Page 54 of Highland Slayer
Somewhere, an owl hooted in the darkness.
Then it was silent again.
But the entire day hadn’t been filled with the same apprehension they were feeling now. In fact, the day had passed uneventfully as the warriors wandered every inch of St. Margaret’s. It was the first time they were able to see how big the place was. As Estevan had noticed the first time they arrived, Whiteside Castle had become something strange because of all the odd construction that had gone on to create the walkways and corridors and even some outdoor space that used to be part of the original bailey. That section was in the southwest corner of the ward and someone had tried to turn it into an outdoor cathedral because there were stones in circles that, once, were meant to be seats. Beyond that were derelict outbuildings, half collapsed and forgotten.
Curious about the stone circle, Estevan had asked an old nun who had been following them around. He didn’t know her name when he asked about the stones, but once they’d hadabout an hour-long conversation, she told him that her name was Sister Hildegarde and she did not approve of the men inside the compound. Estevan had promised to behave himself if she promised to reevaluate her disapproval. That comment had brought a smile from her, though she tried very hard not to show it. She’d called him cheeky and a few other names and then stomped off.
But Estevan was pretty sure she hadn’t meant it.
As he wandered the complex, making note of anything that he considered a weakness, he had only seen Anaxandra a couple of times. She had her duties and he respected that, but he had wished more than once that she would come and talk to him again. It was true that he had more questions about the complex, but it was also true that he just wanted to talk to her. He found that he liked talking to her. But she had work to do and he let her do it.
Still, he found himself hoping for a glimpse of her.
By the time evening rolled around, Estevan and Titan and Rodion had a pretty good idea of what St. Margaret’s strengths and weaknesses were. Because it had been a castle before, it was already built for protection, so there really weren’t any great failings as far as that went. The women of St. Margaret’s had kept it up very well, walls included, so all things considered, they were in a good position. The only thing that Estevan didn’t like was the fact that the wall walk didn’t have a parapet.
The wall walk, for almost all castles, was usually guarded by a short stone wall to protect the defenders from flying projectiles. He had asked Sister Hildegarde if St. Margaret’s had ever been attacked, and she had told him that it had never been, at least not in her lifetime. Perhaps their peaceful existence had given them a false sense of security and no parapet had ever been built. In any case, if they did get into a skirmish, they were going to have to be very careful about using the wall walk for defense.One wrong move and someone was going to get pierced by a bolt or they were going to slip and fall over the side. It was a good twenty feet to the ground below. That was a long fall, time enough for a man—or woman—to think about their coming death.
Tonight, the three men found themselves on that wall walk, looking into the fog, wondering if the Ormsfolk were out there. They heard more than one owl now, as the birds were territorial and their calls warned each other not to come into their domain. There seemed to be at least three, perhaps more. It only added to the uneasy mood that had settled.
Mists were always full of ghosts.
“I had a pet owl as a child,” Rodion said quietly.
Estevan and Titan looked at him. “How did ye come by it?” Estevan asked.
Rodion smiled weakly. “My father found it in the forest, wounded,” he said. “He brought it home to eat it, but I begged him to have it for a pet, so he did. That owl was about as tall as I was at the time, with great, taloned feet. It was rather terrifying for a four-year-old child, but I made a home for it and nursed it back to health with the help of my nurse. When the bird became well, he followed me everywhere. He never left my side.”
“What happened to him?” Titan asked.
Rodion sighed. “One morning, I awoke and he was gone,” he said. “Oh, I was so very heartbroken. As heartbroken as a child can be. But I saw him later and he’d found a mate. I suppose a lady owl was more attractive than I was. But sometimes I would find little dead mice or birds on my windowsill. I knew they were a gift from him. I even wrote a poem about it called ‘My Owl Friend.’”
Estevan smiled. “Ah,” he said. “I’d expect nothing less from the poet. Do ye remember the poem?”
Rodion had to think a moment. “I wrote it so long ago, I do not remember much of it, but it went something like this—
In moonlight’s embrace,
An owl whispers secrets,
And a boy listens close.
Underneath a starlit sky,
Their friendship takes root,
And a love only they two share.
A boy.
His owl friend.
And a sky full of dreams.”
It was a sweet little poem. Estevan and Titan returned their attention to the mist, hearing the owls in the distance. “Mayhap that’s him,” Estevan said. “He’s looking for ye, Rody.”
Rodion laughed softly. “I’m sure he’s long dead by now.”
“Who is dead?”
