The Inscription

by Pam Binder

  He was startled at her swift change in subject. At first he was unclear as to her meaning, and then he recalled the missing vial. He had not thought to ask his mother if she possessed knowledge of what had happened. Although she was lost in her own grief, there was still much he could learn from her.

  The candles flickered and cast shadows in the chamber. Someone had opened a door. Marcail appeared dressed in a gown as black as the depths of Loch Ness.

  His mother turned and her fingers trembled as she pointed toward Marcail. The effort drained the last shreds of her strength and she closed her eyes.

  Marcail fingered the pearls at her throat. “Your mother, how does she fare?”

  “It is as it always has been.”

  “Angus has told me that we have another visitor and asks that I administer to him.”

  Lachlan barely heard Marcail as the words his mother had spoken, and her accusation, brought into sharp focus the answer he had sought. The woman standing before him was responsible for Amber’s appearance in Loch Ness. But eager as he was for a confirmation, a more pressing matter awaited.

  “O’Donnell is one of us.” He awaited her reaction.

  “You are sure he is of our kind? Perhaps Bartholomew did not injure him as severely as you thought. I have known men with extraordinary ability to heal.”

  “Bartholomew was not satisfied with a single wound to the heart. No mortal could survive die damage mat he inflicted on O'Donnell.”

  Marcail hesitated as though she weighed her decision. When finally she raised her eyes to his, they were cloaked in her familiar emotionless stare. “I shall see to him.”

  A fire crackled cheerfully in the Great Hall and warmed the chill in the night air. The sound was drowned out by the clanking of metal plates and utensils. The bright colors of the clothes worn by the noblemen mixed with the muted tones of the clansmen. Lachlan drained the contents of ale from his goblet and set it down. His kind had come for the meeting of the Council of Seven and mingled with the Highlanders. Lachlan searched the faces in the crowd, but could not find the woman he sought. He pushed the goblet away and adjusted his plaid over his shoulder.

  Before Amber had arrived, his path was clear; defeat all those who opposed him and protect his lands and people. Of late he found himself wondering what it would be like to allow a woman into his heart. Was there truth in what Angus said? Had the thirst for battle taken precedence over all else?

  Marcail motioned for him to join her. The flames in the hearth licked and curled over the wood logs like angry waves over a rock strewn shore. He stood. It was time for him to attend to his duties.

  He wove his way around the long trestle tables of men bent over their evening meal. A few lifted their heads as he passed and nodded before resuming the business of eating and drinking. Their conversations buzzed like bees in a hive. He paused. Marcail was talking to the twins, Artemis and Theseus. They were wearing the garb of Spanish nobles and stood with Marcail near the window at the far end of the Great Hall. Although they were in a corner, it seemed as though the light of the torches that lined the walls focused on them.

  Marcail put her hand on his arm. “Our friends have just returned from the New World. For a time they were with Cortez.”

  Theseus shook his head. Fine powder from his wig floated to the floor.

  “The riches we have tasted with Cortez are beyond belief. We found the people, called Aztecs, both gentle and fierce. They also possess the knowledge to turn dry, desolate land into a lush and fertile paradise with irrigation methods that call to mind the accomplishments of the ancient Egyptians.” He frowned. “The Aztecs are doomed, of course.”

  Theseus seemed to shake away the shadows that had crossed his expression. He held up a small canvas sack. “But all the riches from the New World do not glitter. This strange substance is called ‘chocolate.’ My good friend Montezuma drank a dark, bittersweet liquid made from these beans. He drained a golden goblet full of it each night before he went into his harem. Imagine, the man had the ability to satisfy over one hundred women.”

  Theseus spoke loudly enough for the closest of die men to overhead his statement and their laughter rang out. This was followed by more merriment, as the tale was repeated. The men cheered. The volume of the noise increased with each tankard of ale drunk. Those assembled were in good spirits. If one of Theseus’ stories had been the cause, he meant to encourage more.

