Scent of the surf clung to his plaid as Hudson crouched in front of his fireplace, rekindling the extinguished flames. He had gone straight from working at the warehouse to the beach, to the sea and sand and wind. Now he paid for the neglect with a house gone chill and dark. A few hurricane lanterns were lit, mostly in the kitchen, and there was one by his hand ? the only light in the otherwise dark room.

?Togaidh mis an tula mar a thogadh Muire. Cairn Bhride ?s Mhuire air an tula ?s air an lar, ?s air an fhardaich uile. I will raise the hearth-fire as Mary would. The encirclement of Bride and of Mary on the fire, and on the floor, and on the household all.? The words were a quiet whisper into the room as the fire finally caught. Normally a woman?s blessing, Hudson had been performing this small rite since Moira was too ill to leave her bed. It was habit now, and came with no embarrassment.

As the fire grew, Hudson fed it carefully, with logs of oak and apple-wood. The scent was so different than the peat of the Highlands, but it was sweet and clean. He remained crouching in front of the fire a moment longer, staring into the flames. He?d been avoiding company outside of work for several days. Now the crackle-pop of the fire seemed unnaturally loud in the house. There was little furniture to absorb the sound in the room ? a small couch, an armchair, and a small round table set next to the chair.

When he straightened, it was to that small table he went, and set the hurricane lantern down on a space left clear for it. The rest of its surface was occupied with a scattering of books, one with a pen neatly laid across its binding. About to take a seat, instead Hudson brushed his fingers across the journal and then restlessly turned his steps toward the kitchen. The thought of going out, confronting masses of happy, laughing, loving couples did not appeal. But the echoing emptiness of the house was as much an oppressive weight.

The pot-bellied iron stove in the kitchen was finally starting to heat, bringing warmth into the room. Hudson filled a kettle and pulled down one of the stoneware mugs he had found in the market. It was then that the knock on the front door came. With the kitchen at the back of the house, it took a moment before he was sure that he had actually heard the rap of fist on wood.

Puzzled was perhaps an understatement. He knew of Johnny and Sianna?s plans for the evening, and was not expecting to see them ? or anyone else. The lamps in the long, narrow hallway were still dark, so Hudson caught up one of the hurricane lanterns from the kitchen and strode through the house. The small, semi-circular window set high in the door blocked sight of the person actually knocking, so when he answered the door it was with a moment of surprise to see Sylvia.

Surprise, and a sudden rush of ? relief? Cheer? And then abrupt concern. Black eyebrows and mobile expression mirrored the rapid changing of emotions, lifting with shock to clear with welcome and then draw together in worry. ?Sylvia? A? caraid, dae there be aught amiss?? He was stepping back to allow her in even as he spoke, holding the door for her and her guard. The lantern threw uncanny shadows everywhere as it swung from his grip.

It was a slow smile that emerged at Sylvia?s reassurance, and her purpose. The sway of light and shadow revealed and then concealed the glow of cold in her cheeks. Hudson studied her face as she spoke, but it was her last words and the guard?s stifled snicker that brought a gleam of humor back to his eyes. ?Ye be in nae way unwelcome, brionnach, and yer visit be a most pleasant surprise. I assure ye that I dinnae normally haunt this place in th? dark. ?Tis a matter of timing and that I returned here only a few minutes agone and ha?e nae yet lit th? place properly.?

He led the way down the hallway, gestured Sylvia and the guard into the kitchen, and paused by the stairs. Hurricane lantern was set on one step, and he picked up a box of matches to begin lighting lamps. The brightening of the house made the empty stillness of the building seem not so oppressive. With not the heart to go out, nor the will to stay in alone ? this was a compromise that felt very right.

?Cards and tales and a wee bit o? laughter seem a fine idea, caraid. I just ha?e started th? water for tea, if ye?d like, or I ha?e some fine cider that would be easy enow tae mull.? Hudson pulled down the box of black tea, setting up the mug he had pulled down earlier. There was a table with chairs set against it underneath the windows. None matched ? they had been salvaged from various places and carefully repaired ? but were all serviceable and sturdy. A half-mended net was draped over the back of one of the chairs with the netting needles and twine laid out neatly in front of it.

