Page 68 of Treachery in the Highlands
Kieran draws himself up to his full height, towering over the older man."Uncle Hamish, it's been many years."
Hamish's attention flickers between Kieran, Rachel, and me."Aye, it has indeed been a long time.And who might this lad and lass be?"
"This is my daughter, Rachel," Kieran says, placing a hand on her shoulder."And this is Joey, a friend of our family from across the sea."
I try to smile, but it feels more like a grimace.Hamish's piercing gaze makes me want to shrink into my boots.His focus lingers on me for a moment longer before he swerves his attention back to Kieran."A friend from across the sea, ye say?Would that be France?Or mayhap fairy land?"
The skepticism in his voice is clear, and I can feel the tension ratcheting up another notch.Kieran's jaw clenches, but before he can respond, Rachel steps forward.
"Uncle Hamish," she says, her voice warm but firm."We've come in peace and friendship.Is that not what these gatherings are for?To strengthen bonds between clans and families?"
Hamish's expression relaxes as he looks at Rachel."Ye have yer father's stubbornness, I'd wager.It's a family trait."He gestures toward the center of the MacTaggart camp."Come then.Ye might as well join us for a drink."
I follow Kieran, Rachel, and Hamish into the heart of the MacTaggart camp, trying not to gawk at the sea of men and woman who surround us.The scent of peat smoke and roasting meat wafts around us, making my stomach growl audibly.Rachel gives me an amused glance.
As we approach a large central tent, a hush falls over the gathered MacTaggarts.Whispers ripple through the crowd, aimed at Kieran, but also me.I've never liked being the center of attention---that's how a thief operates---but the scrutiny I'm getting from these folks is unnerving.
I do my best to keep my expression neutral, channeling Kieran's stoic demeanor.Inside the tent, a group of older men and women are seated around a long table.They all fall silent as we enter, their eyes widening at the sight of Kieran.The tension in the tent is palpable as we walk inside.I can feel the weight of their stares and a mix of curiosity and suspicion about the mysterious MacTaggarts of Dùndubhan.Kieran stands tall, scanning the faces of his clansmen.
An elderly woman with silver hair and pale blue eyes rises from her seat at the head of the table.Her gaze locks onto Kieran.For a moment, I swear I can see a flicker of something---recognition or possibly affection---cross her weathered features.
"Kieran," she says, her voice strong despite her age."Ye've finally come home."
He briefly bows his head in deference."Morag, it's been too long.I was sorry to hear of Roddy's passing."
"My husband lived a long and fruitful life."Her eyes drift to Rachel and me."And who might these young ones be?"
Rachel steps forward, her chin held high."I'm Rachel MacTaggart, Kieran's daughter, and this is Joey Finnegan."
I wave awkwardly, feeling completely out of place among these imposing Highlanders.Morag sweeps her gaze over me, and I have the distinct impression she can see right through our flimsy cover story.
"A friend, ye say?"Morag arches an eyebrow."From whence do ye hail, laddie?"
"From across the sea.I'm a trader who's traveled far and wide."
Morag squints at me."Is that so?And what brings ye to our gathering?'Tis for clan members only."
Before I can fumble through a response, Kieran intervenes."Joey has skills that will be valuable in the games.He's quick-witted and observant, with a knack for strategy, and he's quite strong."
Morag studies me for a moment longer before she nods sharply."Very well.We shall see how he fares in the trials ahead."She turns her attention back to Kieran."Ye've been away for many years.There's much to discuss."
"Aye, there is."
Whispers ripple through the gathered MacTaggarts.I catch snippets of hushed conversations, but I can't decipher any of the words because they're all speaking Gaelic.
Morag raises a hand, silencing the crowd."Ye speak of friendship, Kieran, but ye've brought a stranger into our midst.How can we trust your intentions?"
Kieran's jaw tightens, but he keeps his voice level."I understand your caution, Morag.But I assure you, Joey poses no threat.He's here to learn our ways and participate in the games, nothing more."
Another MacTaggart pushes through the crowd to glare at Kieran."Your new mate is no Scot.He must be a Sassenach, but his accent doesnae sound English."
Kieran's nostrils flare, and his eyes narrow to slits."I vouch for Joey, and that should be enough for my own clansmen."
If this gathering were in modern times, it might turn into a cage match that leaves both men bloodied and bruised.No cages here in Scotland, though.They have fists, swords, and maces instead.
Someone might die today.And it will probably be me.
Chapter Twenty-Six
