“Come, Guard,” said Nessa, shouldering the little bag and picking up the other with its strange cargo. The shovel she must leave somewhere in the fields; it would slow her progress, but could not be abandoned in this place. “We must seek shelter until it is dark again. Come, good friend.”

When it came to it, they did not go far, for there were soon men about, Somerled’s men, and it was quickly clear to Nessa, peering out from what refuge she could find, that they were looking for someone. Perhaps they had learned of her escape, finding the ruins of Kinart’s boat, her footsteps on the shore, some other trace. Perhaps Somerled sensed her purpose and sought to silence the voice she would summon. She could see small groups of warriors scouring the countryside, going into every cottage, every barn, searching each fold and cranny of the land, perhaps on orders not to return until they had found their prize. Of her own folk, she saw none as she fled, nor would she have sought them, for to ask for shelter among what survivors still lived in isolated farmhouse or far-flung settlement was to bring down Somerled’s wrath on them. What must be done, she would do alone.

She was tired; she was so weary her legs would hardly go forward, her eyes barely remain open to see her way. She would have to stop. She would have to rest and go on at dusk when she might move more freely undetected. She watched while a group of five warriors searched a hay barn, now all but empty of its summer harvest. The best stock had not long been let out of winter confinement to feed on the first new growth in the fields; it was strange to remember that, but for Margaret and Ulf, the crop that had been stored here might never have been gathered in to nourish the herd through the dark season. When the search was over and the men moved on, Nessa stole into the barn with Guard by her side, and crept into a dark corner among the remnant hay. She lay down with her pack under her head and her arm curled protectively around the other bag. She was too weary to eat, to drink, to do anything at all. In the far corner, Guard caught some small, squealing thing and ate it hungrily. Nessa thought about Margaret. A fine, strong girl: a pity she had not been able to sway Somerled. He had not listened to her, and he had not listened to Eyvind. He had scorned the good counsel even of those who loved him. He had gone his own way, and now it seemed he would make the choices and determine the path for all of them. That could not be allowed to happen. She would stop him. When it was dark, she must head southward to the great circle, and then to the coast again. The Hidden Tribe had come to her aid. Now she must seek help from another quarter, though she trembled to think of it. She would go on…she would…