She moved forward, her hair, which hung down over one shoulder, gleaming red gold in the dim light. Eyes of clear blue, set at a slight angle, met his.
“Master Adair. Pray, sit. Ye will want something hot to drink after your journey.”
He gave her his best smile. “’Twould be a godsend, mistress.”
Kendrick grunted as the woman fetched a ewer from the embers at the edge of the fire and poured a mug full. Adair sat on one of the rugs facing Kendrick.
His uncle waited till he’d taken a drink to ask, “So what brings ye? Nay, do no’ tell me. The same thing that brought your two brothers before ye.” He grimaced. “Gawen is persistent, I will give him that.”
Adair hesitated. He supposed he could try to play this circumspectly, but given the temperature of his welcome, he did not believe he’d succeed.
“To be perfectly plain about it,” he told Kendrick, “Father thinks I can charm ye out o’ what he believes ye owe him.”
“Ah.” Fierce eyes bored into Adair’s. “And what do ye think?”
“I suspect he may be wrong.”
“Aye, then ye’re no’ so foolish as ye look.”
Another silence fell, angry on Kendrick’s part, and embarrassed on Adair’s.
“Ah well, we will talk further anon. Till then, I gather I maun offer ye houseroom. There are guest quarters of a sort behind this place. Ye will stay there.”
Adair got to his feet and bowed, then aimed another bow at Mistress Tavia. “I am grateful, Uncle.”
“Off wi’ ye now. Change into dry clothes—if ye have them.” Kendrick raised his voice. “By the gods, where is that lad?”
A slim, dark-haired boy appeared silently.
“Take Master Adair to the guest quarters. See he has all he needs.”
The boy bowed, then indicated that Adair should follow him. Back out into the crashing world of the rain with the gray ocean spread so wide. Separating him from all he loved. Around the side of the dun, he could feel eyes upon him. A deep awareness like fingertips on his skin.
But aye, the inhabitants here would be curious about another arrival. Another unwelcome one.
The hut, built of stone, offered little comfort. The interior felt damp with the rain, the hearth cold. Only a low sleeping bench piled with furs offered any hint of warmth.
The dark-haired lad dropped immediately to his knees and kindled a fire from materials laid to one side. Adair set down his belongings and said to the boy, “Thank ye. What is your name?”
The boy did not answer. He had a scar on one cheek and could not be more than twelve or thirteen.
A dismal feeling settled over Adair, one that penetrated clear to his bones. He found himself far from home, separated even from the men who had brought him here, without friends.
He sat on the edge of the sleeping bench as the flames grew higher in the hearth, fighting to draw against the heavy rain. He tried to imagine Baen and Daerg here before him. Baen with all his calm confidence. Daerg, no doubt feeling as hopeless as he.
Father had no idea what this place was like, or he’d never have sent any of them. Daerg—Daerg had tried to warn Adair about the nature of Alba. A dark and terrible place.
Adair could feel that now. The great land lurking beyond the door of his hut like a monstrous wolf waiting to leap upon him. A great, barely perceived threat.
If he could tell his father one thing, it would beYe do not want this place, this Dalriada. Not any part of it.Erin was home, and Erin was all.
The lad got to his feet and turned as if to leave.
“Wait,” Adair said. “Ye have no’ told me your name. How am I to call for ye?”
The boy turned back. For the first time, Adair got a glimpse of his eyes: narrowed and nearly blank.
“Torlag,” he murmured, barely above a whisper. “I will bring food as soon as it is prepared.”
