“I do no’ think so. You’ll tell me now,” Brodie bellowed.
“Och, let go! Train me to be a Grant warrior like you and I’ll tell you everything I know.”
Squeezing his arm a bit more, Brodie said, “Your name first, then we’ll negotiate.”
“Och, ease off! Loki, my name is Loki.”
Brodie relaxed his grip but didn’t free him completely. He didn’t trust the wee ruffian one bit.
“All right, Loki,” he said. “What angel? If ‘tis her we are looking for, I’ll consider training you.”
“The angel of Ayrshire. Everyone knows her. She has the long golden hair. Her father kept her locked up in the tower home at the end of that road. We could see her in the tower every once in a while. I used to watch her there. The sad angel.”
“And you know where she is now?”
“Certes, I know everythin’ in this town. I saw the mean bastard force her into a big cart, ‘twas the biggest I ever saw.”
“You have a raw mouth for a young lad. And even if what you say is true, it still does no’ mean you know where the cart went.”
“Ha! I noticed your moon face whenever she was around, so I decided to follow her.”
Nicol’s abrupt bark of laughter caught Brodie off guard. His moon face? “Do no’ lie to me, lad. You followed her to steal from the man.”
“Och, that, too.” His lips pursed. “But you are easy to read. You’ll follow her anywhere. If yer wondering how I did it, I climbed under the cart into the box and rode along. “Twas one of those fine carts, it was, with a separate compartment underneath. Aye, I do know where she is, but it’ll cost you, master warrior. I knew you’d be looking for her. You must promise to train me.”
Nicol’s hoot echoed in the trees. This lad had bollocks the size of a bull’s; Brodie had to give him that. A wise one for his age. Perhaps he could indeed be of use to them.
“All right. Where are your mother and father? I need to talk to them before I can make you a page to me.”
“I got none. I dinna need a mither or a father.”
“Where are they, Loki? Warriors do no’ lie.” Brodie gave him a little shake of encouragement.
“I am nae lying. Me mama died birthing me. I ne’er knew me da.”
The lad quieted and stared at the ground after this admission. Brodie heard a loud rumbling from his belly. “Where do you live?”
“Over there,” his dirty finger pointed behind a nearby inn. “I have a wooden crate in the back to hide under in the rain. Suits me fine. I can take care of meself. But I want to be a Grant warrior, like I said. ‘Tis said they are the biggest and best warriors of all the Scots. I saw you come in the other day to the royal castle. And I saw the biggest laird in all the land—your laird, Alexander Grant. I want to be like you and The Grant. I promise to work hard.”
Brodie sighed. The lad lived on the street and was starving. “Nicol, go get the lad a meat pie and bring it back.” He handed his friend a coin before returning his attention to the sprite. “Will you promise to stay put if I feed you? Here, I have an oatcake for you till Nicol returns with the pie.”
The boy nodded emphatically. He could almost see the drool about to roll down Loki’s chin. He took him by the scruff of the neck and sat him down under a nearby oak tree. Hellfire, did the lad have to pull on his heartstrings so? And since when did he have any heartstrings? Heartstrings were only in lasses…or at least that’s what he’d thought before meeting Celestina.
Loki grabbed the oatcake, muttered his thanks and stuffed his face in a flash. Brodie thought of his two nephews, Alex’s lads. What if they had to go hungry?
Nicol returned with the meat pie and a sweet pastry. Brodie rolled his eyes at his friend. Apparently, he wasn’t the only one with the failing of heartstrings.
Once the lad was happily snacking on his bounty, Brodie and Nicol sat in the grass next to him. “All right, lad. We’ll train you, but you have to tell us everything you know about the angel as soon as you finish the meat pie.” They waited patiently as the boy devoured his food, smacking his lips in satisfaction every once in a while. He was about to eat the sweet roll when Brodie grabbed it.
“Och, no’ yet. Information first. Where did the man take the angel?”
The lad stared at the pastry with a longing that forced Brodie to look away. “Hellfire,” he mumbled out of the corner of his mouth.
“He took her north. There’s an old keep called Creggan Hall with a tower directly north of here. ‘Tis about a day’s travel on a horse near Largs. He locked her in the tower.”
“Locked her up, why?”
Loki held his hand out for the pastry. The lad had timing; he had to give him that. He handed the treat over.
