 Chapter 1 The Gypsies The people of Inverness were deeply annoyed. A number of them stood in the square and scowled with great hostility at the three tattered wanderers in their midst, but their anger held a wary quality. "'Tinklers, gypsies,' they cried accusingly, and the soft, semblance sound of the Gaelic was less soft but more semblance than usual. "'Realsog, witch,' muttered some with conviction but caution. "'Thieves,' they added, getting to the real heart of the annoyance. And with this fresh reminder of their grievances they began picking up stones as they advanced toward the man, woman, and girl. Anyone who expected to see clan loyalty in this gypsy family would have been terribly disappointed. The massive bent shoulders and stringy legs of the man somehow evaporated between two houses, and the final glance from his pasty dark face was one of hooded derision. Old Mina Fah didn't seem at all put out by her man's desertion. One might have thought that she had expected it. Her scrawny figure seemed to grow taller as she turned a once handsome hag face toward the crowd, and her sunken pale eyes flashed. The crowd hesitated. Everyone knew Old Mina was a witch, with the most devastating evil eye in all Scotland. But surprisingly Mina chose to pacify them. After all, there weren't many towns in the Highlands in this year of 1644, and it was well not to be alienating those few too deeply. Ock now! she wedled the crowd in her thin but powerful voice. She wouldn't be wishing to harm a poor old woman now, would she? It wasn't at all that they weren't wishing to harm her. But no one wanted to risk having his hands fall off or his cattle die. They regarded her dubiously, making up their minds. Witch repeated someone from the safety of the back. Thief cried several more with fresh indignation, and they began to move forward again. Thief echoed Mina indignantly. Not I. I would only be reading your palms and telling good fortune for ye. If any one has been lifting your belongings, it must be my wicked weak kelp eye, whom I am beating every night for her sins. And she pointed accusingly at an undersized goblin lass, who might have been perhaps fifteen or seventeen years old, dressed in an outrageous assortment of faded scraps. Long black elf locks flapped about her thin face and down her back. Eyes that were not quite canny peered out like those of an alarmed wee beast or a witch. The wicked wee kelp eye didn't stay to dispute the issue. With one bright, mutinous glance at Mina, she dived through the startled fringe of the crowd like a young stout and ran away into the narrow steep lanes of the town. The invernous crowd promptly forgot Mina and took after the lass. Thief, they yelled with new enthusiasm. And whatever was convenient to pick up, they threw. It was fortunate that kelp eye was experienced in this sort of thing, for it was a nasty chase, and she knew all too well what might happen if they caught her. With cunning amounting to sheer genius she ran and dodged, doubled back and forth between houses, wriggled over and under and around obstacles. Now and then her intense small face broke into a pointed grin of appreciation at her own cleverness, for there was something exhilarating in outwitting an entire town, but very real fear lurked behind those uncanny blue eyes. To tell the truth, it was the tide of ill will surging behind her which opposed her even more than the stones. But kelp eye did not realize this, for she was so used to ill will that she could not remember anything else. As for Mina's deplorable behavior, kelp eye was annoyed but not in the least astonished. Mina had merely followed the law of self-preservation, the only law kelp eye knew. She herself would do the same thing, given the chance. It was the only way to stay alive. Brio sag, witch! Kelp eye swerved around a corner and wished that she were a witch. If so, she wouldn't be running now but putting a bra spell on them all, causing their legs to buckle under them and stay that way for three days, too, so that the whole town would be crawling about on hands and knees. Just, she laughed at the picture and took another corner at full speed. Just wait until she was a witch. Oh! No one would chase her then, or beat her, either. A red petticoat spread on a gorse bush vanished magically as she flew past. Why not? If she got away, she was a petticoat richer. If not, what would it be mattering? A petticoat more, since she already had stolen two purses, a kerchief, and a fine skee-and-do, on her anyhow. Up hill and down and around, and finally away out of the town, and presently the stones ceased to bite at her ankles and back, and the yells were lost behind. Her breath seared her lungs now, and she hurtled down the hill toward the river which led from Loch Ness to More Firth. At last she threw herself into a cold, wet, but safely thick bank of broom, bracken and juniper, where she lay panting and gasping painfully. Meena and Boggle would soon be safely away by now, and waiting for her down along the path that was the only road along Loch Ness. Let them wait. She had earned her rest. She was sore, bruised and aching from the stones, and her bare feet, tough as they were, hurt from the cobbled streets of the town. Ock! she thought pleasantly, if only they would some day be catching and hanging Meena and Boggle too, but only, of course, after Kelpie had learned all the witchcraft that Meena knew, and perhaps more. Oh! to be a more powerful witch than Meena, and to be putting all kinds of curses on her until all scores were settled! Curled up in her nest of bracken, head resting on the scarlet petticoat, Kelpie drifted into her favorite daydream. Hey! how Meena would plead for mercy! Her arms and legs would shrivel up, just, and her few remaining teeth fall out. Kelpie smiled, looking like a starry eyed lass dreaming of romance. Then her short upper lip curled and lifted, revealing a row of small, sharp white teeth, so that she looked more like a wolf cub dreaming of dinner. The long twilight was beginning to creep into the great glen, for sunlight vanished early in the valley between those high, steep, massive hills, even in March. She must go on now, or she would be beaten for delaying, and presently still sore. She was loping silently down the path by the lock, where new gorse and bracken grew between patches of old snow. Two or three miles down she met Boggle and Meena, sitting on their bundles and waiting. You have taken your time about getting here, said Boggle. And how many purses were you taking? Twilight had deepened into the toneless half-light of gloaming. Light had slowly drained from the glen, leaving a world of eerie gray on the hill above Loch Ness. The lock itself was liquid iron, from which might easily arise the three black humps and snaky neck of Ikushka, the water-horse who lived there. Amiga supper was over, and the only color left in the world was the small, salmon-pink pennant of cloud flying over the black shoulder of Meow through our boini, and reflected in the shining crystal ball in Meena's hand. She spread a shabby bit of stolen black velvet on the springy turf and set the crystal sphere lovingly in the exact center. "'And now you will be reading the glass with me,' she said. It was a nightly ritual. Ordinarily Kelpie found it interesting, exciting, but tonight she was sore and aching, and rebellion was in her. It was foolish, of course, to express such feelings. It was to risk not only a beating, which, being used to, she did not fear, but an evil spell, which she did. But she expressed them now and then, all the same. "'May the orisk be away with you,' she said sweetly and ducked. Meena's fist merely caught the top of Kelpie's tangled head, but her snarl was more effective. Mind me so,' her voice rasped. "'And how do you think to be learning witchcraft, else? I am reading the crystal with you every night,' muttered Kelpie. "'But you'll never let me be trying alone, and you've taught me never so much as a single wee spell.' And listen to her now.' The hateful voice was a croak of derision, echoed by a snored from the bulky gray shadow that was boggle. She cannot crawl yet, and she's wanting to run. And this time the blow fell on Kelpie's high, thin cheekbone before she could think to duck. Look into the crystal. I'm a dain.' Kelpie considered further defiance and then decided against it. She didn't really feel up to another beating tonight, and she did want to learn witchcraft. So she permitted Meena's long, gnarled hand to clutch her own so that Kelpie would be able to see what Meena did. For a seer could share his sight with another by touching him, and Kelpie, said Meena, was not yet ready to see alone. Night after night, for as long as she could remember, Kelpie had looked into the ball with Meena, describing what she saw, while the old woman questioned and corrected her. "'Now,' said Meena, and Kelpie stared into the luminous ball. First it clouded, then the center began to grow dolly, and then a vague picture developed. Kelpie's dark head bent forward on its long neck, and her eyes grew wide and fixed. Two young men were riding along a locked side on fine horses, with a blonde giant behind them on a shaggy, highland pony. Bright tartan, Felida Moore, the bulky gray kilts, beat heavily against their thighs and swung over their shoulders, and their heads were high with the proud confidence of the well-born. Kelpie recognized one of them. Young Glenfern it was, whose father was a minor chieftain of the clan Cameron, and who had once given her a farthing, and a sudden compassionate smile that lit his grave dark-eyed face like sunshine. The smile had roused in Kelpie, a strange sensation of joy and resentment combined, and the feeling came back now as she stared. There was gladness behind the composure of his face as he rode, and his dark shoulder-length hair lifted in the breeze. And Kelpie, ignorant of the eternal attraction of a lad for lass, frowned at the pleasant pain of her own feelings. She spared no more than a glance for the other young man in McDonnell tartan, whose narrow face seemed composed of straight lines, whose freckles matched the blaze of his red hair, whose expressions seemed to laugh at all the world. "'Who is that?' muttered Mina, peering. "'What will they be to us? Do you know them?' "'No,' lied Kelpie, whose policy was to deceive Mina and boggle whenever possible, just on principle. "'I would be seen something of the king, or the war, or McLean Moore,' said Mina fretfully. Kelpie spared her a narrow, speculative glance. Why was Mina so interested of late in politics? Of what benefit to her was the blaze of civil war sweeping through the remote world of England, and even the less remote world of the Lowlands. As far as Kelpie could see, it affected them not at all, except, of course, that McLean Moore, Marquis of Argyle, chief of Clan Campbell, was head of the Covenant Army of the Lowlands, and therefore a merciless hunter of witches. But then McLean Moore came into these western highlands only now and then, and merely to wipe out here and there a few of the clans whom he had always hated. A terrible fierce enemy he was, no doubt, and one deserving the evil eye. But what was he to Mina at all? Is it still the lads' writing, then, Mina persisted? And who will they be? Whatever. Always and always, Kelpie must describe every detail, just as if Mina couldn't see for herself. Kelpie was irritated. How should