The meat was done now and being divided. Archie pulled his sgian dhu from his stocking, vanished briefly into the crowd of hungry men, and emerged with a smoking hunk for Kelpie in one hand and one for himself in the other. She bit into the meat hungrily and then looked up to find the deep black eyes still fixed on her, and a question in them.
“That day,” he began, with an uncertain note in his voice, “were you sending a call in the mind to Alex before you gave the Cameron rant with your voice?”
Kelpie looked as blank as she felt. “I don’t understand you whatever!” she said warily.
“Why,” he began, and frowned a little, “there we were in the tavern, with Alex and Ian in a fury at each other, and none of us even hearing the sounds outside. It was a braw quarrel, with Ian gone white with the anger in him, and Alex the color of a rowan berry. And then Alex was stopping in mid-word, with an intent, listening look on the face of him, and looking round. And it was because of his silence that an instant later we were hearing the Cameron rant, and Ian shouting ‘’Tis Kelpie in trouble!’”
Kelpie shook her head blankly. “And what then?” was all she said.
Archie shrugged. “Why, then, Ian forgot the quarrel and was away out the door, and Alex after him with drawn sword, and the rest of us collected our wits and followed, not knowing if Alex’s black fury was still for Ian, or for the witch-hunters. His face was a fearful thing to see, and I’m hoping I never meet the like in battle, for ’twould be the end of me. But you know the rest better than I. How was it, Kelpie, that Alex heard you even through the quarrel, and before the rest of us?”
“I don’t know,” said Kelpie absently, her mind on another question altogether. For the thing she had suspected was clear. It was herself had helped bring about the scene in the loch, and hatred of her had caused Alex to strike down his foster brother. It was the only possible explanation, and there was a sore hurt in the thought of it. How could Alex have hated her that much, who had never seemed to hate her at all, but only scorn her? Her short upper lip curled. Och, he would pay for it, just! Even though Kelpie could no longer hope for witchcraft to help her, he would pay for it.
Archie looked at her uneasily. There was a look about her not quite canny, and it was occurring to him that folk called after water witches, who could communicate without the voice, might not be a braw choice for companionship, so he brought her another hunk of meat—to avoid offending her—and melted hastily into the crowd of soldiers.
The army passed the very spot near Loch Awe where Kelpie had first seen Janet Campbell that June day six months ago. And then they were heading at last toward Inverary, through the steep wilds of Glen Aray where she and Janet had gone. And what had been happening to Janet all this time? she wondered. Not that she really cared, she tried to tell herself, except that Janet was a harmless soul and not deserving to be harmed by either Mac Cailein Mor or his enemies.
There was no detour to the top of the hill this time. Straight down the glen the army came, pipes shrieking in ominous triumph. It was a braw sound indeed, a wild song that set the blood running with joyful madness—or the blood of Montrose’s army, at any rate. Kelpie wondered briefly how it sounded to the ears in Inverary. Along the river they marched, half running now, and erupted into the valley, the town of Inverary seeming to cower ahead on its point of land, and the castle—so familiar to Kelpie—to the left.