Page 26 of Shaw

The heat of her words seemed to scorch him. “’Tis other remedies safer for the sisters. You’ve but send word to me, and I shall come and treat them.”

“Cora sent word three times to Dun Ard before she came seeking my aid,” Angalan said flatly. “I dinnae ken who attends your messages, MacMar, but I reckon they’re burning more than they deliver.”

“I shall return before nightfall to treat the Tarneys for their pain,” he told her. “And I shall learn who has kept the summons from me.”

“Do as you wish.” The herbalist sniffed. “Only ken if Cora begs my aid again, I shallnae shirk my duties.”

On his way back, Duncan’s dizziness and aches eased, but his temper flared with unfamiliar heat. He’d had no summons from outside Dun Ard for more than a week now, and if Cora had not come to the stronghold herself, the Tarney sisters might have died without him the wiser. If he could not attend to the sick on the island, then superstitious mortals like Angalan would end up treating and possibly killing the helpless.

In the great hall at Dun Ard, he found Fletcher overseeing the cleaning of one of the hearths, and pulled him to one side. “Who attends the summons for me from outside the stronghold?”

The seneschal frowned. “Any vassal or clansman given the message, I reckon. Why?”

Duncan told him about the issue with the Tarney sisters, and Angalan’s accusation. “I might excuse one or two messages gone astray, no’ all for the last week. Someone wishes me no’ leave the stronghold.”

“Why should anyone interfere? You’re the clan’s only healer.” Fletcher rubbed the back of his neck. “Give me time, and I’ll ferret out the cause.”

In the infirmary Duncan pulled out the ingredients he needed to make a salve as well as a tincture for the elderly sisters. Although it would not alleviate all their pain, it would calm their aches and allow them to sleep a few hours without endangering their fragile organs. As he rendered some beeswax and honey to serve as the base of the salve, he smelled a dank saltiness and glanced over his shoulder to see the doors of his cabinet standing open.

Since Duncan always kept them locked he frowned as he walked over to close them. “I dinnae need more trouble today. Who got into you?”

Ambre and bronze lights exploded in his face, knocking him backward onto the floor. Something took hold of him and flipped him over, shoving his face into the stone, and then the sound of a million leaves rustling rushed through his head, along with a low, menacing voice.

Where abides the child, Halfling?

Duncan struggled to push himself upright, but then the sting of needle-sharp teeth pierced the back of his neck. He resisted the impulse to reach back and crush the thing, for if it fought back it could bite through his spine.

“I cannae tell you what you wish ken if I’m dead.” The sound of lips smacking disgusted him. “Or if you drink all my blood.”

Your blood assures me you know nothing, son of the sea.

He staggered to his feet, spinning around in time to see something small and brown fly out through the window slit. Touching the back of his neck, he detected tiny wounds in his flesh, and his palm came away with spots of blood on it. He then went over to the cabinet, and saw on the floor beneath it the broken bits of what appeared to be a shattered golden ball.

That was when Duncan knew what had fallen from the cabinet, hatched and attacked him. “Och, you wee fiend. You’ll no’ hunt bairns on our island.”

Chapter Seven

Speal sent Mace to gather driftwood for a fire, and then regarded Fiacail, her ire swelling by the moment. Perhaps she had always been easy to deceive, but this seemed like some deliberate attempt to mock her and their sisters. Something in Fia’s eyes seemed to silently taunt her as well. When had the one Cait Sith she truly loved turned into this hateful creature?

“So, now you surprise me yet again.” She gestured at Fiacail’s altered companions. “’Twas some reason you forgot mention you’d handed our dead over for your master’s use?”

“My master took and changed them without consulting me, I fear. ’Twas quite the shock when he presented them to me.” She eyed the other two transformed Cait Sith, who turned and retreated back into the water. “Lord Duxor shall do the same for all of our sisters, and provide them with new and comfortable lives.”

If Fiacail had ordered Dearg and Teine back into the water by thought, Speal had not heard her. That meant she could hide her true intentions from her and the rest of the Cait Sith. The meek fashion with which the other transformed shifters had obeyed her also boded nothing good. Fia had changed more than just in form. Something had altered her Therion blood, and all the boons it provided her.

“You reckon the Cait Sith shall find comfort living in the sea?” She wanted to slap some sense into her, but she no longer knew this creature. “We’re half-Fae, lest you forget, with Therion blood. Water, ’tis our weakness. Aye, and we hate it more than anything in the mortal realm.” Something occurred to her. “Why call you this merrow your lord? He’s no Cait Sith.”

“Such fawning pleases him, for he’s a vain arse. I wish him trust me until I’m done using him.” Fiacail glanced at Mace walking along the shore. “If my master transforms us all, we shall shed our weakness forever, and live in the sea, where no mortal may find or hunt us. Indeed, his kingdom and his people await us. They’ve never ken the likes of the Cait Sith.”

The problem was greater than a change brought on by the transformation, Speal thought. This Duxor had done something to befuddle Fiacail’s thinking. Or perhaps being made half-shark had driven her out of her mind. She couldn’t imagine how her sister must have suffered, and it made her sick to think she might have prevented it.

“I expected you’d reckon I’ve gone mad, and blame yourself again,” Fia said softly. “’Tisnae any such thing, Sister. I’m as I ever was. Mayhap better.”

“You still hear our thoughts, but we may no longer share yours.” When she nodded Speal rubbed her eyes. “Then you ken why I cannae trust you.”

“You’d put your faith instead in Derdrui.” She made a pitying sound. “I well ken how the enchantress shall treat you and our sisters when you fail deliver the location of the MacMar. She shall cut through you as that Pritani butcher did, and feed you to the sharks. Then I reckon she’ll wander the realm forever tormenting and murdering mortals for her own amusement while she continues the search on her own. Why no’ save yourselves and deliver unto her that facking clan?”

“You reckon your master, he’s better than our sovereign?” she countered. “He’s forced a shark inside you. He’s made you his spy and procurer. Now you expect me welcome his meddling with our sisters when they’re injured and weary, all for a life we dinnae desire, in a world we despise? Truly, you dinnae see the madness in your reckoning?”