I be knowing, she snapped, and a blow on the ear set her head ringing. Don't know? Amidane. What tartan will they be wearing? It was too much. Kelpie jerked away, too angry to care about the consequences. Narok, she spat. Look for yourself. The motionless gray bulk in the shadows now stirred and gave a low, spiteful chuckle. She cannot, Boggles said, wheezing with satisfaction. It is sure I am now. Her sight will be going from her. It was for that, these long years ago, that she must be stealing a wee bairn with the ring-dyes of the second sight, and holding her hand so that she can see through other eyes what she cannot see for herself. There was a scream of fury from old Mina, and a battered saucepan hurtle through the dusk, hit Boggles' ragged shoulder, and fell into the heather. Boggles chuckled with malicious triumph. It wasn't that he hated Mina in particular. He was quite impartial, was Boggles. He simply hated all mankind, and greatly enjoyed seeing any one unhappy. Now he ducked his head slightly and shook with laughter as the saucepan was followed by an assortment of sticks, stolen objects, and curses. So I sat perfectly still. A universe of startling possibilities was opening to her mind, because, with Mina's hand no longer touching hers, the tiny picture in the crystal gloat more sharply, brightly clear than she had ever seen it. Wrapped in her tattered plaitie, in a nest of last year's dry bracken, she lay awake after the long gloaming had deepened into black and stars peeped out to grow dim again as the unearthly white radiance of the northern lights, the dancers, shimmered and pulsed over the western hills. The wonder of the lights, as Kelpai watched, seemed to match the wonder in her heart. Had Boggles told the truth, Mina's behavior made Kelpai think he had, and it was certain that the crystal was even clear for her without Mina's touch. So then, was it also true that she had been stolen? From where? Kelpai reached back into her memory, but could find nothing but the vagrant life of gypsies, cramping, begging, stealing, telling fortunes and selling spells and charms in the highlands, running from witch-hunters in the lowlands, sleeping under the sky. Oh, how could she ever be finding out? Only, perhaps, by becoming a greater witch than Mina, and putting the power upon her. And indeed, it was a great advantage if Mina no longer had the sight. Hey, but she had other powers. Had Mina, terrible powers of cursing and spells. She was clever, too, and for all her age she used a stick with great strength. Kelpai must be canny. She must so. The cold streams of the northern lights faded, and they were gone. Kelpai was asleep. End of chapter 1 Chapter 2 of The Witch of the Glance by Sally Watson This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. The Waif. It was one of those days that couldn't decide between winter and spring. A cold, gusty wind whistled thinly through dark pine and barren birch, and chased fat clouds over the sky one by one, causing flurries of hard rain to alternate with pale and hesitant sunshine. They had travelled the thirty miles of Loch Ness, stopping at the village near Urkhahart Castle, and again at Kilkuman, where they had nearly been caught picking the purse of one of the MacDonald chieftains. And now they were moving south beside the silver ripples of Loch Loughy. Kelpai was far ahead of Mina and Boggle, moving along high on the hill side with a prancing motion caused partly by high spirits and partly by the masses of tough-stemmed heather that covered the slope. She was still sore from her latest beating, and also hungry. Her life consisted largely of pain and hunger and cold, and was peopled by enemies to be feared and hated or fools to be tricked. But Kelpai had discovered all that long ago, and was quite used to the fact and found life very enjoyable anyway. Certainly it was never dull, and she had a zest for adventure. And in spite of everything, the world was beautiful. Kelpai could forgive it a lot for that. In any case, her day was coming. She had deliberately described the details in last night's crystal quite wrongly, and Mina hadn't known. Or had she? This appalling thought caused Kelpai to miss her usually sure footing and to step right in the middle of a gorse-bush. Neither the travel-hardened toughness of the bare-brown foot nor the deceptive beauty of the silvery leaves saved her from a good pricking, and Kelpai swore with an ardent fluency that would have pleased Boggle greatly. Still hopping and cursing, she saw the movement of color of the three horsemen down the lock much later than she should have. They were coming along to ward her in the path below and doubtless had well-filled purses, which might be lightened. She was halfway down the slope when suddenly the sun shone brightly from behind the latest cloud, and Kelpai recognized the scene from the crystal. Young Glenn Fern and his red-haired companion and the giant blonde ghillie riding behind. But there was no time to wonder about it. Timing her movements carefully, Kelpai threw herself headlong down the last steep bank and sprawled full length in the path, almost under the horse's feet. "'Ey!' exclaimed Ian Cameron as he and Alex reigned the horses so sharply that they reared for a moment on their hind legs. All he could see on the ground was a pitifully small and tattered figure, clearly in great danger of being trampled to death. Alex McDonald, from his better position behind, saw something a little more. As Ian's horse stepped alarmingly close to Kelpai, one thin and helpless arm moved, neatly and efficiently, the precise six inches required for safety. Alex's red eyebrows arched, and an appreciative grin danced on his face. He relaxed and prepared to enjoy the comedy that was sure to follow. The crisis was over in a moment. "'Is it all right, you are?' demanded Ian of the wee figure, and the wee figure nodded, biting its lip, in a fine imitation of silent courage as it raised itself painfully to an elbow. For Kelpai had discovered that this sort of act was much more touching than loud wails and tears. She decided to have her back, this being hard to disprove, as well as more impressive than other hurts. So she went to indicate great pain, and looked up with a brave and pathetic smile. The lads looked back at her. A scrawny wave it was, tattered and unbelievably dirty. The tangled dark hair, apparently never touched by water or comb, fell over the thin face in a way that reminded Ian of shaggy Highland cattle, except that these eyes were unlike those of any cattle that ever lived. They were long and black fringed, set at a slant in the narrow face, and strangely ringed. Around each black pupil was a wide circle of smoky blue, then a narrow one of lightish gray, and a third of deep, vivid blue. Astonishing eyes, almost alarming! Where had he seen them before? While Ian stared in wonder and pity, Alex made a few further observations of his own. He noted the high cheekbones and the pointed chin and the wicked slant of black brows and the short upper lip, giving rather the effect, thought Alex, of a wicked elfin creature, or perhaps a witch. Amused but wary, he sat back and let his foster brother make up his mind. Ian wouldn't have been noticing, of course, that the wee brio sac threw herself into the path on purpose. Ian had the way of always believing the best of everyone. Ian was aware of the cynical smile behind him. A nasty, suspicious mind Alex had. It was a pity. What else could he be expecting of a poor, wild wave like this? What sort of life must she have had? Then Ian remembered where he had seen her before, with that wicked old witch Mina. Augh! the poor creature! Tis hurt you are, he said, worriedly, to Kelpie's relief. She had feared for a moment that she'd been too subtle altogether. Augh! only a little, she whispered, putting on a bra show of dreadful pain heroically born. Now, do not be overdoing it, called Alex. Kelpie shot him a look, which, had she been a properly qualified witch, would surely have caused him to break out with every loathsome disease known to mankind. Unfortunately the only effect of her venomous glare was that Alex's smile broadened to an insulting chuckle. Augh! what a beast he was! Then, with the bony, freckled during face of him, and the two jaunty tufts of red hair jutting upwards just where horns ought to sprout. She was about to tell him so, and in great detail, but just in time she remembered her role and Ian, who was still showing his pity and dismay. What a misfortune, he thought, that this should happen now, just when he and Alex were nearly home again after those long months away in Oxford, where he had been savagely homesick. They were about to get home early, and with very important news, and now this had to happen, not five miles from Glenfern. What shall we be doing with you at all? he said. We cannot just be leaving her here, he added fiercely, turning to Lachlan, the blonde ghillie, who, looking larger than usual on his short shaggy pony, had muttered something from behind. Give her a copper, Alex said, laughing, and see how quickly she'll mend. Copper indeed, thought Kelpie. It was silver she was wanting. But she didn't hide the gleam in her eyes quickly enough. I'll show you, said Alex. Slowly, tantalizingly, he drew a coin from his spore and held it up. It gleamed silver, and Kelpie stared at it greedily. See, Alex chuckled and spun it toward her. Quick as the flash of bright metal in the air, her brown hand shot out to catch it in flight, then dropped, and the coin fell noiselessly on the path. Kelpie kept staring first at it and then at her own shoulder with this may that was, for a change, perfectly genuine. I—I am hurt, she said, with astonishment, and then hastily snatched up the coin with a good left hand before they should change their minds. Not too hurt to be picking up the silver, observed Alex, but the gybe lacked his earlier light tone. Ian had already dismounted and was touching rather gingerly the filthy rags covering the shoulder in question. The last frankly stank. This time Kelpie's face showed an honest flicker of pain. I think it will be sprained, or perhaps out of place. Ian decided and looked at Alex. Alex looked back at him. Well, so! And where does she live, then? Where are her people? Perhaps Lachlan could be taking her home. Ian shrugged. I think I've seen her with old Mina and black boggle. Is that so? He asked Kelpie, who nodded. Alex raised his eyebrows, not in the least surprised. It was logical that she should belong to the nastiest witch in Scotland. Will they be coming along, then? Ian inquired, and again Kelpie nodded, so bewildered by her unexpected hurt and the pain that was now shooting sharply through her shoulder that she couldn't really think clearly at all. A glum silence settled on them, broken only by furtive and disapproving mutters from Lachlan. His duty was to be protecting his young masters, and now here they were consorting with witches, and he was not able to prevent them at all, at all. He crossed himself. Ian sighed with relief when the bent figures of Mina and Boggle appeared up the lach side. They would take care of their lass, and he and Alex would be away home. But it wasn't that easy. Mina, after taking in the situation at a glance, burst into lamentations and curses that caused the ruddy Lachlan to go pale. And is it our poor lass you have harmed, wicked beast that you are? She wailed, while