Black eyes paused on the guard in question if the man would like tea, cider, or something else, and then turned to meet Sylvia?s violet gaze. ?If ye dinnae already ken it, feel free tae make yerself at home, tae explore however it may suit yer fancy. ?Tis nae much, nor nearly sae grand as Yearling Brook, but ye be welcome here.? His voice was soft, and then lightened with teasing as he continued.

?Although I dae be impressed at yer courage, nae tae ha?e been scared away with th? gloom o? th? place. ?Tis my own fault for failing tae bank th? fires properly.? He had already reached for another two mugs, setting them down on the counter. When he looked back over his shoulder, it was with a sudden smile and an arch of one brow. ?And tae speak of tales, I be reminded of one by that. More than one ? but one be a true tale and one be a legend. Dae ye ha?e a preference taenight, a? daor caraid??

The wicked grin Sylvia flashed as she spoke to the guard was an expression Hudson hadn?t seen before. He had seen her playful a few times, but this cheeky teasing was new. He liked the way it looked on her face, the sparkle it brought to her eyes. The banter was enough to bring out the mischievous edge to his own smile, though he didn?t participate in it.

He considered the question about their destination as he handed her a prepared mug of tea. ?There be advantages tae either option, but I think that if ye wish tae play cards as well as listen tae tales, we?d be best off here.? Another moment of consideration and he moved to the table in the kitchen, setting down his own mug of tea so that he could clear the netting needles and twine away.

Small chore accomplished, he offered Sylvia a seat and took one of his own. ?Th? true tale be a short one, sae I?ll begin with that while ye think on what ye wish tae dae next ? hear another tale, tell one, or start with th? cards.? Blunt fingers with net-scars criss-crossing wrapped around his stoneware mug as Hudson studied the gleam of the oil lamps on Sylvia?s raven-wing hair. His expression grew slightly withdrawn as he called up the memory for the story.

??Tis a strange thing tae think on, how much we be creatures that need th? light. Boys being boys, Cailean and I fell tae th? challenge o? Kester one summer ? I had eleven years tae me then, and Cailean nine, and we were set tae prove we did be men full-grown. Kester claimed th? only way tae dae that properly was tae brave th? spirits of th? walking dead in th? graveyard at midnight, or tae spend a night on th? Dubh Gailbhinn? th? Dark Hill. That did be well-kenned as a haunting place of th? fae.? A wry smile quirked up one corner of his mouth at saying that, here in this city that truly was peopled by the fae and stranger races than that.

?Sae clever us, Cailean and I took th? challenge in good cheer. In fact we went Kester one better and told him we?d visit nae one place but both on th? night. Sae bold we were with plans tae light a fire and then bank it, one tae each place. We even nursed thoughts tae dance around th? fire on th? hilltop and make any who saw us tell tales o? th? weirding fae.? The look of mischief was back on his face, plain as daylight.

There was a slow shake of Hudson?s head before he continued. ?And a grand plan it was. Th? beginnings went off wonderful well ? I set th? fire on th? hilltop and banked it, and Cailean did th? same in th? graveyard. And I dinnae ken tae this day how he did that without th? priest kenning a thing. Th? problems began when we crept out in th? wee hours, and made our way up tae th? hilltop, only tae find that I?d nae done th? job o? banking th? fire well enow.?

Reaching for the lantern, he turned up the wick a bit, brightening the table in opposition to that long-ago dark night. ?Well, th? night was black as a boggan?s soul, and we made quick tracks down tae th? graveyard and th? fire we kenned o? there, waiting tae be kindled back tae life. Ye can imagine our horror when we realized that fire had gone out as well. Sae there Cailean and I stood against th? graveyard wall, staring at each other as best we could in th? dark, when all of a sudden there was th? most uncanny shriek ye e?er did hear, like tae a soul being torn down tae Hell.?

