A gigantic timer appeared over Byron’s head and was lowered so that it was visible from every angle. Five minutes flashed up, followed by a loud gong and his performance began.
He dropped his head. Five seconds went by, then ten. I frowned. What on earth was he doing? I looked at the clock as a full half-minute ticked by, my heart in my mouth. Was this deliberate? I hoped it had nothing to do with me inadvertently nabbing part of his Gift. Just as my stomach squirmed in panic and the crowd started to murmur, there was a faint squeak of wheels from the wings. As if it were propelling itself, a baby grand piano appeared and wheeled its way towards Byron. He smiled but, other than that, remained perfectly still.
The moment the piano halted, the first note sounded, slow and melodic to begin with before speeding up into a pounding, powerful beat. Byron was at least five feet away from it; he was playing the piano through his Gift. The only thing that indicated he was responsible for the sound was the movement of the muscles in his face and body – a twitch of his forehead here and a bunching of his fingers there. As the music rose into the air, swelling in majesty, I forced myself to empty my mind and focus solely on the tune. The last thing I wanted was for my own mind to rip away more magic from him.
I didn’t have to try that hard. The tune, whatever it was, was so stirring that it felt like it was consuming me. The piano keys moved, changing from fast to slow and from hard to soft, a velvety rhythm that overtook me completely. My heartbeat seemed to change, mimicking the melody. The auditorium was filled with the sound and I didn’t need to look at the rest of the audience to know that they were as rapt as I was. How was it possible for a simple piece of music to be so imbued with emotion? Goosebumps rose on my arms and I felt odd stirrings of patriotism when I heard birls and lilts that were unmistakably Scottish. As Byron manipulated the keys into a crescendo, my blood buzzed and the music fizzed through my veins. And when the last note echoed away, I felt the wound on my cheek sting because I’d been crying without realising it.
The crowd rose to its feet, bellowing approval. I hastily wiped away my tears and joined them.
‘That was unbelievable!’ Lexie yelled.
Brochan remained seated. ‘If you like that sort of thing.’ His eyes were suspiciously glassy.
‘If I was wearing underpants, I’d be tempted to take them off and throw them at him,’ Taylor admitted. ‘No wonder you like him, Tegs.’
Byron bowed and turned to the judges. They each pressed a button, lighting up screens that were set into the league table. Nine. Nine. Ten.
‘I can’t believe he didn’t get a perfect score,’ Speck muttered. ‘I can see why they keep harping on about how dangerous these challenges are. If everyone else is that skilful, then I’m in danger of losing my heart.’
I took a deep breath. ‘Speaking of harping on, it doesn’t matter how impressive Dagda’s harp is,’ I said. ‘I think I’m pretty much screwed. I can’t compete with that.’
Not one of my friends disagreed.
Chapter Twelve
I stayed for the next few performances. Although none were as impressive as Byron’s, they were still very proficient. I was tempted to disturb Bob and get him to listen and see if he thought that Dagda’s harp was going to be enough for me not to come last. But there were too many people around and it was probably too late to do anything about it anyway. Even though I was bottom of the list and wouldn’t perform until late tomorrow, I wouldn’t acquire any musical ability by then, no matter how much I wanted it. I’d just have to keep my fingers crossed that Dagda came through.
When the five Moncrieffe competitors finished and Tipsania glided onto the stage, I decided it was time to do something. Leaving the rest of them to maintain appearances, and after passing the harp to Brochan, I slipped out the door. With most of the Cruaich’s visitors in the auditorium, it was the perfect opportunity to see what I could find. There would be less chance of bumping into anyone who wanted to make an example of me, like the trio who had set upon me earlier.
There was no question about who I was most interested in. As Steward, Aifric was beholden to his guests and forced to remain in the auditorium; it wouldn’t do for him to publicly snub a Clan by leaving during a performance. What was no doubt a pain in the arse for him was a godsend for me. All I had to do was locate his quarters and I could snoop around to my heart’s content.