Boggle stood like a massive old tree in disconcerting silence. Oka! Oka! Whatever shall we be doing now? May the evil eye fall on all your cattle and the pox upon yourselves, or risk in that you are? Ian himself recoiled, not from the curses, but from the evil that was in this horrible old woman. What a dreadful thing that a young lass should belong to such as these. It was wicked. And yet what could he do? What could any one do? Unhappy he stood and stroked his horse's nose while Alex handled the matter. Alex did handle it beautifully, with just the right mixture of indulgence, charity, and money. It was no fault of ours that she fell, but altogether her own, he told them. Still, we are kind-hearted and willing to give you a bit of silver. And when Mina would have demanded more, he fixed her with a stern hazel stare that caused her own pale, muddy eyes to waver and fall. It was all subtle then, and Ian, feeling depressed, turned to mount his horse. And then, black boggle, perhaps feeling that they had been worsted in the bargaining, reached down and jerked Kelpie roughly to her feet by the injured arm. The bit of brutality wretched a choke cry of anguish from the girl. Ian whirled around, and Alex was off his horse in a flying leap and seized boggle's arm in a grip that had no gentleness whatever. Let go of her, you vile bully! Alex snarled, red with fury, while Ian removed the sagging Kelpie from boggle's grasp. Lachlan, brannishing a steel dirk a foot long, loomed ominously behind. When Kelpie was again able to take an active interest in events, she heard several voices, a cold, contemptuous one and a dangerously quiet one, boggle's growl and Mina's whine, with dour grumblings in the background. More money changed hands, and then Mina bent over Kelpie, a cunning, complacent look on her face. The fine gentleman will be taking you home with them to fix your hurt, and we will come to fetch you in the morning, she said. You will be properly grateful and behave as I'd be wishing you to, she added meaningly, and Kelpie nodded. She knew quite well what Mina meant, steal whatever she could lay hands on. Then Ian's concerned face was close to hers, as he removed the grimy, once red sash from about her waist, and gently bound the injured arm to her side. And who's knowing what further damage the brute will have done? After that she found herself lifted to the frightful hide of Alex's horse, and felt his hard young arm firmly around her. And at a slow walk they set along toward the fork in the path that led through the hills to Glenfern. By the time they reached the top of the pass, Kelpie was feeling much better. She began to relish the adventure, and she stared with interest at the scene before her as they paused. Ian's face was a light with joy, and Lachlan actually had tears in his eyes. A strange thing that was, she thought, wonderingly, ignorant as she was of love of the High Lander for his own hills. Kelpie knew no home but the ground she walked on. The Glen ran westward ahead of them, along Little Valley, cradled in hills that were just turning jewel-green, with new bracken and showing dark with juniper and white here and there, with birch trunks and unmelted snow. On the northern slope stood a weathered gray house, which seemed large and grand indeed to Kelpie, and scattered along the Glend were little writhe-thatched shelling-huts of unmortared stone, nestled into the hillside as if they had grown there. Farther down the Glend was a wee lock of silver and blue, ringed with white birches and dotted with green eyelets. Lachlan, alien. Lake of the islands, murmured Ian with his heart in his voice, and they rode down the hill and along to the stables. Alex lifted Kelpie down from the horse, looked at her oddly, and then with a grin forced open her left hand. Kelpie perched gingerly on a fine brocaded chair near the door of the drying-room, and gazed curiously at the scene before her. For house and Glend had, on their arrival, erupted into a perfect frenzy of excitement, questions, tears, laughter, shouting, teasing, and hugging. A. and was this the way most families were behaving toward one another? Kelpie found it baffling and achingly strange, and vaguely annoying, and on the whole she was glad enough to have forgotten for the moment while she recovered her usual cool head. Lach-Rosen surged in a mixture of Gaelic and English. Cameron of Glenfern paced back and forth, the rusty red and green of his kilt swinging about strong knees. Lady Glenfern, smiling and anxious at once, sat in a carved oak chair, her hair bell-blue skirts billowing about her feet. Two small-kitted lads pranced with excitement, a bitty lass clamored to be away up in Ian's arms, and a bonny lass in green perhaps near Kelpie's age, clung affectionately to both Ian and Alex at once. Through the open window Kelpie could see Lachlan standing in a ring of laughing and chattering clansmen, and to begin to dawn on her that this was no ordinary homecoming. The lads had been away to school in a far-off place in England, and had returned quite unexpectedly with important news. We knew that King Charles had fled London and set up his court at Oxford, said Glenfern, and you wrote that Montrose was there, awaiting permission to come and raise an army in Scotland for the King. Now you say he's coming? I so, said Alex cynically, but a bit late, now that Argyle has got all the lowlands and some of the Highlands well under the thumb of the cursed Covenant. Were you knowing that the Covenant army has crossed the border into England, and will be fighting along with the Parliament army against the King? Ye, exclaimed Glenfern, in dismay. Is it too late, then? Why was the King waiting so long? Alex shrugged. Ah, King Charles has a grand talent for not seeing what he doesn't like, and for doing the wrong thing altogether or the right thing too late. Ian, whose loyalty was a simple and wholehearted thing, frowned at his foster brother. He's our King and a steward, he reminded him, and then turned to his father. At any rate, we were thinking we'd best come home while we still could, perhaps join Montrose when he arrives. None of this meant a great deal to Kelpie, so she began looking around with greedy wonder at the drawing-room. Oh, the glowing fine old silver on the sideboard, the great portraits on the tapestry-hung walls, the grand, massive carved furniture worn smooth as silk by time and polish, and the nemasque dairies at real glass windows. It wasn't fair that some people should have so much. They should be sharing it, they should, and it was up to Kelpie, she felt, to see to the sharing. A small silver snuff box was lying on a table near her. An instant later it wasn't. Kelpie's long slanted eyes flickered with satisfaction, but before she could so much as thrust her loot under her rags, a red-headed figure bent over her and a sinewy long hand grasped her wrist gently, but with great strength. Really, Ian? observed Alex lazily. You must be paying more attention to your guest. Shhh! said Kelpie, again wishing she could cast the evil eye on him. But instead the eyes of the entire family were now on her. My sorrow, said Ian ruefully. I was forgetting. A shame to all of us, and she injured, declared his mother standing up. It is only for the night, you were saying, Ian. Well, so we will see to the shoulder. Well, so. But not in the house, I think, she added, looking at Kelpie's filthy clothes. No, agreed her husband. Come a way out to the wee room in the stable, which we'll do nicely, I think. And Kelpie, who had expected to be beaten and turned out for her theft, stared. They were daft, all of them. But presently she forgot their daftness, because of the surprisingly painful business of having her shoulder tended. She gritted her teeth and cursed vigorously, and after it was over she was glad enough to lie down on the small cot in the stable room and be left alone to sleep. Kelpie awoke with an oppressive sense of being trapped. Blindly hostile walls and ceilings surrounded her, shutting out sky and wind. In a sudden panic she would have leaped up and fled to the safety of outside. But the first movement brought the sharp, forgotten pain of her shoulder. She gaffed slightly, blinked, and noticed a pair of dark eyes regarding her from a flower face. It was the wee bit of a lassy she had seen in the big house, who stood watching Kelpie with grave sympathy. She was a tiny thing, her body slight as it rose from the primrose bulk of her long skirts, but Kelpie was disconcerted. The gaze seemed to understand too much. Poor Lady, said the might, shaking her honey-brown head sorefully. Is it a sore bad hurt, then? Kelpie said nothing. Light danced into the dark eyes. We, Mari, will kiss it and make it well. Quite undeterred by thoughts of cleanliness, the child leaned over the cot and dropped a soft kiss on the bandages covering Kelpie's shoulder, and then another on her cheek. Now it will stop hurting just. And you can be happy, she announced. Crooking a small finger in the old gesture of calling down a blessing from heaven, she turned and trotted out, leaving a shaken Kelpie behind her. Nothing like this had ever happened to her before. Children had always clung to their mothers, frightened of the witch's lass. No one at all had ever kissed her, and Kelpie, to her dismay, found that her eyes had filled with tears. Aw, this would never do at all! She must be hard and strong, or else how would she ever survive in the world she knew? She closed her treacherous eyes and concentrated on subduing the weakness. The weakness was just about subdued when she became aware of more company in the room. This time it was a pair of seven or eight-year-old lads with penetrating blue eyes set in identical tan faces, which were light with passionate curiosity. Kelpie, still shaken and very much on the defensive from her encounter with Wee-Mari, glared at them with frank hostility. They went on staring at her with unwavering interest. Hey, they were nearly as disconcerting as Wee-Mari, and there were two of them. Kelpie decided to take the offensive. Sss! she hissed, barring her teeth and beatling her thick eyebrows menacingly. The bright eyes rounded slightly, but with increased curiosity rather than alarm. Are you crying? Ask one boy candidly. Are you a witch? demanded the other. Kelpie considered. It wasn't in the least safe to be thought a witch. It could lead to all sorts of uncomfortable and fatal things. On the other hand, she had never known real safety in any case, and it would be pleasant to impress, or even frighten, these complacent lads. I am so, she said, with an intimidating scowl. I can put curses on ye, or the evil eye, whatever. They were unintimidated. Show us, suggested one, hopefully. Alex was saying you cannot challenge the other. Ah, you just wait, said Kelpie darkly. I will be fixing that Alex as ever was. What will you do to him? persisted the skeptic with morbid curiosity. What is your name? asked his twin. Kelpie, she said in triumph, and at last she had impressed them. For every Highland child knew that Kelpie was a certain kind of fairy person, a water witch who wails at night by locks and rivers for a victim, or cries for admittance at shuttered windows. I don't believe it, said the skeptical twin, but he said it half heartedly. Ronald, Donald! The green-frog glass who was Kelpie's age stood in the doorway, with a big-boned young woman behind her carrying a