With years passed since that moment of terror, Hudson could laugh quietly. ?In th? daylight we?d ha?e recognized it as th? cry o? a peafowl being startled and thought nae more on it. In th? night, in th? graveyard ? ach, ye should ha?e heard us shriek. But tae follow our shrieking was th? sound o? laughter as Kester, Alasdair and Alleyne came out from hiding with a torch tae light their way. They?d set up th? whole thing, and if they didnae ken o? our fires, they didnae ha?e their plan spoiled either, all due tae th? fact that neither Cailean nor I kenned how tae bank a flame and still keep it alive.?

Finally Hudson took a sip of his tea, laughter still gleaming in his eyes, and focused once again wholly on the present. ??Tis up tae ye what we dae next, mo ionmhuinn. I dae ha?e tae confess if cards be yer next pleasure that th? only card game for twa people I ken be cribbage, and I dinnae ken if ye ha?e a board for that. But I be more than willing tae learn aught ye wish tae teach.?

Sylvia could teach, and the game wasn?t too complicated, so Hudson did indeed pick up the concept quickly. Laughter and banter interspersed with questions as cards slapped down on the table. When he won the demonstration game with a lucky run at the end, he smiled at Sylvia?s teasing. The challenge brought a glint to his eyes and a tease to his own voice. ?Aye, run th? game at full speed. After all, dinnae th? saying of the Fraiser?s be ?I am ready?? Ye?ll put that tae th? test.?

Despite his words of being ready, Hudson paused to take a bite of the offered apple, enjoying the crisp crunch and sweet-tart flavor. Sylvia dealt out the cards into their two stacks, and he set the apple down hastily to draw his cards. His first discard was a seven, and Sylvia?s an ace ? and the cards started to fly down. Two followed the ace and then another ace led to a king. The seven was topped with a six, and that pile paused for a few moments. There was the slap of pasteboard on the table and the breathless rush to pick up new cards and discard the old.

Every now and then the rhythm was broken as one or the other of them had to wait to play a card, with nothing in their hands that would do. Laughter built and broke as they played, and often enough Sylvia?s quick hands would dart under Hudson?s to place a card when he thought he?d been safe. As they played, Hudson began to sing quietly, the tenor chant of the sea shanty broken occasionally by bouts of laughter as they struggled to place down cards faster than the other.

?There's lilt in this song I sing, there's laughter and love
There's song of the sea so blue and heaven above
Of reason there's none, no, and why should there be for why
As long as there?s fire in the blood and a light in the eye?

Ar fa la low ha row ere fa la la le
Ar far la low ha row ere fal la la le
Ar far la low ha row ere fal la la le
Fa le fa low ha row ere fal la la le

The heather's ablaze with moon, the myrtle so sweet
There's a song in the air, the road a song at our feet
So step it along as light as a bird on the wing
And while we are stepping we' join our voices and sing

Ar fa la low ha row ere fa la la le
Ar far la low ha row ere fal la la le
Ar far la low ha row ere fal la la le
Fa le fa low ha row ere fal la la le

And whether the blood be high, lowland or no
and whether the skin be black or white as the snow
Of kith and of kin we are one be it right be it wrong
As long as our voices join the chorus of song

Ar fa la low ha row ere fa la la le
Ar far la low ha row ere fal la la le
Ar far la low ha row ere fal la la le
Fa le fa low ha row ere fal la la le.?

The last chorus of the shanty finished as Sylvia triumphantly placed down her last card, leaving Hudson with three cards in his hands. He laughed across the table at her and lay down the cards face-up on the wooden surface. ?Ye swore tae take nae prisoners, a? buadhmhor ionmhuinn, and ye ha?e triumphed. Dae ye wish tae claim a forfeit??

?Ye abuse yer lip again, caraid, and ?tis a pure shame tae dae sae.? It was a gentle tease for her habit of chewing on the corner of her mouth. A lean back in his chair was accompanied by the run of one hand back through his hair while Hudson considered the options Sylvia presented. It was a struggle to maintain a serious look of thought about the matter, and wrinkles creasing at the corners of his eyes betrayed the concealed laughter. Finally, decision made, he shrugged his shoulders with a nod of assent.

