Page 53 of Luthias

Emery watched Callum stalk upstairs before she looked at the silver-haired Carack. “Hi, nice to meet you. Please don’t throw me anywhere, Mr., ah–”

“Struan Carack, the clan’s war master.” He took hold of her arm and guided her toward an arch on the other side of the hall. “Dinnae fear, my lady. I’ll see you’re fed and well-treated.”

“I’d appreciate that, thank you.” Emery peered at the steps leading down into the darkness on the other side of the arch. “If we give Lord Carack a little time to calm down, he might change his mind about me staying in the dungeons.” She smiled at Struan. “Speaking of being fed, I skipped my morning meal, so I’m really hungry. Could I have something to eat before you lock me up?”

“I’ll send down a meal for you,” Struan promised.

He hauled her down the stairs into a very cold, damp sub-level dimly lit by two sputtering torches. The place smelled like a busy public restroom that hadn’t been cleaned in a few years. Stone enclosures covered with large iron and wood grates formed long rows against three walls. Fresh straw had been scattered on the floor of the largest cell. Inside it someone had left a folded wool blanket and two buckets, one filled with water.

Emery didn’t see any current occupants. “Ah, you were expecting me?”

“My watchers sent word the MacRoss now prepare for battle,” Struan told her as he unlocked the grate and gently pushed her into the cell. “I reckoned you’d be safe here.”

She thought he would just leave her and go, but he followed her in and untied the cord around her wrists. Maybe she could get on his good side.

“There’s no reason to start a war with the MacRoss,” Emery told him. “This is all just a big misunderstanding.”

“My lord brother wouldnae agree.” He tossed out the bindings and then clamped a heavy manacle around her wrist. “You cannot escape, my lady,” he said as he cuffed her other arm. “Dinnae harm yourself trying to work free.”

“Do you know about the legend of the Fire Sword?” she asked as he stepped out and shut the grate. When he nodded, she held up her hands, and grimaced as the heavy chains attached to the manacles yanked at her arms. “Okay, short version: it brought me back from the twenty-first century so I could stop this from happening. I’m the only one who can, but I can’t do it from here. I need to examine Athdara’s body and determine how she died. I know you’re a war master, and battles are what you do, but please. Give me a chance to do my job first, or a lot of your brothers will die for no reason.”

“Mind the chains, my lady.” Struan turned and walked back up the stairs.

Emery sat down and watched bits and pieces of straw waft around her. “Of course I’m locked in a dungeon and they’re going to war and no one will listen to me. Why would saving the MacRoss be something simple and easy?”

Something outside her cell rustled, and then through the grate she saw a rat scamper into view on the other side. It stopped to look at her and sniff the air before it continued on its way. Emery shuddered and pulled the wool blanket over her legs and feet, hitting her shoulder with one chain in the process.

“The next time someone tries to steal a priceless medieval sword to sell on the black market, Emery,” she muttered, “Let them.”

She should have tried to run while she’d been in the great hall upstairs, Emery decided after thinking and seeing she didn’t have any way to escape manacles and a dungeon. She might have found a good hiding spot somewhere in Dun Deigh. Or she might have been killed by one of the Carack guards, which seemed more likely.

The sound of footsteps on the stairs made her rise to her feet and peer through the grate.

“Hello?” She stood on her toes trying to see. “Is someone there? I need to use the privy.”

A tall, middle-aged sage dressed in a black robe and carrying a tray with food entered the dungeon. “The empty bucket there shall serve that purpose, my lady.”

“So, there’s something actually worse than a privy. Good to know.” Emery watched him place the tray in front of the bottom of the cell grate. “I’m not hungry, thank you. Could you please help me get out of here, Master…?”

“Reothadh,” the sage said. “I ken ’tisnae comfortable, my lady, but here you shall be safe.”

“That’s what Lord Struan said. Wait, please,” Emery said quickly as he started toward the stairs. “You know about the legend, and why I’m here, don’t you?” When he nodded she blew out a breath. “Seems like everyone does. Okay. I’m a forensic anthropologist in my time. Among other things, I’ve been trained to analyze human remains and determine how they died. Please let me out and take me to Athdara Martin’s body. I have to examine her.”

“Why should you?” Reothadh asked. “I’ve seen the body. The jewel-setter drowned.”

“Maybe she did, but Athdara didn’t kill herself. Someone murdered her.” She mentally crossed her fingers before she said, “And I can prove it.”

The sage looked torn now, as if he wanted to believe her but wouldn’t let himself.

“I can examine Athdara very quickly,” Emery told him. “You can put guards on me while I do. They haven’t buried her body yet, right?”

He shook his head. “Lord Struan ordered her burned. They’re building a pyre for her now.”

“Then we really don’t have much time.” She held out her chained wrists. “I know this is why I was brought back to your time by the Fire Sword, not just to save the MacRoss but the Carack, too. I can’t serve my purpose locked up like this. I give you my word, I won’t try to escape. Please let me do this before these men start killing each other. Some of your sages could be caught in the fighting, too.”

Reothadh glanced at a door to one side of the cells, and his expression grew bleak. Slowly he took down the keys on the wall to unlock the grate.

As he came in to remove her manacles, he said, “Dinnae break your vow to me, my lady, or you shallnae live to return to your time.”