Chapter 2

2

" I 'm telling ye, lad, just give them a chance. They can be as sweet as can be, and when it's over, ye will be smiling as bright as a cherry," Ian said.

Rory huffed and tried to change the subject. Ian saw a lot of himself in Rory, but there was something pensive about the boy as well. It was fine to be focused on a craft, but there was more to life than that. Rory was only 18 so he wasn't old enough to understand this yet, but seemed determined to ignore the lesson that Ian was trying to impart. That seemed to be the way of the world, however. There had been plenty of lessons that Ian had ignored from his father, although he tried not to think about these because they just made him sad.

"I'm looking forward tae getting started on that order we received earlier," Rory said.

"From ol' Mr. Big-for-his-Boots? Oh aye, I'm looking forward tae that as well. I thought we could overcharge him for it. After all, he wants an expensive sword that he's never gaeing tae use. I could nae imagine him in a fight, could ye? He would probably topple over if he ever tried tae swing one. We'll give him a useless sword that looks pretty, and he will never be able tae tell the difference. I dae like customers who hae nae idea what they're talking about," Ian rubbed his hands together and his eyes glistened with hope, but again Rory scowled.

"We should nae try and trick him. If he ever should wield that sword in battle, then he would soon realize what happened, and if he tries and shows it off tae anyone who daes know what tae look for, then they'll surely tell him that the sword is substandard. I'm sure ye would nae want yer reputation tae suffer."

Rory was taking things too seriously again, although he did have a point. A man's reputation was everything, and if word did spread that Ian was overcharging for worthless swords, he would soon find himself in a nasty predicament.

"I was only joking, lad," he said, trying to excuse his words.

"Well, it was nae funny. I came here tae learn how tae make swords well, nae how tae cheat people," Rory said, his words more fiery than usual. Ian held his hands up, as though he was trying to tame a wild horse.

"Aye, lad, aye, ye dinnae hae tae get sae worked up. Ye know I take my work seriously. I would nae hae taken ye on if I dinnae. I just think that sometimes a good sword is wasted on people like him because he will nae be able tae appreciate it properly."

"But we can appreciate the artistry of what we are making. As long as we can put our head down at night knowing that we hae done a good job, then we can be happy with ourselves," the words were rehearsed. Ian could imagine that Rory repeated them to himself over and over again until they became a promise he was determined to keep to himself.

"And I dae, lad, I just like haeing a joke now and then, that's all. But maybe I joke tae much. And maybe ye joke tae little," he added in a teasing tone. Rory smiled.

"It's just that I hae always wanted tae be a blacksmith. I want tae learn all that I can, and sometimes it seems like ye dinnae take it seriously."

Ian regarded Rory with a rueful look. "Lad, look, blacksmithing is all I hae ever known. It's in my blood. The first thing I can remember is haeing a wee hammer in my hand. It was my Da's trade, and his Da's before him, and if I ever bring a son intae the world, I hope it'll be his trade as well. There is naething dearer tae my heart, but life is serious enough already. Ye dinnae need tae be sae stern all the time. There's always room for a joke and a laugh, because there will be plenty of sorrow by the time ye are done."

Ian tried not to think about the moments from his past that he would rather forget, yet they kept gnawing at the back of his mind. They walked on in silence back to the shop. Ian opened the door and they walked in.

"I just dinnae see how ye can joke about things when ye are in such danger, and the last thing ye want is tae make more enemies. If someone were tae uncover the distillery, ye could be imprisoned, or even worse," Rory exclaimed.

"Ye dinnae hae anything tae worry about, lad. I'm old enough tae take care of myself, and I would nae be daeing this unless I felt safe. I only share my secrets with people I can trust, and they're all enjoying the whiskey tae much tae betray me. Everyone knows this is a stupid rule." As Ian spoke, he pushed a table away and then kicked aside a rug, revealing a door to the basement, which he kept hidden. As he did so, there was a sudden noise emanating from the depths of the house. Ian glared at Rory.

"Hae that stupid cat returned?"

"Ginger is nae stupid! She's my friend."

"She's a damned nuisance, is what she is. I told ye that ye should nae hae fed her! Now she thinks she can just come here for food all the time. I dinnae want tae hae some wastrel coming by, it's bad enough that I hae ye," he said this with only a trace of a mocking tone.

"It's nae her fault, she's only a cat. She just wants tae be fed."

"Aye, and I bet she gaes about tae a few houses. Soon enough, she'll be fatter than either of us! Ye should know better than tae take pity on some creature that looks at ye with wide eyes. That cat is nae innocent, and I'm gaeing tae make sure it dinnae come back here," Ian turned and stomped down the stairs to the basement. Rory followed, calling out in dismay as he fought to defend Ginger. The boy's heart was too soft, Ian thought.