?Ye be quite right that ye could ha?e th? second tale for th? asking and with nae need for th? forfeit ? sae I?ll show ye a sword dance. And if I can talk Sianna intae assisting me another time with th? music or th? dance, ye?ll see one much th? better.? Hudson stood and lifted his hand in a ?wait one moment? gesture, then headed out of the kitchen and up the stairs to the second floor.

When he returned, it was with a sheathed claymore slung lightly over his shoulder. The hilt was worked at the pommel with the same seal of a charging stag, lowered head-on to the viewer, which was on the brooch that held Hudson?s plaid. He smiled over to Sylvia as he unhooked the sheathed sword from the baldric. ?Ye?ll nae see th? best o? it now, with only th? one sword tae my possession, nor any music tae liven it up, but I dinnae be a poor turn at this. There be more than one type o? sword dance, actually, but most o? th? others ye dae with up tae thirteen people ? or there be th? dirk dance for a pair, or th? Fling that ye dae on a targe.?

Judging the clear space in the room, Hudson placed the scabbard down on the floor as one half of the cross, with the sword down on top of it crosswise. ?I?ll ha?e tae ask ye tae clap th? beat for me, like sae.? He set a brisk 4/4 rhythm, and kept it until Sylvia took up the beat. With the sound of clapping hands filling the room, he took position; arms raised, balanced lightly on the balls of his feet, and began to snap along with the clapped beat. A smile flashed merry on his face, and with no further ado he began.

Fast, fast the motion of feet dancing around and about the crossed sword and scabbard. Light spring and kick, turning about the formed cross on the ground clockwise, and Hudson laughed boyishly. He didn?t try for the leaping height that was purely showing off, but instead concentrated on the precision of placing his steps, and the rhythmic snap of fingers to keep the time. Four turns around the crossed claymore and scabbard, and four turns that crossed between the sections before he finished and bowed out, facing Sylvia as he had begun.

?And there ye ha?e it, mo ionmhuinn, one o? th? Highland sword dances, though I can tell I be sore out o? practice.? Laughter in black eyes as Hudson scooped up the claymore and scabbard, sheathing the blade, and then took back his seat. He drained the now-cold tea in his mug and smiled across at Sylvia. ?Some o? th? others be more swordplay set tae music, but I ha?e nae th? room in here for those. Sae my forfeit be paid ? dae ye be satisfied??

Hudson didn?t try to restrain his own laugh at Sylvia?s mention of a two-headed sheep. ?Nae, I didnae think tae add any insults tae th? wee book ? though I could if ye like. And ye said that beautifully, caraid. Ye ha?e a knack for th? sound o? it.? After a moment, he gathered his mug and stood, refilling the kettle with water enough for two before he set it back on the stove to heat. There was a minute or two of comfortable silence as he resumed his seat and leaned back, considering the matter of the forfeit.

?Tae be honest, mo ionmhuinn, I cannae think o? a forfeit tae claim against ye. Aught ye wish tae tell me I dinnae want tae hear because ye feel obligated; th? fun o? this night be more than enow for me.? Hudson ran one hand back through his hair and smiled wryly across the table at Sylvia. ?Sae ye seem tae be off ? ah, a terrible pun ? Scot free, for th? lack o? my imagination.?

A shrug accompanied his standing when the water in the kettle began to boil. Gathering up his empty mug, he moved back to the counter to set up another round of tea. ?Would ye care for a refill, caraid, or dae ye be well set still?? There was a soothing rhythm to preparing tea, and Hudson fell into it easily. He was listening with half an ear for her answer as he spooned a portion of the loose-leaf tea into a strainer. A swirl of hot water in the mug was emptied into the sink, and then he added the boiling water over the tea and set it to steep.

?Ye started tae mention yer sword, and got diverted by th? game ? would ye tell me on it?? A look over his shoulder was given to reassure her that he would not press if she chose not to tell. For all of their conversations, Hudson still felt he knew little about Sylvia ? she?d mentioned once a brother, but that only briefly and in passing. Before she was the Baroness she had been a sell-sword, a mercenary; that was the sum total of Hudson?s knowledge about her past. It was a strange feeling to him. He had grown up knowing almost everything about everybody in his village ? in such a small town it was harder to escape such knowledge than otherwise.

