Ian spit out the stone into his hand. “I didn’t want to know that, Tearlag. Can ye not tell me something interesting… like how many battles I’ll fight in… or if I’ll die at sea?”
“I can’t command the sight, lad. If it chooses to speak of love and women, then so be it.” She looked to the others. “What of the rest of ye?”
The other three made faces as if she had given them one of her bitter-tasting remedies.
She cackled and slapped the table. “No so brave now, are ye, lads?”
“It is no fair for ye to hear about my two wives,” Ian said to the others, “unless I hear about yours.”
Alex gave the other two lads a lopsided grin and exchanged places with Ian.
“I don’t need the sight to know ye were born to give trouble to the lasses.” She shook her head. The boys would all be handsome men, but this one had the devil in his eye. “Shame, but there is nothin’ to be done about it.”
Alex grinned. “Sounds verra good to me.”
“Ach.” She popped a second stone from the dish on the table into Alex’s mouth and put her hand on his head. ’Twas good luck she had gathered pretty stones from the shore that morning.
“Tsk, tsk, this is no good at all. One day, ye’ll come across a woman so beautiful as to hurt your eyes, sittin’ on a rock in the sea.” She opened her eyes and thumped Alex on the chest. “Watch out for her, for she might be a selkie taking on her human form to lure ye to your death.”
“I’d rather have a selkie than two wives,” Ian grumbled from across the table.
For a MacDonald of Sleat to put away one wife to take another was common as grass. It seemed the way of it for them to break the hearts of the women who loved them.
Tearlag closed her eyes again—and laughed so hard it made her cough. Ach, this was a surprise, for certain.
“Alex, I see ye courtin’ an ugly, pockmarked lass,” she said, wiping her eyes on her shawl. “I fear she is quite stout as well. And I don’t mean pleasing plump, mind ye.”
The other boys doubled over laughing until they were red-faced.
“I think ye are having fun with me,” Alex said, looking sideways at her. “Since I’ve no intention of marrying, I am sure that if I do, the lass would have to be verra, verra pretty.”
“I see what I see.” She gave Alex a push and motioned to Duncan. He was a big, red-haired lad whose mother had served as Connor’s nursemaid.
“This one has the blood of both the MacKinnon Sea Witch and the Celtic warrior queen, Scathach, so mind ye keep him on your side,” she said, wagging her finger at the other three. To Duncan, she said, “That’s where ye get your fierceness—and your temper.”
Duncan stood still, his expression serious, as she put a stone in his mouth and rested her hand on his head.
Almost at once, a powerful feeling of loss and longing stole over her and weighed down her spirit. She lifted her hand, being too old to bear it for long.
“Are ye sure ye want to hear, laddie?” she asked softly.
Duncan gave her a level look and nodded.
“I fear you’ve sad days before ye,” she said, squeezing his shoulder. “But I will tell ye this. Sometimes, a man can change his future.”
Duncan spit out the stone and gave her a polite “Thank ye.”
The chieftain’s son was last.
“What I want to know is the future of our clan,” Connor said around the stone in his mouth. “Will we be safe and prosper in the years to come?”
His father had come to ask her the same question not long ago. All she had been able to tell him was that one day he would have to send this son away to keep him safe.
When she put her hand on Connor’s head, she heard the moans of the dying and saw men of her clan lying in a field soaked in Scottish blood. Then she saw the four lads as strong, young men, on a ship, crossing the sea. She grew weary as the visions continued, one after the other.
“Tearlag, are ye well?” Connor asked.
When she opened her eyes, Alex handed her a cup of her own whiskey, saying, “A wee nip will do ye good.”
She narrowed her good eye at him as she drained the cup, wondering how he’d found it.
“I see many perils ahead for all of ye,” she said. “Ye must keep each other close, if ye are to have any hope of survivin’.”
The lads appeared unimpressed. As Highlanders, they knew without foretelling that their future held danger. And as lads, they found the notion more exciting than worrisome.
They were young, and a wise woman did not tell all she knew. After considering what might be of use for them to know, she said to Connor, “Ye want to know what ye must do to help the clan?”
“Aye, Tearlag, I do.”
“Then I will tell ye,” she said, “the clan’s future will rest on ye choosin’ the right wife.”
“Me? But it’s my brother who will be chieftain.”