tray. Ah, naughty lads! You shouldn't be bothering in here, and well you know it. She is a witch, and a Kelpie too, reported one of them unabashed. At least she says so, but we haven't seen her put a spell yet, added the other. When will you be showing us one? The young woman nearly dropped her tray as she hastily tried to make the sign of the cross. Her young mistress looked faintly alarmed but stood her ground. Be away now, she told the twins. I'll take that, Fiona. She took the tray from the quaking Fiona and set it on a stool beside Kelpie's cot. We thought you'd be waking up hungry, she said, and then looked at Kelpie apologetically, as if ashamed of her own good fortune and pretty clothes. My name is Aina, she added, pronouncing it A-Y-N-A, with the Highland Lild in her voice. And the twins must not be saying such things, about your being a witch, I mean. Are you?" she asked, overcome by curiosity. Kelpie already had hand and mouth full of cold venison pie, and knew begged Banachs and had no intention of risking the rest of the food. She shook her head firmly and put on her most innocent and helpless expression. Ah, no! she mumbled truthfully around her Banach, not I. At this moment a gaunt black cat sidled through the open door, sped at Fiona, and with a joyful yow leaped right on top of Kelpie. This was unfortunate, since black cats were known to have a fondness for witches. Fiona backed up to the door, crossing herself furiously, and Aina looked odd. Hey! she whispered. Dough has never done that before for any one. Kelpie looked at Dough with a mixture of pleasure and irritation. She liked cats, but this one had timed his appearance poorly. Dough looked back at her, great topaz eyes glowing into her steadily and inscrutably, and his purring filled the room. He is wanting some food, suggested Kelpie lamely. But Dough didn't show the slightest interest in her meal. Instead, he arranged himself comfortably on top of her legs. Animals are always liking me, Kelpie went on, with better success. Aina's face brightened and cleared. Of course, and if animals liked a person it was a sure sign that the person was to be trusted. Aina, like her brother, wanted to think the best of everyone, especially of those whom life seemed to have treated unfairly. Besides, Kelpie interested her. Presently she was seated on the edge of the cot, listening to the lurid tale of Kelpie's life and even being shown some of the scars and bruises on the thin shoulders and back. Aina was hot and shaking with shocked indignation. It was perfectly dreadful, appalling. And Kelpie, rising to great tragic heights, played up to the most sympathetic audience she had ever had. The long ring dies fixed on Aina's brown ones were soft and luminous and oh so innocent. But the innocent eyes reminded Alex of Dough's, as he entered the room and got a good view of both pairs. He hadn't been easy in his mind about Aina's being in there so long. Ring dies like that weren't any. The last might well be a witch, at that, though likely too young to be very dangerous. All the same, his foster sister must be protected. Come away from her and out of here, he ordered Aina brusquely. He should have known better. She whirled on him, round-chin judding out indignantly. And will you be judging her unfairly, like all the villagers and all? Aina demanded. Don't deny it, Alex McDonald. Over-thinking hard, suspicious things about her this very minute. Alex's sunburned face looked disconcerted at this sudden attack, but only for an instant. Oh, I, he agreed cheerfully, I am that. And why shouldn't I be, with the many reasons she's given me already? Has she put a spell on you, Mudile? Best be away to the house and see if Catriona can break it. Aina stamped her foot, but it wasn't easy to find a retort. You, you talk like a covenanter. She finally flung at him scathingly, and flounced out in a swirl of petticoats, Fiona behind her. Alex scratched his red head, more confounded by her passion than by her shaky logic. He grinned wryly at Kelpie, who looked back at him in triumph. "'Poor innocent wife,' he jeered, putting one foot up on the edge of the cod, where Dole spat at it. He rested an elbow on his kilted knee and stared at Kelpie with interest. She stared back through slitted eyes. "'Before you're up and away again,' he said casually, I have a wee word to be saying to you, and it is this. Unlike Ian and Aina, I have a nasty, suspicious mind I have. He wagged his head sadly, and I've a picture in my head of you away off to-morrow bearing every movable thing in the glen hidden in your rags, and wee sitting here without so much as a stick of furniture left to us. Indeed, and I would never be doing such a thing,' cried Kelpie indignantly. How could I be caring at all?' Alex laughed outright. Kelpie scowled. She had been cursed and beaten often enough, but she had never before been laughed at, and she didn't like it. Alex stopped laughing and grinned at her. "'Well, so I've had a soft heart in me. So I'll be doing nothing about such matters as pocket-picking or a certain snuff-box, nor will any one else, I think.' "'But,' he leaned forward a little, "'should anything else happen to be missing when you leave. Then you'll be finding the hand of every Cameron and Macdonald, all through the great glen and Lockever, from Locklevin to Loch Ness turned against you. Kelpie showed sharp white teeth in a defiant laugh. Are you thinking I've never heard threats before?' "'I am sure you have, and most unpleasant ones,' retorted Alex. "'But have you ever had one like this carried out, and two entire clans arrayed against you, and every ghillie on the watch?' Kelpie narrowed her eyes. He had her just. And to have the great glen and Lockever closed against them would be a sore handicap indeed.' "'S!' said Kelpie with deep sincerity. "'Alex grinned again. I'm not done,' he said briskly. "'It seems that my foster sister has given you her friendship. You are not deserving of it, of course. But for Aina that's good enough reason for giving it. Now I am fond of Aina, and if you should be taking advantage of her or hurting her in any way, I shall see to it that you are punished, even if I must denounce you as a witch. Do you understand?' It was a fearful threat, and Kelpie, used to bluster and invective, was unnerved by his very comb. "'Narok,' she spat. "'Remember, witches can curse. Shall I be putting the evil eye on you?' And she widened her slanted eyes until the dark and light rings were smoldering circles. Alex laughed again, infuriatingly. And if you haven't already put the evil eye on me at least three times to-day, it must be that you have not got it at all. For you've wanted to, haven't you? No, I'll wager you cannot do it.' "'Mena can,' muttered Kelpie, sulkily. Now that I'll believe,' he agreed readily. But even the evil eye wouldn't save the two of you from being burned as witches, would it? Oh! and he was so sure of himself. Kelpie saw suddenly that great cunning and apparent submission were her best weapons. And if I am keeping the bargain she hinted, looking at his pocket. "'We've no bargain,' Alex corrected her mildly. I am no such fool. It's just that I've been telling you in a friendly way what will happen if you should be stealing anything or hurting Ana. That's all.' And he sauntered out, his kilt swinging jauntly about his brown knees. End of Chapter 3 Chapter 4 of The Witch of the Glance by Sally Watson This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. The Daft Folk Kelpie slipped heavily for the first part of the night, and then awoke to stare restlessly into the stifling, closed in darkness. How could a body tell the hour shut in like this? She must be out into the free air, and waiting when Mina and Boggo came for her. She got up and groped her way out into the warm, horse-scented main part of the stable. Do, a blacker shape in the dark, came and wove himself round her ankles as she felt for the door with her good left hand. Her right shoulder was still too sore to move. And then she was outside in the cold, sweet air of pre-dawn. The hills to the southeast stood black against a thin ghost of gray in the sky, and the glen was filled with a toneless purple except for the ropes of pearly mist strung down the clefts of the hills and over the lock. A tiny burn and waterfall danced in a white thread at the far end of the glen, and the wind smelled of the sea. Kelpie drew in her breath deeply, and the beauty of it made a sore ache inside her and a daft desire to cry. It was something deep within her, just that these strange feelings now and then, and she must be careful never to let them out. It was these daft folk at Glenfern who were making her feel peculiar. She must be away from them, away from the trapping walls and alien people, to the freedom of the hills and sky. She slipped like a wreath around to the back of the stable, where the ground sloped upward, wrapping her bare ankles in the wetness of rank grass and heather and stinging nettles, which she had long ago stopped noticing. And at the upper corner a long skinny arm reached out with the swiftness of a snake, seized Kelpie's wrist, fortunately the uninjured one, and shook her. We've been waiting for you this long while. Mina began pulling her up the hill. Kelpie came willing enough. She was almost glad to see Mina's old evil face. She knew where she was with Mina. She could hate and be hated single-mindedly, and always know how Mina would behave. The people at Glenfern were unpredictable and confusing. Blackboggle was waiting in a clump of snowy trunk birches halfway up the hill. He said nothing, just grinned without warmth or welcome. Well, and what have you got? demanded Mina, turning upon Kelpie with greedy fingers held out. Nothing at all, muttered Kelpie defensively. The red-haired Ushka took back the silver in the snuff-box and said if I was taking anything else he would be setting all the Camerons and McDonald's against us. Mina cursed Alex and Kelpie both, but with her mind so clearly upon other matters that Kelpie didn't feel the curses would be very effective. Well, so concluded the old woman suddenly. And just as well, perhaps, for we are wanting you to abide here for a time. Kelpie stared, her mouth dropping open. Eh? Now Mina was being as unpredictable as any one in the Glen below. And whatever for, if I cannot be stealing anything, she demanded. And why would they be letting me stay? Mina struck at her. Kelpie ducked automatically, and Boggle chuckled. He would also have chuckled had the blow ended. You'll be persuading them just, commanded Mina. Play upon their sympathy, let them be making you a maid-servant, if they will, and mind that you be a good one. Tis a spy you'll be, to watch and listen, for the lads are fresh from England and knowing about affairs. Be learning how they feel about the King and Mack Haley and more, and the Lord Graham of Montrose. And keep them feeling kindly toward you, for we may use them one day. Kelpie hooded her eyes thoughtfully. She had already learned a good bit. But why tell Mina now? Better to wait and see where her own advantage lay, and learn what Mina was up to. And where will you be going? She ventured to ask. Never you mind, snapped Mina. We will be returning for you when we are ready, and then it may be that you can learn some of the witchcraft you are wanting so badly. Beneath their wrinkled lids her faded old green eyes gleamed at Kelpie watchfully. Kelpie