Page 1 of Honour Bound
Chapter One
Old habits die hard. It wasn’t entirely my fault though; if the Sidhe from the Clan Carnegie hadn’t been quite so brash about flashing his wealth on the street I’d have left him alone. But when he stepped out of his chauffeur-driven, brick-red SUV, summarily pushing an elder Clan-less pixie out of the way and into a dirty puddle, then made an ostentatious show of adjusting his cuffs so we could all see his gleaming over-priced Rolex, I couldn’t resist. I’d only popped out for a pint of milk but this seemed far more exciting than another conversation with the human who ran the small corner shop at the end of my road.
In the Highlands of Scotland, you were either Clan or Clan-less. The Clans were run by the Sidhe but other individuals could swear fealty and enlist. In return they received a modest wage, a degree of protection from all the ills the world had to offer, and long hours working at whatever the Clan deemed necessary. Not everyone wanted to become a Sidhe slave though. Avoid the Clans and you were left to scrub out an earning on the cold, hard streets. Neither option was perfect. I might have been the only Clan-less Sidhe in the entire country but until recently I’d always been proud to call myself Clan-less. We might be the bottom of the rung but at least we were free.
I tracked the pompous Carnegie Sidhe along Oban’s main street and down towards the harbour. He strutted along like he owned the place. It didn’t help his cause that he had a skinny Bauchan, a sort of Scottish hobgoblin,trailing after him with an umbrella to protect his precious Sidhe skin from the unrelenting sleet. He paused in front of a rusty boat, jerking his head imperiously at the pale-faced sailors visible on the deck. Whatever cargo he was here to inspect, it had to be valuable for him to bother making this trip.
It might have been January but spring was still a long way off. Still, even wealthy Sidhe like him couldn’t order deliveries from across the Veil. For the last three hundred years, the Fomori demonshad ruled the Scottish Lowlands from the other side of the magical barrier called the Veil. Unless you wanted to risk being torn apart limb by limb by a horde of murderous evil-doers, you couldn’t go through the Veiland you couldn’t fly over it. If you wanted something delivered from the rest of the world, you had to bring it by sea or get a plane to go the long way round.
The sailors hastily threw down the gangplank. I suspected that it wouldn’t matter how quickly they opened up access for him, he would still have that lemon-sucking expression on his face. The high-born Sidhe nobles had been in their positions for too long to expect anything other than the smoothest and most immediate service. Maybe his attitude wasn’t his fault; after all, he had been conditioned through generations to act that way.
He marched up, his foot catching on a patch of ice. I had to bite my tongue to stop from laughing aloud as his arms flailed dramatically and he tried to stop himself from pitching over into the dark, freezing waters below. The Bauchan, who’d remained behind on the dock, lunged upwards while the sailors darted down. The Sidhe was caught just in time, several pairs of arms steadying his body before helping him up the rest of the way. Shame.
I cast around. There was a Clan Haig tugboat nearby, its familiar blue tartan flying from the mast. I stepped back and eyed it. The distance to the Carnegie ship wasn’t so great; I could bypass the waiting Bauchan by leaping from one deck to the other. The Carnegie sailors would be so distracted by the noble’s visit that they probably wouldn’t even notice me. I grinned to myself.
‘Did you hear about what happened when the blue ship and the red ship collided?’ I said to the wind. ‘Both crews were marooned.’
As if in response, a stronger gust whirled round me, catching my white hair and blowing it round my head. It was usually a colour that made me stand out in a crowd but in greyer-than-grey weather like this, it was almost perfect camouflage.
Shoving my hands in my pockets and whistling, I wandered over to the Haig tugboat. It appeared deserted. With a quick look over my shoulder, I jumped up, caught hold of one of the ropes that tethered it to the dock and hoisted myself up. Keeping low, I crept along the smooth deck until I reached the starboard side. My brow furrowed. Somehow, from this angle, the distance to the Carnegie vessel looked greater.
The sailors, most of whom appeared to be mermen, were making a great show of looking busy. Keep at it, boys. I waited until most of their backs were turned then, inhaling deeply, threw myself forward, legs and arms akimbo. My fingers only just caught the edge of a porthole and my body slammed into the side of the ship a moment later. There was a heavy clunk which had my insides stiffening in alarm. I hung there for several seconds, trying to keep my grip secure. I hadn’t expected the porthole to be so slimy, which in hindsight was remarkably stupid of me, and it wasn’t easy to cling on. Eventually a few shouts carried over by the helpful wind reached my ears. The sailors’ attention was focused on the other side of the ship. I didn’t need to worry.
The ship’s hull might have been slippery but it was also obviously used to far deeper waters than these. There were enough barnacles which, if I didn’t allow my toes to linger on them for too long, could provide the grip I required. I craned my neck to judge my route then, knowing I wouldn’t be able to hang onto the rim of the porthole for much longer, leapt up. The second I hit the deck I rolled, using the steel containers crammed along the side to conceal myself from alert eyes. The ship heaved in the water. It was no wonder I usually chose to stick to dry land; even within the safety of the harbour, the waves were enough to make my stomach rise into my throat.
