A spike of alarm shot through him. How did she know his name? Was she an associate of the people he’d come to meet? Beneath the table, his hand strayed to the hilt of a dagger strapped to his leg.
“How do ye know my name? As far as I can remember, we havenae met.”
“Nay,” she agreed, shaking her head. “We havenae, although I’ve had my eye on ye for a while.”
The hair rose on the back of Evan’s neck. She’d been watching him? And he hadn’t even noticed? He was clearly losing his touch. “Watching me? Why?”
“Because I watch all those who stray so far from their path that they begin to affect the Balance. Like ye, Evan Campbell. Ye are far, far from where ye are meant to be.”
She was rambling. Perhaps she really was just the eccentric old woman she appeared to be, rather than a threat.
He eased his grip on the dagger. “Oh? And where is that?”
She tapped the bridge of her nose. “That’s not for me to say, lad. That’s for ye to discover. Yet, I think ye know. If ye searchyer heart, I think ye know that this life isnae the one ye were supposed to lead. Nor, I think, has it brought ye the peace ye have so desperately been seeking.”
Evan searched for the derisive laugh he’d perfected so well but found that it wouldn’t come. In fact, he found himself at a loss for words. There was something in the way this old woman spoke, something in the way she looked at him, that sparked something. He wasn’t sure whether it was unease or a distant kind of recognition.
“Who are ye?” he whispered.
She clasped her hands on the table in front of her and regarded him in much the same way his old tutors had regarded him when he’d displeased them.
“My name is Irene,” she said. “Irene MacAskill.”
He’d never heard the name before, but even so, that spark of recognition deepened as though perhaps they’d met somewhere long ago, but he’d forgotten.
“Ye seem to have me at a disadvantage, madam,” he replied. “Ye know me whilst I’m sure I dinna know ye.”
“Perhaps not,” she agreed. “But yer ancestors did. Those who served in the Order of the Osprey and helped to preserve the Balance.”
Evan sat back, leaning against the cold stone wall behind him. The Order of the Osprey. His father used to talk about it, about the noble legacy of his ancestors who had spent their lives serving Alba. But that had been long ago. The Order of the Osprey was no more, and the noble legacy of the Campbells was shattered, splintered into pieces by the family rivalry that had followed his father’s death.
His ancestors might have been honorable, but he and his brothers were about as far from the ideals of the Order of the Osprey as you could get. And he was the worst of them.
He stirred in his chair, disliking the uncomfortable feelings her words evoked. “As interesting as this conversation has been, madam,” he said. “I will have to ask ye to excuse me. I am waiting for someone.”
“Aye, ye are,” Irene MacAskill agreed. “But not who ye think. It isnae the ruffians ye call business associates who ye are truly waiting for. It isnaethemwho will show ye to yer true path, but someone else entirely. Someone who will challenge everything ye think ye know about yerself and help ye see yerself anew. What will ye choose, Evan Campbell? Will ye choose to take the path this one will show ye? Or carry on the path ye already walk? The one that leads only to darkness? The choice is yers, lad.”
She heaved herself to her feet and patted him on the shoulder. “Choose wisely.”
She turned and walked away, disappearing through the back door which swung shut behind her with a thud.
Evan stared after her. What, by all that’s holy, was that all about?
At that moment the door swung open, letting in a swirl of salt-laden wind. Two men stepped into the inn. Both wore rough, patched clothing and bore many weapons. They looked, he reflected, exactly like the ruffians Irene MacAskill had named them.
Taking a deep breath, he plastered a confident smile onto his face and spread his arms expansively. “Gentlemen! How wonderful to see ye!”
The two spotted him. Neither smiled nor returned the greeting. They strode over to his table and took seats on the bench. Not much older than himself, the two nevertheless showed the signs of a life hard-lived. One had thinning, ginger hair and several missing teeth, whilst the other, thin and wiry with a tangled black beard, sported a scar that ran up one side of his face.
“Alec,” Evan greeted, the bearded one. “David,” he nodded to the redhead.
“Campbell,” Alec said. “Ye have it?”
Evan nodded and patted the wrapped bundle he kept inside his cloak. He leaned forward.
“Right. Shall we get down to business?”
