it.
Torrin was already marching towards the basement hatch, descending to the area below the forge. Once, this place had housed a very large and very illegal distillery, but those days were long behind Rory. Occasionally, he caught a whiff of whiskey, but put it down to his mind.
Torrin was greeted by nods and clasped fists by the other men in attendance. Rory hadn’t realized there were going to be so many. The group was made up of prominent citizens of the clan. There was a merchant, a keep guard, seasoned warriors,and other guild members who all expressed concern for the future of the clan. Rory had been introduced to them all, but he had failed to remember their names.
“Now that Torrin is here, we can finally begin,” one of the warriors said.
“Aye, I dinnae want tae be away for tae long,” the keep guard said.
“First we hae a simple matter tae attend tae,” Torrin said, turning to Rory. “Dae ye swear secrecy, Rory?”
“I’m hosting this meeting in my forge, is that nae enough?” he asked in surprise. The eyes of the men around him were flinty and cold. They stared at him expectantly.
“It’s nae. We need yer oath. Promise that ye will nae share word of this meeting tae anyone, nae even the laird himself, should he demand it. We are putting ourselves at risk meeting like this, sae swear tae secrecy,” Torrin said.
Rory noticed that one of the warriors was carrying a dagger. His hand went to it, his fingers stroking the hilt. Rory rolled his eyes. He didn’t even want to do this. Torrin had practically forced him. He thought that providing the location for the meeting would have been enough to show that he could be trusted, given that it was him who would face the wrath of the laird if this meeting was ever discovered. Even so, he shook his head and sighed.
“Aye, I swear that I will nae breathe a word of this tae anyone, even if the laird himself hae a blade at my throat.”
Torrin exhaled deeply after hearing Rory’s words. The other men seemed to relax as well. Rory studied them closer, and after some effort managed to recall their names properly. The keep guard was Declan, a stoic man he had encountered a number of times when he made his deliveries to the keep. They had rarely exchanged words, but Declan had always struck him as dutiful, which suggested to Rory that this group had legitimate concerns.He couldn’t imagine Declan conspiring against the laird unless matters were extremely serious. The seasoned warriors were Tarbuck and Rab. Rory had witnessed these men regaling people with stories of risk and valor. They might just be angling for a fight. The other man was Michael, a timid baker who seemed out of place. However, the fact that these men were from such different walks of life was cause for concern for Rory. If they could all be persuaded that something was amiss then perhaps somethingreallywas wrong, and if so, could he stop it? Should he?
“Why dinnae ye tell us what ye hae tae share from inside the keep?” Torrin said, looking towards Declan.
Declan took a step forward and gave a heavy sigh. He had long, lank hair that framed his face in straggling lines. He had one thumb shoved behind his belt, and placed his weight upon his right foot. “Things are getting worse. They were already bad when Cade, the laird’s son, was wounded. Healers came day and night. Prayers were sung. Remedies were tried, but none of them worked. Cade passed away.”
“That damned boar,” Rab muttered, shaking his head.
“Aye, a wee hunting accident can change the fate of a clan,” Declan’s head dropped. He shook it softly. “Laird Boyd hae lost himself in grief. He lived for his son and now, well, it’s like he hae become a ghost himself. I know that some people need a wee bit of time tae work through grief, but he is the laird. He should be leading this clan, especially when there are wolves at our door.”
Rory opened his mouth, about to question this, for he did not believe it was the right phrasing to use. However, he refrained from speaking. If he was going to persuade them to abandon this course of action, then he needed them to like him.