  He knew his friend, however, and watched him pull on the ties of the bag he held. It appeared that something caused the Spaniard to tell this type of story. Usually he was only interested in proven facts. But in time Theseus would come to his purpose.

  When the room had quieted enough for Lachlan to make himself heard once more, he pressed Theseus to continue. “You say Montezuma satisfied one hundred women in one night? A difficult tale to believe.”

  Theseus straightened his wig. “I had hoped with age you would develop a sense of romance. As always, you require matters of the heart to be examined as you would analyze strategies for conquest.”

  Lachlan could hear muffled laughter in the background. His men would not risk his anger if they believed he had taken offense. In truth, he had not. He put his hand over his heart.

  “You wound me deeply, but a man cannot change that which he has become.”

  The twin called Artemis jabbed Lachlan in the ribs. “On the contrary, friend, we have heard that you have changed a great deal. The arrangement you have with a Lady Amber and the rather unusual way she came into your life is a subject of constant discussion. Una has also informed us that you have ordered a gown made to replace one that was ruined. You have more romance in your soul than you will admit.”

  He lowered his voice so no one other than the four of them would hear. “But that is your affair, as long as it goes no further than a pretense of a promise of marriage. We can ill afford to lose you as head of the Council.”

  Artemis waved a lace handkerchief. “But as for my brother’s outburst, ignore the fellow. He has high hopes for this chocolate concoction that was named ‘food for the gods.’ Theseus has given some of the stuff to Una to prepare.” He laughed. “You have no need of it, but I think it will take more than one goblet full to improve my brother’s luck with the women at court.”

  Lachlan turned toward the fire. These men were older than he, older than Marcail, and yet they retained a lightness of spirit. They were free to follow their quest to explore the world. At this moment he felt as though he had lived centuries, instead of only ninety-five years.

  Marcail cleared her throat. “I have heard the Spanish monks have forbidden women the drink. They say it is too potent an aphrodisiac for them. A typical response.” Her voice took on an authoritative tone. “There are more important matters to discuss.”

  “You would make a grand ruler.” Artemis fluffed the lace at his sleeve. “Ever ready to steer the rabble back to the business at hand.”

  Marcail’s voice softened as she turned to Artemis. “All our people appreciate the commitment you and your brother have made to search for our kind in the New World. I know well the reason you avoid the subject, and only spin tales of nonsense and fantasy for our amusement.”

  She motioned for them to follow her to an alcove, where their conversations could not be overheard.

  Lachlan agreed. In a castle occupied by so many, secrets were as hard to keep as a tankard of ale from a thirsty clansman.

  She lowered her voice and addressed Lachlan. “Have you heard that none of our kind were found in the New World? This is the third time we have sent out emissaries and failed.”

  So, here at last was the reason why Theseus had babbled on about a mysterious food, instead of coming to the point about this new land. He too would have avoided facing the discovery. But perhaps they were mistaken.

  He regarded the twins. “I do not find that unusual. After all, our bodies are not marked. A pity the ancients did not think of a way to remedy the situation. Instead, we have to rely on
family histories and investigate any reports of mortals retaining their youth beyond what may be expected. We also must seek out those who survive a seemingly fatal wound.”

  Theseus took a pipe from within the folds of his shirt. ‘True enough. But you are missing the meat of the story. Because of the reports of human sacrifice in the New World, we thought our kind might have evolved in that land, as we did around the Nile. We survived the Egyptians’ insatiable hunger to appease their gods with human blood by developing a way for our bodies to restore themselves. However successful the ancients were at prolonging life, they failed in the end. Our enemies discovered we cannot continue if our heads are severed or our hearts are torn from our bodies.“

  Artemis took over the tale. “In the New World, the method of killing for the sacrificial altar is to have the victim’s heart cut out of his body and burned. It is doubtful any of our race survived amongst the Aztecs.

