 CHAPTER VII OF THE WITCH OF THE GLANZ by Sally Watson This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. THE RETURN OF MENA AND BOGGLE Summer was upon the Highlands. The serene curves of the hills glowed with a hundred shades of green and tawny and rose, all with faintly unreal, spirit of opal quality, so that the distances looked no more solid than a rainbow. Kelpie breathed the salt when as she climbed higher above the glen, and stared hungrily at the distant hills. For she was beginning to feel restless. A wee glen was not space enough, and there were too many people, too much routine, and she must have waited the hills to be alone. Here were only the mild shaggy cattle peering mournfully from behind long fringes of hair, and the hairs and red deer, the hill larks and whoops and galls, and an eagle, high and alone in the free air. Her acute senses had been lulled by the months of security at Glenfern, and she was startled to see the bent, wiry figure of Mina rise unexpectedly from behind a clump of juniper. They looked at each other, and Kelpie's expression could not possibly have been mistaken for delight. Mina took one good look at it, swung back her strong, scrawny arm, and aimed it at Kelpie. It seemed that Kelpie's reactions as well as her senses had become rusty. She didn't duck in time. And, since Mina had fully expected her to, the resounding smacks startled and pained them both. Mina shook her stinging hand and glared at Kelpie, as if the girl had done it on purpose. Kelpie, her head ringing, glared back, and black boggle, who had appeared as silently as his airy namesake, shook with malicious laughter. Amidane, grumbled Mina sourly, forgotten everything you ever knew, find lady clothes and clean face, and hands that will have lost all their cunning, such as it was. Blind and deaf and slow as a sleeping snail, Amidane, shh! remarked Kelpie, looking and sounding like a wrathful snake. She had forgotten how ugly and mean and dirty Mina was. Ah! how she hated her! Mina looked pleased. She enjoyed Kelpie's impotent hatred. And Kelpie, knowing this, controlled her feelings and hooded her eyes and made her sharp-shod, small mouth curl upward. She had been a fool to show her feelings at all. Come away, then, ordered Mina, suddenly becoming brisk. You have kept us waiting long enough. Why weren't you coming as soon as you got my message? What message? asked Kelpie blankly. Mina's eyes blazed with fury and humiliation. Boggle laughed aloud, and Kelpie knew that Mina had tried to send her a message by magic, and it hadn't worked. Ah! she must say something quickly, or no telling what Mina might do. It would be Yon Red-haired Serpent down there, she said, improvising hastily. He was no doubt setting up a spell to prevent your message from reaching me. Teach me to say spells, Mina, she weedled, so that I may set one on him. It worked. Mina's pride was saved, and her wrath turned from Kelpie to Alex. I will be cursing him myself, she growled. He is the same one who would not pay me enough when you were hurt, and who would not let you steal. Very well so, he will pay, and the others as well. We will go now and demand your wages before you leave. Leave! Kelpie's heart sank. Back to the old life of fear, hatred and beatings? Away from we, Mari and Yon, and the companionship and teasing? She backed up a step and braced herself. What for should I want to leave? She stuck out her jaw rebelliously, and Mina slapped it. Because I'm saying so, she snarled, and because I will put an evil curse on you if you do not obey. Kelpie prudently pulled in her smarting jaw and considered this. On one hand, Mina was not as powerful as Kelpie had thought, for she almost certainly could not read the crystal alone, and her magic message had failed to get through. But that was not to say she could not curse. Kelpie still had great faith in the power of Mina's evil spells, and Mina's curse would be even more disagreeable than her company. Kelpie brooded darkly over the unpleasant alternatives before her, almost inclined to risk the curse. Why would you not want to come, demanded Mina, and her cursing change to Wheatling? And here I have been to the trouble of arranging for you to learn witchcraft at last, ungrateful wretch that you are, then. What? Would you stay to be a slave to ignorant fools such as these? Stupid sheep, spending their life shed in a wee glen? They do not, then, muttered Kelpie mutinously. Ian and Alex have been to school in England in a place called Oxford, and have seen the King and Montrose and know more than we about affairs. And they do not beat me nor make me steal for them, and then set the crowd on me. And I do not believe you plan to teach me witchcraft, whatever, for you're always promising it and never doing it. Mina's face darkened, and she raised a scrawny, strong arm again. But Boggle loomed over her and drew her aside to speak for a moment in a voice like distant thunder. Kelpie watched apprehensively. When Boggle intervened, it was never for moaties of kindness and charity. Ha! Mina cackled presently, and turned back to Kelpie. And what of the wee bit last we were seeing you playing with so tenderly this morning? Shall I put a curse on her, too? I, on all the glen, I shall put the evil eye, so that they will all wither up and die horrible deaths. Kelpie's defiance collapsed like a deflated bagpipe. Not wee Mari. She could not bear to risk harm for her Bonnie Baron. But she must not let Mina know how vulnerable she was on this point, or she would be in slavery, and wee Mari in danger for evermore. Carefully keeping her face impassive, she shrugged indifferently. Ah, well, just do not be putting it on me, she murmured, and noted that both Mina and Boggle looked disappointed. And will you truly be teaching me witchcraft if I come, she demanded, as if this were her only interest. Have I not said so, Mina growled. Was it trying to drive a hard bargain you were then? I should beat you for it. Come away down now, for we have wasted too much time already. And she led the way down the hill. It was the twins who first spotted the assorted trio approaching, and they began to shout excitedly. Kelpie, is Yon your granny witchy? Father, Ian, come and see! they yelled in full voice. And then, short-kilt swinging, they raced up the slope to stare at Mina and Boggle with frank, fearless curiosity. Were you truly a witch, demanded Ronald, and in spite of her gloom, Kelpie stifled a grin at the look on Mina's face. The old woman drew herself up and glared at them. Best not be asking that, she warned, in an ominous croak that should have completely cowed them, but didn't. Why not, asked Ronald with great interest. What will happen if we do? Do you not think, Donald, that she looks like a witch? Oh, I, declared Donald judiciously. But we have not seen her cast any spells yet. Can you cast spells, granny witchy? Kelpie's amusement changed to apprehension as the infuriated Mina spluttered speechlessly. It was probably only her speechlessness and the timely arrival of Glenfern that saved the twins from an awful fate. Mina gave them one last baleful glare. Kelpie fervently hoped it wasn't the evil eye, and turned to the tall chieftain. Kelpie glanced at him, and at Ian, Ana, and Alex, who arrived just then from down by the lock, and then stared sullenly at the ground. She dared not look straight at them, for if they were to read her eyes and guess how she felt, then they would refuse to let her go, and so Mina's curse would be upon them. And now Kelpie found that her old misgivings were justified. She had recklessly given her affection and left herself vulnerable, so now she must suffer the consequences. Angrily she promised herself never to be so weak again. Well, then, said Glenfern pleasantly at last. And are you leaving us, Kelpie? She jerked her head, not looking at him. I am sorry to hear it, he said gently, for I think you were happy here, and we have come to like you well. Oh, Kelpie, Ana protested, shrinking a little from Mina and Boggle. Can you not stay? Oh, you cannot go, clamored the twins in outrage. Who will be telling the stories now? Kelpie scowled, chewed her lip, and wished herself a thousand miles away. And worse was to come, for a brief glance upward showed her that all of them, from Mina to the twins, were on the verge of guessing her true feelings. She tossed her head and gave a hard little laugh. Oh, come away, she said airily, for I have bided too long in one place. Glenfern was looking at her keenly. You are welcome to stay, you know, he told her. I, to slay for you without pay, wind Mina in her most put-up on voice. If she had been slow to the attack, she made up for it now. We have come to have her wages. From under her lashes Kelpie saw the herd on Ana's face, and something like pity on Ian's. Only Alex wore a look of acid amusement that set Kelpie's teeth on edge. And Glenfern was giving Mina the same stern look he used when the twins had been naughty. I think you must be joking, he said quietly. We have treated this last far better than ever you have done. We have fed her properly, clothed her in decent, clean garments, taught her, given her affection and a roof over her head, and a bed under her. What have you ever given her save harm and neglect? She is ours, Mina squealed angrily, but she must have seen that she would get nowhere, for she suddenly changed tactics. Would you be wanting, McCallion Moore, to hear things about you? She hinted softly. Things about how you are favoring King Charles, and what you think of the Covenant, and your own son associating with the King and bringing back message from him, and from Montrose as well, perhaps. There was only one way Mina could have learned these things. One looked at Kelpie, who stuck out her chin and grin brazingly. Ah, the wicked, careless tongue of her to be telling Mina that! Ian and Aina were looking as if she had slapped them. There was a smile on Alex's lean face and scorn in his eyes. And so you have not really changed at all, he observed softly, and was surprised at the bitterness of his own disappointment. After all, what else had he expected? But his tongue went unscathingly. Selfish, faithless, unscrupulous you are, and always will be. You could never think of inconvenience in yourself for the good of another, could you, Kelpie? Of course not, said Kelpie defiantly, but the sweet face of we Marry was warm and mocking in her heart. Let be, Alex, inside. She cannot help it. There was not enough time to change old habits. Nor ever will be, retorted Alex. Kelpie hissed at him venomously. Faithless yourself, she spat. Do not be forgetting what I told you, Ian. And she turned away to Glen Fern, who was laughing at Mina. By all means go to Argyle, he said cheerfully. Tell him whatever you like. He knows well enough where our sympathies lie. But leave the lass behind you when you go, for I should not like her to be burned as a witch along with the two of you. And now, farewell. I am sorry, he added, turning to Kelpie, that you could not stay with us, poor lass. Remember that we wish you