concentrate on more important matters again. In the meantime, at least this way
we can keep an eye on each other. Ah, it appears Jamie is finally ready to
start.'
A sudden silence fell across the library as everyone turned to watch Jamie take
his place behind the desk. He looked down at the folded and sealed will, reached
out as though to touch it, and then drew back his hand. He looked out at his
attentive audience and smiled briefly.
'I'm sorry to have kept you waiting so long. Holly, Katrina, and Robbie… please
sit in these chairs at the front. Then we can start.'
The three he'd named moved uncertainly forward, glancing at each other as Jamie
courteously but firmly settled them into three specific chairs immediately
before the desk. He selected another at the front for himself, and then
indicated that everyone else was allowed to sit where they wanted. Hawk chose an
end seat near the door, only just beating Fisher to it. She sat next to him,
apparently relaxed and at ease, but her hand kept drifting back to where she
normally wore her sword. Hawk didn't blame her. Will readings were notorious for
bringing out the worst in people even under ordinary circumstances. With the
freak manipulating their thoughts and feelings, anything could happen.
Jamie moved back to stand stiffly behind the desk, waiting patiently until
everyone was settled and quiet. Then he leaned forward and broke the wax seal on
the will, and spoke a Word of Unbinding. A subtle, barely felt tension in the
room suddenly broke and was gone, replaced by the sense of an almost tangible
presence hovering by the desk. Jamie moved quickly out of the way and took his
place on the other side of the desk, in the chair he'd set aside for himself.
He'd barely taken his seat when the air behind the desk suddenly rippled and
flowed, and a large stern figure was sitting where Jamie had stood. Hawk didn't
need to be told that this was Duncan MacNeil.
Duncan was a broad, imposing man with a barrel chest, harsh but not unpleasant
features, and close-cropped red hair and beard. He was in his late fifties and
looked as though he'd spent most of his life in the wilds on one campaign or
another. He wore the latest fashion with an uncomfortable air, as though he
would rather have been wearing the trail clothes and chain mail of a soldier on
the road. His gaze was direct and uncompromising, and Hawk could tell Duncan
would have been a hard man to cross.
The late MacNeil looked out over the assembled group and smiled slightly.
'If you're listening to me now, then I've been dead for some time. I'm not
really here. This is just an illusion, a moment in time recorded by magic, so I
can tell you my wishes after I'm gone.' He paused, stirred uncomfortably, and
glanced at the chair where Jamie was sitting. 'You know, this was hard enough
the first time, when I made out my will for your brother William. I thought it
would be easier this time, but it isn't. Poor Billy. He wanted so much to follow
in my footsteps, but he was never cut out to be a soldier.
'Well, Jamie, you're the MacNeil now. I want you to know that whatever happens,
I was always proud of you. I should have told you that before, but somehow I
never got round to it. We always think we've got all the time in the world for
all the things we want to do and should do, but time has a nasty habit of
running out on you just when you need it most. I should have made out this will
before. Don't know why I didn't. Perhaps Billy's death made me too aware of my
own mortality… I don't know. Fact is, there are a lot of other things I've been
putting off, but I'll take care of them when I get back from the border. Sorry,
I'm wandering. Let's get on with it.'
He looked down and read from the will in his hands.
'Be it known; I leave my entire estate to my son Jamie, with the exception of
certain bequests I shall describe shortly. He shall be the MacNeil in my place,
and speak for the Family in all things. Look after your sister, Jamie. See she
wants for nothing and marries well. She's your responsibility now.'
The dead man looked at the chair where Holly was sitting. 'To my daughter Holly,
I leave her mother's jewels. She always meant for you to have them. I wish I
could have spent more time with you, my dear. You grew up to be a very beautiful
young lady, a lot like your mother. Look after your brother. See that he has
good advice when he needs it, and when you've got him alone nag him unmercifully
till he marries. The Tower always seems a happier place with a pack of kids
running loose in it.'
'Is that it?' said David angrily. 'Jamie gets the estate, and all you get is
some old jewelry?'
'Hush, David,' said Holly. 'Not now.'
David slumped back in his chair and folded his arms angrily, while Duncan
MacNeil looked at Katrina and smiled wryly.
'To you, sister dear, I leave ten thousand ducats. That's all. Enough to give
you some independence till your divorce comes through, but not enough that you
can afford to put it off too long. Knowing you, you'll drag the process out as
long as you can just to get back at Graham, and I won't have that. I always
liked Graham. More than I liked you, if truth be told, and it might as well be,
now I'm dead. We never warmed to each other, did we, Kat? Too late now. I don't
know whether to feel sad about that, or relieved. Divorce Graham, and make a new
start with someone else. Assuming you can find someone else who'll put up with
you.'
He turned to Robbie Brennan, and his smile softened. 'Robbie, old friend, you
get twenty thousand ducats. It's my hope you'll stay at the Tower and be as good
a friend to Jamie as you were to me, but if you feel you have to leave, the
money should help you on your way. We had some good times together, you and I.
I'd have left you a damn sight more than twenty thousand, but knowing you, you
wouldn't have taken it. Money always did make you nervous. The Gods know I've
tried to give you wealth and position time and again over the years, and you've
run a mile from all of them. But I wish you'd take my sword, at least. You know
you always admired it, and it's no use to me now. Whatever you do, Robbie, be
happy.'
'They never did find his sword,' said Robbie softly. 'It was lost, somewhere on
the battlefield.'
Duncan looked out over the chairs before him, and Hawk felt a chill run through
him as the sightless eyes passed over him. Duncan cleared his throat, and looked
back at the will before him. 'To my butler Greaves, who has always served me
faithfully, five thousand ducats. And to every member of the Family who has come
to the Tower to pay homage to the new MacNeil, five thousand ducats.
'That's it. I've said my piece. May the Gods preserve and protect you from all
harm.'
The air shimmered and he was gone; the last sight of Duncan MacNeil of Tower
MacNeil. There was a long silence. Hawk glanced at Greaves, to see how he'd
taken being lumped in with the visiting relatives rather than being singled out