When he descended, he looked around and saw that a window was half-open. A chilly breeze blew through. The cat was also there, scratching behind its ear. But it wasn't Ginger who held Ian's attention. It was a cloaked woman who had a petrified look on her face. She was trembling with fear, but she had absolutely no right to be in his shop. A storm flickered in his eyes as nobody aside from himself and Rory was supposed to be down here.

Lucy was left speechless as the two men entered the basement. They were both burly and strong, although one was clearly older than the other. He had a mess of dark hair on his face, brooding eyes, and a deep scowl. Lucy quickly looked for anywhere to hide, but she was too slow. She thought she would be in for a hiding. The older blacksmith turned to the younger one.

"I told ye nae tae leave the window open! Ye should nae hae befriended that stupid cat. Now look what it's brought in," the older blacksmith shook his head as he looked at Lucy.

"I dinnae leave it open, I just… well…" the younger blacksmith's argument was weak, and it was somewhat rendered mute as the cat crept up to him and rubbed its head against his ankles. It slipped in between his legs, and he couldn't resist the instinct to bend down and pet it. The other blacksmith rolled his eyes and then placed his hands on his hips, shaking his head in dismay. But then she became the focus of his ire.

"Who are ye and what are ye daeing here?" he asked.

Lucy had been in the basement for hours, but had not been able to escape. The door wouldn't open. Something heavy had been on the other side. She hadn't found anything to break her shackles either, and they were still hidden under her cloak. However, she had explored the basement and knew that it was a distillery. The equipment was known to her, as her father had explained how things like this worked. He had explained many things to her in her youth, but the lessons had been fewer and farther between as she grew older, as if she was incapable of learning anything new and was only good for certain other things.

And she knew that the Laird had banned distilleries, which she hoped gave her a way to bargain for her life.

"I was only looking for a blacksmith, and there was nae other way in. I need someone tae free me," she took a risk and pushed her hands beyond the cloak, showing the shackles that bound her hands together. "I hae nae intention of betraying yer secret," she said, glancing around at the equipment. The younger lad looked shocked and guilty, while the older man just looked annoyed.

"And what secret would that be?" Ian asked. Lucy kept her lips pressed shut, unwilling to share her knowledge directly with them, in case they thought she was more trouble than she was worth. Whenever the men moved, she flinched, and she could feel the blood rushing to her cheeks. She shifted her weight between her feet, and the shackles became heavier and heavier with every passing moment.

"Are ye the one the guards are looking for?" the younger lad gasped. Ian looked annoyed with him for speaking to her, but then he looked inquisitive too.

"I'm just… I just found myself in an unfortunate situation, that's all," Lucy said. It was clear her words were not enough to push suspicion away, however, and they clearly suspected the truth. Her voice cracked with desperate emotion. "Please help me. Get rid of these shackles. I need tae be free. I… I know the guards must hae painted an awful picture of what I did, but I hae my reasons."

"All they told us was that ye are a fugitive. What did ye dae? What's yer name?" the older man asked.

"Lucy," she mumbled, "I… I stole. I worked as a maid in the keep, and I stole some of Lady Boyd's jewelry. I hae a chance tae escape and I took it. I just want tae begin a new life elsewhere, that's all," she said, forcing the words out of her tongue as she lied to them. The last thing she wanted was to let them know that they had a prized hostage in their basement, for she was no ordinary maid. Rather, she was the daughter of the Laird's chief advisor; Hamish Glennrock. He would surely be pacing around the keep now, sending waves of guards to bring her home and demand an explanation for this. All she wanted was to leave that life behind and begin anew.

"A thief, aye? There could be a handsome reward for ye," the blacksmith said.

Lucy narrowed her eyes towards him. It felt as though the walls were closing in on her and there was nothing to but lash out, revealing all that she knew. "Aye, and I'm sure there would be a handsome reward for someone running an illegal distillery as well. Perhaps it might even be enough tae trade for my freedom, sae if ye take me back I will tell them the truth," she retorted.

Ian blinked slowly, the lack of a denial proving that she knew what she was speaking about."And how I am tae know ye are nae gaeing tae run back up the keep and tell them anyway?" the blacksmith asked.

"Because if ye help me, then I will be indebted tae ye. I hae nae intention of staying in the village or anywhere near this keep. I will gae far away where naebody will ever find me, and sae I will nae hae anyone tae tell the secret tae."

Lucy smiled at Rory, as he seemed the kinder of the two. However, when he didn't return the gesture, she was bewildered, and Lucy realized that things were going to be far more complicated than she had foreseen. There was no way to tell where she stood with these two men. Before this, she had largely been concerned with getting out of the keep. She hadn't put much thought into what was going to happen after this, but now she was at the mercy of these blacksmiths, but she supposed it was better than being faced with guards.

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