I had a vague idea where all the rooms and suites were located after my last visit here but the Cruaich castle was still a maze. With twenty-four Clans staying, not including my own, it would be a waste of time for me to skulk down every corridor in the hope of finding flashes of the Moncrieffe tartan so, rather than wander around aimlessly, I strolled into the main hall and looked for someone who would help.
The Sidhe nobles might despise me because of my lineage but the lesser Clanlings were far more amenable. In fact, they often seemed in awe of me. It was one of the many things that made me wonder what my father was really like. Unfortunately, I wasn’t sure I’d ever get an answer.
Spotting a scurrying pixie, I barred his way. ‘Hello!’ I beamed.
The pixie, obviously flustered, gave a brief bow. ‘Chieftain Adair.’
I tried not to look too happy that he’d used my real name and title. ‘I wonder if you can help me,’ I said to get the pixie on side.
‘Of course. Would you like some refreshments?’
‘No, thank you. I’m hoping for a tour of the castle. Is there anyone who could take me round? It’s just that I’m new here and I’m constantly feeling wrong-footed. If I had a better idea of the layout, I’d know what people are talking about when they discuss the Cruaich’s history.’ I tittered. ‘Last time someone asked me to meet them in the library it took me hours to find it!’
The pixie blinked at me. ‘Er…’
He was reluctant to point me in the direction of someone with free time. ‘Let me guess,’ I said drily, ‘you’ve heard the rumours about my thievery skills too.’
He had the grace to look embarrassed. ‘I don’t believe them, Chieftain. Honest.’
Considering I was a thief, he shouldn’t have been so quick to dismiss those whispers. Either way, I did have some sympathy for his position. ‘But if someone finds out that you showed me around and something went missing…’
He nodded, the flesh under his chin shaking. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘That’s okay. I understand. You’re probably very busy and have a lot to do.’
His relief was palpable. I stepped out of his path and let him continue on his errand. The staff weren’t going to help – I’d have to find another way to locate Aifric’s chambers.
When I heard footsteps behind me, I turned and realised I had a more useful person to target. ‘Jamie!’
The Moncrieffe Sidhe’s eyes widened when he caught sight of me and I had the feeling that he wished he were somewhere else. I trotted up to him before he could escape. ‘I really enjoyed your performance,’ I told him.
It was true. He’d chosen to go the more traditional route and played the bagpipes, using a lilting Scottish lament to enthrall the audience. Most bagpipe music just sounded like noise to me but Jamie’s dexterity with the instrument had elevated my appreciation. He’d not used his Gift but that wasn’t surprising. Like most Sidhe, Jamie only had one Gift and his was psychometry, the ability to touch an object and learn its history. I couldn’t see how that would be useful in entertaining a large group of people – though I could use it for something else.
‘Thanks,’ he mumbled. He tried to move past me.
I sighed audibly. ‘I’m sorry that you still feel awkward around me. That wasn’t my intention.’
His eyes dropped. ‘I know.’
‘What we did wasn’t anything to be ashamed of.’
He grimaced. ‘Try telling that to Byron.’
There was an odd fluttery sensation in my stomach. ‘I’m sorry if you got into trouble for consorting with the enemy.’
‘It wasn’t like that. It
’s just…’
‘What?’
‘Nothing.’
I desperately wanted to prod him to tell me more but this wasn’t the time. ‘Okay.’ I bit my bottom lip. ‘Look, I was wondering if you could help me out.’
He looked almost as uncomfortable as the pixie had. ‘Um…’
‘It’s won’t get you into trouble.’ I held up my hands. ‘I promise. It’s an object I have that I want to know more about.’
Jamie started to relax then a thought seemed to cross his mind and he stiffened. ‘It’s not a necklace, is it?’
I groaned. ‘You think I took Chieftain MacBain’s pearl monstrosity? I promise you I didn’t, although this is related to her.’
His eyes shifted. ‘In what way?’
I told the truth. ‘I crossed the Veil. There was something in the Lowlands that I needed.’ The colour drained from Jamie’s face as I ploughed on. ‘I found a ring there. It wasn’t what I was looking for but I think it’s important. It was on the finger of a corpse which I spotted inside an old house. Written above it was the name Matthew MacBain and the ring has the MacBain crest on it.’
