The Adventurer by Jaclyn Reding Page B

twirling about the shore on her land legs. She was so caught up in this new experience, she ne’er noticed when Mackay took up her tail skin from where she’d left it on the shore and hid it in the bottom of his fishing sack.”
    “Oy, the wily Jock!”
    M’Cuick, it seemed, had grown interested in the tale. He was leaning forward on the table with his chin in his hand, eyes fixed on Hugh and Mungo.
    Mungo went on.
    “Without her tail skin, the merlass cudna return to her home in the sea. So she wed the Mackay and they had seven bairns—four lasses, three lads. Years passed and the merlass and her Mackay were happy, aye, but she ne’er forgot her true home. She a’ways felt a longing for the sea. Then one day, when the Mackay was out stalking about his estate, the bairns came a’running to their mither all in excitement, bringing her a strange green cloth they had found in their father’s old bothy. They thought it a present for their mammie, but she recognized it at once as her long-lost tail skin, and knew she could finally return to her home in the sea.”
    “Losh!” M’Cuick threw up his arms. “So the man tends to her, gives her a home and a family, loves her, and she just thinks to up and leave?”
    “ ’Tis the way of the merfolk, M’Cuick,” Mungo sighed. “There’s naught can be done for it.”
    He took a deep breath, and continued with the story. “That night, afore Mackay had returned, she took up her tail skin. Tucking the bairns into their beds for the night, she kissed them each good-bye and headed for the shore. Just as she slipped into the water, Mackay happened by on his way home. He spied his wife and knew she must have found the tail, knew too that his worst fear had just come true. He shouted to her, begging her not to leave him, but she only shook her head. She loved him, aye, but she cudna change what she was. Even without her tail skin, she would always be of the merfolk. But afore she vanished into the dark sea, she threw to him a stone, a marvelous merstone on which she had cast a spell to protect the clan for so long as her bairn’s bairn’s bairns carried on.”
    M’Cuick actually had the beginnings of a tear glistening in the corner of his eye when he turned to look at Calum. “And this lass they’ve brought to you. She has this merstone?”
    “So they tell me. The stone disappeared some thirty years ago and hasn’t been seen since.” His voice softened. “My father died for that stone, died carrying it into battle for King James, our rightful king.”
    This last statement brought a chorus of “ayes” from the others. Glasses were filled and whisky was toasted to the king over the water.
    The group fell silent, savoring the whisky’s sting.
    “So why did you no’ just take the stone from the lass?” M’Cuick asked a few moments later. “Why did you hae to take the lass along wit’ it?”
    “A’cause there is a curse on the stone.”
    “A curse? Then why the de’il do you want it?”
    It was Calum who answered this time. “The curse is only on those who take it by force.”
    M’Cuick scoffed. “Och, come on wit’ you now ...”
    “ ’Tis no’ a laughing matter, M’Cuick. Back in the days of the Bruce, a rival Sutherland once stole into Castle Wrath, and snatched the stone, killing the old chief’s son and grandson for villainous measure. A fortnight later, the fiend’s wife awoke to find him dead in their bed, marked several places over by the bite of an adder. She, however, had been left curiously untouched. Others who dared to steal the stone met with freak deaths, hideous disfigurements, or some just suddenly vanished. Eventually the stone was returned to the Mackays, usually by the perpetrator’s next of kin who were desperate just to pacify the stone’s ominous wrath.”
    Which only made Calum wonder just how the lass had come by the stone.
    “So all you need do is convince the lass to give the stone to you,” M’Cuick said.
    “So it