well. That was really almost too much. Kelpie turned abruptly and started up the pass with Mina and Boggle, who knew when they were defeated. At least it was over, and she must just put it away out of her memory. But it was not quite over. Halfway up the hill a small voice wailed after her. She turned to see we Marry tugging at Anna's hand. One small arm stretched out and upward. My Kelpie, she shrilled, do not go away, my Kelpie. Mina's pale eyes were upon Kelpie, narrowed, watchful, suspicious. Kelpie set her jaw, hardened her face, and deliberately turned her back on the broken-hearted little figure below. The next few miles were blurred. Kelpie tramped mechanically behind Mina and Boggle, unseen, trying to wipe three months out of her life and become the person she had been before. Oh, she had been right to begin with! A feckless, foolish thing it was to care for any one, and only hurt could come from it. From now on she would be hard as the granite sides of Ben Nevis, which now loomed ahead, snow still patching its sheer northern side. She would be what Alex thought her, and a pox on him too. Nor would she even care that he would strike down that bra lad Ian, for Ian had had his warning, and it was his own fault if he was too stupid to heed it. Scowling, she kicked at an inoffensive clump of bluebells and deliberately stepped on a wild yellow iris. She would become a witch then, not a coven witch either. She had seen them, silly people, who made a great ceremony of selling their souls to the devil, and met in groups of thirteen called covens, and held black mass, and did a great deal of wild dancing. Anna said these were little more than plain at witchcraft, and learned only a few simple spells. No, now Kelpie would be a witch of the old sword, who needed no bargains with Satan, but who tapped a power that was old before the beginnings of Christianity. A power it was that could be used for either black or white magic, but Kelpie had seen little of white, and black seemed much more congenial, especially in her present mood. She drifted into her old dream of what she would do one day to Mina and Boggle. I, and perhaps, she would just add Alex as well. They were over the pass and heading south along the side of Lock Locky, before she came back to herself and began to wonder about the present. Where is it we are going now, she demanded, moving up to walk beside Mina, half off the narrow path. When will you be teaching me witchcraft? What are you planning? Mina cast a thoughtful eye at Kelpie's blue dress, now kilted up through her belt for easier walking. I think that would be fitting me, she remarked casually. We will be telling you what you need to know when it is the right time for knowing it. She added so mildly that Kelpie looked at her with dark suspicion. Falling behind once more, she began again to brood over her life. It consisted of being pushed from one situation to another. It was other folk who acted, and herself who reacted, who was acted upon. Was she, then, such a spineless creature? Was her whole life to be molded by others? Rebellion once more rose in her, but then subsided as she remembered the two-pronged stick that Mina held over her. Nay, three-pronged, really. She could curse Kelpie, and she could curse Weemari and Ian, and the other folk of Glenfern, and only Mina could teach Kelpie witchcraft. And witchcraft now had become the only goal in her life, the only hope of escaping the hateful mastery of Mina and Boggle. Kelpie said her teeth, and the look upon her face was neither pleasant nor attractive. According to the tip of Loc Locke and on down the river they plotted, past the home of Glenfern's chief, Lockeel, and at last they made camp for the night in the old unfinished castle of Inverlocke. Roofless it was, and built four-square, with a round tower at each corner, and Kelpie narrowed her eyes thoughtfully as they went in. Mina and Boggle never looked for walls about them, except sometimes in the cold of winter. What was afoot? For the moment there was no time to wonder. Mina nodded brusquely at the river, which flowed just outside the arch-stone entrance. Gather us firewood, she ordered, and then guzzle us some fish, if you have not forgotten how. Her pale eyes rested again on Kelpie's dress, and Boggle chuckled. An hour or so later, annoyed but not in the least astonished, Kelpie wiped her greasy fingers on the dirty rags which now covered her, and glowered across the fire at Mina. The hag and the blue dress were more or less the same size, but of far different shapes. The dress sagged across the front of Mina's hunched shoulders and strained ominously across the back, and was at once too long and too narrow in the waist, and the cuffs reached in vain for those long bony wrists. Kelpie had a mental picture of bright hazelized dancing in wicked amusement in an angular red-top face. For one she could have appreciated Alex's sense of humor, and her own white teeth showed momentarily in the matching grin. Mina glared at her suspiciously, and Kelpie hastily stopped grinning. Day! Mina was almost as bad as Alex himself at seeing what she shouldn't. And she mustn't anger Mina too much, not yet. So she lowered her slanted eyes more or less submissively and waited. Ah! said Mina suddenly. You think I'm not knowing what you are thinking? Kelpie devoutly hoped not. She had no desire to be turned into a toad or something equally unpleasant. Best to walk wearily, neither too innocent nor too defiant. I am wondering what you are about, she retorted sullenly. I have learned the things you were wanting me to, but you have not told me why, nor have you taught me any spells. Ha! said Mina again. First we will read the crystal. And presently, under the ghostlight of the summer night, Kelpie sat again with her hand in Mina's horny claw and gazed into the blank crystal ball. It remained still and empty. I see myself, invented Kelpie impudently. It is in a place that I have never been, and I am wearing a blue dress. Mina turned on her in sudden suspicion, and Kelpie prepared to duck. But they were distracted by a small flicker of light that came from an upper window of one of the castle towers. For an instant fear-grip, Kelpie. Was it an uncanny creature of some sort? Then she noticed that Boggle was nowhere in sight, and she chewed her lip thoughtfully. Sure enough, presently his shadowy figure emerged from the tower door. He came back to the fire and sat down without a word. But Kelpie thought she had seen him put something in his new leather sporan, recently stolen without doubt, and there passed between him and Mina a long look and the tiniest of nods. Kelpie pretended to notice nothing, but her mind was busy. It couldn't have been magic he was up to, for Boggle did no magic except for ordinary curses. It must have been a message, then. A message left for him here, and they had known where to look for it. And that was why they camped in the castle instead of out in the open. Ah, there was something in the air, indeed and indeed. Kelpie went to sleep wondering what it might be, and how she might be turning it to her own advantage. CHAPTER VIII. A TASK FOR KELPIE. From the Inverlocki Castle they headed southeast, around the tip of Lock Levin, and into the lands of the stewards of Glencoe. Now they definitely turned southward. Kelpie frowned. Will we be going into Campbell Country, then? she asked, faintly alarmed. For the last time they adventured into Argyle's lands there had been an all-too-exciting witch hunt from which they had barely escaped, so it must be an important matter, indeed, that would bring Mina and Boggle back again into danger. Mina just grunted disagreeably, but by the next day Kelpie's question was answered, where they reached Lock Eddiv, which was well into Campbell land. Mina glanced around nervously, and Kelpie again wondered where they were going, and why. Boggle stood for a moment staring down the lock, then turned and purposely led the way to the precise spot where the river Eddiv entered the northernmost tip. Clearly he knew exactly where he was going, and then Kelpie saw what must be the reason for this journey. A man sat waiting for them in a copse of alder near the river, looking oddly out of place in the sober gray britches of a lowlander. A wheelie said and looked at them. Kelpie's sharp eyes took in every detail of the stocky, long-armed figure, with sandy hair cropped to its ears, and sandy eyebrows looking too thin for the broad face. She did not like what she saw, and even less what she felt. There was no expression at all on the lowlander's face. His eyes were like cold pebbles, and there was a malignance about him that made her shrink inside. Suddenly Kelpie knew that he must be a warlock. Mina and Boggle would not merely be working with him, they were under his orders. Probably it was he who was behind Mina's interest in politics, Kelpie's long stay at Glenfern, and this hurried trip. Ah, it was a powerful and evil man this, and she would do well to fear him. The small opaque eyes studied her for a moment and then turned to Mina, who looked small and shrunken before them. Is Yon the last? Their owner demanded in the bird English of Glasgow. Mina nodded, and the eyes turned back to Kelpie. Come here, he commanded. Kelpie had a passionate desire to assert her own will and refuse. But it would be daft to try to challenge his power now, and especially with Mina and Boggle watching her. Reluctantly her own eyes smoldering with anger and foreboding, she went and stood before him, and he seemed to read her thoughts. So you like to be a witch, he said. His voice half a sneer, half a caress. Ty a sick power, ye man learn to obey. Obey! ye didn't kin that, eh? Well, Almond you can prove yourself, the new, and earn the powers you're wantin'. He turned to Mina again. Aya told her? Mina shook her head humbly, never a word. Good, she'll hear it in the new, returned the lowlander. He turned back to Kelpie, whose small face regarded him with wary intensity. His face became genial and fatherly. You're a lucky lass, he began. Ty hayas a so concerned with your ain't guide. Kelpie laughed aloud, and there was genuine amusement as well as derision in her laughter. Did they think her a bairn and daft as well? At once the lowlander became brisk and businesslike. Very well, then, he conceded. Perhaps it was not merely her own good they were after. But she would profit greatly. Who he demanded was her worst enemy. Kelpie prudently did not name Mina and Boggle. And Stitch remembered Mina's deep interest of late, and made a shrewd guess at the answer he expected. Macallion Moore? Aye, Argyle, he said approvingly, and went on to point out why. The Kirk of the Covenant was reaching farther and farther into the Highlands now, with its persecution of honest witches, and even of stupid old folk who are not witches at all, for that matter. And who was head of the Covenant? Who was spearhead of the persecutions, the pricking and torture and burnings? Argyle. If he was not stopped, there would be no safe place in all Scotland for such as they. Kelpie