'Indeed? I see nothing, but my eyes are not as good as they were. Anyone else see it?'
'Just rocks,' Rory said. 'What does a hob look like?'
'Nothing at all when I look straight,' Toby admitted. 'But out of the corner of my eye… a sort of shimmer. It's right by that pointed one at the moment. It's the way the hob looks, back in the glen.'
Hamish squeaked. 'I never saw the hob in the glen!'
'I did, sometimes.'
'Where?' His eyes were wide, not wanting to disbelieve his hero, but worried that he was being kidded.
'Several places. Outside the schoolhouse a few times. At the games, once — finding out what we were all up to, I suppose. It's nosy!'
'If that one's just watching us,' Father Lachlan said, 'then I think we should just proceed. Staring may alarm it.'
He shepherded them onward. They moved faster than before, edging away from the rocks. The shimmer flitted to another boulder.
'I expect it's merely curious,' the friar continued soothingly. 'It won't be a hob, not up here, just a wild elemental. They're usually called specters in mountains. Those that inhabit groves of trees are dryads. Bogies in bogs, naiads when they live in water… I doubt if there's any significant difference between the various types.'
'Why not a hob?' Toby asked.
'Hobs have some experience with people. But to see any immortal is unusual. This is very interesting! Of course Fillan knew you, so it let you see it. But a wild elemental is another matter altogether! I am truly surprised that you can see it, my son, and more surprised that it is interested in you, because it obviously must be. Most curious.'
Toby had to turn his head to watch now, for they had gone by. 'Could I go and speak with it? If I gave it an offering, would it help me? Ask it to stop Lady Valda—'
'No, lad,' Father Lachlan said sadly. 'First, you can never trust a wild elemental. It might turn on you or betray you to the hexer instead of aiding you — remember the wisp? Secondly, to make it understand what you wanted of it would be almost impossible; and then it would probably forget the whole affair as soon as you left. Thirdly, adepts like Lady Valda are constantly on the lookout for more demonic slaves. If she detects that one, she may seek to entrap it — if not now, then later, when she is not pressed for time. That is why I am surprised that it has allowed you to see it. Elementals are naturally distrustful of mortals for that very reason.'
'Valda can't be following us!' Hamish protested. '
Father Lachlan did not reply, but Toby was sure he disagreed. Hamish began speaking in Latin with him. The old man responded, seeming to spend more time correcting his grammar than telling him anything.
Quite soon after that, the way pitched downward. The wind was still vicious, but the world grew larger: life began to seem more tolerable. Green hillsides dotted with cattle came into view below the thick flannel sky. The glen ahead was narrow and steep-sided, and apparently almost uninhabited.
Toby was sore, hungry, and soaked to the skin, and he knew none of his companions were in any better shape. The idiotic broadsword had bruised his backbone and made his shoulders ache — but everyone else must be in just as bad a mess, and he felt better being able to see where he was going.
This was new country for him, his first glimpse of the world waiting for him outside the glen. It wasn't much different, except for the absence of cottages.
Hamish had noted that also. 'Why aren't there more people?' he demanded of Father Lachlan. The three of them were together at the head of the parade.
'You'd best ask Master Rory about that.' The acolyte had pulled his hood back, seemingly oblivious to the drizzle. 'I think the earl reserves Glen Shira for hunting.'
'Nice for the deer.'
Father Lachlan chuckled. 'Until he comes for them! Another reason may be Loch Fyne. People would rather live close to the water.' A gleam of eyes over glasses suggested that the remark was intended as a question.
'So they can get about in boats.'
'Right you are.'
'And Loch Fyne is a sea loch, of course, and the sea is the greatest highway of them all. You can sail from Loch Fyne to anywhere in the world, can't you, Father?'
'If you have a ship.'
'France,' Hamish said. 'Castile, Flanders, Aquitaine, the Kingdom of the Two Sicilies…'
'You'd like that, would you?' Toby asked.
He was granted a cheeky grin. 'What I'd like most right now would be a warm fire, a dry plaid, and a dead cow on a spit.'
'Add one for me,' said Father Lachlan, 'and two more for Master Toby.'
They were both bearing up very well, the boy and the older man. And so was Meg. Toby glanced back. Rory was yattering his head off at her. That was beginning to seem serious! She was very young. That ax-nosed smoothie was trying to impress her with his smarmy manners. Toby had promised her Pa he would look after her, but he couldn't handle Rory. Rory could tie him in knots, even without drawing his sword…
'I beg your pardon, Father?'
The little man smiled up at him over his spectacles. 'I said I think that one has her head on straight.'
Hamish had run off to inspect the river, perhaps hoping to find a suicidal trout to tickle.
'Uh? Who? Meg?'
'Meg Campbell. I don't think she's any more fickle than most young ladies. You don't need to be jealous yet.'
'Jealous? Me jealous? I…' Toby decided not to explain. Let the old man think what he liked.
'Master Glencoe is a better friend than an enemy, my son.'
'Friend? The likes of him can never be friends with a churl like me.'
'That's not true, my son,' the acolyte said gently. 'He outranks you, yes, but if you think that prevents him from being your friend, you don't understand the duties of a chief. The relationship between man and master is a very close one. Many legal systems regard it as the closest tie of all, even closer than marriage. My order disagrees, but others do not. A good chief cares very deeply about his men, for they have wagered their lives upon his judgment — as he wagers his upon their courage and loyalty. He values his followers ahead of anything else.'
Toby said nothing.
After a moment, Father Lachlan continued even more softly, as if musing more to himself than his companion. 'You are not of Clan Campbell, of course, and Fillan lost its hereditary laird. Perhaps that is the trouble?' He peered up shrewdly over his glasses. 'We must all take the world as it is, Tobias, and make what we can of it. Everyone owes loyalty to someone. If you own land, you need men to defend it. If you do not, you need a leader to defend you. Soldiers obey their officers, lairds obey their kings. Even kings do homage to the Khan. A good master is beyond price. The law should protect everyone, high or low, but in practice it inevitably favors the great. You will never find happiness or security in these troubled times until you find a good master and give him your heart.'
Obviously Toby must now say something tactful. 'I admit that I would rather be Rory's man than Lady Valda's. Can you describe this hex you think she put on me, Father?'
The acolyte sighed and pushed his spectacles up his nose so far that he had to pull them down again to see over them. 'Not easily. Remember what I said about powers — hexers have no powers of their own. All Valda can do is use gramarye to compel her demons to carry out her wishes, so what she would have done — if she did it, and remember that we are only guessing — is order one of them to force you — or whoever she wanted to put a hex on, that is — to do whatever it is she wants doing.' He frowned as if he had confused even himself with that statement. 'And a demon's range is not unlimited. It depends on the training it has had and the hexer's skill. Incarnated demons are less potent than those confined in material objects, like gems.' He chuckled squeakily. 'The irreverent refer to those as 'bottled' demons, by the way.'
Toby had a strong impression that his question had not been answered at all. He took another look back at Meg.