Despite his shock that I’d passed into the Lowlands, I could tell that Jamie was interested. ‘Why not give it to the MacBains then?’
I shrugged. ‘I tried. I arranged a meeting to do just that but then I was accused of stealing the necklace. I don’t want to be accused of stealing the ring too. If you could use your Gift to find out more about it, you’d be able to tell I didn’t steal it.’ I paused. ‘Not from anyone living, anyway.’
‘Matthew MacBain.’ Jamie shook his head in wonder. ‘There are lots of stories about him but no one really believed he’d gone through the Veil.’
‘I’m pretty sure he did,’ I said quietly. ‘And that it didn’t go well for him.’
He swallowed. ‘Okay. Where’s the ring?’
I grinned. ‘It just so happens I have it right here.’ I glanced around. ‘There are a lot of servants around. It would be better if we went somewhere private. I’d hate someone to see what we’re doing and for others to find out before Chieftain MacBain does.’
‘We could go outside…’ Jamie began.
‘Or to your room,’ I interrupted. ‘That way we can be sure of privacy.’
His alarm returned. ‘I don’t think that would be a good idea.’
My grin widened. ‘We don’t have to go to your bedroom. In fact you’re right. The village is quite a way off. There must be a Moncrieffe sitting room up here in the castle somewhere.’
He eyed me warily. ‘I suppose.’
‘Brilliant! Let’s go then.’
*
I walked quickly, not because I was in a hurry but because I didn’t want Jamie to change his mind before we reached the Moncrieffe quarters. Aifric would be installed here at the Cruaich because he was the Steward and I was banking on the fact that he’d keep his Clan close to him. The competitors only formed a small part of the current population; there were plenty of other hangers-on here for the entertainment.
Jamie, moving quickly to match my speed, loped up the stairs to the sixth floor. He turned left and led me into an impressive drawing room with a huge fireplace and artfully arranged furniture. Looking around, you’d never know that the Moncrieffes were struggling for cash.
I was dubious. ‘Are you sure this is a good spot? If we’re interrupted…’
‘It’ll be fine. This is the Moncrieffes’ own space. It’s only used when the Steward has to meet privately with someone. His personal quarters are next door. No one would dare venture in here without an invitation.’
Perfect. I made a show of considering and then agreed. We perched on a sofa, which was as hard and uncomfortable as it looked, and I dug into my pocket and pulled out the ring. Jamie didn’t move, he simply stared at it. ‘That’s certainly the MacBain emblem.’
‘I thought so but it’s good to have it confirmed. You know your stuff.’ I took care not to overdo the compliment but I could tell by his smile that he appreciated it.
He took a deep breath. ‘And you really found this in the Lowlands?’
‘Yep.’
He didn’t try to take it. As the silence grew more awkward, he ran a hand through his hair. ‘It’s not an exact science,’ he admitted. ‘My Gift, I mean. Sometimes, especially with older objects, it’s hard to control what I see. There’s a flood of images and so many memories that it can be difficult to separate things out.’
I suddenly understood what he was referring to. ‘You’re afraid of what you might see.’
Jamie nodded. ‘If Matthew MacBain died violently, if he was wearing this ring while he was in the Lowlands and bad things happened to him…’
‘You’ll see it all.’ His reluctance made sense; useful as his Gift might be, it didn’t sound like it offered its user many pleasant experiences. No doubt the unhappy memories were the ones which would stick. Tragedy was often like that.
‘Don’t worry about it,’ I said softly. ‘If you don’t want to do this, I’ll find another way to prove I didn’t steal it.’
‘No. I’ll do it.’ He exhaled and reached out, his fingers curling round the ring. He lifted it, taking care not to touch me. Then he closed his eyes, stood up and shuddered.
I wondered if I should support him as he swayed backwards and forwards but I doubted he’d appreciate my help so I withdrew. When Jamie’s eyes finally opened, he was pale and shivering.
‘I can assure Chieftain MacBain,’ he said in a stilted voice, ‘that you took this from her uncle’s body in the Lowlands.’
