DEPARTURES AND JOURNEYS
Brodgar looked up from the table. “Father?”
“Mm?” his father, Lord Broderick, asked lightly from his place opposite. The sun shone through the windows of the solar at Dunkeld Castle, making Brodgar blink.
“Do you have the salt cellar on your side?” he asked, a frown on his handsome, square-jawed face.
“Oh...yes.” Broderick, the thane, passed it across the table with an absent smile. “Sorry, son. I was miles away.” He ran a hand down his long, lean face wearily.
“Thanks,” Brodgar said, reaching for the salt and taking a pinch from the silver dish in strong fingers, then passing it back. “You still plan to go hunting later?”
Broderick rolled his shoulders. “That depends. My dear?” he added, turning sideways.
“Yes?” Lady Amabel, Brodgar's mother, raised a pale eyebrow carefully. A tall woman with pale auburn hair and a lovely oval face, Amabel blinked at him inquiringly. “Sorry, dear. I was distracted. What did you say?”
“You think it will rain later?” Brodgar inquired. “I wonder if it would be safer to give those forest paths a miss.”
They were all seated at the table for an extended luncheon. Christmastide had passed, and the new year had brought a soft, melancholic air along with rainy weather. It was the sort of day when no one wanted to move out of the warmth of the solar and away from friendly company.
“I think you could make it before the rain,” Amabel said, frowning out of the long, arched windows.
“Well, then,” Broderick said comfortably. “That’s decided. Alf?” He turned to a tall, sandy-haired youth who sat beside him.
“Yes, Uncle?”
“You coming on the ride?”
“I'd like to,” Alf agreed, swallowing a mouthful of oat bannock. Brodgar nodded at Alf, who grinned back. Only distantly related by blood, Alf was considered a cousin and was one of Brodgar's closest friends. His best friend besides Conn, who was now residing in France with Leona, Brodgar's true cousin.
“I'd keep away from the hilly ground, myself,” Uncle Duncan, Leona's father, commented. He set aside his knife, which he'd been inspecting absently, and grinned at his brother, Broderick. “You don't want to go slipping down the path again.”
Broderick chuckled. “I'm never permitted to forget things.” He pulled a face.
Duncan laughed. “Well, brother, it was funny.”
“It wouldn't be funny if you broke your damn neck,” Blaine, Alf's father, commented, inclining the tankard he held in Broderick's direction.
“Blaine, dear,” Chrissie said, sounding shocked. “Don't say such things.” She was his wife, a small, delicate-faced woman with masses of curly blond hair. Alf took after her in having pointy, neat features, while Conn had the more solid, strong features of Blaine.
Blaine patted her hand. “I know I'm shocking. I do try.”
Aunt Alina, the only one at the table who hadn't said anything, smiled at that. “Well, you certainly succeed.”
They all laughed. Alina, tall and pale, with an oval face and a waterfall of black hair, was the family seer. It was not a gift that impeded her humor, and she was frequently the life of a gathering like this one. Her sharp wit made them all laugh. Today she seemed silent, brooding somehow. Brodgar resisted the urge to ask her what was on her mind.
If she's foreseen something, I'd best not know.
Alina was chillingly accurate in her predictions. Her foreknowledge of her daughter Leona's move to France had sustained everyone during her absence. Before that, his mother – Alina's sister – had told him, she had made predictions for all of them, and each of them had been true. My sister has the same gift.
Joanna, Brodgar's sister, was Lady of Lochlann now. She had visited for Christmastide, tranquility similar to Alina's settling about her like a cloak. Since she lived so far away, that meant Alina herself functioned as the castle's seer, though she and Joanna had sat for hours in earnest talk, low-voiced, together. Discussing the future, Brodgar had concluded. If there was something bad going to happen, they'd have seen then.
Joanna had mentioned no concerns and she and Alina had spent happy hours laughing together at the table, no hint of any tension or apprehension. Still. Brodgar glanced up as his mother reached across to Alina's hand, patting it gently. Alina nodded.
“You are worried?” Amabel asked. Alina shook her head.
“Mayhap it's nothing.” She reached for her shawl. “A chill, nothing more.”
“You want to leave?”
“No, no...” Alina waved a hand dismissively. “It will pass. It's...something.”
Amabel and Alina exchanged worried glances. Brodgar felt nervous, too. He wanted to ask her what troubled her.
Is it something in Father's future? In mine?
He shook his head. Whatever it was, it would come to pass soon enough. Whatever he did, if there was something unpleasant stored up in his future, he couldn't change it simply by knowing. All that would do was likely make it worse.
Best left alone. Brodgar decided that he'd rather not know.
“Son?”
“Mm?” Brodgar asked, looking up into his father's dark eyes.
“You will ride with Amice to Duncraigh next week? She had a mind to visit Lyonesse.”
“Oh.” Amice was Brodgar's younger sister, currently abed with a cold. Lyonesse Duncan was her friend and informally Brodgar's courting-partner. She was regally lovely, with dark hair and a French look, like Alina possessed. All the same, Brodgar found it difficult to relate to her as anything besides a close friend.
“Of course I shall, Father,” he nodded. “Is Amice well enough?”
“She will be in the next few days,” Brodgar said. “Or so Alina said. And besides, this cold is not too bad.” He sniffed. Brodgar chuckled.
“Well, it seems to have left you alone, finally.”
“It has. It has. Took three days to shake the tiresome thing, mind you, but I'm cured now.”
“Good.”
They sat quietly a while. Alina stood and left the table, but Amabel seemed unconcerned, so Brodgar relaxed.
“You visited Lyonesse last week?”
“I did,” Brodgar said, feeling uncomfortable with his father's question. He never probed into his business usually. If he was asking, he had reason.
“Oh. Amice didn't mention it.”
“I went alone.”
“Oh.”
They sat in uncomfortable silence for a moment. Brodgar swirled the tankard of ale, looking into its depths as if he hoped it would provide some information. His heart thumped. I know he wants me to wed soon.
At one and twenty, Brodgar was more than old enough to start his own family, extend the line. Moreover, he was, as the sole heir of Dunkeld castle and the title of Thane of Dunkeld, he was obliged to do it.
But will I ever find someone to suit me?
He sighed. His parents had, his aunts and uncles had. Joanna loved her taciturn and brooding man. He had more examples than he needed of what a truly happy marriage looked like. I just can't see me and Lyonesse having the same.
She was a good companion, a keen rider with many interests to share with Brodgar. She was also meticulous and particular, quiet and considerate. A perfect match in so many ways. Just somehow they did not “fit”.
Whist, man! Brodgar dismissed his own thoughts. Lyonesse is right for you – you'd be lucky to have her, for certes. Just accept your father's wishes: he'd know better.
All the same, Brodgar was not convinced. He sighed again and reached for another bannock. At that moment, Alina reappeared in the doorway. Her eyes were huge, her face otherwise completely still. Her back was straight and stiff and she had the air of someone who had crossed to another time and returned with a message.
“They're here,” she said.
The whole table stared at her. Amabel stood, going to help her to her seat. She looked exhausted, and Brodgar noticed she shivered, as she often did when she had a true vision, exhausting as they must be.
Nobody asked who was here, all too surprised. A minute later, their visitors entered the room.