Chapter 8 #2
“Some of the maids made a fire of juniper branches, hoping it would drive out the caoineag ,” the maid said, pinching her nose as she opened the bag she carried and took out a glass sphere filled with the amber and blue glow.
They cast a soft greenish light everywhere around them, revealing walls lined with shelves of old sacks, crockery, bowls, jugs and other kitchen wares.
“The laird has those things in his private room behind the hall,” Lucy said as Garia released it, and it floated toward her. “Can I touch it?”
“Aye, my lady. ’Tisnae hot or even warm,” the maid assured her. “They’re magic light. We use them where we cannae light candles, lamps or a hearth fire.”
“But what are they?” When the other woman shrugged she caught the sphere, which glowed even brighter at her touch. She held it up to examine it, and saw the thousands of tiny facets on the inside of the ball glitter as they amplified the light. “This isn’t made of glass. It’s crystal.”
“I cannae tell you,” Garia said, grimacing. “Shall we begin?”
Lucy released the sphere, which floated lazily away, and went with the maid to start looking through the crockery on the nearest shelf. A cloud of dust soon enveloped them, sending them both outside to cough and sneeze.
“The lives I could change here with a hoover.” She wiped her face with the edge of her shirt. “Why is it so dusty?”
“’Tis been a hundred years since the building of the new kitchens,” Garia said, and then clapped a hand over her mouth. She curtseyed deeply and stayed down. “Please dinnae tell the laird I told you thus.”
The laird, Lucy thought, who had wanted the same cook to serve his men hot meals, and built the new kitchens. Or was the maid talking about some laird long before Tair? She considered asking Garia more questions, but then she saw the tears streaming down the maid’s cheeks.
“Don’t cry.” She helped her to her feet. “I won’t say anything. We girls have to stick together.”
“You’re so kind, my lady.” The maid took out a pretty lace-edged handkerchief and mopped her face. “Forgive me, but I’m sworn to serve the MacRune. If you speak with Seneschal–”
“Let’s not bother Seneschal,” she said, and glanced at the faint cloud of dust escaping the open door of the spence. “Do you know where we can find some fleece, a sharp knife, and some not too thick pieces of wood? ”
Although she was utterly mystified, Garia took her first to the woodpile, where Lucy selected two sturdy branches. She then guided her through the back of the stronghold to a large room filled with looms.
“The weavers come after summer with the shearers,” the maid told her as she went to open a trunk. She held up a large mound of cream-colored curls of wool. “’Tis what you desired, my lady?”
“Perfect. Now I just need a knife–” She stopped and chuckled as Garia produced a small dagger and offered it to her. “Thank you. Twine will finish the job.”
Once the maid brought her a roll of hemp cord Lucy fashioned a makeshift duster by splitting the end of the branches, clamping half of the fleece inside and securing it with a few loops of the twine. She then made a second, which she handed to Garia.
“We first dust with these and then search what’s in the spence,” Lucy said.
The maid caught on quickly, and once they returned to the dusty out building went straight to work.
Each time their fleeces became overloaded with dust Garia took them outside to shake them, giving Lucy time to sort through all the crockery, sacks and boxes that had been left behind in the old pantry .
That also gave her an idea.
“It’s a shame all this food was left to rot,” Lucy said to the maid as she peeked inside a pouch of desiccated plums. “Why didn’t Tair have it carried over to that larder by the new kitchen?”
“My grandmam said he wished— och , my lady.” Garia gave her a reproachful look as she rushed to correct herself. “She said the laird in her time–”
“Please stop lying. You’re not very good at it, and I already know Tair and the clan aren’t like us.
” With a dark Fae killer for a father, how could they be?
“What I don’t understand is why you want me to believe this ridiculous farce you’ve been putting on since I got here.
” As Garia started to reply she held up her hand.
“It’s not your place to spill the beans, got it. ”
“Please dinnae tell Seneschal, my lady,” the maid begged. “He shall set me to gather ragwort weed for the dyers, and I’ll boak all the day from the stink.”
“Someone needs to kick Seneschal where it hurts most,” Lucy said, her exasperation battling with her temper now—and losing fast. She took the other makeshift duster from the maid. “Don’t worry, I won’t mention your name when I do it.”