kept her own eyes veiled. She knew how much Mina's promise was worth. But here was hope that Mina might really be going to teach her at last, for her own profit. Kelpie must be very docile then, and never let Mina suspect what was in her mind. Very well so, she agreed indifferently, it being best to show neither reluctance nor enthusiasm. Once more with the crystal then, ordered Mina, producing it. And Kelpie obediently sat down in the dewy heavy clumps of long grass. Her face was lowered meekly, to conceal the knowledge that Mina depended on her to see the picture. The gray light was now growing rosy over the bare top of Mial-Do. The rosiness was reflected in the shining ball and then moved and scattered. A battle, whispered Kelpie, her eyes large and fixed on the scene. But it wasn't like the other battle she had seen in the crystal. No cavalry charge of armored men on green slopes, but a charge of Highlanders on the steeper, wider hills of Scotland. She could clearly make out the bright tartans, and the double-handed claymores flashing, and she could almost hear the wailing scurril of the pipes. There was a red-bearded giant in the thick of it, and a slight brown-haired man on a horse, wearing a blue bonnet, and it was he who seemed to be the power behind the charge, though Kelpie couldn't say how she knew. And now the others were fleeing in the fury of the attack, and it seemed to Kelpie that she saw the blue and green Campbell tartan among the defeated. Her voice muted and hurried. Kelpie described the scene to Mina, leaving out the name of the tartan and many other details that she guessed Mina might not be able to make out for herself. And now there was a different scene, and there was the brown-haired man, dressed quite unfittingly as a groom, clasping the hand of a red-bearded one, who was looking altogether astonished and overjoyed, and behind them, on the hillside, was a cheering crowd of Highlanders. Well, demanded Mina. Kelpie shook her head. A hillside and a crowd of people, she murmured, but as all cloudy, and then she held her breath. But Mina didn't seem to know that Kelpie was deceiving her. I wanted news of Argyle, she grumbled, and put away the crystal. Then, after a parting cuff, she strode up the hill with boggle, and not so much as a parting glance from either of them. Oh, they had some pressing purpose, the two of them, and whatever could it be? The eastern sky was apricot now. The sun would be up in a few minutes, and already golden light was pouring across the very tops of the hills on the far side of the glen, but a fitful wind was coming from the west, promising to bring rain-clouds over those same bright hills. What if, after all, Glenfern refused to let her stay? Feeling excited and forlorn at once, Kelpie turned her back on the sunrise and walked slowly down the hill. She approached the house on lagging feet, suddenly nervous. Ian's father was outside the door, talking to Lachlan and an old man. Lachlan already disliked her, and Glenfern looked as if he could be stern indeed. Kelpie drooped her mouth into an expression of wistful apology, arranged the sling on her arm so that it showed up well, and hovered tentatively a few feet away. Glenfern's face was kindly enough when he looked up and saw her. Good morning, he greeted her, and how are you feeling? Good morning, replied Kelpie, and well enough, making it sound like a brave lie. But she stopped looking frightened. Mina and Boggle came. She began and paused. Oh! and you'll be wanting a bit of breakfast before you're away off with them? suggested Glenfern with a smile. They're away off without me, blurted Kelpie, looking helpless. They're not wanting me any more. Eh! said Glenfern. He didn't seem overjoyed. I have nowhere to go, added Kelpie, pathetically, in case he hadn't gotten the point. I, said Glenfern, who had got it pretty quickly. Well, come away in, and we'll see my wife. My son, we, said Lady Glenfern when they told her. She looked even less delighted than her husband. Aina looked up from sorting and polishing silver. Ah! what a wicked thing! she exclaimed, her creamy oval face troubled and sympathetic. And have you no other relations? Kelpie shook her head. We, Mari, gathering that something was wrong, ran over and slipped her warm little hand into Kelpie's, and the twins looked up in surprise, for they had thought everyone had more relations than could be counted. Perhaps she had better be staying with us, they suggested, through mouthfuls of buttered scone, an extra breakfast, no doubt. She could put the evil eye on all our enemies, whatever, added Ronald, hopefully. They're not really a witch, are you? asked Lady Glenfern seriously. A white witch, of course, was a great benefit to have around, since all her powers were used for good, and the Kirk of the Lowlands had not yet reached far enough into the Highlands to make even white powers dangerous. Still, the lass of Old Mina was more likely to be a black witch than a white one. No, said Kelpie, vehemently, and with perfect truth, how she wished she were. And I would never be wanting to harm any one, she added, less truthfully. Alex, sitting cross-legged on the far window seat, sent her a bright hazel glance of derision, which Kelpie ignored. Glenfern raised an eyebrow at his wife, sighed, and smiled kindly. Would you be wanting to stay with us, lassie? he asked. I would so, replied Kelpie forthrightly. This was easier than she had hoped, if only Alex didn't spoil it. I could be working, she offered meekly. Tis little enough I'm knowing about the insides of houses, but I learned quickly. Alex muffled a snort of laughter. They all glanced at him, but he merely gave Kelpie a look that was both warning and mirthful. Kelpie, who would have made a good general, seized the offensive boldly. He is thinking I want to steal things, she announced, nodding her tangled black head in Alex's direction. And do you not? asked Glenfern bluntly. Of course, admitted Kelpie candidly. Didn't every one? But I wouldn't be doing it, she went on. Her blue-ring dies fixed on Glenfern's. Because you would be sending me away if I did. It was the best thing she could have said. Glenfern lifted his dark head with a shout of delighted laughter. Every one seemed pleased and amused, and Kelpie made a mental note that truth was sometimes even more effective than a lie. She looked amure and managed at the same time to shoot a triumphant glance at Alex. But disappointingly he only grinned. Very well so, decided Lady Glenfern, smiling at her. It is not many people can claim to having a friendly Kelpie staying with them. And I think you have it in you to be a good lass and trustworthy. Kelpie looked at her, deeply shocked. How could a great lady like this be so foolishly trusting? And all of them seemed the same, excepting Alex, of course, who was sensibly suspicious. Kelpie definitely approved of this, although she hated his uncanny astuteness and his mockery. As for the rest of them, indeed and indeed, it was a wonder they had managed to survive so long. Fooling them was almost too easy, like catching a baby-hair with a broken leg. She felt the same way all over again on that very afternoon, after a most difficult morning. The difficulties had begun almost immediately after Kelpie's too easy acceptance into the life of Glenfern. It seemed that Lady Glenfern had peculiar ideas on the subject of cleanliness and propriety. To begin with, there was the bath, the first Kelpie had ever had, supervised by the mistress herself, and executed by Fiona and her formidable mother, Catriona. Fiona grumbled constantly, and Fiona crossed herself every time Kelpie looked at her, which she did frequently and maliciously. Then there was the matter of her name. Have you not a proper Christian name? Ask Lady Glenfern, while Kelpie's matted hair was being violently combed and plated into two long, thick tails. Kelpie, unable to shake her head, and with eyes smarting from the pulling, made a sound that meant no. My sorrow remarked her new mistress, a strange thing to be naming alas for a water-witch. Would you not rather be called something else, Reyna, perhaps, or Morag? But Kelpie caught a glimpse of herself just then in the small mirror that stood on a table, and a fleeting shaft of panic shot through her. She wasn't herself at all. Her face was a stranger, with the dirt off and the hair pulled back wetly to show all of her eyes and forehead, and even her fond-shaped ears. Eh, if they changed her name as well, perhaps she would cease altogether to be herself and become someone else entirely. No, she said vehemently, and the subject was dropped. But when they gave her a fine-woven blue woolen dress of anas for her very own, and even something to wear under it, she began to take a more favorable view of the situation. And when, in the afternoon, she met Ian coming in the front door, he hardly seemed to know her at first. His eyes opened wide as he shook the heavy rain from Miss Pallady, and then he gave her one of his rare and sudden smiles that was like sunlight out of the drenching sky. Kelpie grinned back, preening herself frankly in her new finery. Ah, aren't you grand just, Ian said admiringly. Oh, I, agreed Kelpie, seen no reason to deny it. But I should have a pocket and a wee bit of silver to put in it, she added, hopefully. Ian laughed at her cheekiness. Perhaps some day, he said. But I know that you will not be stealing them, for you have said you won't, and I trust you. There it was again. Kelpie shook her head in wonder. That wasn't at all the reason she wouldn't be stealing. And how could he be so daft as to think it? His warm brown eyes and the lovely chiseled, sensitive curve of his mouth quite melted Kelpie, and before she could stop herself she was warning him. Ah, she blurted, you mustn't be trusting people so easily. It is not safe, whatever. Mustn't I trust you, then? asked Ian gently. Are you not wanting to be trusted, Kelpie? Indeed so, explained Kelpie kindly. Everyone is wanting to be trusted, because then it is much easier to fool the ones who trust them. And you may be trusting me because you have a stick over me, but it is foolish to do so otherwise. They looked at each other pittingly. Perhaps people are not so good as I would like to think, said Ian slowly. But I think they are not so bad as you have found them, either, Kelpie. And I would leave your trust mistakenly, then mistrust unfairly. Do you understand that? No, said Kelpie. End of Chapter 4 Chapter 5 of Witches of the Glance by Sally Watson This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. BEWITCHERY It was a strange new life she was in, indeed. Walls and roof were like a trap at first, although it was a grand thing to be warm and dry, with all the storm demons howling over the earth. It was strange to have certain tasks at certain times, too, and not easy for a gypsy last to whom time was nothing. It was strange to eat hot meals three times a day, and at a table, with the heat coming from the huge kitchen fireplace. But it was not so strange to have the servants lowering at her suspiciously. For the clans' people of the glen, unlike their chief and his family, never trusted this water-witch for a moment. An evil sprite she was, and no mistake about it, they watched every move she made. Still, suspicion was less after her first Sunday there, after she had gathered with the others to hear Glenfern read the service. It was well known