nodded and found part of her mind thinking that on this one point only, Argyle and the Covenant did her world of that of Glenfern agree. Very well, then, the lowlander continued. They must take steps to destroy Argyle, and what better thing than a hex? A wee image of him, in clay or wax, they would make. And then they would stick pins in it, roast it, freeze it, pour poison over it, and by the black powers of witchcraft all these things would happen to Mackaylion Moore himself, until at last he would die in great pain. Again Kelpie nodded warily. And how did she enter into all this, at all? She found out soon enough. In order to make a really effective hex on Argyle, something from himself was needed to mold into the wax figure, hair or fingernail clippings, preferably. And who was to obtain them? Why Kelpie, of course. Now it was clear why she had been left to Glenfern to learn the ways of gentry, and how to be a servant. She would hire herself as housemaid at Inverary Castle, and as soon as she managed to get the hair or fingernail clippings, just come away back here with them. And as a reward she would be taught all she wished to know about spells, potions, curses, even the evil eye itself. As easy as that. They were making her their tool again, of course, to do what they dared not do themselves. If she were caught, her life would not be worth a farthing. Still, Kelpie thought quickly behind narrowed eyes and an impressive face. It was a chance to get away from Mina and Boggle, and perhaps take a hand in managing her own life. Once away in Inverary she could decide whether or not to carry out the errand. Perhaps she would prefer Maccali and more to Mina, and just stay for a while. Or perhaps, well, she would see. She listened with great docility as they explained how she could get in touch with them once she had completed her task. She even nodded when the lowlander suggested blandly that it might just be safest to send the hair, or half of it, on to them by the messenger they would tell her of, and then she herself could be bringing the rest later. Kelpie kept a snare from crossing her face. If they thought her so witless as that, let them then. But if and when she came to them, it would be with the hair hidden in a safe place, and they having to fulfill their part of the bargain before they saw it. The lowlander was very pleased with her, and Kelpie went to bed very pleased with herself. But she awoke near dawn with a sense of something bothering her. The sky was a vast aching void, neither black nor light. The world was a great shadow. Kelpie crept silently away from the camp and over the crest of the nearest rise, still wrapped in the old woollen palady which served as cloak and blanket. She seated herself against the thickness of a rhododendron, so that she was lost in the black shadows of its great leaves and blossoms. Then she stared down along the long, steely sheet of locketive and began to think. Obey, the lowlander had said, and clearly Mina and Boggle were obeying him. But Kelpie had thought that to be a witch was to be free, to have power to command others, never to be commanded again by any one. Was it not so, after all? Did the lowlander in turn obey someone or something? For an instant Kelpie sent something infinitely dangerous and horrible. Was Sainton merely another name for those ancient dark powers? And was the price for invoking them to be a slave to them? She shuddered, and cold droplets of sweat broke out on her short upper lip. Then she pulled herself together. She must not give in to foolish worries. The lowlander was a fearsome man, but witchcraft was the only way to be free of Mina, and when she had learned it she needed fear neither of them any longer. All the same, the first seat of doubt had taken root, and it no longer seemed quite so easy to become the most powerful witch in Scotland. It was a rather subdued Kelpie who meekly cooked the fish and oat cakes for breakfast, bathed the lowlander farewell, and followed Boggle and Mina on to Laka. At a roomed old shelling hut by the lock they stopped and waited for a day, until there came a round-faced young woman with the wealth of brown hair and a slate-colored dress killed it up over a striped petticoat. She seemed an unlikely person to be working with witches and warlocks, for her bright cheek smile was quite artless. The adduate, she beamed, this is the lass who will be fetching the hair to Hex, Maccally, and more. May the demons fly away with him. I am Janet Campbell, who will take you to Inverary. I will call you Sheena at once, she added, chattily, so you can get used to it, for Mrs. McKellar would never be hiring a lass named for a Kelpie. She chuckled cheerfully. Kelpie gave her an appraising look from under her thick black lashes. But Janet didn't seem in the least put out. I could not be doing the task myself, she explained, for I have my work, and no reason to be going into the castle. And, she added forth rightly, I am not brave or clever enough. But I will be your messenger, Sheena, when you need me. Kelpie more and more resentful of being used by others, knotted sullenly. But Janet's next words cheered her considerably. She cannot be asking for work in such rags, pointed out that young woman matter-factly. They would know her for Egypsy at once, and Maccally and more has a fearful hatred of such. Best be giving her your blue dress to wear, Meena. Boggle chuckled, and Kelpie hid her satisfaction behind a blank face. Meena snarled and gave in. The string of epithets she flung at Kelpie, along with the dress, hardly amounted to an objection at all. And Kelpie's earlier misgivings rose again briefly. If even the formidable Meena was so meekly obeying, then what power this low lander must have! She was still brooding on this as she and Janet set out on the last bit of the journey, her cheeks still stinging from Meena's farewell cuff. On down lock-haw, and to the wild steepness of glenary, and along the gash in the hills toward lock-fine, Janet led the way sturdily enough, although Kelpie's wary legs could have gone much faster. Part of the time Janet left a thin path altogether, and threaded her way along the slopes, among great clumps of brilliant pink rotted endring, groves of oak and hazel and rowan, patches of lavender blooming heath, and the mystic white bog cotton. Just not to risk meeting any one, she remarked with a trace of nervousness, I dare not be seen with you, in case. She left the sentence unfinished, and went on in a new and brisk voice. Now I will be giving you your story to tell the housekeeper when you ask for work. You are Sheena Campbell, daughter to Sorcha and Chamus, who live in the old shilling hut where we met on lock-haw. When they died, you went in service with McIntyre of Cringnish, but now, with their daughter wedded away, there is no need for you. You have come to Inverary, to your own clan chief, to see if there's a place for you. For the next two hours she fed Kelpie the details of her fictional life, and made her repeat them over and over, until Kelpie almost felt that she was two people at once. Ah, your glib just, said Janet at last, her round face admiring. I'm almost believing you myself. Does a clever mind you have and a canny tongue. She stopped and turned around to survey Kelpie's face searchingly. Aye, she went on, and your face, though it is not Bonnie, just is a face to beguile the lads. Have you a bra laddie who loves you, Sheena? Four months ago Kelpie would have jeered her in wonder and scorn. What had the lass of mean and boggle to do with love, or lads either? Saved to sell love charms to the foolish. But though there had been no talk or thought of romance at Glenfern, except on one teasing afternoon, some sleeping thing in Kelpie had, perhaps, begun to stir. The face of Ian leapt into her mind, with the fine dark eyes of him, and the sensitive mouth curving downward and then up, and then she felt the strange, warm-face sensation of her first blush, and she felt again the pain of her departure from Glenfern. No, she spout so violently that Janet raised her eyebrows and gave Kelpie another sharp glance before she turned to walk on. The pity that, she observed mildly, and a great waste, she added presently, with a catch to her voice. Had I, your face and tongue, I would not be in the service of witchcraft, perhaps. Kelpie killed it up her blue dress a bit higher, and came even with Janet, so that she could see her face. Why are you, she demanded curiously. I think you could never be a witch. Ah, no, agreed Janet instantly. At first I was only wanting a wee bit of love-pulsion to win the heart of the lad I loved. But before it could start to work at all, MacKelley and Moore took him into the army and off to raid the McDonald's. Ah, my bra angus, she whimpered. He was killed, Kelpie asked, and tried to push down the sympathy in her voice. She had promised herself not to care for any one again, but only for herself. It was MacKelley and Moore had him shot, said Janet, tonelessly. He tried to save an old woman from the house they were burning. And for that I will help the devil himself to destroy MacKelley and Moore, my chief though he be. I'm afraid of young Lowlander, for he is evil, but I hate MacKelley and Moore more than I fear the Lowlander. You must be very canny, Sheena. If you are caught, she shuddered. Have you a skein, do? Kelpie nodded and drew the small sheath-knife from inside her dress. Janet looked at it somberly. If you are caught, you do well to use it on yourself. It would save you torment and burning, more than likely, and keep you from betraying the rest of us. You'll say no word ever about me, Sheena. Pretend you have never seen or heard of me. Promise, Sheena? Kelpie looked at her and Janet's eyes were humble and pleading. I know I am a coward, Janet whispered, but I cannot help it. I could not bear the pain, and I would not dare to kill myself. But you would, for you are brave. Kelpie looked at her skein, do, reflectively. It was the finest one she had ever had, the one stolen last spring at Inverness. The weave flat scabbard was darkly carved, and the four-inch blade, when she drew it out, winked sharply in the sun. Would she use it on herself, she wondered. Did she dare? The beauty of the highland shimmered around her in pure, clear colors, never quite the same from one instant to the next. The sky was infinite and tender. The sun beat warmly on her head. The air was a delight to breathe. The world was good, except for the people in it, defiling it with hate and greed. It would be a pity to die, a waste of living. She found it very difficult to imagine. She looked again at the gleaming edge of the skein, do, frowning a little. Dare? Yes, she thought she would dare, if it was to escape torture and burning. That would not take much courage. On the contrary, it would be the easy way, and she found that she did not like the taste of the idea. A feeling within her protested that suicide was shabby, debasing, a cheating of oneself. But Kelpie, who had never been taught such things as morals and integrity, could find