For all the differences between the Highlands and RhyDin, however, it had taken Hudson a while to realize that the city was more than a small town writ large. People thought differently here, were more cautious and more wary of their pasts. In many ways it seemed to be justified, but still the thought was sad. Hudson turned back to finish doctoring his tea as he liked it best ? very strong, but sweet and lightened with cream. Despite that caution, he had discovered enough people who were both friendly and kind, and first among those was the woman sharing her company this night.

Following the turns of her thought kept Hudson occupied as he resumed his own seat and cradled his mug between his hands. The mention of her father gifting her sword brought a hint of smile to his face. ?Sianna has th? sword o? our father in her possession ? and a grand battle she fought tae take it with her on her travels. But aye, th? long blades be a wee bit impractical in close quarters. Th? sgian dubh or th? sgian achlais be th? weapons I turn tae first if th? need be there.? A glint of humor lit his expression at that, ?Though tae be honest, I be more often likely tae turn tae my fists in a brawl.?

A tilt of his head in interest met her statement of going to sea, and of knowing the rigging. ?Sae ye tell me then that if I persuade ye tae a ride on th? L?ir Mothan, ye?ll ken enow tae be a help with th? sail? Now there be a most welcome surprise. ?Tis nae often that I meet a woman who kens th? workings o? a ship well enow tae dae such.? Mention of the fishing boat brought a more restful look to his face, as it ever did. The water was a place of peace for him, even though the rough waters and tides of the ocean were more challenging than the loch had ever been.

?But aye, as for th? mending and preparation, my bonny boat be ready tae sail with th? change o? weather, but for th? change o? her name.? A grimace briefly crossed his face, and he took a sip of the tea before he continued. ?There be many who hold that tae rename a vessel be tae kill her, that she?ll give naught but ill luck after, or take her revenge on th? one who changed her soul. But I tell ye, caraid, I cannae think that Beautiful Gertrude ever was th? correct name for her. I think she?ll take th? change of th? name with gratitude, nae anger.?

Warm and quiet laughter was to follow, however, as he processed her words of cutting up his hands. It had become a thing he barely noticed, and very rarely did the wounds cause any trouble at all. Salt water healed surface wounds as much as the cold air and rigorous work stiffened the joints of his hands. ?As for th? cutting o? my hands ? well, that be a hazard every net fisherman be used tae. Although th? fair Domhnall did weep and wail endlessly about th? marring o? his perfect form, until he learned a secret.? Merriment lurked in the back of his expression as he leaned across the table to speak to her in a voice low and filled with humor.

?Th? bonniest maids were more attracted tae him with th? scars tae his hands than e?er they had been without. He was sae very fair, ye ken, that they couldnae match him until he had a bit o? a flaw ? and th? scars were th? evidence he kenned a trade and could support a family. He spent a very tiring summer chasing th? girls, and a winter at least as wearying running away from th? ones with marriage tae their mind!? A quick smile crossed his features, inviting her to share the joke of it, and he absently reached up to try to brush back the straying lock of her hair.

Only the briefest of pauses in the motion betrayed his hesitation of how she would react to the gesture, and he lowered his hand back to the table smoothly. The thread of conversation wound its way back and around, and he picked it back up. ?But ye mentioned interest in th? second tale o? th? failed fires, th? legend. Dae ye still wish tae hear it, mo ionmhuinn, or would ye care tae switch on tae sommat else??

A quirk of one black brow upwards had met Sylvia?s statement that she would lose the hearing of his stories, but he let that pass along with the mention of returning a favor. Instead he took a long sip of the tea in his mug as he considered the story and how to begin it. Absent habit had him turning the back of one hand against the warm stoneware as he finally spoke, with the thickening of accent that accompanied a cast far back in his memory. ?Th? first thing ye mun understand be that many, many years ha?e passed saen this came tae take place. ?Tis auld enow a tale I dinnae ken th? years o? it, and many a year passed between my hearing o? it and this telling.?