  Further, the last known birth of a child from an immortal couple was in your family. Our line will die out with Gavin, your brother.“

  Lachlan was suddenly aware of the noises in the Great Hall. They resounded in his ears and he wondered if his people might be racing toward extinction. Perhaps, one day, only one of his race would remain, to become like the beast that swam in Loch Ness; alone and the last of its kind.

  The loneliness would become unbearable, the responsibilities overwhelming. His people kept safe the history of mankind that dated back thousands of years. They allowed ruins to be discovered and the lost writings to be unearthed, as man moved farther away from superstition and into the time of illumination. There was still so much left to do, so much to be explained.

  The path before his people was clear. “If children are the concern, then revisit the rules surrounding marriage and the problem is solved. Those who wish to marry should do so when they desire it and with the person of their own choosing. In the case of my sister, Diane, by the time the Council had sanctioned a mate it was too late. Subedei cut her heart out of her chest when he attacked Urquhart.”

  Artemis nodded. “Your words are true, but it is not an easy task to convince the Council of Seven to change tradition. Besides, there are not many who would give up their immortality to have children and face the eventuality of death. It is too great a price. When Diane expressed her desire to join, it was difficult to find a man who willingly would give up so much.”

  “There was such a man.” Lachlan remembered Diane’s tears. “But he was denied.”

  Theseus drew on his pipe and let the smoke out slowly. “The man you speak of was not of our race. He was mortal. The laws are clear, as you know well. We cannot join with them. It is against the teachings of the ancients. The children born of such a union would not be immortal.”

  “The warning is three thousand years old and has long since taken on a life of its own. Nothing is proven.”

  Marcail smoothed her gown. “All you say is true enough. But the risk is too great. It is our duty to produce children who will carry on our race.” She shrugged. “We have long relished the idea of living dangerously, as warriors. We have the ability and time to accumulate great stores of knowledge, to help others. We can be killed. We can die. Soon we shall be like the tales of Arthur and his Knights of the Round Table. No one will know what part was legend and what part was fantasy, there will be none of us left to tell the story. Those of us who are willing must drink the elixir and produce children to carry on our heritage.”

  Lachlan heard the plaintive music of a fiddle through the haunting words Marcail spoke. There was a quality of deep regret in her voice tonight.

  She touched his arm. “I need to see O’Donnell. Are you aware the Lady Amber assisted Una in the cleansing of the man’s wounds? Ah… I see you were not. Well, there was no harm done. He appeared as any man would who had been stabbed. You were right, however, in believing he was one of us. Already O’Donnell has begun to heal.”

  “The Lady Amber is determined to become acquainted with all corners of my life.”

  “Of that you can rest assured. Be certain of the place you wish her to occupy, and then pray to the gods she desires it as well. She is a woman who values her freedom.”

  “As do you.”

  A smile softened her expression. She nodded, turned from him, and then threaded her way through the Great Hall toward the stairs. She held her head high. People made a path for her to pass as though it were expected, commanded. Since Marcail had arrived at Urquhart she kept to herself and only associated with others when necessary. Yet willingly she spent time watching over O’Donnell. The first few hours had been necessary to assure them he was an immortal, but after the rapid healing had begun, the need no longer existed. Marcail was not acting predictably, but then neither were Amber and Elaenor.

  Why was he not surrounded by women whose only interests were the gown they would wear, or the men they would ensnare for a husband. For that company, he would have to visit tike court. He had indeed spent time there, which was one of the reasons for his return to the Highlands.

  The sound of the music swelled, echoing off the walls. He saw Marcail pause at the bottom of the stairs to speak with Amber. He stepped closer to get a better view. The noise and activity in the Great Hall faded into the background as he focused on her and felt the rapid beat of his heart. She was dressed in a gown of gold cloth that shimmered with each breath she took, and each step. Her hair, unbound and free of headdress, flowed in waves on her creamy white shoulders. He rubbed the back of his neck and tried to gain control of his irregular breathing. This time he would not run.