that no witch would dare enter a church or hear the holy word, lest the roof fall in or some other dire thing happen. Kelpah herself was uneasy about this at first. True, she was not a witch, but she wanted to be, and she read the crystal with Mina, and she wasn't altogether certain what might happen. Still, it wasn't a proper church, with a priest, but only Glenfern reading the angelic and service, and in any case, she dared not refuse. So she went, heart beating faster than usual, and was greatly relieved when nothing dreadful happened. True to her promise, Kelpah was diligent and learned quickly. Her reward was free time to wander the encircling hills, or to be with the other young people. And this was strangest of all, for they played and chattered, and joked in a way quite novel to Kelpah, with laughter among them, and an ease and affection that held no wariness. Under the bewitchment of it, Kelpah found herself dropping her own guard more and more often. She liked being with them. There was more joy in it than in shouting and dancing alone on a hilltop, a different excitement from that she felt when cutting purses. As the days passed, she often had to remind herself of the advice she had given Ian. To be too relaxed could be dangerous, especially with that sharp-minded Alex about. Still, she couldn't help enjoying those hours, and presently something clicked in her mind, and she understood the baffling thing they called teasing. Kelpah, Anya, Ian, and Alex were sitting nearly waist-deep in the tangle of Heather and bog myrtle that rimmed, Loch Nann Alien, on a sunny afternoon. Are you sure you're not wanting a proper name besides Kelpah? Anya asked, her soft voice worried and laughing at once. It seemed so insulting, just that your parents—parents? Suddenly Kelpah remembered what Boggle had said. Suppose she had truly been stolen. Suppose she were really the daughter of a chief. Oh, the glory of it! Wealth and importance, lovely gowns and jewels, silver buckles on real leather shoes, and a silver belt around her waist, and oh, the safety of never having to run from angry crowds. Hey! she announced eagerly. Meena and Boggle will not be my parents at all. She paused dramatically and prepared to launch the rest of her news. How startled and respectful they would be! Why hadn't she thought of it sooner? Ah, now! Alex turned twin sparks of laughter upon her. And haven't I been waiting just for you to be telling us? Kelpah has suddenly remembered, he explained to the other solemnly, that she was stolen by the Gypsies when a wee baron and is truly the daughter of a great chief, or perhaps of royal blood. How do you know, began Kelpah, and then stopped. The others were chuckling as if a great joke. Alex had put the blight of ridicule on her story, though it was at least half-true. And now no one would ever be believing it at all! Beast, she spat. It's true! As ever was, agreed Alex jauntily and ducked her angry fist. Then he caught her wrist, put it firmly in her lap, and sat grinning at her. You're a wonderful wee liar, aren't you, just, he observed admiringly. Oh, I! admitted Kelpah, a trifle smugly, before she realized that he had tricked her again. But this time, she pointed out, with indignation, I am not lying. And would you not be saying the same thing if you were lying, he persisted. This time Kelpah saw the trap. But she was already in it. Of course, she admitted with forthright logic. For what would be the good of lying if you did not say it was the truth? But she bristled, slanted brows scrambling themselves darkly above her short nose. This time it is true! Alex laughed. Kelpah tried for at least a twentieth time to put the evil eye on him. The result was a poisonous look, if not a blighting one. Wicked, evil-minded beast, she told him earnestly. Ian looked at Alex judiciously. Oh, no, not wicked, he said. He's a bit evil-minded, tis true, and surely daft. Kelpah blinked. I, daft enough, agreed Aina, happily. Were you knowing, Kelpah, that he's altogether foolish about an English lass, his cousin Cecilia in Oxford? And yet, all he can be saying of her is that she is like her own wee kitten, and that he will marry with her some day. Alex grinned brazenly. Well, and with who else, he demanded. You would not be having me, Moodile. Eh, no, agreed Aina promptly. I'd asleaf marry the twins. May hap Kelpah would have him, suggested Ian lazily, and then he and Aina shouted with laughter at the looks of sheer horror on both faces. Mercy! begged Alex, getting to his knees and clasping his hands pleadingly. Anything but that. Curse me all you wish, water-witch, but please do not marry me. Kelpah looked at him. It was then that something clicked. Very well so, she agreed, with enthusiasm. And what sort of curse would you be wanting? She went back to the house a little later, looking thoughtful and with a pleasant feeling in the heart of her. Not merely because, for once, she had got the better of Alex, but also because of the thing that happened between people when they teased. It was a warm and happy thing that turned insults to joking and the hatred of Alex into something kinder. For surely a body did not tease where he hated, and surely he had been half-teasing her from the first. Kelpah's blue eyes glinted happily as she hurried into the big stone-floored kitchen, so that Masarly the cook almost smiled at her and Fiona for once forgot to cross herself. And about time it is, too, Marsali grunted, remembering her doubts about Kelpah. The Mistress has been looking for you while you were playing like a fine lady. Here now, be helping to pluck this fowl, and let Master Donald go tell her that you are here. Kelpah glanced at the half of the twins who was arming himself for an afternoon of fishing, with a huge packet of scones and butter. That's Ronald, she said absently as she picked up the small brown pheasant. Three pairs of eyes focused on her in sudden sharp attention, for it took far more than a brief glance to tell one twin from the other. In fact, only their mother and Wee Marry could invariably do it. I'm Donald, asserted the twin, his eyes sparkling at her. You're Ronald, Kelpah contradicted him serenely, hardly glancing up from her plucking job. Marsali at once took sides. Ah, now, will you be calling the Wee Master liar? She demanded indignantly, her fist planted against her hips. Oh, I, said Kelpah, he will be teasing you, she added, pleased to recognize it. Fiona looked shocked. Marsali peered suspiciously from Kelpah to the twin, who giggled, oh, well then, said Marsali, her ruddy face now ruddier with indignation, though she was not quite sure at whom to direct it. Fine it is that Master Ronald has the Wee Mole on the back of his neck, and she strode over to the grinning lad and lifting up the shoulder-length dark hair to look at the neck beneath. Kelpah went on plucking, perfectly sure of herself and feeling rather smug. Master Ronald it is, Marsali clucked, and Fiona crossed herself and edged away from Kelpah. How could you be knowing, save with the black power? I, demanded Ronald, how are you knowing Kelpah, was it witchcraft? Kelpah grinned and shrugged. She couldn't really tell how she knew. It wasn't the look of them, but rather the feel. Ronald had a more aggressive and challenging tone, and Ronald more a feel of hungry curiosity. But how could a body explain this kind of knowing? No, they would just have to think at witchcraft. My son do, muttered Marsali, regarding her wearly. Fiona had backed against the far wall. Ronald appeared in search of his twin, and the two went into conference. Presently they came out of it and presented a solid front to Kelpah, sturdy legs planted wide. That is no proof you are a witch, announced Ronald. Mother and we Mari can tell us apart, and they are no witches. Only Mother is knowing us too well, and Mari has second sight. Kelpah yielded to temptation, made a horrible grimace, and began weaving mysterious signs in the air with her fingers. Fiona screeched, and Marsali turned pale. The twins stood their ground, grinning, belligerent, deeply interested, and just faintly worried. Now whatever is all this? It was Lady Glenfern herself, her full mauve skirts nearly filling the wide doorway, with Aina round-eyed just behind. First squeaked Fiona. Kelpah flushed guiltily, and found a sudden lump in her throat. Oh, here was a mess! Why had she done such a foolish thing? All in fun it was, and yet who would believe her for a minute? Now she would be punished and sent away, and for once, for a thing of which she was innocent. The novelty of the situation was so shattering that for once she lost her glib tongue. She simply stared at her mistress, her eyes growing wide with frustration and despair. The twins and Marsali broke into simultaneous explanations, all slightly different, with Fiona putting in exclamation points here and there so that it was some time before Lady Glenfern could get an idea of what had happened. When she did, she turned questioningly to Kelpah, who was still trying to think up some lie that sounded more plausible than the truth. But Aina spoke first. "'Lock then, mother,' she said, laughter and distress in her voice. She was teasing, I'm sure of it. Look you how the twins are always at her to cast a spell, and Fiona just begging to be teased by the very look of her. I am sure that was the way of it. Was it not Kelpah?' Kelpah nodded a bit sullenly. This was humiliating. She wished she really had power to do a wee magic spell and dared show them, just to see their surprise. "'Well,' Lady Glenfern hesitated, inclined to believe it, but not quite sure. At that moment wee Mari popped into the kitchen, looking in her full skirts, like a fairy child caught in an overblown rose. And like a fairy child, she knew instantly that something was wrong and what to do about it. She padded across the floor and slipped her small, soft hand into Kelpah's. "'This is my Kelpah,' she announced, smiling angelically at her mother. "'Tis myself loves her, and you must not be cross at her.' "'There, mother,' trod Aina. We Mari loves her, and Mari has the second sight. You said yourself that she is never making a mistake about a person.' Lady Glenfern relaxed. I so, she agreed, and smiled at Kelpah. "'I can well see how you were tempted to tease,' she admitted, and then became grave. But you must be careful, lass. To joke about such matters could cause you sore trouble.' Kelpah hardly heard the warning. Her hand was gripping the small one, still protectively clinging to it, and she found herself again seized by an alarming surge of feeling for its owner. "'Ach, the fair, sweet heart of her!' We Mari chose this instant to lean confidingly against Kelpah, and pair up with the beguiling smile. My Kelpah!' she repeated. And Kelpah was swallowed in a tide of the first real love she had ever known. She found it extremely upsetting. All her training and experience warned her that it was dangerous to be trapped into this sort of feeling. It left one vulnerable, could lead one into foolishness. And here she was, bewitched, unable to help it. She scowled helplessly. Lady Glenfern, seeing her distress, mercifully took her from the kitchen for the rest of the day, and set her to work at a simple bit of weaving. For an hour or so Kelpah sat alone, brooding. Aina came in for a while to work at her own more complicated length of Cameron tartan, but Kelpah was so unsociable that she left again. And