Despite the disclaimer, Hudson settled easily into the cadence of the story. ?Finlay th? hunter lived with his sister in a lonely wee house among th? mountains, and near at hand there were giants who were descendants of Beira. This giant clan did be ruled over by a hag-queen very old and fierce and cunning. She had great stores of silver and gold in her cave, and also a gold-hilted magic sword and a magic wand. When she struck a stone pillar with this wand it became a warrior, and if she put th? gold-hilted sword into his hand, th? greatest and strongest hero in th? world would be unable tae combat against him with success.?

?Every day that Finlay went out tae hunt he warned his sister, saying: "Dae not open th? windows on th? north side of the house, or let th? fire go out." His sister did not, however, heed his warning always. One day she shut th? windows on the south side of the house, and opened those on th? north side, and allowed th? fire tae gae out. She wondered what would happen, and she had not long tae wait, for a young giant came towards th? house and entered it. He had assumed a comely form, and spoke pleasantly tae Finlay's sister. They became very friendly, and th? giant made the foolish girl promise not tae tell her brother o? his visits. After that th? girl began to quarrel with Finlay. This went on for a time.? A quirk of expression over Hudson?s face betrayed a passing thought, but he took a sip of tea and continued rather than interrupt the story.

?One day as Finlay did be returning tae his home he saw a wee cottage in a place where no cottage used tae be. He wondered who dwelt in it, and walked towards th? door and entered. He saw an auld woman sitting on th? floor, and she bade him welcome. ?Sit down,? she said. ?Yer name be Finlay.?

?That be true,? answered he; ?who dae ye be and whence dae ye come??

?I be called Wise Woman,? she answered. ?I ha?e come here tae protect and guide ye. Alas! Ye dinnae ken that ye be in danger of yer life. A young giant has bewitched yer sister, and waits to kill you this very day with a sharp blue sword.?

?Alas!? cried Finlay, who sorrowed tae think of his sister. Being forewarned, th? hunter came home prepared. When he returned home he set his fierce dogs on th? giant, and threw a pot o? boiling water over him. Th? giant fled shrieking towards his cave, and Finlay's sister followed him.?

A mournful shake of Hudson?s head told wordlessly of the foolishness of that decision before he went on with the tale. ?Then th? hunter was left alone in th? house. His heart shook with terror because he feared that one o? th? aulder giants would come against him tae avenge th? injury done tae the young giant. He had good reason tae be afraid. As soon as th? young giant reached th? cave, his brother cried: ?I shall gae forth and deal with th' hunter.?

?I had better gae myself,? his father said fiercely.

?It is I who should gae,? growled th? fierce grey hag.

?I spoke first,? urged th? young giant's brother, and sprang he towards the mouth o? th? cave in th? gathering dusk. Finlay waited alone in his wee house. Th? door was shut and securely barred, and th? peat fire glowed bright and warm, yet he shivered with th? coldness o? terror. He listened long and anxious, and at length heard a growing noise like distant thunder. Stones rumbled down th? hillside as th? giant raced on, and when he entered a bog th? mud splashed heavily against the cliffs.

Finlay knew then that a giant was coming, and ere long he heard his voice roaring outside th? door: ?Fith! Foth! Foogie! The door is shut against a stranger. Open and let me in.? He did not wait for Finlay tae answer, but burst th? door open with a blow. Th? hunter stood behind th? fire which burned in th? middle o? th? room, his bow in his hand and an arrow ready. He fired as th? giant entered, but did not kill him. Th? giant shrieked and leapt towards Finlay, but th? dogs made fierce attack. Then th? hunter shot another arrow from his bow and killed th? giant.? It was a long time to speak, and Hudson took another sip of tea, draining his mug.

After a moment Hudson looked over at Sylvia with a small smile lurking at the back of his eyes. ?And that be th? first part o? this verra long tale o? the mischief wrought by letting a fire gae out. I think th? rest o? it I will hold hostage, ready for another night o? cards or an evening at th? tea shop. Th? hour grows long past late, mo ionmhuinn, and I dinnae wish yer guard tae fraitch himself that ye?ve slain me in here.?