The Raven's Wish (23 page)

"And remember, too, that if we had time and the coin to have a sword made to fit her, she would soon be our equal," Kenneth said.

Elspeth grimaced triumphantly at Duncan. A smile teased his own lips, and he saluted her with a bow of respect. She passed by him with an intriguing and wholly unconscious flounce of her plaid. He smiled again, and turned away.

He was well pleased with the Frasers' skills, and with their enthusiasm and ready intelligence. He knew that they were nearly ready to take their newly reorganized skills onto the night moor. But he wanted to be certain.

On the fourth afternoon, five or six of them rode out to the farthest edge of the marches between MacDonald territory and Fraser land, near Bethoc's little croft. Reaching the crest of a high hill, they surveyed the open lay of the land below them. The spectacular view of misted hills and silver rivers matched well enough with the sketched maps that Duncan had brought.

Heading back to Castle Glenran, they stopped briefly at a crofter's cottage. The young wife there, her brown skirts kilted high to reveal her bare legs and feet, offered them oatcakes and bowls of cool milk. As he stood sipping some of the fresh milk, Duncan heard Elspeth thank the woman. He turned to see the young wife smile.

Elspeth tilted her head to one side, a curious look on her face. Her eyes, in that moment, were almost as clear as water, with a deep sparkle. Duncan watched her covertly, fascinated.

"You will have a child before the first spring blooms are through," she said to the woman. "A healthy boy, who will have your fine brown eyes."

The young wife blushed a deep rose. "I have not told anyone yet that I carry a child," she murmured. "I just became certain myself not long ago."

"All will be well with you both," Elspeth said. She reached out and laid a hand gently on the woman's shoulder. "This will not be like the first time. You will carry and birth easily, and will do so again."

"Thank you," the wife whispered. "I lost my first child early. But no one ever knew that."

Duncan stared at Elspeth over the rim of his bowl. She flicked her eyes toward his, a direct, open look that sent a shivering warmth down his spine before he lowered his gaze.

Elspeth Fraser astonished him. Did she indeed have some heaven-bestowed gift that allowed her to see into the mind and heart of another? Into that person's future? Duncan frowned; he could not easily accept such a possibility.

Perhaps, being female, Elspeth had seen some bloom in the woman's face to which men were simply oblivious. There had to be some private language of posture or gesture that only women understood.

But she had known intimate secrets that this woman had not spoken aloud to anyone. And she had already guessed, though he knew not how, that he had been seriously wounded by MacDonalds long ago.

He shook his head slightly as he set the bowl down. No one, simply no one other than his closest blood relatives, knew the truth of the scar on his back. He could not explain how she knew a MacDonald had wounded him. That she had predicted his death by execution was an extremely uncomfortable thought—if he accepted her ability.

Trained by the law to deal with logic and clearly defined premises, he found himself challenged to understand this girl. She was haunting, magical, made of contradictions, mist and sunlight, a twist of cool silver and warm gold. He was fascinated and enthralled, and confused.

He knew she had some indefinable power; he just was not ready to admit that she could foretell his future. To admit that her Sight was true would be to face his own end.

Elspeth spoke softly with the young woman, laughing now. Duncan turned to answer a question from Magnus, who had to repeat it twice.

All Duncan had heard was Elspeth's light laugh, floating up to chime with the wind.

* * *

Riding home, Ewan began a song that the others soon joined. Duncan listened, content to enjoy the song, but was soon elbowed by Kenneth, who urged him to sing. He shook his head vigorously.

Elspeth, riding on his other side, leaned over. "If you claim to have a Highlander's blood, then sing with us."

He shook his head. "I prefer to listen."

She tipped her head and smiled, a certain way that often brought out a dimple in her left cheek. "I will teach you the words, if you do not know."

Odd and clear, the thought drifted through his head then that he would do anything to please this girl, to see that flashing smile for even the briefest moment. He knew the words; the song was one he had heard many times as a boy. Sighing, not quite believing that he did this so readily, he cleared his throat and joined in with the second verse. He could feel a hot flush stain his cheeks.

Kenneth was the first to turn around with a look of amazement. The flush on Duncan's cheeks grew stronger. Then Callum turned, and Magnus. The bright stain on his face burned like a small fire, and his voice dwindled away on the wind.

Ewan, riding in the lead with his back to the others, stopped singing and twisted in his saddle, frowning as if he were puzzled. "Did you hear a dog howling just then?" he asked.

Kenneth burst out laughing and said nothing. Callum and Magnus cleared their throats and looked away, snorting with muffled laughter.

"Just a high wind, Ewan," Elspeth said reassuringly. "Just a high wind."

The other cousins grinned and kept their silence. Ewan shrugged and turned back, resuming his song, his voice as rich and mellow as cream blended with
uisge beatha
, everything that Duncan's singing voice was not.

Duncan looked at Elspeth. She tilted her head at him, pinching her lips together in an expression of deep sympathy.

"I have a reason for listening rather than singing," he said, a little stiffly.

"You have," she agreed. "Well then. Perhaps if I spend some time with you, I can help."

He twisted his mouth wryly. "I doubt you can."

"If you can teach us to reive, I can teach you to sing," she said. "Call it a payment, Duncan Macrae." Her gray eyes sparkled and her hair shone bright in the sun. Suddenly Duncan thought that he had never seen anyone so fairy-like or so beautiful in his life. She smiled, and he felt as if he had been given his full payment.

He laughed, and she laughed too, bright and open and airy. He felt a small burst of joy, like a trickle of clear water over thirsty ground.

"Elspeth Fraser," he said, grinning and shaking his head, "you will have a task ahead of you, then." He turned to Kenneth. "Are you rested, man? And you, Callum?"

