“A tribute of silver for the silver sea,” continued Indulf, scattering a handful of silver coins which plinked into the water.
The tiny hairs on the back of Kaetha’s neck stood on end and she knew it wasn’t because of the cool breeze. There were Fuathans in the harbour. They were hidden in the water, yet her focus was drawn to particular spots and she knew there must be at least seven there. Could they have been attracted by the silver coins? Kaetha pictured a flash of black, staring eyes, remembering the Fuathan in the River Eachburn and how it could so easily have drowned her.
“Are you alright?” Mairi asked. “You’ve gone quite pale.” She lowered her voice. “Was there something wrong with the fish?”
“No. I’m fine.”
“Let us give thanks for her bounty,” continued Indulf, winding up fishing lines which were secured to the boat. Everyone cheered as he held up the mackerel, sea trout and salmon, even though everyone knew that the lines had been prepared earlier with their ‘catches’. People seemed to convince themselves that the three fish were a sign that the sea was promising them plentiful harvests through the rest of the year, even though one of the fish had unfortunately been half gnawed.
“In the months to come, may your nets bulge and your barns be filled, thanks to the riches of the sea and the kindness of the great summer sun.” He punched his fist into the air. “Leap the fires!” he bellowed.
‘Leap the fires! Leap the fires!’ echoed the intoxicated crowd with much excited jumping and cheers.
“What’s that?” Kaetha asked.
“You’re about to see,” said her father, grinning.
“I don’t like this part either,” said Mairi.
Rorie jogged back a few yards and then ran at the fire. Kaetha gasped but he jumped just in time, pulling up his legs, narrowly avoiding the flames. He received applause and slaps on the back, as did other young men who took their turns to leap over the beach fires.
She laughed. “But what if anyone gets burned?”
“Chuck ‘em in the sea!” said Nannie with a dry, crackly laugh. Kaetha hadn’t seen her approach.
“Don’t get too near the fire, Nannie,” said Mairi, taking her arm.
A grin spread across Kaetha’s face and she ran up to the flames, hitching up her skirts as she jumped.
“Kaetha, no!” shouted Mairi.
It was exhilarating, the rush of being so close to danger. Landing safely on the other side of the fire, she laughed again. The Morays looked impressed, clapping her achievement, but Aedan and Mairi stared at her, stony-faced.
“Why do such a foolish thing?” reprimanded Mairi.
“Sometimes you forget to think before you act, lass,” said Aedan. “That wasn’t a risk you should have taken.”
“It’s a risk boys younger than me are taking now before your eyes,” she said, gesturing around them.
“You could have been hurt,” said Mairi. “You could have ruined that gown your father bought for you.”
“With money from my business idea,” Kaetha muttered under her breath.
“Kaetha.” There was a warning note to Nannie’s voice even though a smile twitched at her lips.
Their conversation was interrupted by a large group of people walking down the beach and through the crowds, moving in slow unison like a flock of soaring birds. Men and women, all with long dark hair, bare arms tattooed blue with shapes and symbols, their faces and flowing woven garments lit by the blazing fires and low golden sun, they looked to Kaetha more like divine beings than real people.
“The Onuists,” said Mairi, glancing nervously at the Macomrags.
Kaetha still felt giddy from the whisky as a woman with piercing green eyes drifted up to her, her hands overflowing with yellow touch-heal-wort flowers, bird’s-foot trefoil and rue with clusters of purple vervain and red rosebuds. As the woman raised her hands, the flowers tumbled into a garland which she set upon Kaetha’s head.
Kaetha overheard Nannie telling Cailean that the flowers’ medicinal and magical properties were said to be strongest at midsummer, bringing luck to the wearers. The Onuist woman deftly wove more flowers with twine. She smiled warmly as Elspet spun around, holding the garland in place on her head.
“An old Edonian tradition,” said Nannie. “The young women are honoured with the gift of summer’s prized colours.”
Then a piper started to play a dance, swiftly accompanied by fiddlers, harpists and drummers. Kaetha wondered again where Donnan could be, what he could be doing that was more important than celebrating with them.
“You dancing, Kaetha?” said Rorie, offering her his hand.
She felt a flush rise to her cheeks as she placed her hand in his. Elspet grabbed Rorie’s other hand and, in moments, a long chain had formed with everyone looking to Kaetha at the head of it. She got ready to lead, then halted as she saw her father join the line holding Mairi’s hand.
“What are you waiting for?” said Rorie.
She smiled at him. “The right moment.” She stood still as a post before launching forth followed by a swell of laughter and squeals of surprise amongst the dancers. The chain of people followed her, skipping and kicking to the music as she wound through the clapping crowd, circled the fires, threaded back through the line itself and even drew them, splashing in and out of the lapping waves.
She didn’t hear the angry voices at first but when she did, she stopped laughing. A scuffle was breaking out on the beach beside one of the fires. Murdo Macomrag glared at one of the tattooed men from Clan Onuist. They stood poised like wolves about to tear one another apart. Murdo shoved him and he staggered backwards before lunging back at Murdo, fists raised, but others held him back. Those gathered around Murdo looked ready to fight, waiting for Murdo’s cue.
“You were given a chance, Cerr Onuist,” yelled Murdo. “Your clan