I nodded, trying to remain calm. ‘What else did you see, Jamie?’
‘The demons,’ he whispered. ‘The Fomori. There are thousands of them.’ He paused. ‘Hundreds of thousands.’
I swallowed. ‘Did you see anyone else?’
He wouldn’t meet my eyes. ‘I think I should leave everything else for Chieftain MacBain.’
I didn’t press him. The horror of what he’d seen was still written across his face. I silently thanked the heavens that my subconscious had decided not to steal this particular Gift. ‘I’ll leave the ring with you,’ I told him quietly. ‘Do with it what you will.’
Jamie didn’t reply. I raised my hand in gesture of both gratitude and farewell and left him, shoulders drooped and skin clammy, as he absorbed what he’d seen.
I didn’t have time to reflect on what Jamie was experiencing, much as I felt guilty about it. I left the drawing room door and jogged to the next door. I knocked once and, when no one answered, twisted the doorknob and peered inside.
These were Aifric’s rooms all right. The Moncrieffe tartan was everywhere and if that wasn’t enough of a clue, the suit he’d been wearing yesterday was hanging on the side of the huge oak wardrobe. The bed was neatly made and there nothing on either of the side tables next to it. I opened the drawers, using the cuff of my jumper. I doubted that Aifric ever dusted for fingerprints but it paid to be circumspect.
There was a small bottle of pills inside. I picked it up and examined the label, whistling softly. Strong stuff. So the Sidhe Steward was having trouble sleeping ‒ as well he should. I replaced it carefully, closed the drawer and looked around.
I couldn’t find much that interested me. There was a heavy chain inside a small glass cabinet, probably a symbol of the Stewardship, and there were carefully ironed clothes in the wardrobe. The rest of the room was spartan in its tidiness and emptiness. I wondered what Aifric was getting out of his position – it certainly wasn’t money; his Clan was all but penniless. I’d not heard of him enjoying any romantic dalliances so sex was out of the equation. I thought about the way he comported himself and decided it had be a power thing. What an idiot; real power comes from inner peace and contentment, not ordering others around. Half the servants in this place could probably have told him that.
There were two other doors. The first one led into a well-appointed bathroom with mod cons which looked out of place in such an old cast
le. The second door opened into a small study. Yahtzee. There was a large desk, covered with letters and papers. I was bound to find something here.
Sitting down on the cracked leather chair, I looked through the first bundle. There were a lot of petitions from different Clans: the Kincaids wanted to search for the Foinse, which had flown off after I’d released it from the cavern deep in the Scottish mountains; the Jardines were in the middle of a land dispute with the Carnegies and demanded that the borders be re-drawn, while the Chieftain of the Innes Clan was hoping for a loan from the Cruaich coffers so he could go hunting for the mythical white stag. I snorted.
One unsigned letter caught my attention. I had no way of knowing who it was from but my own name stood out like a beacon. Someone was demanding that I be taken care of ‒ apparently I was a danger to society. It was suggested that I’d hidden my Gift because, like the last one of my father’s, it was soul punching. That is, the ability to draw inside an opponent and yank out their life essence. Apparently it was how he’d killed so many so quickly. The suggestion in the letter was that any moment now I might slaughter every one of the Sidhe in vengeance for what had been done to my Clan.
Now that was interesting. Why would I want vengeance when it was supposedly my father who’d done the killing that had left me alone in the world? It was another piece of evidence that he was innocent and that, somehow, Aifric Moncrieffe was involved in setting up my father and committing genocide.
The knot of anger in my chest expanded. It was an unfamiliar sensation; Taylor had taught me to take each day as it came and to appreciate what I had without worrying about the past or the future. I had elected to avoid the Sidhe wherever possible – unless it was to steal from them, of course. Now, whether my entire Clan were dead or not, it felt like I’d let them down. I was still floundering around in the dark for the truth.
Abandoning the desk, I looked for a safe where Aifric might hide more sensitive materials. I couldn’t find it. Unless Aifric was using magic to conceal it, there was no safe here.
Honour Bound (Highland Magic Book 2) Page 15