The Seer - Hildie McQueen Page 0,4

rumblings,” his father admitted. “And temporarily, perhaps yes, we could hold our borders. But if they declare war, our men cannot win much more than a short battle. The Macpherson has at least six hundred men, if not more.”

Clan Sinclair had already lost many people the winter just past due to an epidemic. The sickness and harshness of the weather combined with the inability to keep people safe from marauders meant entire families had perished by the end of winter. Now as they’d begun to repair all the damage and rebuild homes that would withstand another winter, the clan could not afford a fight. Any kind of clan clash would bring the ravishing of houses and killing of innocents. The Macpherson’s were cruel and ruthless whether at peace or at war.

Guiles considered if there was a course of action to stop from joining with the Macpherson. The Macpherson did not have daughters of marrying age. He supposed it was possible to be hand fasted to a younger one. It was doubtful the Macpherson would agree to such an arrangement.

“Have ye spoken to the Macpherson as yet?” Guiles asked.

“He has expressed interest in the past. It seems his son admires Dallis.”

Guiles walked closer to where his parents sat. His mother stood and gave him a wan smile before kissing her husband and leaving the room.

“Give it a bit more time Da. We have to concentrate on rebuilding. Hopefully by the fall harvest, things will settle. For now, why we should attend last meal at the Macpherson’s keep and assess if they are holding any grudges against us,” Guiles suggested.

His father, always a fair man, bent his head in thought. “Ye are smart son and know well what must be done. I will wait a sennight before presenting the idea to the Macpherson. Lairds Robertson and Gordon will arrive in the next day or two. We must move with haste as the Macpherson is not a patient man. He’s asked that we discuss how our clans will work together. I know it's a preamble to the idea of taking over.”

Guiles ground his teeth. “Whether or not we join with them, the man is without honor and will attempt to gain more power. He wants our lands and has never bothered to hide it. We have to consider other ways to stop him. Form a resistance...”

At the last words, the Sinclair got to his feet. “I forbid ye to consider joining the resistance. I know of it. I am aware men are gathering in an effort to kill the Macpherson, and I promise ye they will fail. The man is cunning and has eyes and ears everywhere.”

Laird Sinclair locked gazes with Guiles. “If I, who am not involved in it, know about it, I have no doubt he does as well.”

Although his father’s declaration made his stomach pitch, Guiles waved away his concerns. “There has been talk of a resistance for years. No one takes it seriously.”

“I do. Every laird does. None of us want to be accused of belonging to it. If the Macpherson decides one of us is involved, he will not hesitate to send his army and attack without hesitation.”

Once Guiles left his father’s study, he went directly to his chambers. Something had to be done and fast. The resistance would have to move up its timetable. First they had to find out who amongst them was untrustworthy and informing the lairds.

If someone was getting messages to the Macpherson, it could prove lethal, not just for the resistance but his clan as well.

Their first plan had failed. The Macpherson’s guardsmen had been on full alert thwarting their efforts of sending in a man under the guise of wishing to join the guard’s ranks.

Guiles didn’t like any of it. The lack of trust within the resistance, the fact his sister was not only about to be married off in an effort to keep peace, but also what if they knew she was a part of the clandestine group?

Both he and Dallis along with twenty had formed a small contingent that planned to find a way to overthrow Laird Macpherson. Unfortunately, nothing would be done until the man they’d sent for arrived. A seer, who is rumored to have strong abilities. Guiles suspected the seer would be an old withered soul with glazed over eyes and stark white hair. It mattered not to him what the man looked like, what did count was the strength of his gifts.

Whoever was untrustworthy would be