I pressed myself against the container’s side, not just to keep myself from being spotted but also because it was reassuringly solid. Edging along, I peered round the corner. There was an open door leading into the blackness of the ship’s hold.
I was in unknown territory. Under normal circumstances I sneaked into buildings, and modern architectural design, especially when it came to interiors, tended to be much of a muchness. Even without floor plans, it didn’t take much common sense to understand layouts and locations. But, beyond the fact that icebergs were to be avoided at all costs, I knew next to nothing about ships.Perhaps if I just wandered in yelling ‘Ahoy me hearties!’I’d be alright.
Before I could dart inside, the Sidhe noble reappeared. He had a long thin nose, which spoke of some ancient Roman heritage, and piercing eyes. I didn’t recognise him so he wasn’t the Carnegie Clan Chieftain, despite his regal bearing.
‘It all needs to go to the Cruaich immediately,’ he said in a cultured tone, referring to the seat of Sidhe power where duplicitous Aifric Moncrieffe ruled as Steward.
One of the mermen cleared his throat. ‘There’s been a heavy snowfall…’
‘I don’t care,’ the Sidhe snapped. ‘We can’t afford prying eyes seeing what we have.’
A tiny smile played around my mouth. So this was all supposed to be a great big secret? Even better. If his precious cargo was too large for me to spirit away, I could simply take a few photos and post them around for all to see. His big secret, whatever it was, would be exposed to the world and I’d win either way. Since I’d turned my back on the world of thievery, I had to get my kicks where I could.
The merman bowed, although it didn’t take a genius to notice that he was more than slightly piqued by the command. All mermen, my friend and erstwhile colleague Brochan included, had a line of small fins running down the length of their spines. Usually this was covered by specially designed clothing which reached up to the nape. This sailor was wearing a low, crew-cut T-shirt so his first few fins were on display and, even from my hiding place, I saw them bristle and tighten. But it didn’t matter how irked he was, he wasn’t about to deny the Carnegie lordling. That meant the Sidhe probably possessed one of the more volatile magic Gifts – and wasn’t afraid to use it against less magically inclined beings. One of the reasons that the Sidhe held the powerful position that they did was as a result of their Gifts – anything from pyrokinesis to telepathy. Most Sidhe only had one; a lucky few could boast of two or even three. My situation was a lot more complicated. I still wasn’t sure what I had – or whether I even wanted it.
I waited until the Sidhe started to leave. He was more careful this time and took his time stepping onto the gangplank. While the sailors watched him, no doubt keeping their fingers crossed that he would slip and fall, I took advantage of their distraction to fly out from behind the container and duck into the doorway.
This was no pretty wooden boat like the Clan Haig tugboat. It was a working ship, not a pleasure boat, and I was surrounded by steel plates and rusting rivets. That meant I’d have to be careful to keep quiet. Metal conducted sound almost as well as it conducted heat.
Oddly, the strong tang of salt from the sea seemed stronger inside the hold than outside. I tiptoed gingerly down the corridor, ignoring the girly pin-ups from old magazines which had been fixed haphazardly to the walls. Half-naked merwomen just didn’t do it for me.
I sneaked past several rooms, ranging from a galley kitchen to an officers’ mess. I might not know much about ships but I was betting that the cargo the Carnegie Sidhe was so concerned about would be kept down in the bowels of the ship.
The further in I went, the more the vessel seemed to be alive. It creaked and groaned like an old man getting out of bed. I skirted to my right, avoiding the murmur of voices from the other direction, and let out a sigh of relief when I spotted some narrow stairs leading downwards. Bracing my hands on either side of the walls, I crept down, aware of every sound around me – not least the tiny, yet very audible, clank of my footsteps.
The area below was well lit with fluorescent lights hanging from the steel ceiling which gave off a harsh glow. It was also surprisingly tidy. I glanced at the first huge pallet; I couldn’t tell exactly what was inside but it looked like sections of black, smoky plate glass. Certainly it contained nothing worth stealing – or nothing worth a Sidhe getting their knickers in a twist about. I shrugged and kept going, passing crate after crate filled with similar material. It was only when I heard the rattle from ahead that I paused. That was … interesting.
More wary now, I pushed on. The rattle sounded again. I rounded another pallet, spotted a large cage and halted immediately. Was there an animal inside? Or something worse?
I strained my eyes to make out what was in there. The cage seemed empty but it was in a prominent position, with a clear space around it. That signified its importance; this was more than just an empty cage ? and it was also worryingly large.
Just as I was about to take another step, there was a cough behind me. ‘I wouldn’t do that if I were you,’ said a dry voice.
