Lachlan stared. 'Ah! You have solved the mystery?'
Again, Toby nodded. Obviously Hamish had not mentioned the amethyst, any more than he had yet told Toby how he had known about it. But now was the time to confess the alarming truth.
'Your Majesty, in Inverary, I swore to be your man, and I had no reservations when I made that oath. But when Valda hexed me, I betrayed you and swore to be hers.'
The king scowled. 'I am well aware that a man's honor can be perverted by gramarye. I do not hold that against you.'
No. King Fergan couldn't, for he had once betrayed his country by doing homage to King Nevil.
'But it now seems that I was not free to swear allegiance to you in the first place, sire. I am another's man and have been ever since I left Strath Fillan.'
The king broke the deadly, accusing silence. 'Whose?'
'No mortal's. Years ago, Valda and King Nevil conjured a demon named Rhym, which turned on them. Did Hamish tell you? The demon took possession of the king and banished him to the jewel on this dagger. In Castle Lochy, Valda moved him from there to me, so that I would become Nevil, or Nevil's man at the least — Nevil's creature.'
Hands were creeping to sword hilts again.
'But I swear to you, sire, that I am not aware of him at all. I am Toby Strangerson, not the rightful king of England. She said I suppress him. I suppose I must, for her demons could see signs of possession on me. I don't know how I manage to do this. For what it is worth, though, you must know these things, because if the Nevil soul ever manages to emerge in me, then I shall betray you.'
Father Lachlan said, 'That does not explain your superhuman powers, my son.'
'No, Father. There is more. The powers do not come from me at all, but from this.' Toby pulled on the silver chain. While waiting for a response to his message, he had fixed the amethyst into the wires that had once held the Oswood sapphire. He had tucked the gem under the shoulder of his plaid, and now he pulled it out for all to see. It twinkled purple fire as it spun.
'A demon?' snapped the king, easing away from him.
'Not quite, sire. This is Fillan, the hob from my village. Granny Nan gave me the gem as a farewell gift. Somehow she had talked the hob into it. It must have bottled itself voluntarily, for certainly she knew no gramarye.'
They all reacted to some extent, but Father Lachlan reared back in horror. His head cracked against the wall and his glasses fell into his lap. He fumbled for them without taking his eyes from the jewel.
'A bottled hob? I never heard of such an abomination!'
Toby sighed and put the jewel away, out of sight. 'Neither had Valda. But that's what's been protecting me.'
'My son!' The old man was practically squealing. 'I told you! A hob is like a child, a terribly powerful, innocent child. It has almost no concept of right or wrong, of good or evil! It can be mischievous, spiteful — unpredictable! You cannot walk around with a pet hob on a string! Spirits know what it may do!'
'It hasn't hurt me so far.'
'That doesn't mean it won't! It may take it into its head… I mean, it may decide to… Oh, anything! It may drive you insane, or turn you into a monster! You must bring it to the sanctuary right away and…'
'And what?' Toby asked quietly. 'Do you have adepts who will conduct it back to its home and restore it?'
Father Lachlan shook his head, looking frightened. The other men were leaving the metaphysics to him.
'I cannot,' Toby said. 'If I could, I doubt it would let me. I don't know if it can reverse what it did, or why it should even try. It wanted to know where all the young men are going. I think it wants to see the world! Maybe that is childlike, but I can sympathize.' His feeble effort at humor won no smiles.
The little man moaned and wrung his hands. 'It has never been taught! It may go mad itself in there and turn into a demon. At least a hexer can control his creatures by conjuration, but that hob is a free elemental! You can't control it, you don't know what it may decide to do next. My son, it is
'It has saved me many times from danger,' Toby said stubbornly. 'Already I owe it my life, over and over. I will resist any effort to take it from me, and I believe it will do the same.' He turned to the king, who was regarding him with dark suspicion. 'You see, sire? I did not know I had a hob in my sporran, or another man's soul in my heart. I swore to you in good faith, but even if you give me a direct order to dispose of the jewel, I either cannot or will not obey. And I can do nothing about Nevil.'
Fergan drummed fingers on the arm of his chair. He glanced at the impassive Captain MacLeod and frowned at what he learned from his face.
'I was hoping that your mysterious powers might be used to further the cause of liberty and help free Scotland of its oppressors.'
'I cannot control them, Your Majesty. In a battle, the hob would probably go berserk, as it does in thunderstorms.'
Sunshine poured in through the window now. Outside, the pier was bustling. Blocks squealed as sails were raised. The captain had begun to fidget.
'So,' Fergan said. He leaned back and crossed his legs. He had probably guessed what was coming, and a faint smile touched his lips. 'So, what are you proposing, Master Strangerson? If it will make things easier for you, I will admit that our relationship is proving troublesome. Loyalty is a two-sided sword. A vassal is due protection from his liege, but I am perplexed to know how to protect you this morning in Dumbarton.'
It was going to be all right. 'I am a danger to you,' Toby said. 'I may lead the Sassenachs to you. Baron Oreste is on his way here — searching for me, Valda said, because he knows about Nevil. He has also distracted the tutelary from its duties, which include your defense. I bear the soul of your foe. I carry an elemental. I am loyal, sire, but you would be well rid of me. I am trouble.'
'And Captain MacLeod has agreed to take a passenger to Portugal, I presume?'
Toby had not dreamed of escape on that scale. 'I was hoping he might take me south and let me off at his next port of call.'
The sailor chuckled. 'We'll take on water in Dublin — but why not come to Lisbon, lad? I can always use an extra hand.'
Demons! Why not? 'But hands are the problem, sir.' Toby held out his swollen fists. 'I can't haul on ropes for you yet! I'll gladly pay my fare if you have room for a passenger.'
MacLeod snorted. 'Bilge! I saw how you earned that silver, lad, and I won't take it from you. Och, that was a braw fight! Come along, and welcome. I'll book you in as ballast!'
A strange lump constricted Toby's throat. This was friendship! — friendship he had done nothing to deserve. 'That's incredibly generous of you, sir. I'll try to be of use… if His Majesty agrees?'
The king was looking at the dagger on Toby's lap.
'It is yours, sire,' he said quickly, 'if you want it. I swore to defend you against all foes, and I happily give you this to defend you against Oreste and others like him.' He began to move and then laughed. 'I don't think there's room for me to kneel!' He proffered the dagger.
Fergan stared at it covetously. 'It is a princely gift! The jewel alone is beyond price. You are sure?'
'Quite sure, sire. Take it with my thanks for befriending me when all men were against me.'
The king took the dagger. 'Then I accept it, with gratitude. I free you from your oath, Longdirk. Tush, Father! If he is happy to live with a hob in his shirt, then let him be! Spirits go with you, Toby.' He offered a hand, and he did not seem to want it kissed.
Toby shook it with a feeling of a great weight being lifted from his shoulders. He had never been happy being the king's man, and now he had been honorably relieved of his oath.
'Captain MacLeod is anxious to weigh anchor,' the king said, preparing to rise.
Everyone turned to Hamish, who was staring at Toby with total dismay.
'Boy, that isn't—' Father Lachlan said.
'Wait!' the king barked. The cabin stilled. 'I don't care how discreet he is, that might not be such a bad