"Rested? Well enough. Why?" Kenneth asked.

Duncan smiled. "This would be a fine night for a long ride, I think."

Callum grinned, and Kenneth did too. Magnus turned. "A fine night to hunt the MacDonalds," he said.

"Perhaps so," Duncan agreed thoughtfully.

Chapter 14

`Haste Donald, Duncan, Dugald, Hugh!

Haste, take your sword and spier!

We'll gar these traytors rue the hour

That eer they ventured here.'

~"Bonny Baby Livingston"

Along the silvery track of the river through the deepest hour of the night, thirty riders followed the moonlight. Over rough moors and rocky slopes, through cold swift burns, they moved on, a silent part of the night and the wind.

Hardly a word had been uttered since the group of Frasers and Fraser kin had mounted their horses at the old yew tree, two hours and more ago. Elspeth glanced at Duncan, who rode beside her, seated tall and straight in his saddle, his plaid a dark swath in the night, his hair lifting like a black wing. He carried a long lance, its wicked point upright. She looked around. Several men carried lances, the steel points like a glittering forest behind her. Many of the riders, including Elspeth, had long bows slung over shoulders or saddles.

She drew in a breath and let it out, a little puff of frost that reminded her that the night air was chilly. But she felt warm from the heat of the ride and the heat of anticipation.

She could sense the cattle now, off to their left. She would have said something, but Duncan veered off in that direction without hesitation, as if he, too, sensed them. The riders followed him.

She smiled, thinking that he must have a touch of the Sight, for he rode with deliberateness, as if he too knew where to find the cattle, as if he listened to some inner voice. Though the scouts ahead had hearing as keen as the deer, and sight as sharp as a hawk's, Duncan had hardly consulted them. He seemed to know instinctively how fast, how far, in what direction to ride.

Earlier in the evening, he had asked Elspeth to stay at Glenran. If the MacDonalds discovered the raid, he had said, and found her part of it, she would be in particular danger. She had refused to stay.

"We are joined now, you and I," she had said. "I will not watch you ride away until the day that you must go to Edinburgh."

Looking at her with a hint of sadness, he had reached out to touch her hair. "
Mo càran
," he said, "my dear one. Come, then."

He glanced over at her now, and though he did not smile, she felt the caress of his gaze, the steady promise in his eyes. A promise to her, and to all of her cousins.

She had grown to adulthood always equal to her cousins. Now, looking at Duncan Macrae, she felt accepted as his equal as well, but with a depth she had never known before. Riding beside him, meeting his glance, she felt a sense of completion, precious and somehow necessary. She felt stronger, as if she had suddenly discovered another part of her soul, a force that was brave and steadfast. She knew that Duncan brought that to her.

She reached out to him, and he grasped her hand for a moment, then pulled away.

He rode forward alone to catch up to the others who rode far ahead of the group. Kenneth and another kinsman, Tomas, waited for Duncan in the sheltering slope of a hill. The two of them knew the terrain, could predict and recognize the rise and swell of every hill, the angle of every rock, the depth of each burn.

With gestures and low words, they consulted together. As Kenneth and Tomas rode off, Duncan turned to wave the others away from the silver band of the river.

Though Elspeth had ridden on several raids, she had never ridden like this. The riders swept through the night following Duncan's silent signals. Striking fast and clean, they rounded up fifteen cattle in one valley, five in another, ten more in the shelter between two high hills. No one challenged them; no one even saw them. They collected cattle and sheep like wildflowers in spring, finding a field of plenty in each new valley.

The garrons churned tough and steady through deep heather that muffled the sound of their passing. The bright moon was faintly obscured by mists, blurring the shapes of the riders. They rode on, gathering more animals as they went.

Arriving at the dooryard of a little homestead, they barred the door from the outside, then opened the pen and let out several sheep, leaving most of the flock behind. An old cow that lowed nervously in the yard was passed over, as were the goats. Duncan nodded as the group herded past him, then turned his horse to head still deeper into MacDonald territory.

Two riders entered the yard of another homestead to coax several more sheep out of a pen, herding them off to join the others, who waited beyond a hill. The sleeping inhabitants were undisturbed by the silent reivers.

In another small glen, they took a good portion of cattle from a large herd. Duncan glanced up at the sky, frowning at the increasing mist. He waved the riders toward home at last.

By the time they approached the marches of Fraser land, fog hung over the ground in soft, thick veils. Before dawn, they reached a wide but shallow stream, which had been simple enough to cross earlier. Now they found themselves challenged to keep the cattle and sheep moving steadily through the water.

Duncan tried in vain to deal with a particularly stubborn pair of sheep, who could not seem to follow the rest straight through the flowing water to the other side. Finally he leaped down from his saddle and scooped his arms around the fat ewe to drag her back upstream toward the flock.

Chuckling, Elspeth jumped down to help him. Wading through the cold water, she grabbed the other, a hefty lamb, by the scruff of the neck, and pulled him forcibly back to the opposite bank. Grinning at her, Duncan leaped up onto the bank and reached out a hand to pull her up beside him.

"We are on Fraser land now," he told her in a low voice, "but the need for speed and silence is no less important." She nodded, and stepped aside to catch the reins of her horse, which one of her cousins had led to the bank.

"Come ahead to the loch," Duncan called softly. Elspeth mounted up and followed, as did her cousins, shepherding the flock and the lowing herd between them.

During the planning of the raid, Duncan had advised that the animals be herded into a secure hiding place for a few days. "If the MacDonalds come looking for their animals," he had told them, "no Fraser within miles will have an extra sheep or steer."