Page 34 of Tair

“’Tis been a hundred years since the building of the new kitchens,” Garia said, and then clapped a hand over her mouth. She curtseyed deeply and stayed down. “Please dinnae tell the laird I told you thus.”

The laird, Lucy thought, who had wanted the same cook to serve his men hot meals, and built the new kitchens. Or was the maid talking about some laird long before Tair? She considered asking Garia more questions, but then she saw the tears streaming down the maid’s cheeks.

“Don’t cry.” She helped her to her feet. “I won’t say anything. We girls have to stick together.”

“You’re so kind, my lady.” The maid took out a pretty lace-edged handkerchief and mopped her face. “Forgive me, but I’m sworn to serve the MacRune. If you speak with Seneschal–”

“Let’s not bother Seneschal,” she said, and glanced at the faint cloud of dust escaping the open door of the spence. “Do you know where we can find some fleece, a sharp knife, and some not too thick pieces of wood?”

Although she was utterly mystified, Garia took her first to the woodpile, where Lucy selected two sturdy branches. She then guided her through the back of the stronghold to a large room filled with looms.

“The weavers come after summer with the shearers,” the maid told her as she went to open a trunk. She held up a large mound of cream-colored curls of wool. “’Tis what you desired, my lady?”

“Perfect. Now I just need a knife–” She stopped and chuckled as Garia produced a small dagger and offered it to her. “Thank you. Twine will finish the job.”

Once the maid brought her a roll of hemp cord Lucy fashioned a makeshift duster by splitting the end of the branches, clamping half of the fleece inside and securing it with a few loops of the twine. She then made a second, which she handed to Garia.

“We first dust with these and then search what’s in the spence,” Lucy said.

The maid caught on quickly, and once they returned to the dusty out building went straight to work. Each time their fleeces became overloaded with dust Garia took them outside to shake them, giving Lucy time to sort through all the crockery, sacks and boxes that had been left behind in the old pantry.

That also gave her an idea.

“It’s a shame all this food was left to rot,” Lucy said to the maid as she peeked inside a pouch of desiccated plums. “Why didn’t Tair have it carried over to that larder by the new kitchen?”

“My grandmam said he wished—och, my lady.” Garia gave her a reproachful look as she rushed to correct herself. “She said the laird in her time–”

“Please stop lying. You’re not very good at it, and I already know Tair and the clan aren’t like us.” With a dark Fae killer for a father, how could they be? “What I don’t understand is why you want me to believe this ridiculous farce you’ve been putting on since I got here.” As Garia started to reply she held up her hand. “It’s not your place to spill the beans, got it.”

“Please dinnae tell Seneschal, my lady,” the maid begged. “He shall set me to gather ragwort weed for the dyers, and I’ll boak all the day from the stink.”

“Someone needs to kick Seneschal where it hurts most,” Lucy said, her exasperation battling with her temper now—and losing fast. She took the other makeshift duster from the maid. “Don’t worry, I won’t mention your name when I do it.”

Going outside to shake out the soiled fleeces, Lucy noticed Lochran standing in the walkway above the lists, where he seemed to be listening to some of the men who were sparring. Then she saw Dorchad take a step forward, revealing his presence, and wondered what they were discussing.

Did she want to get caught eavesdropping? Lucy wondered as she casually drifted over toward the lists, taking care to keep out of sight of the gallery.

“–doesnae send her hunters for fear they will find and keep the cluet,” Dorchad was saying. “Then they may wish her to oblivion, and seize rule over this realm and the otherworlds.”

“Yet you reckon she trusts the MacRune, when we’re just as capable of using the facking thing?” Lochran’s mouth curled on one side. “The queen can destroy our realm whenever she pleases. That threat, ’tis why she tasked us with finding the treasure. For she must ken our secret.”

Just as capable. Lucy’s mind started to race. Like the queen’s guards. Like the queen. But what was their secret, and what did it have to do with saving the realm?

The two men retreated into the stronghold, so she went back to the old spence, where Garia was sitting on the steps.

“I found naught, my lady,” the maid said as she rose to her feet.

“It’s okay, we’ll try somewhere else tomorrow,” Lucy told her, and held out the dusters. “Would you take these to the laundry and rinse out the fleece? If we hang them to dry we can use them tomorrow.”

“Shall I show you the laundry, my lady?” Garia said.

Lucy shook her head. “Another time. I need to go talk to your boss.”

In spring the myriad household tasks at Gealladh required all the vassals to work from when they rose to the late hour when they stumbled off to bed. As the one in charge of assigning their labors, Sgathan also did his part to help. When the maids changed the ticking fills and beat the dirt from the tapestries and drapery, and the sculleries attended to sweeping out hearths and chimneys, he inspected their stores. Making note of what they would run short on before the first growing season would aid him the next time he went to purchase food from the surrounding farms and village markets. Fortunately for the clan Ronan and his staff knew well how to preserve everything to last throughout the winter, so they yet had plenty of dried veg, smoked meats and sacked flours.

The sorry state of the stronghold, however, could not be remedied until Lucy Brooke left the island.

Making the list of tasks kept Sgathan from brooding over the vexing situation with the outsider, and his own approaching dilemma. As he finished and turned to walk out of the granary he found the laird’s woman standing at the threshold. She looked at him as she ever did, with open suspicion, which annoyed him. Why did this wench resist him when no other could? He’d never had so much trouble charming a female.