Page 11 of Darach

He walked up and reached out so the orb illuminated her face, and painted the rest of her in a soft blue glow. The girl had light-colored hair hanging loose around a small face and big, waifish pale eyes. She looked so young that at first he thought her no more than ten or twelve years, but her mouth had a womanly fullness, as did the small breasts under her stained apron. He’d never before seen such a wench at the stronghold, and glanced down at the shabby gown.

“Revna? ’Tis your name?” Struan asked.

“Aye. Och, no.” She seemed to realize at last whom she was staring at, and quickly ducked her head and curtseyed. “Forgive me, my lord. I thought you––I didnae see that ’twas you. I’m Revna, the new kitchen maid.”

Struan knew his appearance regularly frightened the younger vassals. With his silver-blond hair, pale hide and unearthly features he looked almost identical to the old portraits of Prince Kaer hanging in the keepe. He even had the same eyes, so dark a brown they looked black. On occasion when he walked the passages at night even the guards would flinch, mistaking him as the first laird’s ghost.

“You came to work at the stronghold today, then.” As she nodded he saw her bare toes peeking out from under the hem of her skirts. “You shouldnae be in the woods alone at night. ’Tis dangerous for a wench.”

“Forgive me, my lord. I’ll go back now.” She bobbed again, and started toward the stronghold.

Struan caught her arm to stop her, and the coolness of her flesh made his palm tingle. Touching others always proved unpleasant for him, as too-long physical contact with another’s body could blister his hands, but he experienced none of that from her. She had either grown very chilled, or like most bairns did not have enough flesh on her bones to generate great heat.

She’s no’ a bairn.

“When came you to Dun Deigh?” he asked, releasing her.

“Sevenday past,” Revna said. “My da run off in the night, and I’ve no more kin. The village maister asked the steward give me work so I shouldnae starve. My lord,” she added quickly, as if she’d forgotten how to properly address him.

The steward should have first consulted him before offering the wench a position, but Struan suspected Callum would have taken her on. He well knew his brother’s soft spot for small wenches, although he’d never shared it. For him, bedding a female always proved an unpleasant experience for the wench and provided nothing but release for him. Of late he opted for his own hand over women.

Still, he didn’t care for how thin the maiden looked, as if she’d already gone hungry for weeks. “Your age?”

“I’m twenty, my lord.” Revna dragged the edge of her teeth over her bottom lip. “I ken I look younger, but ’tis truth.” She shivered.

“You’re chilled.” He didn’t wear a tartan, or he would have wrapped it around her, and then he realized how foolishly he was behaving. “Go in and warm yourself by the fire.”

“Aye, my lord.” Revna touched her arm where he had grabbed her and hurried away.

Struan pocketed the orb and followed her, and once he saw her enter the gates changed direction and went to find the night steward.

The older man dismissed the laundress he was speaking with, and bowed. “How may I serve, my lord?”

“Tell the village cobbler to make a pair of boots for the new kitchen maid, and any of the other vassals who have come to work for the clan of late.” He handed him the coin to pay for the work. “I tire of seeing my servants resembling beggars.”

“Your pardon, my lord, but I should tell you what I’ve just heard.” The steward glanced in the direction the laundress had hurried. “Two of our maids, they’re gone. A trapper, too, just a week past, according to the village tanner.”

Struan frowned. “What reason gave they for leaving Dun Deigh?”

“They didnae say to anyone, my lord.” The older man made a helpless gesture. “The maids went out walking yesterday and never returned.”

Nearly all of the vassals who served the Carack were born into their service, as their families had served the clans for generations. Since they were well-paid no one left Dun Deigh unless they were too ill to work or dead. Now three had left without notice.

Struan recalled what the kitchen maid had said. My da run off in the night, and I’ve no more kin. The trapper had been her father. It angered him to think of the wench having to work to keep from starving, but such often proved the lot of the poorest villagers.

“They likely went home. Go to the village on the morrow and ask why they left our service.” He saw the way the steward grimaced. “What?”

“The laundress did so today, my lord, hoping to persuade them return. ’Twould seem they’ve truly run off, my lord. They’re no’ in the village, and their families, they ken naught of where they went.” He sighed. “Mayhap the wenches travel together to the city. ’Tis said there’s easy work there, and you ken how foolish the young think.”

Had they run away? Everyone had believed Athdara Martin had done the same to be with her secret lover, and yet had turned up murdered.

“What of the trapper?” Struan asked. “Did he the same?”

The steward shook his head. “The tanner claimed he left home one morning and never returned. Mayhap he came to harm while checking his snares. Should I alert the patrols to keep watch for him?”

“Aye, and bring the laundress and tanner to me on the morrow,” Struan told the steward. “I want to hear what more they ken.”

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