“Perhaps that was your task the first time ye entered my castle,” Erik said, then he ticked his questions off on his fingers. “For what purpose did your chieftain send ye here a second time? How does he plan to attack me? And where does he have his men waiting now?”
Duncan tried desperately to think of lies that Erik would find convincing. And yet, he knew it would make no difference. Erik could not be trusted to keep his word. Even if Duncan was fool enough to tell Erik the truth and sacrifice the others, Erik would not spare Ragnall.
Duncan met the hard stare of his enemy and considered telling him that he was his son. He had envisioned telling Erik after he took this castle from him—and while he held a blade to Erik’s throat. Confessing the truth as a plea for sympathy while he was humbled in chains was the last thing Duncan wanted to do.
He doubted that Erik would believe him. And if he did, Duncan had no illusion that Erik would spare him. But the question Duncan had to ask himself was whether there was a chance that the truth could move this coldhearted man to save his grandson.
“Think on it tonight,” Erik said. “I’ll come back in the morning with the lad, and then we’ll see what ye have to say.”
* * *
“One of the small boats the young lads use for fishing is missing from the shore,” Tait reported. “I expect that’s what Rhona and Fergus took.”
“They’ll be moving slow in that,” Niall said. “Still, they’re half a day ahead. And worse, I don’t know which way they went.”
“I hate sending ye on a goose chase,” Ilysa said. “Go see Teàrlag first. She may be able to tell ye where Rhona and Fergus have gone—and why.”
“But Connor said no one was to leave,” Tait said.
“He didn’t mean me and Niall,” Moira said, not bothering to hide her impatience. “We’re not spies.”
“We?” Niall said, cocking an eyebrow. “Duncan and Connor will both have my head if I take ye with me to chase after Rhona and Fergus.”
“We’re only going to Teàrlag’s now,” Moira said and headed for the door.
“Take Sàr with ye,” Ilysa called after them.
It was growing dark when Moira and Niall reached the cove below Teàrlag’s cottage. Moira followed Niall up the steps of the steep cliff to the ancient cottage. Niall managed surprisingly well, using his stick for a cane, but Moira slipped several times. Finally, she reached the top—and nearly plunged to the sea below when a voice came out of the darkness.
“About time ye came!”
Moira squinted into near darkness and saw the old seer standing above her on the top step.
“Hello, Teàrlag. It’s me, Moira. Niall’s here as well.”
“I know who ye are.” Teàrlag turned around and walked off toward her cottage, mumbling, “Ungrateful lass.”
Moira followed her inside with Niall, hoping she would be welcome. Niall had told her on the sail over that Teàrlag had left her cottage for the first time in many years to give a prediction about Moira and to urge Duncan to leave for Ireland without delay.
“Leave your beast outside. I don’t want him frightening my cow,” Teàrlag said as she shuffled to her small table and lit the lamp.
There was no room in the tiny cottage for Sàr in any case.
“I’m sorry I haven’t come to thank ye.” Moira set the basket of food they had brought on the small table and gingerly took the stool across from Teàrlag.
The seer had looked older than the mist for as long as Moira could remember. Except for shrinking a bit more, she had not changed much.
“I knew that blood in my vision wasn’t yours.” Teàrlag’s shoulders rose and fell as she made a sound that could only be called a cackle. “But I knew ye needed help, and it did get that big lad in his boat.”
Only Teàrlag would call Duncan “that big lad.” Moira was relieved that the old seer appeared to have accepted her apology. Teàrlag was not above threatening to curse someone for what she deemed a lack of courtesy.
“I suppose you’ve come to ask me about that troublesome lass, Rhona,” Teàrlag said as she peered into the food basket—which was probably what had gained Moira forgiveness. “Couldn’t Ilysa tell ye?”
Moira turned and raised her eyebrows at Niall, who had joined them at the tiny table.
“Ilysa’s been learning the Old Ways from Teàrlag,” Niall whispered, his knees bumping hers as he leaned forward. “Some say she’s developed The Sight.”
Calm, circumspect Ilysa is a seer?Moira could not imagine her weaving back and forth and waving her arms like Teàrlag did when she had a vision. But then, Teàrlag did make the most of her gift.