then the twins arrived. Dark heads cocked one side, eyes dancing at her impishly. "'We have found you,' they announced in triumph. "'Fine, I know it,' growled Kelpah, refusing to look at them. Undaunted they seated themselves on two wee creepy stools and regarded her with affable curiosity. "'There's a thing that we have in our minds,' they told her. "'I am doubting that,' snapped Kelpah. The twins digested this insult and then chuckled. "'I am liking you fine,' said Donald, even though you are not a witch. Kelpah touched again on that newly sensitive spot, shot the shuttle through the wrap with unnecessary violence and said nothing. "'Why were you saying you were a witch when you are not?' asked Ronald with interest. "'Why,' he continued, getting warmed up, do Fiona and the others think you are. "'Would you like to be?' "'Are you truly Old Mina's girl? "'Is she your granny witchy?' "'If you were a witch, Kelpah, what would you do first of all?' "'Put a spell of silence on the tongue of you,' retorted Kelpah, and found that her ill humor was beginning to evaporate. It was impossible not to smile back at their cheeky grins, not to chuckle when they said that mother would probably approve such a spell. The atmosphere became quite congenial. "'I thought you were going fishing,' observed Kelpah. The twins looked depressed. We were,' they agreed, but fathers come back from seeing Lockheil and told us to bide here for our lessons, that we missed this morning. "'I think we'll take him a wee while to find us in here, whatever,' added Ronald cheerfully, and Kelpah grinned again. We are learning about the war between King Charles and Parliament and the Covenant, volunteered Donald sadly, and we could do fine not knowing about it. Grown-ups are gay confusing, so they are, and sometimes I think gay foolish besides, and we are not understanding it all very well. "'Are you loving King Charles?' demanded Ronald. "'Oh, I,' murmured Kelpah, vaguely in hasten to turn the question. Are you?' she countered. As ever was, they coerced instantly. Is he not our king and a steward besides?' Well, Kelpah had already known that Glenfern was pro-royalist. And so the king is always right, she pursued, trying to think what else to ask. "'Oh, no,' said the twins in surprise. No one is always right. They informed her gravely. Except,' they added, for father. Kelpah put her shuttle through the wrong way and had to take it out again, her lip twitching ever so slightly. The twins, having settled that subject of conversation, looked at her hopefully. "'Can you,' they asked, "'tell us a story. Now, if there was one thing Kelpah could do better than any other, it was to tell stories. Pathetic tales to earn sympathy, or a copper, outrageous lies to escape impending trouble, embroidered yarns of her own adventures, old gypsy stories, eerie folk tales of the wee people and other uncanny beans, or fanciful bits and snatches that she wove for herself among the hills or beside the campfire. Her eyes sparkled. Fine, I can that,' she asserted, and dropped her voice to an eerie pitch. "'Have you ever,' she whispered, heard of the o' risk of glenion. They shook their heads and drew their stools nearer. "'Well, then,' Kelpah paused, shuttle in hand. It was a farmer's wife who was making porridge for breakfast on a wet morning. When who should come walking in but an o' risk?' Ah, a slippery, damp, uncouth monster he was, half-man and half-goat! And wasn't he just sitting himself down at the fire to dry, and not so much as a wee greeting to her? Well, the farmer's wife was fair-angered at his impertinence, and she having to step over and around him every minute, so presently she just lifted a ladle of the boiling porridge from the pot over the fire, and poured it over him just. Well, at that he leaped up howling, ran out the door, and never dared set foot in that house again. When Glenn Fern finally tracked down his elusive twin some time later, Kelpah had got very little weaving done, but she had made a place for herself forever in the hearts of Ronald and Donald. End of chapter 5 CHAPTER VI OF WHICH OF THE GLENZ, by Sally Watson. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. THE PICTURE IN THE LOCK Tis a terrible, complicated matter, the war, objected Aina, doubtfully, as she began basting a sleeve into what was to be a fine linen shirt for Ian's birthday. I fear I'd only be confusing you. Kelpah surveyed the four or five yards of red and green tartan wool which constituted a kilt for a small lad, and wondered how even Donald could have managed to tear such stout weave. I could not be more confused than I am, she pointed out, for I am knowing nothing at all. Tell me at least a little. Aina sighed and obeyed. Well, she began hesitantly. You know that King Charles is King of England and Scotland both? Kelpah nodded. But in both countries are representative bodies of men called parliaments, and they help to rule. They are supposed to agree with the things the King does, and it is the English parliament who must vote to give him things like extra money when he needs it, which he usually does. She paused to squint critically at her basting, and Kelpah waited. Somehow she had developed a great eagerness to learn about the matters which had thrown England and Scotland into civil war. I go on, she murmured. Well, so. Neither King Charles nor his father before him has got along well with parliament. King and parliament each said the other will be trying to take more rights and power than they should have, and they became angry. Parliament would refuse to vote money for the King, so the King would dissolve parliament, which meant they could not meet any more to vote on anything at all until King Charles called them back, and so everyone was unhappy. She bit off her thread and held the shirt closer to the dim light which filtered through the thick diamond-shaped mullion panes of the encasement window. And then, she sighed, religion came into it. Father, she remarked severely, says that religion should never be mixed with politics, but they do not listen to wise people like father, so there is trouble. What has religion to do with it? asked Kelpah curiously. She had never known anything of religion for herself, only that the stern kirk of the lowlands had severe views on all other faiths, on fun and laughter, and most particularly on witches. But the angelic and servicess here at Glenfern seemed peaceful and vaguely pleasant, even though she did not understand them. Ah! protested Aina, but Kelpah's face was implacable, so she went on. Well, the Catholics and Protestants do not like each other, and especially the Protestants of the New Reform Church, like the Puritans in England and the Calvinist covenanters in Scotland, and we angelicans caught in the middle. King Charles is angelican, but the Parliament is mostly Puritan, I think. At any rate, they were very angry when the king married Queen Henrietta, who was a Roman Catholic, and said she would turn the country all Catholic and burn Protestants at the stake. And the Catholics said the Protestants were trying to rule the country and force their religion on everyone, and so it was a fine bra quarrel for years, with religion and politics all mixed together. Kelpah carefully selected a strand of wool to match the soft, dull red of the Cameron tartan. This was the most difficult bit of mending she had yet been trusted with. Hmm! she murmured after a minute, turning her mind back to the conversation. And then? It was Anna's turn to pause, while the rain beat against the casement windows. We Marry turned from her doll to lift a merry smile in the direction of her Kelpah, who felt a new pang of affection. Ah! the bonny wee thing! Anna scowled at the shirt and then glanced up at Kelpah with a rueful shrug. Oh! I cannot mind me of all the details! She sighed again, but the quarrel turned into fighting. But what of Scotland? demanded Kelpah. What had it to do with us at all? Why, interrupted the dry voice of Alex, King Charles himself must be bringing that on. They looked up to see him standing in the doorway, a shirt in his hand and a rye grin on his angular face. One might have been loyal to him, even though all the lowlands are Calvinist, and even more rigid than the Puritans, but he had the bright idea of forcing the angelic and prayer-book on Scotland. And the next thing he knew, there was a solemn league and covenant formed against him, and Scotland divided as England was, with lowlands against the King and most of the highlands loyal to him. Anna looked both relieved and worried, while Kelpah studied Alex's expression in the dim light, not quite certain if he were teasing or not. She decided not, for once. There was a faint note of bitterness in his voice. I thought you were a king's man, she challenged him. I am so, he returned promptly, and unpropped himself from the doorway. Look you, Anna, he went on, crossing the room to her. I have ripped my shirt sorely, and am needing a bonny-sweet last amended for me. Anna tilted her chestnut curls at him and wrinkled up her nose in an impish grin. If I do, she said, bargaining, will you be explaining the rest of the war to Kelpah? Eh! said Alex, and raised both eyebrows at Kelpah. She is truly wanting to know, said Anna sternly, so do not be teasing her, Alex. And I am gay muddled about it, and you know so much more, with having been at Oxford and even seen the king in his family yourself, will you? Tizahar bargain, complained Alex, and I am thinking I pity the man who will one day marry you, Anna Mewdile. He perched on the corner of the massive table, his kilt falling in heavy folds about his lean knees. Well then, and what bit of my great knowledge should I be sharing with you first? Kelpah gave him a wicked, pointed smile. Tell me, she said softly, in one word just, what are they fighting for? My sorrow, exclaimed Alex, straightening up as if he had sat on a thistle. Is that all? Don't you know? Ask Kelpah tauntingly. I will tell you then. They are fighting for power, is it not so? Alex resumed his perch and surveyed her ruefully. Ah, and are you not the young cynic, he observed. And you have shocked my foster sister, too. For Anna was looking both dismayed and indignant. Both girls had forgotten their sewing for the moment and sat staring at Alex challengingly, waiting for his opinion. He laughed. I fear I shall anger you both, he remarked, and go through the rest of my life with an evil spell on my head and a torn sleeve in my shirt. Well, demanded Kelpah. Alex gave her a crooked grin. Sorry I am to agree with you even in part, he confessed. But no doubt some men are fighting for power. No, no, Anna, he added, as she opened her mouth. Do not deny it too quickly. What about Argyle? Anna subsided. On the other hand, Alex Avic, there is Montrose. It was Ian, he pulled up a hassak and arranged himself quietly but firmly on Anna's side. Montrose? asked Kelpah. I, said Ian, turning his warm smile upon her. James Graham of Montrose, and he one of the finest, truest men under the sun. It is he who is named to fight the king's cause in Scotland, even to form and organize the army. And he is fighting for no selfish reason whatever, but only for what he believes to be right. Alex cannot deny it, for we both met and talked to him last winter in Oxford. Indeed, and I'll not deny it, agreed Alex amably, though Kelpah mined. My point was just that all men are not like Montrose, and