no words and no reasons for this feeling. She shrugged and put the skein-do back. Time enough to think about it if the occasion came up. Janet had been watching her with round eyes, guessing a little of her thought. She shivered slightly. You are very brave, and said again, I think you will be getting away with the hair, and I'm sure that whatever is happening at all, you will not speak any names. Kelpie fell back a step or two. She looked thoughtfully on the golden patch of gorse blanketing the hillside ahead, and her smile was very pointed. No, she would not betray Janet. Not, she reminded herself. Because she was soft-hearted, but only because it would not help herself. But, if she was so unlucky as to be caught, which she did not at all intend to be, she would be very happy, indeed, to tell Matt Kaelian Moore all about Mina, Boggle, and the lowlander. End of Chapter 8 CHAPTER IX OF WHICHES OF THE GLEN by Sally Watson This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. INVERERY CASEL Lock-fine stretched long and narrow between its hills, as what Highland Lock did not. Glen Eyrie opened out into a meadow there, where the river entered the lock, and from the top of her hill Kelpie had a fine and leisurely view. There was the town of Inverary on the far side, nestled right on the lock, and on this side, almost below her, rose the massive stone bulk and towers of Inverary Castle, home of Matt Kaelian Moore. Kelpie wriggled a little deeper into her nest of tall hair-bells and broom, and stared down it with interest. She had time to wait and think. Janet had braided the black hair neatly for her, used the hem of her own dress to wash Kelpie's grimy pointed face, and then hurried on to the head of the lock. From there she would return to the village as if from her own home. And Kelpie was to buy there, out of sight, until the next day, and then come down from the glen. Kelpie had agreed willingly enough, not for Janet's sake, but for one more night under the free sky. She glowered at the brooding gray castle, for it was just occurring to her that it would be much more like a prison than Glenfern, and would they allow her to be out and away in the hills when her tasks were done, as she had done at Glenfern. She doubted it. Ah, it was a great sacrifice she was making for those who had sent her, and she must see that her reward was as great. And then she drifted into her favorite daydream. In the long white twilight she backed down the hill until she found a tarn sheltered by Birch, and settled herself for the night. The dancers were absent to-night, and the sky of pale shadowed silver in which only the largest stars flickered feebly, for it was mid-summer. Then the moon came over the crest of the hill, and there were no more stars, and the tarn became a pool of cold light. Deliberately Kelpie leaned over the bank and stared into the tarn. The reflected brilliance of moonlight glowed, closed in upon herself, became a silver point, and then in its place there was a strange land, a place with giant forests, dark and wild, and a crude house made of logs in a rough clearing. She tossed her head with annoyance. What was this to her? What of her future, her career as a witch? What of destruction of those she hated? What of her enemies? The tarn obeyed, as if with the malicious will of its own, and she saw Argyle's face, the eyes coldly burning, the mouth twisted in anger, staring straight at her, and in her mind's ear Kelpie heard the word, witch. She threw herself back and sat with beating heart for several moments after the water stood clear and blank. Was she Faye then? Was it her own doom she was seeing? Ah, no, perhaps not. For she had not seen herself, and surely Mackaylion Moore had looked so too many a person accused of witchcraft. She had asked to see her enemy, and the picture was telling her, just that here was a dangerous enemy, a warning to be canny, that was all. She curled up comfortably in a patch of ranked grass free of nettles and slept. In the thin light of morning she smoothed back her hair and washed her face in the cold, peaty water of the tarn. Then, wary but confident, she made her way back to the glen and along the river to the castle. As she approached the massive stone gateway, Kelpie put on the proper face and attitude for this occasion as easily as Aena might have put on a different frock. The task was not so easy, really, for there was little that could be done about the long-slanted eyes and brows or the pointed jaw. But the severely braided hair helped, and by tucking in her lower lip and drooping the corners she added a helpless and wistful note. She pulled her chin down and back and pressed her elbows to her sides for a look of brave apprehension, and then she changed her free, fun-like walk for a more sober one. Through the gate she stepped into a subdued world of drab colors. Her blue dress looked insolently bright beside the grays and blacks of the other women in the courtyard. Only the tartan, that proud symbol of the Highlander, had failed to be extinguished by the decree of the Covenant and Kirk. And even the tartans, being colored with vegetable dye, were of muted shades. A man leading a horse stopped and regarded her with little approval. What is it that you are wanting? he asked. Could I be seeing Mrs. McKellar, the housekeeper? asked Kelpie, her eyes lowered modestly. He looked at her for a moment and then called over his shoulder. See, Abin, the lass is wanting Mrs. McKellar. Take her up to the door, and he went on about his business. A sad-faced woman put down her basket of laundry, regarded Kelpie without curiosity, and jerked her head. Kelpie followed with great meekness and waited obediently at the castle door, until see Abin had gone inside and reappeared with a tall, gaunt woman in black. Once again there was the disproving look. And who may you be? I be sheen a Campbell, Kelpie launched into her story, not too glibly, with downcast eyes and humble voice. And it's hoping I am to serve McKellion more, she finished earnestly. Hmm! commented Mrs. McKellar. We've last as a plenty in Inverary Village. Oh! protested Kelpie, but his experience I've had. And she added pitifully, they will be having homes and I with nowhere to turn. Mrs. McKellar softened, but only slightly. To tell the truth, she said bluntly, there is something. I'm not altogether liking the look of you. How am I knowing you are what you say? But why ever else would I be coming to McKellion more? demanded Kelpie artlessly. Hmm! that will be the question, retorted Mrs. McKellar. No, now I'm thinking. What she thought was never said, for from the corner of her eye Kelpie saw a tall figure just passing the foot of the stairs, not Argyle, but his tallness, his long face, red hair, and manner of dress suggested that he must be Argyle's son. Kelpie took a chance. She turned away blindly from the imminent refusal, carefully stumbled a bit, and tumbled herself neatly down the steps who land in a pathetic heap in front of the startled young man. Why sorrow, he ejaculated. Kelpie swiftly decided against being injured, as this might prove inconvenient. So she gave a small, scared glance upward at the faint frown above her, and shrank back against the wall. Ah! you're pardon, she whispered. Please do not be beating me. The young man, she was quite sure now that he must be Lord Lorne, son of Argyle, gave a short laugh. Whatever you may have heard, I am no beater of bayerns. Kelpie dropped her lip at him. Sir, I would not mind a beating if only I could be staying here to work for MacLean Moore. What is this? Who is she? Lord Lorne switched to English, and Mrs. McKellar replied in the same tongue. She is saying her name is Sheena Campbell from La Cah, and that she is an orphan who has been working in the home of MacIntyre of Cregnish, who is not needing her any more. Mrs. McKellar's English, semblant with the soft Gaelic sounds, was really not nearly as good as Kelpie's. But Kelpie was careful to keep her face blank, as if she did not understand. But, sir, went on the housekeeper. I am not liking the look of her, whatever. Her eyes! Lord Lorne banned and looked at them. Kelpie tried to make them wide and pleading. Oddly ringed, aren't they? He observed. Well, she can't help that. You could use her, I think. Why not try her out? And he went on to wherever he had been going. SHANK Mrs. McKellar shrugged and washed her hands of the decision. You can be staying a bit then, until I see you do the work. We will see, does Peggy have an old dress you can be wearing, of a proper color. You are of the Kirk, are you know, she demanded suddenly, turning to cast a suspicious eye on the blue of Kelpie's dress. Kelpie wasn't quite sure what that meant, and even with Janet's tutoring she dared not bluff too far. She took an instant to think as she rolled slowly to her feet. I am wanting to be a better Christian, she said, temporizing with an earnest face. And that is one reason I was coming here, for the house of MacCailian Moore is surely the most godly of all. Well, Mrs. McKellar looked somewhat appeased. Come away in, then, and Kelpie came. Life in Inverary Castle was quite different from life at Glenfern, even though Kelpie's duties were similar. There was a coldness here, and not only physical, although the castle was chill enough, with drafts constantly blowing down the halls and pushing out against the wall tapestries. But the chill of spirit was even more depressing. Laughter was near sacrilege, and a smile darkly suspect. Dancing simply didn't exist, and singing was confined to dour hymns regarding hellfire and damnation. If Kelpie had ever shaved at the restriction of Glenfern, she now realized what a free and happy life that had been. Ah, that people could live like this! Worse, they seemed to approve it. One could hardly say they liked anything. And here Kelpie heard the other viewpoint regarding MacCailian Moore. Everyone seemed to fear him, even his rather mousy wife and sullen son. But they also saw him, except possibly Lord Larn, as the right hand of God, fighting the battles of righteousness against such enemies of heaven as witches, King Charles, Papists, Angelicans, everyone else who was not of the Covenant, and, most particularly, Lord Graham of Montrose, who was supposedly leading the King's army in Scotland. But no one seemed to know where Montrose was now, at all. He had started north to raise an army for the King, and then vanished altogether, and it was to be fondly hoped that the devil had snatched him away to hell where he belonged. Kelpie listened and said nothing. She didn't like what she heard, and began to hate Argyle on her own account. Indeed, and it was true that he would take all freedom from all people if he could. Kelpie cared little enough about anyone else, she told herself, but her own freedom mattered more than anything at all, and she began to feel a personal enthusiasm for her task here. A hex was what he deserved, and she hoped that the lowlender would make it a fine, horrible one indeed. It was lucky, she discovered, that himself was home at all