Going outside to shake out the soiled fleeces, Lucy noticed Lochran standing in the walkway above the lists, where he seemed to be listening to some of the men who were sparring. Then she saw Dorchad take a step forward, revealing his presence, and wondered what they were discussing.
Did she want to get caught eavesdropping? Lucy wondered as she casually drifted over toward the lists, taking care to keep out of sight of the gallery.
“–doesnae send her hunters for fear they will find and keep the cluet,” Dorchad was saying. “Then they may wish her to oblivion, and seize rule over this realm and the otherworlds.”
“Yet you reckon she trusts the MacRune, when we’re just as capable of using the facking thing?” Lochran’s mouth curled on one side. “The queen can destroy our realm whenever she pleases. That threat, ’tis why she tasked us with finding the treasure. For she must ken our secret.”
Just as capable. Lucy’s mind started to race. Like the queen’s guards. Like the queen. But what was their secret, and what did it have to do with saving the realm?
The two men retreated into the stronghold, so she went back to the old spence, where Garia was sitting on the steps.
“I found naught, my lady,” the maid said as she rose to her feet.
“It’s okay, we’ll try somewhere else tomorrow,” Lucy told her, and held out the dusters. “Would you take these to the laundry and rinse out the fleece? If we hang them to dry we can use them tomorrow.”
“Shall I show you the laundry, my lady?” Garia said.
Lucy shook her head. “Another time. I need to go talk to your boss.”
I n spring the myriad household tasks at Gealladh required all the vassals to work from when they rose to the late hour when they stumbled off to bed.
As the one in charge of assigning their labors, Sgathan also did his part to help.
When the maids changed the ticking fills and beat the dirt from the tapestries and drapery, and the sculleries attended to sweeping out hearths and chimneys, he inspected their stores.
Making note of what they would run short on before the first growing season would aid him the next time he went to purchase food from the surrounding farms and village markets.
Fortunately for the clan Ronan and his staff knew well how to preserve everything to last throughout the winter, so they yet had plenty of dried veg, smoked meats and sacked flours.
The sorry state of the stronghold, however, could not be remedied until Lucy Brooke left the island .
Making the list of tasks kept Sgathan from brooding over the vexing situation with the outsider, and his own approaching dilemma.
As he finished and turned to walk out of the granary he found the laird’s woman standing at the threshold.
She looked at him as she ever did, with open suspicion, which annoyed him.
Why did this wench resist him when no other could?
He’d never had so much trouble charming a female.
“We need to have a chat, Seneschal,” Lucy said, giving him the usual tight-jawed smile she reserved only for him.
Sgathan suspected one of the vassals had yet again given away something that this wench was too clever not to have noticed. “Didnae the laird command you remain in his bedchamber until midday, so you dinnae tempt the men to ravish you?”
“Maybe. He’s been ordering me around so much I can’t remember all of it.
Also, no one really wants to ravish me when they know Tair will rip out their spine for even breathing hard on me.
” She leaned over to peer into a sack of grain.
“Have you and the staff looked inside everything for this cluet thing? I’m told you know the castle better than anyone else, yet you never seem to be looking for it. ”
“Unlike you, Mistress, I do as the laird orders.” He looked down his nose at her. “’Twould prove wise if you’d obey him.”
“Well, you haven’t been abducted by an enchanted shawl and traveled back in time seven centuries, now, have you?” Lucy picked up a small pottery crock from the table he had used for his writing, uncorked it and peered inside at the murky liquid contents. “What is this, medieval shoe polish?”
“’Tis oak galls, for making ink.” He took the crock from her, corked it and tucked it into the pouch on his belt. “I must finish my work. Go and plague my brother, I beg you.”
“Which one?” she asked, shutting the door and leaning back against it. “You have, what, seven hundred?”
“Dorchad may entertain you proper,” he suggested, and moved until only an inch separated his big chest from pressing against her full breasts. “Or do you come to tempt me?”
“Oh, sure, because tempting knobs is my new hobby.” She rolled her eyes. “Nice that I’m up to my eyeballs in them here. Why do I have only one maid helping me search—and why is everyone hiding the fact that you MacRune aren’t human?”
“We’re as you see.” Beinn or Garia, Sgathan thought, had said too much again. “I ken our lord told you of our dark Fae sire. ”