my proof of it is still Argyle. Ah! and have you done, my son Sienna? He added, as he held up the mended shirt. Come away, then, Ian, and let's be outside. I believe the sun is going to come out. And they were gone before Kelpah could ask about Argyle. Perhaps it was as well, she decided, going back to her mending. For she really thought she had heard quite as much as she could absorb all in one lump. Anna flicked a mischievous, sideways glance at her. And wasn't I warning you, it was complicated? She murmured. As if by tacit agreement, no one brought up matters like war and politics for some time. After all, it was easy enough, in that peaceful, secluded glen, to put such things far out of mind. Kelpah's free hours were full enough, as spring days became longer, with other things. We Mari tagged along with her, a self-appointed guardian, and the glens people had learned to hide their hostility when Mari was there. The twins were insatiably hungry for more stories, and so, for that matter, were the older young people. Books were rare and precious, and mostly devoted to serious and difficult subjects. And as In generously remarked on a sunny afternoon by the lock, Kelpah was a master at telling tales. Alex grinned impishly. She is that, he agreed, with a wicked twinkle in his eye, and a double meaning to his voice which Kelpah chose to ignore. Next time I will tell you about the sitch, fairies, of lock Mari. If you are all very kind to me, she said blandly and glanced impudently at Alex. She sat alone by the lock for a while after the others had left, thinking about things. How Alex had changed since she first met him. He was much nicer than she had thought, and she had begun to feel like his teasing and mockery, for it was all good-humored. Or was it perhaps her self had changed? And if so, she rolled over to life all length on her face in the fragrant long grasses and pondered. Then, lazily, she stretched until her head was over the edge of the lock. What was her real self like? Had that changed? How could it? The bank at this point rose abruptly about two feet above the glassy surface of the water, with tough curling roots of heather overhanging the edge. Kelpah reached down skillfully, scooping up a handful of the cold water, and drank it from her palm before it could run through her fingers. The surface rippled slightly and returned to a smear stillness, with sky, hills, and trees reflected so clearly that it would be hard to tell the reflection from the real. Or was one, perhaps, as real as the other? She stared down at her own face, still looking indecently bare with all the thick dark hair pulled back into plates. Was that any less real, or more, than the scene she saw in Mina's crystal? And then it was no longer her own face she was seeing, but a town street and an ugly tempered crowd surging down it. Not merely annoyed, that crowd, but murderous. Why shivered a little, for she knew too well how bestial a mob could be. And this one had a victim, for there was a savage satisfaction in the grim lowland faces above their sober, coven-ter garments, pressing closer and closer. And there was Ian. Whatever could he be doing in the lowlands? Pushing through the crowd he was, and Alex came after, shouting at him, his angular face all twisted with fury. And now they were closer, and Alex was catching up to Ian. Alex was lifting his sword, and through the crowd Kelpie could see him bringing it down savagely. Hey! Ian had fallen! His dark head vanished in the throng, and Alex's sword with blood on it. Kelpie jerked with horror, and a bit of dry heather plopped into the water, and the picture was gone. Nor did it return, though she waited, staring at the still water and brooding bitterly. Hey! That serpent Alex! She had never liked him from the beginning, and now he was going to turn on his foster-brother, strike him down from behind, perhaps kill him, for the sight never lied. She tried to tell herself that it didn't matter to her, but it was too late. Ian had crept into her heart, and we Mari and the rest of them. Even Alex, deceitful scoundrel that he was, had somehow tricked her into liking him, for a while anyway. But now she knew better. Ah! She must try to warn Ian, even if he could not prevent it. Perhaps he could be on his guard. Could put off the evil day of it. Could duck in time to save his life. This maid, angry, resolute, Kelpie got to her feet, smoothed down the folds of her blue dress, and started back up the lock. Now what, wondered Alex, had got under the skin of their wolf-cub lately. For there was a new venom towards himself, after he had been thinking her nearly tame too. I, a wolf-cub, belligerent, cunning, snarling, biting, thieving, destructive, and yet innocent, as a wolf-cub is innocent because it knows nothing else. But she had been changing. She had been learning trust and affection, even to play in tees. And now, suddenly, there was a new and deadly hatred smoldering at him from those ring-dies. It was puzzling it was, and rather less amusing than her old spitting indignation it been, and even though it could hardly be a tragedy to him, still it was disconcerting. Alex kept a wary eye on her, lest she should decide to take her scheme due to his back. As for Kelpie, she found the business of warning Ian a bit harder than it had seemed. For one thing, it was none too easy to find him alone, for he and Alex were usually together and about their own affairs, while Kelpie had her tasks in the house. In the evenings the family sat together in the drawing-room, which was not Kelpie's place. The big warm kitchen, or her wee-caught in Marsali's room, was where she belonged, or, more often, away by herself outside, in the pale half-light of the long northern gloaming. For summer was drying near, and darkness now merely brushed down late upon the world, and like a gullswing, quickly lifted. So she glared at Alex and did her tasks, and kept her eyes and ears open and bided her time. And at last Alex went off for a few days to visit his brother in Andraki. And the next evening Kelpie, on one of her rambles, saw Ian on a hill above her, quietly looking down over the glen. Kelpie drew near and then paused. Ah! A bra lad he was! But how might she be approaching him best? It might be he wanted to be alone. Before she could decide, Ian saw her, smiled, beckoned, his face oddly blurred in the half-light that turned all things gray. She sat beside him and for a minute followed his gaze over the long, shadowed cup of the glen, lit by the silver gleam of Loch Nanneline. Finally Ian stirred and spoke. I wish I might never need to leave it again, he said wistfully. Did he love it so? By dimly sense that he did, but she did not understand, for she herself had no roots to her heart, but only a wanderlust to her feet. And must you then, she asked, why could Ian not be doing as he pleased, since he was the heir to Glenfern? I saw, he said, a bit more briskly, for I must finish my schooling if I'm to be a fit chieftain and leader to my people. However, he brightened considerably, I think will not be able to return to Oxford for some time, with the warm moving northward and becoming more serious, and Argyle endangering all the Highlands. Now was the moment for her to warn him about Alex, but it was also a chance to ask about Argyle and put off the more difficult thing. Tell me about Argyle, she urged. Ian turned to look at her with friendly interest. You've a good head on you, haven't you, Kelpie? Mother says you're quick to learn, and that you speak English as well as Gaelic. Are you truly interested in national affairs, then? Kelpie nodded. Well, then, began Ian. You know who Argyle is, do you not? McAleon Moore, chief of Clan Campbell in the Highlands, and also head of the Covenant Army of the Lowlands. So he has that power added to the power of his own clan, and he uses it ill, Kelpie. He is a vicious man, cruel, ambitious, and vindictive. Kelpie could not resist a jibe. And is he not also a Campbell and his clan at feud with yours, she remarked. Ian flushed. Even in the dusk she could see it. Tis not that, he protested. I am not one to hate a man for his name, Kelpie. And in any case, my own uncle married a Campbell lass, and the son of Lachiel, our own clan chief, married Argyle's sister, and we are anxious to be at peace. But Argyle, the devil that he is, wishes to dictate his own terms entirely. Do you know what he has done, Kelpie? He has taken his nephew Ewan, Lachiel's own grandson, who will be chief of the Camerons some day, and he is keeping him at his own castle of Inverary. He says he wishes to see to his education, and I can guess what kind of education it will be, but do you see that Ewan is hostage for Lachiel's actions? And if Lachiel dares to take the side of the king against Argyle? Hmm! said Kelpie, seen. Nor is it just our clan, Ian went on, deep anger in his voice. He was commissioned to secure the Highlands for the Covenant, which is bad enough, for we have not tried to inflict our politics or religion on them. But Argyle has used his commission and the Lawland Army to settle his private grudges. He burned the great house of Airely, with no enemy there but a helpless woman. And he burned and ravaged the lands of MacDonald of Kippock, and is even now lane-waste to the lands of Gordon of Huntley. They say he would make himself King Campbell, and a black day for Scotland if he should. Kelpie remembered the face she had seen once in the crystal, which Mina had called Macallion Moore, Markey of Argyle. A cold, cruel face it had been, with twisted, sneering mouth, a heavy, pendulous nose, and a squint in the crafty eyes of him, so that one couldn't be just sure what he was looking at. Aye, she agreed suddenly, he is a red-haired urisk. I have been seeing him helping with his own hands to fire the homes and burn people, too. She didn't add that the people burned were accused of witchcraft, as this might not be a tactful thing to mention. You've seen that? exclaimed Ian. In the crystal only, confessed Kelpie. I was also seeing him mounting the scaffold to be hanged, she remembered with relish. But she added regretfully. He was looking much older then. Aye, exclaimed Ian, deeply impressed. I did not know you were having the second sight, Kelpie. I said Kelpie, and here was her opening. Ian, she blurted, quite forgetting to give him a respectful title. You must not be trusting Alex MacDonald. Not trust Alex? Ian turned a dumb-founded face to hers, and then he laughed. Ah, Kelpie! There is no one in the world I trust better. We are sworn brothers, and if my life were to rest in the two hands of him, there is no place I would sooner have it. And you would lose it then, said Kelpie flatly. Before I had a scene, and his sword fell upon you from behind, and you fell. And there was anger on his face and blood upon his sword. Ian's face was a pale blob in the dusk, and she could not see it turn white, and yet she knew, somehow, that it did. For the second sight never lied. And in spite of that Ian shook his head. I cannot believe it, Kelpie, he said quietly. It is a mistake, for the sun would fall from the sky before Alex could be untrue. Kelpie thrust an angry face, long eyes glittering close to his. You think I am lying, but I am not. I would have been mourning you, even though it is of no profit to me, whatever. But it is a spell he has cast upon you, and, she added bitterly, you will be discovering it too late.