  Amber watched Marcail walk purposefully up the stairs. The woman had asked to borrow the book, Canterbury Tales, in order to read aloud to O’Donnell. Amber didn’t mind; in fact, it sounded like a good idea. The only thing that surprised her was that Marcail had asked not just for the book, but for her help as well. When she and Una had cleaned and dressed the man’s wounds, Marcail had insisted she would tend to O’Donnell without further help.

  Now Marcail was asking Amber to visit her in her chamber. She paused. That was odd, but then there was a lot about life in this castle that was not ringing true. She’d try and make sense of it later. Right now she was too interested in doing something about her hunger, and seeing Lachlan.

  She was always surprised by the size of the Great Hall. A high school basketball court could fit comfortably in the room. It was jammed with people enjoying the evening meal and talking amongst themselves. She felt apart from them. There had been moments with Lachlan when she’d believed she could learn to fit in, become part of his world. She’d even taken special care in choosing a dress she thought he might like. But the idea was crazy.

  Long trestle tables lined the room, overflowing with platters of salmon and haddock. She had the sudden impulse to sneak back to her room. She doubted she’d be missed. Amber picked up her skirts and turned to retrace her steps, then stopped when she heard her name. Over her shoulder she saw Elaenor run toward her. The young woman’s smile was a welcome sight.

  Elaenor lowered her voice. “If I have to be trapped here with all these people, I shall need someone interesting to talk to. Do you think we can go outside?”

  Amber smiled. “Let me guess. The sky is clear, and you want to try locating a planet or two with your telescope.”

  “True, but that is only part of the reason. I want to share with you my letter from Elizabeth.” Her expression reflected her frustration. “Lachlan insists I stay and meet everyone.”

  “No problem. I’m a master at making an appearance at social gatherings, and then slipping out the back way when no one is looking.” She intertwined her arm in Elaenor’s, glad the young woman wanted to share the contents of the letter. It was a good sign and one she hoped signaled that Elaenor was trying to widen her circle of friends.

  The music of the fiddlers filled the Great Hall. Tables scraped against the wood floor as several men pushed them to the sides of the room. A circle dance began in the centra
l space that was formed. Amber headed toward one of the tables heaped with food. The Scots were the most music-loving people she’d ever met. They were capable of being the most fierce warriors in history and, at the same time, the most generous of people. Amber sat down. It was hard not to want to be part of their life. She tore off a piece of venison, then put it between slices of crusty bread. Taking a bite of the juicy sandwich, she was surprised by how good it tasted. She looked toward the kitchen and remembered the first night she’d arrived. The smells had overwhelmed her and made her stomach turn. She must be more used to things than she thought The food smelled good. She wondered if Daniel was turning meat over the fire tonight. Maybe she could tutor the boy alongside Gavin.

  Elaenor was dancing with a tall, lanky young man who was dressed in a brocade jacket and tight fitting pants. The young woman appeared, at least for now, to have abandoned her desire to search the skies for stars and to talk about the letter. Both could wait. Elaenor glanced at Amber and nodded in the direction of the young man she was with. Her expression was universal. Amber smiled in silent approval. Tomorrow they would have even more to talk about.

  A wave of conversation buzzed around her, mingling with the music and laughter. She had thought life in this century would be boring. It was far from it. Across the sea of faces she searched for Lachlan. Her pulse rate increased. She attempted to return his gaze, but he had resumed speaking with two companions, men who had probably invented the phrase, “overdressed.” If she didn’t know any better she’d think Lachlan was playing hard to get or intentionally ignoring her. Perfect. Just what she didn’t need right now… space.

  She’d thought that being around people would help take her mind off Molly and the baby, but it hadn’t. Everyone was leaving her alone. More to the point. Lachlan was leaving her alone. And after the festival… okay, fine, she didn’t need a gargoyle to fall on her head. If he didn’t want her, she didn’t want him. While they were in Inverness he was probably just being nice, but she hated the way her heart ached. Amber wished she could guard against it But it was too late. She grabbed what was left of her dinner and stood.