Not unless Toby arranged them. If Meg had not called him back when she did… He did not want to think about that.
"We'll have to turn back," Rory said. "The road's blocked. No reason not to now, is there?"
"Is the danger over?" Father Lachlan asked, still sounding shaky. He meant: Is Valda still there? He did not believe Toby's denials. None of them did.
Toby said, "We could get by. We can go on to Dumbarton."
"In this weather?" Rory growled. "There's no hurry anymore, is there? Demons, but I'd like to get out of this rain! I have friends here. I can lead us to a warm, dry house and some civilized comfort. I didn't dare go there as long as I thought there was a hexer after us. If we're safe now, then that's where we ought to go before we all freeze to death. We're not in a hurry, are we? Only Sassenachs to worry about now?"
He stared challengingly at Toby.
Toby looked at Meg. Her lips were white. She had done marvelously well. For two whole days, she had survived cold and wet and hunger and physical torment. To submit her to more days and nights of those would be deliberate cruelty. He had promised to look after her, and he must not gamble her life just to safeguard his own skin.
"All right!" he said. "All right! Yes, that was Valda. I don't think I killed her, but I probably destroyed her maid and at least two of her demons, possibly three. She's not going to be a problem for a while." He glowered at the horrified faces and waited for the panic.
Rory smiled at having his suspicions confirmed, but it was a sickly imitation of his customary smirk. "You brought down that slide?"
"My demon did."
Still the panic did not come. They all exchanged glances, but they did not flee in terror, as they should.
"Beautiful!" The rebel laughed. "Attaboy, Little Man! Oh, what we would have given to have had you at Parline Field, when the bowstrings broke in our fingers and our gunpowder turned to salt! Come on, then, all of you — I know where we can find dry beds tonight. Longdirk, you're a hexer after my own heart!"
He moved as if to go, expecting his followers to follow, but everyone just stood. He frowned and folded his arms.
Hamish chewed his lip. "I don't think you're a hexer, Toby." He did not look very certain, though.
"I do," Toby said.
"Don't say that!" Meg screamed. "Don't even joke about it!"
Father Lachlan was adjusting his spectacles, waiting patiently.
"They were all dead!" Toby said. "Almost all! Dead already, I mean. The two men I killed earlier, and all the horses. And the other woman… she was breathing, but not… not thinking. Valda was laughing." His voice was becoming shrill. He felt sick.
"The spirit saw no evil in you, my son. Tell me what happened."
"What did you see?"
"Nothing. You just stood and stared."
"That's all?"
The acolyte pulled his hood up as the rain began to grow heavier again. "You did have a strange expression on your face."
"A grin? A sort of idiot simper?"
"I suppose so." He reached up to pat Toby's shoulder ineffectually. "You can tell me later. What matters is that you have chased the evil away, at least for a while. The spirit said you might, remember?"
It had also said that his troubles would be just beginning.
"It was different this time, somehow. It's never quite the same twice. The demon must be learning how to control me better!"
Father Lachlan frowned anxiously. "I still do not believe you are possessed, my son. You cannot be a hexer, for you do not use the rituals of gramarye and you have no demonic creatures at your command. I admit that I do not understand. You seem to fit none of the rules at all! I have studied the lore of demonology for a lifetime, but if an immortal could not fathom you, then how can I hope to? Now we have won time to get you to Glasgow. The tutelary is very benevolent, very wise. I am sure it will help you."
Toby turned away. Did he even want to be helped? He had enjoyed that brief blaze of omnipotence.
"Master!" Hamish shouted. Even under the mud, his face showed alarm. "The river's stopped flowing!"
Rory glanced at the channel, silent pools in a nightmare of boulders. Then he looked at the barrier upstream. "Well, of course it has! Tiny Tim, there, has given Scotland a new loch! Loch Strangerson, the bastard loch?"
"But, sir! That's just mud! This happened somewhere down in the Borders a few years ago, didn't it? A slide? Then, when the river runs over the top, or when it just builds up behind…"
"Spirits save us!" Father Lachlan said. "The boy's right! Near Roxburgh somewhere. If that dam bursts, there's going to be a flood!"
Rory stiffened, then turned to look down the rainy glen. "Cairndow! Demons! We must warn them! We must get them out of there! Come on!" He started to run.
CHAPTER THREE
Iain lowered the sail and Rae held the tiller as the boat drifted in to the jetty. Iain was a towhead, old Rae was dark as a Castilian, but they would both be Campbells. The pelting rain had turned the surface of the loch to mist, so that it was hard to tell where the sea ended and the air began. Water swilled around in the bottom of the boat, glittering with fish scales.
The passengers sat along the sides. Father Lachlan looked old and tired, although that might be just by way of contrast with Hamish, who had not stopped jabbering questions at the two sailors since they left Cairndow. Toby faced them, with Meg beside him, not quite close enough to be asking for an arm around her. He should have put an arm around her anyway, and all the way across the loch had been cursing himself as a coward for not doing so. But he was very conscious of Rory on her other side, and those deadly, silver eyes. He could throw their owner overboard if he wanted, but that would do no good — the arrogant louse could probably swim like a shark. To strangle him first would require fighting three Campbells at the same time, and probably Hamish as well.
Hamish was very impressed, even awed. He had confirmed from someone in Cairndow that Rory MacDonald was really Gregor Campbell, the master of Argyll. That ranked him just below the sun, and so far above Toby Strangerson that it was amazing they could even see each other. So what if he was? He sat down to shit like anyone else, didn't he?
They had sounded the alarm in the hamlet. The inhabitants had fled away from the river, carrying possessions, driving livestock. The master had commandeered a boat for the trip down to Inverary and met no argument. He had ordered his companions into it, never doubting that they would obey. They had obeyed. Only the sight of Meg, huddled and shivering, explained to Toby why he had come, but in truth he had had no alternative. He was totally at Rory's mercy now. Gregor's mercy. What mercy?
Inverary Castle loomed out of the rain, far larger and grander than Lochy, towering over a sprawl of buildings, cottages, animal paddocks, orchards, and vegetable gardens, a sizable village. One of the corner towers was framed in scaffolding, being repaired or still under construction. The Sassenachs would have spread the word. How big a garrison would they have placed in a fortress this size? Their warrant would be known here in Inverary.
Toby leaned around Meg. Rory stared back with dislike, raising a pale eyebrow.
Toby said, "Didn't you tell us that the earl of Argyll was a traitor who licked English boots?"
The helmsman overheard and gasped in horror.
Rory chuckled — doubtless for the eavesdropper's benefit — but there was murder in the silver eyes. He removed his bonnet, took the black feather from it, and placed it in his sporran. Then he put his bonnet on again. "One has to remain in character."
"And the Sassenachs want to hang me!"
The master's mouth twisted in a familiar sneer. "Who can blame them? Getting nervous, are you? Well, you have no cause to worry. Just because Lord Robert is such a notorious boot-licker, the English haven't posted a garrison on him. No fusiliers here! He's in Edinburgh, as you know. His mother, Lady Lora, is a most formidable lady, and a rabid patriot. And then there's me." He wasn't sure if his disguise had been penetrated. Getting no reaction, he smiled benevolently and added: "Nobody hangs one of my men without my permission."