It was a good twenty minutes before the border finally came into view. Just as with the Adair Lands, there was a massive flagpole with the Scrymgeour colours hanging loosely at the top. The flag was there for more than just show; the magic that kept the border in place stemmed from it, bolstered by ancient spells and wisdom lost to almost all Sidhe. The trolls who normally maintained these borders were well aware of it, though. Sorley had given me a detailed – and rather unnecessary – history, as well as bestowing on Speck the means to unlock the magic to permit entry.

If the trolls had still been in place, I doubt we’d have managed to sneak in but the trolls were now at Clan Adair. All we had to deal with were a few dozing Scrymgeour servants. The presence of the Scrymgeour Sidhe inside the border helped bolster the magic but Speck was strong enough now to beat it.

I counted four border guards: a warlock, two humans and – surprise, surprise – a Sidhe. I wondered what he’d done to piss off the Bull and end up here on guard duty. He was the only one of the four who seemed fully alert. He scowled at his companions from time to time, especially when the warlock let out a loud snore. As I stayed low and watched, he strode towards the warlock’s slumped body and raised his foot, as if preparing for a sharp kick. Then he grimaced and seemed to think better of it – though he still looked distinctly unhappy.

I considered. It was imperative that we slip through unnoticed and it didn’t appear as if the Sidhe boy was going to drift off any time soon.

‘You’re going to have to do it, Tegs,’ Brochan murmured in my ear. ‘It’s the best way.’ Unfortunately, Brochan was right. Short of waltzing up to the Scrymgeour Sidhe and clocking him on the nose before he managed to raise the alarm, I couldn’t see an alternative. I wasn’t convinced that this course of action fitted with my pacifist morality but I’d brought us here and I had to step up to the proverbial plate.

Taking a deep breath and holding the air in my lungs, I concentrated just like Morna had taught me. If I focused hard enough and used the meditation techniques I’d been practising, I could almost visualise the swirl of magic within the Sidhe’s soul. I had no idea what his Gift was and I wasn’t stealing from him because I wanted it for myself – there was another method to my madness.

Bit by bit, I tugged, grasping first at a single thread of his Gift and pulling it inside me as if my body were a magnet. As his power left him and filled me, I gasped inadvertently. The Sidhe would have heard me if he hadn’t already started to feel woozy. He clutched at his stomach, then at his head and groaned faintly. I slammed on my magic brakes; I didn’t want to seriously hurt the poor bugger and neither did I want to steal his Gift in its entirety. He might be a Scrymgeour but he was a stranger to me and I couldn’t completely destroy him.