An Unnamed Village in Scotland—1651

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He couldn’t make the rest of the journey home alone. His horse knew the path well, but not well enough to lead him home unguided, and he couldn’t see well enough to distinguish the paths in front of him. He would stop for the night and spend some time in the local alehouse. In any village, there were people looking for work. Anyone willing to guide him for the rest of the journey would be well paid.

The tavern was boisterous and filled to capacity with both locals and travelers. It took some time for him to get the barkeep’s attention once he made his way to the counter.

“Excuse me, sir. Might I ask ye a question?”

Even with bleary eyes, Raudrich could see how weathered the man was. A ragged scar sliced down one side of his face, and the man kept his hair long and disheveled. He was one of the broadest men he’d ever seen.

“Are ye a paying customer? If ye have no intention of drinking or eating here, I’ll not be answering anything.”

Pulling the small bag from his kilt, he plopped three coins down in front of the man.

“I’ll be doing both.”

Quickly sliding the coins toward him, the barkeep twisted and hollered to someone in the back room to bring him some food.

“Then I’m pleased to make yer acquaintance. Name’s Pinkie. What can I do for ye?”

Raudrich had never heard such a strange name before. He couldn’t help but ask.

“Is that yer real name?”

“O’course it isna my real name, but ’tis the name I gave ye.”

Raudrich liked the man already. He was as rough around the edges as many of the other eight.

“Verra well.” He extended his hand. “I’m Raudrich, and I’m in need of a hired hand to lead me home. Do ye know of anyone in the village who is trustworthy, knows the country well, and is in need of work?”

“Ye need a guide to take ye home? Are ye lost? Do ye not know the way yerself?”

Pinkie’s questions were valid. He only wished he didn’t have to answer them. He was weakened in his current state. It wasn’t something that he believed he would ever grow accustomed to.

“I’m not lost. I know the way verra well. ’Tis only that my eyes are failing me. They grow worse each day. I canna see the path to lead my horse.”

The brief silence before the man’s response was filled with the one thing he loathed most in the world—pity. It was what he dreaded most about losing his sight—knowing that others would pity him.

“I see. And where is yer home?”

“The Isle of Eight Lairds.”

The man’s reaction was exactly as expected.

“’Tis a far journey. Ye shall have to pay someone much for them to agree to be away from their own home so long.”

“Aye, I know. I would prefer to hire someone without family. If it is someone without work, they can set their own wage. If ye have someone in mind who already has work, I will double whatever they make now for as long as the journey takes.”

The man who must’ve been in the back taking Pinkie’s orders suddenly slipped in next to him and placed a steaming plate of food down on the counter. He looked up to thank him.

“Thank ye, sir. It smells delicious.”

Pinkie leaned in close and whispered in his ear as he bent down to eat.

“Ye best eat quickly. Old man Stuart will have ye thrown out on yer arse just as quick as ye can say gypsie the moment I tell him that ye’ve just hired me away from him. I’ll meet ye outside just as soon as I tell him the news.”

Raudrich turned to look at the man and spoke below his breath as he watched Stuart return to the kitchen out of the corner of his eye.

“Pinkie, I dinna mean ye. I was asking if ye knew of someone who would be good for the job.”

His new friend laughed and clasped him on the shoulders.

“Too bad. ’Tis me that ye’ve got. Ye just said ye would be doubling my wages, and I’ll get to leave this hellhole for the foreseeable future. I’d sooner pull out my one good tooth before I let ye hire someone else.”

“Verra well. Eating quickly shouldna be a problem. I’m starving. I’ll see ye outside shortly.”

At least he knew the remainder of his journey home wouldn’t be a dull one.