now, for he spent much of his time these days heading his Covenant army, raiding the Highlands, and occasionally daring a small skirmish with other enemies. Kelpie received the impression that he was not, perhaps, the boldest and most seditious leader when it came to fighting. But now he was home, as no doubt the lowlender had known. Still, three bleak weeks had passed, and she still had never had a chance to lay her hands on any bit of his person, or even come near his private rooms. Mrs. McKellar kept a watchful eye out, and Kelpie's duties were confined to all wings of the castle but that of McKellion Moore, and so she watched and waited through June, tense, wary, inwardly chafing. END OF CHAPTER IX CHAPTER X of which of the glens by Sally Watson. This Libra Vox recording is in the public domain. A BIT OF HAIR It was an impossible errand they had sent her on. Kelpie realized it slowly, angrily. A bit of Argyle's hair, indeed, and indeed. Nobody at all could be so feckless as to leave a bit of his hairline about, convenient to the hand of any witch who happened to be passing. And how much less, McKellion Moore, who was thrice as crafty, ten times as suspicious, and a thousand times more hated than most folk. Oh, no! For him such carelessness would be altogether impossible. It was certain that he would stand over his barber while every last hair or fingernail clipping was safely burned. The best she could hope for was a bit of his personal belongings, which would be much less effective. And whatever Mina and the lowlander would say she did not know. No doubt they would make an excuse to refuse to teach her spells after all. And so she seethed under the joyless covenant mask which was becoming harder and harder to wear. How she longed for the freedom of the open. Her legs ached with the longing to run and leap and dance upon the hills, and her face ached with the need to laugh. And yet she stayed on, hoping for some miracle, reflecting sourly that Mrs. McKellar and Argyle were very little improvement over Mina and Boggle. It was in mid-July that it happened during morning prayer. Kelpie knelt with the rest of the household on the cold stone floor in grim endurance, for this long, twice-daily torment was nearly unbearable for an active young gypsy. Her place was in the very back, among the meanest of the servants. Ahead, the bowed-backs graduated in rank, with Mrs. McKellar far up front, just behind Meek Lady Argyle, Lord Lorne, and Ewan Cameron, whose red kilt blazed sharply alien amid all the blue and green of the Campbell tartan. And before them all stood McKellion Moore's long, stoop figure, telling of the anger, jealousy, cruelty of a God who could surely have nothing to do with the opal world outside. With cold satisfaction and in grim detail he described God's will, which seemed indistinguishable from Argyle's will, and his pale eyes were most disconcerting. For if one fixed upon Subin or Peggy, the other seemed to stare straight at Kelpie, and who was to know what himself was really looking at, whatever. Behold, the day of Jehovah cometh, cruel, with wrath and fierce anger, to make the land a desolation, and to destroy the sinners thereof out of it, said Argyle. He shall destroy the minions of St. En, whose evil doers are not of the Kirk, who blasphemously question the Covenant. For all those who are not with the Covenant are against the Lord, and vile in his sight. They shall burn for ever in hell, and above all burn all witches, and that servant of the devil, Montrose, they shall be tormented. Kelpie felt the presence of the messenger in the open door behind her, but dared not turn to look. She saw Argyle's eye flicker briefly in that direction, and noticed the slight pause before he went coldly on with his orders to and from God. And something inside Kelpie stirred, and she knew that something was about to happen which would be important to her. Dropping her dark head over clasped hands in an attitude of great reverence, she tried to think what it could be. There was nothing she had done. Unless, had Ewan Cameron said something about yesterday? For yesterday Kelpie had found her first opportunity to get away over to the wing which held the chambers of MacCailian Moore and his family. She had actually reached his door, and as she hesitated there, heart beating quickly, another door nearby had opened, and through it came a lad of about fifteen. Kelpie had not needed to look at the oddness of a Cameron tartan in the Campbell stronghold to know that this was Ewan, the grandson of Lockheal. Ian had told her about him, and she had seen him now and again about the castle. And Peggy had told her proudly how fine it was that MacCailian Moore was taking on himself the education of his nephew for fear it should be neglected or his own family should teach him to believe the wrong things. Kelpie had hidden a cynical smile at the time, but now, when the grave clear-eyed lad stood regarding her in the hall, she wondered briefly how much this education would really mean. For he had about him the air of one with a mind of his own. You'll be Sheena, will you not? He asked as Kelpie belatedly made a stiff bob. She nodded. Best not to linger here, he went on, if my uncle should see you. I, Kelpie had murmured, and slipped away back to her own territory with the odd feeling that he had seen through her mask, not, perhaps, that he knew exactly what was under it, but that he knew she was alien to this world of Inverary. Could he have said anything just? Kelpie wondered as she shifted her knees ever so slightly on the painfully hard stone. The thing inside said no. He was another of those strange people, like Ian or Aina, who seemed not to hate anyone or even wish them ill. But still, something was about to happen, and she must find out as soon as ever she could. When prayers were over and the household rose and respectfully made way for himself to go out first, it was easy enough for her to slip nearest the door, for she had a wealth of experience at picking pockets and melting through crowds. And so she saw the travel-wearied messenger waiting outside, and heard the news when Argyle did. Atram of Collinsey and his clan of Irish McDonald's have landed at Ardnebrucken and taken the castle of Mingary, and will even now be taking the keep of Lachlain, your lordship. The Marquis of Argyle said something under his breath, and the freckle suddenly stood out under the red hair that Kelpie coveted. May the devil take his impudence, he said aloud, and there was no doubt that he meant it literally. Kelpie tried to remember something she had heard at Glenfern. Antrim, Colchito, they called him, was chief of a branch of the McDonald's that the Campbells had driven westward, over the islands and at last to Ireland. And now, as seemed, he had decided to bring his clan back to Scotland to fight the Campbells, and perhaps take back some land. Have messengers ready to ride, Argyle said viciously to his son. I'll have the army up and wipe him out once and for all. By this time the rest of the household had filtered out into the hall, and it didn't seem to matter if they heard or know. But then there'd be no keeping this kind of news secret, whatever. Kelpie clenched her fists. We. Then would Macalion Moore be away with the army himself? Isn't there an English parliament garrison at Carlisle? Ventured Lord Lorne in English. Why not send to them to take warships up the coast? If they captured Antrim ships, there'd be no retreat for him. Argyle nodded brusquely and strode off toward his chambers to write the necessary letters, taking his hair with him, of course. Get my things ready to ride, he ordered one of his retainers, thus destroying Kelpie's last hope. Eh, she muttered, without changing the blank and sober expression considered suitable for Godfaring people. Whatever could she be doing now, at all, with him away? Impulsively she slipped out of the hall before Mrs. McKellar or Peggy should see her, and made her way to the tower next to Argyle's wing. There she hid her thin self partway up the steep, twisting stairs, where with one eye she could see his door and waited. Not that he would likely be trimming his hair or fingernails now, but perhaps in the flurry of his leaving she could just slip in and lay hold of some wee personal item to be used instead, and at the best she could do. It was a full half hour before Argyle's door opened. Kelpie glimpsed the full tartan folds of his belted plaid, and then pressed herself out of sight as the hauling steps assured her that it was indeed McKellion Moore. She waited until they had passed down the hall and out of herring, and then slipped out of the tower and across to the massive open-door. She paused an instant, hand-lifted to open the door, but it was almost certain there could be no one else in there, for the entire household had been a mourning prayer, and no one else had gone in. The door opened heavily, with never a creak, and closed firmly behind her. Here must be his lordship's private withdrawing room. Kelpie had never seen such a room, and she glanced around with interest. The clan crest aboard's head was carved over the large stone fireplace, and on the back of the high oaken settle that stood at one wall. A bulky armchair with a triangular seat going to a point in back stood by a long table on which quills, ink, sand, and paper still stood. But there was nothing personal. His bedroom must be on through that other door. She darted across the room silently, opened the door, and saw an enormous four-post bedstead of inlaid walnut, a fine piece indeed, she thought cynically, for an unworldly covenanter. No less than three great chests doubtless held his clothing and perhaps Lady Argyles, but clothing would be too bulky for Kelpie's needs. A played brooch might just do nicely, though, and they should be in a cupboard, perhaps, or a wee-box somewhere. Kelpie began investigating, and then she nearly yelped with triumph, a brush, a brush in which were tangled several long strands of red hair. Oh, he had been careless then, perhaps with being upset from the news of Antrim. Oh, the fine luck of it! Chuckling she pulled them loose, looked around for something to wrap them in, and saw the bedroom door swing inexorably open. There he stood, mechalion more, one eye regarding her balefully, the other apparently fixed on the wall behind, and the thin lips were pitiless. For once, Kelpie's quick mind and glib tongue failed her altogether, and she just stood there while he crossed the room in three strides and seized her wrist. A thief is it, he rasp. Kelpie found her wits. Oh, know your worship! she cried. I know it's no right I have to be coming here, but it's the fine and godly man you are, and leaving now, and I just wanting to see. He bright her hand roughly open, and the damning evidence of the hair's leg exposed on her palm. A witch, he said, with savage glee, a witch in my own household. Ah, the devil is trying hard to destroy me, for I do the work of the Lord. Blessed are those who are persecuted for thy namesake. Spawn of Satan, do you know what we do with witches? Witches, faltered Kelpie in a desperate innocence, but she knew by now that pretense was hopeless. Far less evidence than this would have been fatal, and even with the much less suspicious man than Macallion Moore. Sudden hot anger almost drove out her terror for an instant, not so much at Argyle as at Mina and Boggle in the Lowlander, who had so callously sent her on this errand. They had surely known how slim her chances were, and that she would almost certainly be caught and burned, and they would never have taught her the evil eye, even had she been successful. She had been their tool in Katzpa, and she cursed herself for being such a fool. Ah, she would see to it before she died that Argyle knew their names and the meeting place. She didn't once think of the scheme-do that rested within the bodice of her sober gray dress. Macallion Moore was dragging her out of the room, bane for his servants, the dangerous hair safely in his own hand. Kelpie submitted passively, because it would do no good at all to struggle. Her mind darted here and there, like a moth in a glass ball, finding no way out at all. And now all the household was running, and two husky men took her from Argyle, and hustled her brutally through the castle and out to the courtyard, while Argyle sputtered his tail to his son between bellows for Mrs. Macallion. Was it you hired her? He demanded ominously of the cringing housekeeper. Could you not see the eyes of her, the teeth, the brows, or was it yourself plotting against me too? Are the minions of Satan filling my own home? He was working himself into a fine frenzy, and even through her terror Kelpie found time to wonder briefly at the idiotic honesty of Lorne, who spoke up then. It was my fault, Father. Mrs. Macallion didn't like the look of the last when she came to ask for employment, and I was fool enough to feel sorry for her, and I said to take her in. He met his sire's black glare straight. Twas stupid, he said firmly, but no plot against you by any here. The devil addled your wits then, retorted Argyle, not to be deprived of his martyrdom. Could you not see the ring-dies of her? No, do not look into them. She'll cast a spell. He cleared at Lorne, then dourly at Ewen Cameron, who stood near with an expressionless face. Kelpie was again fervently wishing that she could cast a spell. Ah, the plagues she would be putting on the lot of them, and himself in particular. Since she couldn't, she tucked in her lower lip, lowered the offensive eyes, hung meekly in the painful grip on her arms, and made one last hopeless try for her life. What was it I was doing wrong, she whimpered. It was nothing valuable I was taking, but only a wee bit token to protect me from the devil whilst yourself was away. It was no use at all. Everyone knew what hairs were used for, even children. Shall we burn her now, Macallion Moore? Ask one of the men. Kelpie's heart thudded sickly. But Argyle brooded. No time now, he said reluctantly. I'll be wanting to test her for which marks and get a full confession and the names of her accomplices. And there's Antrim to deal with first. He looked frustrated at having to delay, and Kelpie realized that here was a man who enjoyed cruelty for its own sake. She shuddered. Put her in the dungeon, ordered Argyle. The wee sail at the bottom, with no blanket, and let no one open the door or speak to her until I return. Put bread and water through the grate, but nothing else. Is everything ready, Buchanan? My horse, then. He turned away and Kelpie drew a small, shaky breath. A wee respite, then, and perhaps a chance to escape altogether from the torture and burning, if they didn't search her and take away the skin due, and if she made up her mind to use it. END OF CHAPTER X CHAPTER XI. OF WHICH OF THE GLENZE BY SALLY WATSON This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. ARGYLE'S DUNGEON The sail was tiny, damp, cold, and inconceivably black. Within ten minutes after the solid door thutted behind her, Kelpie was cowering on the floor. Even an ordinary roof was oppressive to her, and this, oh, the dark and the smallness were almost tangible things that seemed to press down and in on her, smoldering and squashing. It was even hard to breathe, just the thinking of it. By the time half an hour had passed, it was all she could do not to shriek wildly and beat her head against the stone. She gritted her teeth, sensing that self-control was her only hold on sanity. How could mere darkness hurt the eye so? Kelpie began fingering her skin due, longingly. It was escape, escape from this torment and that to follow. She had no great fear of death, in spite of all she had heard of hell, for at worst it was almost certain to be interesting. And yet the thing inside would not let her use the wee-sharp dagger that nestled so temptingly in her hand. It gave no reason, except that this was a mean and shabby way to die. For nearly the first time in her memory, Kelpie cried. On and on she sobbed, for as space was closing in on her, time was stretched into a long and empty void, and she was alone in chaos and terror. Once she thought that perhaps if she did kill herself now, her hell would be an eternity of this, and she shuddered at the thought. Argyle's god might just do such a thing, and Satan's fire would surely be preferred. But which of them would be having the decision? At all. Her thoughts blurred off into confusion. Sometimes later a grate in the door opened, a hand pushed a bit of bread through the pale oblong, and it clanked shut again. Kelpie roused herself to explore the spot with her long, sensitive fingers, but found it small and solidly bolted. She took a few half-hearted bites of bread and lapsed again into a shivering huddle. After more time she drifted up from a semi-sleep to hear another sound at the door. Was it the next day then, and time for more bread? Hey, the door was opening, when McCallion Moore had ordered against it. Was he back then? She shrank against the wall as a knob-lung of gray spread like a shaft of light into the thick black of the cell. Sheena? It was you and Cameron. She knew the voice of him. Sheena, are you awake? With a small gasp Kelpie was at the door. Oh, it's near dead I am. Will you know let me free? You wouldn't see me burned, an innocent wheat lass, and put to torment before it. I'll—st! There was a hint of strain in his voice with the thread of humor around it. And what were you thinking I came for? It is quite likely you are a witch, he added ruefully. But for all that I cannot abide cruelty. Come away then, and like a mouse. Gasping with relief, Kelpie was out of the door before he had finished speaking. He groped to find her face in the dark that was to her almost light. Wait now! I must be bolding the door again. I cannot see. Kelpie moved beside him and helped. Follow me, he said, when it was done. I can put you outside the walls, then tis up to you. It was all she asked. Scarcely able to believe her good fortune, she followed him through a dark, narrow labyrinth of stone corridors, most of them damp and being underground. Twice he unlocked doors for them to pass through, and finally they crept on hands and knees through a tunnel quite as black as her cell had been. It twisted on and on, and finally upward. Tis an escape route in case of siege by an enemy, Ewan explained over his shoulder. None but the family is supposed to know of it, and even they have nearly forgotten it, because for the last hundred years Clan Campbell has been too strong to be attacked in its own stronghold. Instead it is they who attack other clans. The narrow tunnel picked up the faint note of anger in his voice, magnified and echoed it. Kelpie, engrossed though she was in her own important affairs, suddenly wondered how it felt to be fostered by a wicked uncle who was, in addition, enemy to one's own clan, and to know you were being used as a hostage to control the actions of your own grandfather, your own people. It was the first time Kelpie had seriously tried to put herself into the mind of another person, and it felt most peculiar and disturbing. What if real war is coming to the Highlands, she demanded. Will Lockheal dare call out the Camerons to fight against your uncle and the Covenant, or— There was a brief silence in which their small scufflings seemed to shout aloud. Then, grandfather will dare to do what is right, said Ewan Tursley. Another silence, and then his low voice reached back to her again, strongly earnest. There are things more important than safety, Sheena. I wonder if you know about them. Was it for a principle you were wanting to put a hex on my uncle, or for something else? Kelpie didn't answer this, for the simple reason that she was not at all sure what a principle was. Unless— Could it have anything to do with not using the scheme due on herself when it seemed much easier to do so? Or had she not used it because the thing inside her had known that she was going to be rescued? Ah, it was much too confusing to bother with now, for she could at last see a pale blob of night sky ahead. They emerged in a shallow cave on the hill above Inverary, not far from where Kelpie had first looked down upon the castle. Now, said Ewan, be a way out of Campbell Territory as quickly as ever you can. A way around the tip of Lock Fine. Then East is best, but be canny. You will not be safe with the McFarlane's either, but the stewards of Balquitter are hostile to the Campbell, and the McGregors and McNabs, and they are past Lock Lomond. Best to skull-claw during the day, for you'll not get far this night, though I'm hoping you'll not be found missing until Uncle Archibald is returned and the cell door opened. Kelpie nodded. The weight of horror was lifting, though she could never quite forget it, and she began to feel quite cocky again. Fine she was now, for who knew more about sculking and wariness in the hills? And yet through her cockiness crept an odd curiosity. Will he be finding out towards you who freed me? I think not, said Ewan, and there was laughter in the lild of his voice. No one is thinking I know about the secret tunnel, and they will probably believe you escaped by witchcraft. Be careful, Sheena, the next time you are wanting to hex someone, he added, and vanished back into the tunnel. Kelpie stared down the blackness after him and shook her head wonderingly. He was another daft one, to take a risk for someone else, and with no profit to himself whatever. But she was grateful for all that. She owed much to his daftness. She left the cave, lifted her face to the infinite space of the open sky, and breathed deeply of the free air. The moonlit side of the hill was ghost-like, a pale glow without depth. The dark side was a soft, deep purple black. Patches of glimmering mist rose from the lock, and there was a line of it behind the western hills. Kelpie laughed aloud and headed northeast. Thick gray mist poured over the hills from the west, covering the world with a layer of wetness. A curlew gave its eerie call, and the wops shrilled, and presently it began to rain. Kelpie shivered a little, even though the gray wool dress was the warmest she had ever owned. She had got soft then, living in houses. She must steal a palady somewhere, preferably one of plain color, or a black and white shepherd's tartan. Worrying the tartan of a clan could get her into trouble. By the time it was really light, she had passed a tip of lock fine. She rested for a while, but it was cold sitting still. She was getting more and more hungry, and as there was little enough chance of being seen through the thickness of the mist she went on again. Once out of Campbell country she might risk stealing as well as begging, but she must be careful about telling fortunes or selling charms, for she would be getting near the Lowlands, where the arm of the Kirk was long and strong, and people were narrow-minded about such activities. And Kelpie very much wanted to avoid any more trouble of that sort. She waded through the dripping tangle of heather and bracken, and wondered what to do next. She was free of Mina and Boggle, unless they found her again. Did she dare return to Glenfern, having left the way she had? No, for they no longer trusted her, and Alex was now her enemy. Moreover, if Mina ever found out, she would put a curse on Wee Murray. It seems she must give up her hopes of learning witchcraft from Mina, and any other witches who still lived in covenant territory would be very canny and quiet indeed. She might try the Highlands. But there was a problem, too. For in order to get there without recrossing Campbell Territory, she must go far east and then north and through another danger zone, where there had been fighting and trouble since spring. And even in the Highlands there was danger of meeting Mina and Boggle, and further danger that Alex might have said all the Camerons and McDonalds against her, as he had threatened. Eh! Indeed it was a bra mess he had got herself into. She cursed the Lowlander, Mina, Boggle, McAleon Moore, the Kirk, and Alex, with fine impartial vigor and in two languages. Then, for good measure, she added Antrim, for forcing her hand too soon, the King, for his general fecklessness, all religious bodies, God, the Devil, and people in general. When she had finished she felt no better, either mentally or physically. She had now travelled some twenty miles over thickly brushed and wooded hills, on an empty stomach, after a shattering experience, and even Kelpie's wiry toughness had its limits. Had she reached Friendly Territory yet? How was she to know without seeing a clan tartan that would tell her? Well, surely she was for the moment way ahead of any possible alarm out for her. She must have food, and there was a shilling hut below. She sat down in the drenched heather and absently regarded a small twig of ling, already in bloom a month ahead of the ordinary heather. The tiny lantern-shaped blossoms were larger in pinker than heather, too, not quite as charming perhaps, but still tiny perfect things. Plants were nicer than people, if less exciting. She stared at it while she thought up two stories, one to use on a Campbell or a McFarland, the other for Stuart or McNabb. Then she stood up, brushed the wet from her skirts, and started slowly down the hill. An old woman stepped out of the low hut to empty a pail of water, and there was no mistaking the light and dark reds crossed with green on her plettie. It was McNabb. Her husband, no doubt, would be out in the hills with the sheep or cattle. Find that! Women living alone in the hills were rather more likely to be sympathetic and motherly toward a forlorn we-last-than-men. On the other hand, women of the Kirk towns were likely to be dourly, suspicious, and hating. The old woman started to go back inside and then caught a glimpse of Kelpie, who stumbled a bit because she was hungry and tired, and because it was her general policy. Whoever is it, then? The Highland Lild of the Gaelic was less marked here, near the Lowlands, and the voice cracked slightly with age, and yet there was in it a note like a bell. Ah! Forgive me just! Kelpie's voice was faint and she swayed slightly. I am weary and hungry, and could you be sparing just a crust? Seed, the little love! Mrs. McNabb was all sympathy. Come away in, then. I've a fine pot of oatmeal on the fire. Whatever will you be doing all alone in the hills? She looked at Kelpie with wise old eyes as they entered the dark shelling, and frowned in puzzlement. From your dress you would be alas from a covenant home, but your face is giving it the lie. Kelpie instantly revised her story in the brief time it took to step through the low doorway under its bristling roof of rye thatch. She stood meekly on the earthen floor under the smoke-blackened rafters, and noted at a glance that these folks were better off than some, for there was a real bedstead in the corner instead of a pile of heather and bracken, and four three-legged creepy stools. Eat now, invited her hostess, handing her a big bowl of oatmeal from the iron pot over the fire. And there are banicks here, and milk. And then, perhaps, you will tell me about yourself, little one. For I confess I have a fine curiosity, and strangers are none so common here. Kelpie made use of the respite to ask some questions and get her bearings, in between ravenous mouthfuls of food. Be covenant here, she ventured, around half a banick. Ah! And can you no see my tartan? demanded Mrs. McNabb. We McNabbs are loyal to our own steward-king, foolish darling. Why, then, are you of the Kirk? Kelpie shook her head vigorously. Not I. It is a prisoner of the Campbells I've been. They wanted me to be of the covenant and refused to tell me who my parents are, at all, and so I have run away. They interrupted Mrs. McNabb with wide eyes. This was the most exciting thing that had happened in the braze of Bowquitter this many a year. She was ready to believe anything of the hated Campbells. Oh, my dear! Is it that they were stealing you, then? Tell me about it. Hearts love every bit. And so, replete and comfortable, warm and very nearly dry, Kelpie spun a wonderful long tale of truthful fiction and mixed. The lonely old woman eagerly drank it in, with exclamations of indignation and sympathy. When Kalam McNabb, looking like a twisted and weather-worn pine, came in at dusk, he had to hear it all over again, and by this time Kelpie had thought up a few more interesting details. She fairly basked in their attention and tenderness, while the old couple glowed with kindness and the rare treat of company and news. And so, with one thing and another, Kelpie spent the night and the next day with them. END OF CHAPTER XI CHAPTER XII OF WHICH OF THE GLENZE BY SALLY WATSON THIS LIBERVACTE RECORDING IS IN THE PUBLIC DOMAIN MEETING AT PILLACRIE TIS SORRY I AM TO SEE YOU AWAY, WE DARK LOVE, BUT YOU MUST BE PUTTING MORE DISTANCE BETWEEN YOURSELF AND THE CAMBELLS, AND YOU MUST BE SEARCHING FOR YOUR OWN TRUE FAMILY, TO THINK OF IT. AND YOU SAY MCKAYLEAN MORE WAS TELLING YOU HIMSELF THAT WAS FROM THE CHIEF HE STOLE YOU. AND I BUT A BEARN, AGREED KELPIE FURMLY. HAVING CALUM, AN ALSOON BELIEVE HER TELL SO REDDLY, ALMOST MADE HER BELIEVE AT HERSELF. AND, AFTER ALL, MIGHT NOT SOME OF IT BE TRUE. SHE TUCKED A LITTLE BUNDLE OF OATMEAL AND SCONES INTO HER BELD, AND HUGED THE ROUGH WARMTH OF HER NEW PULATI ABOUT HER SHOLDERS, PLEASE THAT IT WAS THE NEUTRAL BLACK AND WHITE OF THE SHEPPERS TARTAN AND WOULD NOT ASSOCIATE HER WITH ANY PARTICULAR CLAN. Luck was with her again, she reflected, that she had found these kind and simple people, willing to give her the food from their mouths and the clothes from their backs, much simpler, if less exciting, than stealing. It made her feel odd to be given things this way. Perhaps if all folk were like these, or like Ian and his family, there would be no need to steal. Warm with novel sense of gratitude, she was careful not to take anything from Callum and Alsoon that they had not given her. They stood just outside the low doorway in the brightness of the summer evening. The rain had become mere clouds glowing to the northwest, where the sun would soon dip briefly below the hills. The old couple regarded her anxiously, not at all happy to see her set off in the white gloaming. Look you now, repeated Callum. You must be going south and east for a bit, through Drummond and Stewart Country, and then north through Murray's and Menci's, and when you reach Pitlockery, just be finding the home of my daughter Meg, at the tanning shop next to the Tay River, and tell them I sent you, and they will care for you until you are away again. I then, murmured Kelpie, anxious to be gone. She had heard these directions at least twice before, and in any case she knew the country far better than she dared to let Callum know. Haste ye back, they said, and this Highland phrase was never used unless truly meant. No one had ever said it to Kelpie before. She caught her breath, turned her head away, and hurried off. Travelling, she found, was easier without Mina and Boggle than with them, in one way. For folks had only to take one look at those two to know the worst. But Kelpie, as long as she kept her eyes lowered and her lip tucked demerly in, looked quite innocent, so that even on the edge of the thrifty and cur-trained lowlands, people were usually willing to give her food, and when they didn't, Kelpie simply helped herself. Now and then she picked up rumours about what was going on in the Highlands, particularly concerning Argyle, who was, it appeared, still away in the west, chasing an elusive antrim. Nearly as Kelpie could make out from bits here and there, Argyle had chased Antrum back to Ardna Merchant, where the latter had left his ships. But the ships had been spirited away by the English, just as Lorne had suggested, and since then the two forces had been playing catch me if you can all over the Highlands, with Antrum trying to rouse the clans against Argyle, the clans either afraid or quarreling among themselves, while Argyle tried to catch Antrum's small army before it should become a larger army. I, said an old man, chuckling in a voice not meant to be overheard. Argyle will never be fighting a battle against more than half his number if he can avoid it. Dina mock him, whispered another. You'll no be wanting yawn wild foreign Highlanders crossing the mountains with their wicked screeching pipes and attacking us, will ye? Dinner-fred they'll no come, just too busy they are with their own heathen fighting, Papas the Lotham. They might, if Montrose should stir them up to fight for the king against the Covenant. They would never do that. He is a gram from the East Coast, and those savages in the West would never stir a foot for any but their own chiefs. Anyway, they say Montrose has vanished altogether, and no doubt dead. They both bent lowering gray brows when they saw the shamelessly eavesdropping kelpie. She scurried away hastily, lest they think her a spy. She wandered on, begging, stealing, and listening, till she came at last to pit lacry. There seemed to be a broad lot of people in the narrow streets of the town, and surprisingly many of them seemed to be wearing gordon or mcdonald tartans. Whatever were those clans doing here? And those two young men striding along the street toward her? They, said kelpie, and they all stopped short. They stared at one another with mixed feelings. Why, whatever will you be doing here at all? demanded kelpie with astonishment. Alex recovered his wits first. Why, he said, with the old mocking grin, we were missing you and your Bonnie friend so badly that we had to come away to look for you. Sss! remarked kelpie, concealing her pleasure at the old bantering and reminding herself that Alex was a treacherous enemy. Moreover, she was never again going to permit herself the dangerous luxury of caring for any one at all. Having told herself this, she turned to look at Ian with delight. A bra lad. Did he carry a grudge against her? she wondered anxiously. And are you all right, kelpie? he asked kindly. Meena and Boggle are treating you well? Sss! she said again. They are wicked Arushkin, and I have left them this long time ago. I did not want to be leaving Glenfern whatever, she added hopefully. Ian looked pleased, but Alex laughed. It was a good enough life you were leading there, after all. But you seem to be doing well enough for yourself than now. Where were you stealing the gay sober gown and palady? I was not stealing them whatever. Kelpie was outraged more by his manner than by his words. But you would be saying the same thing even if you had encouraged Alex with a straight face. Kelpie's lips began to curve upward as she remembered the teasing at the lock side at Glenfern. She tried to frown, but it was not right to be teasing with Alex when they were no longer friends. But she could not help it. Of course, she agreed cheekily and grinned. Ah! the wicked wee lass! Alex chuckled. She'll never change. No, now, but she has changed, Ian objected. She could not laugh at herself when first she came to Glenfern. Are you sure, Tiz herself, she's laughing at, jibed Alex. Or is it ourselves, just for being ready to forgive her so easily, and after she was breaking the ancient code of hospitality? It was not my fault, protested Kelpie. Meena was threatening to put a curse on all of you if I did not come with them. Ah! how tender you are of our welfare! said Alex derisively. And that, I suppose, is why you were so quick to tell her all about how Ian and I met the King and Montrose in Oxford. There was no use in trying to explain, for he would never believe her. Not that she cared a groat what Alex McDonald thought anyway. Perhaps you would be able to tell Ian about it some day, with Alex not around. An idea was growing in her mind. After glowering at Alex, she turned to Ian and looked up at him meltingly through long lashes. She had never before set out to beguile a lad, but Janet had put the thought in her head, and she might as well try now and see could she do it. Some deep instinct awoke, so that she seemed to know just how to go about it. And what is it you are doing so far from Glenfern, she asked softly. Was it her fancy that Ian's smile seemed a wee bit warmer than usual? Why, he said, we are with Kolkito's army, up at Blair at all, and Kelpie forgot about beguiling him. Kolkito, she yelled. You mean Antrim? I, tis what we call him. Alastair McDonald, Earl of Antrim. Who has? Fine, I know that, interrupted Kelpie. But where will Macalion more be, then? On your tail? There was alarm in her voice, and both lads regarded her curiously. Na, na, Ian said smoothly. He's a way back to his own country, raising a larger army, no doubt. Some five hundred Gordons have joined us. Are you afraid of him, Kelpie? And what are you doing here, and where are you living? Kelpie looked wistful. I am all alone and nowhere to live. She sighed and then smiled up at him brightly. It is in my mind to come along with you, she announced. Alex laughed. Unprincipled little thing, though she was, he did enjoy her shameless, incorrigible audacity. The workings of her mind fascinated him, and even though he could see through her so easily, he could never remain angry for long. Ian looked thoughtful. Well, and why not? We've nearly as many women and bairns as we have men, for Kolkido brought the whole of his clan over with him to take back their land from the Campbells. And Lachlan brought his wife Maeve, along to be cooking and nursing and caring for us, for she does not trust Lachlan to do it properly. You'd be far safer than wandering alone. What about it, Alex? Alex shrugged and lifted a red eyebrow. Oh, I've no doubt at all that she can look after herself, he observed dryly, but I've no objection. Only Ian of Eck, let us not be trusting her as far as tomorrow, for there is no loyalty in her. The lazy mockery of his voice had a whiplash in it, and Kelpie flinched, unexpectedly hurt by it. She lashed back, remembering the scene in Lachnan, Ailean. You, she fumed, you to be talking of loyalty, who would strike down a friend from behind. Alex gaped. It was the first time she had ever caught him out of countenance, and it gave her great satisfaction. Ian looked distressed. Hawk now, he protested hastily, let you both be saving your fighting for the Covenant armies. Come away back to the camp now, and we'll talk as we go. They started back, out of pitlockery and over the narrow road lined with tall blooming thistles. The heather just preparing to bloom glowed rustily under the patchy sunlight. Alex strode along frowning, still smarting and dumbfounded over the outrageous flank attack. What could she have meant by it? The wee witch. She had seemed genuinely indignant, too. For once she was not acting. Alex had been matching witch with her long enough to be sure of that. Then what under the great heavens could he have done to draw such a denunciation, such withering scorn from an unprincipled gypsy lass who would doubtless betray her own grandmother for a bit of copper? It made no sense, whatever. And although Alex reminded himself that the opinion of a wee witch could scarcely matter, he found that it rankled. Dial, he muttered under his breath, and it is browsed in annoyance, leaving most of the conversation to Ian. And why is it you're so concerned over McCallion Moore, Kelpie? Ian asked. Have you been studying more politics since you left Glenferne? Kelpie hedged. Is it likely I'd be wanting to run into the head of the Covenant army, and him death on Gypsies and all, who do not belong to the Kirk? No now, she shifted the subject. Tell me what has been happening, and why Colchito has his army at Blair at all. Well so, Ian thought for a minute, his sensitive profile clear in grave against the mauve and russet and olive of the August Hills. Kelpie tilted her own face to look at him as she kept easy pace while Alex walked, brooding silently behind. Did you know, began Ian, that Colchito brought over his whole clan to fight for the king against Argyle in the Covenant, and perhaps take back some of the MacDonald land from the Campbells? Find that, murmured Kelpie, remembering that day at Inverary, and Argyle away after him all over the Highlands. Ian nodded, and the English burned and trimmed ships, so that he must stay here. Will he? Nill he. So he has been trying to get the other Highland clans to join him. He's not had much luck, for some of the clans fear the Campbells too much, and some others have decided that they hate the MacDonalds even more than the Covenant, for the moment, at any rate. Lockheal doesn't dare call out our clan yet, with you and still in Argyle's hands, and more important, with Argyle's army so near to Lockaber. Can you imagine what would be happening to our women and children at Lockaber if Lockheal took them in a way to fight the Covenant? Kelpie could imagine easily. Her blood ran cold at the thought of we Mare in danger, and she nodded soberly. Some of us Camerons have come along anyway, and so have some five hundred Gordons who are wanting revenge against Argyle, continued Ian. But most on this side of the mountains think we Western Highlanders are a band of wild savages, like the Red Indians of America. And even Steward of Atal, although he hates Argyle and the Covenant, will have nothing to do with the Irish MacDonalds. So, he grinned at Kelpie muchiviously. We have just borrowed Atal's castle from him, and now we sit and wait. He's sobered again. I do not know what we will do next. There is a rumor that Graham of Montrose is still alive, and perhaps he is our hope. But to tell the truth, things do not look very good, and the Covenant armies will not sit still forever. Kelpie's lip lifted in sudden anger. Ah, ye will be losing this war just, she predicted, despairingly. For yourselves and for the folk like me who want only to be left alone. You cannot get together even to save your own lives, and must always be quarreling clan against clan, and so ye will lose. Ian looked depressed, but Alex came out of his black reverie with a laugh. Listen to her, just, he taunted. The lone lass who lives for herself and no other will be giving us a lesson on cooperation. But even though you don't practice what you preach, he added somberly, you're right. A puffy cloud blew over the sun, darkening the bright hills, and the thistles waved in a sudden sharp breeze. The small army was spread over the hill and more near Blaire at all, looking somewhat dispirited. Some men were hopefully cleaning their gear, polishing the huge two-handed claymores and battle-axes which struck such terror into lowland hearts. Others just sat, were wandered, or gambled, or talked. Women were busy gossiping, sewing, cooking, arguing, but one tall gaunt woman brooded alone. Children ran about plain tag or hanging about the men. A ragged motley crowd it was, but fierce looking enough, no doubt, to folk on this side of the mountains. Kelp I frowned suddenly. The whole scene looked familiar. We've set up our wee camp spot over yon, just near those rowan trees, said Ian, pointing to a spot partway up the hill. But before they were halfway there a flurry of excitement near the edge of the moor turned into an uproar. Men began shouting, running. A single shot was fired, and then several more. It couldn't be an attack, Ian frowned, staring across the moor, but what is it? "'Tis he,' shouted Alex. "'Tis Gram of Montrose. Look you there.' The King's Lieutenant. He has come. My Lord of Montrose!' The words were being shouted back and forth, and the sound swelled into a thunder of cheers. Kelp I found herself running with the lads toward the center of the excitement. As nearly as she could see through the crowd, the Lord of Montrose seemed to be a slight young man in Groom's clothing, with brown hair and a bunch of oats stuck in his bonnet. Hey! She had seen him before! And now from the wooded hill, a red-bearded giant in the MacDonald tartan, Antrim, rushed down to clasp the hand of the slight young man and Kelp I remembered. She had seen it in the crystal that first morning at Glenfern. And so now they had come together, Antrim and Montrose, totally different yet fighting for the King's cause. What would be the outcome?