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now that he
was older and married. His ambition still drove him, but in matters of the
household he seemed content to leave that to his wife.
    As the carriage progressed toward the long-established heart of
Saint Andrews Chloris observed the familiar streets. Thankfully they did not
pass the house where she’d been born and lived, until the dreadful illness came
upon her parents and many of their servants. Chloris had not been back to the
place since then.
    Jean pointed out the households she knew of, merchants and
traders who Tamhas engaged with. As the streets grew more narrow so they grew
busier, with farmers driving sheep and goats alongside the path. They grew
closer to the sea, the air becoming sharper, and Chloris breathed the aroma in.
It took her back to her childhood, to the fonder, earlier memories when she
would be taken down to see the sea.
    The coachman pulled up at a stable yard and secured their
carriage there. Then he assisted the two women as they stepped down and he
walked ahead of them at some distance, clearing a path.
    Gulls wheeled overhead, their distinctive cries drawing her
attention to their flight. How they soared as they observed the activity below,
eager for pickings amongst the traders’ carts and wares. Chloris chuckled when
Jean pointed out a brazen gull that flew low over the stalls, scouting. Jean’s
mood must have reached her, for Chloris felt more alive than she had done in
some time.
    Or was there some other reason for it? The question flitted through her mind as memories of her illicit endeavor
the night before crept up on her again. Now that she had put some distance
between her and Torquil House she felt more at ease recalling her impetuous
visit to the abode in the woods called Somerled . The
whole experience had invigorated her. Safely away from the place, there was a
thrill in remembering how brazen she’d been, how daring. Even if she did not
pursue the purchase of a magic favor, she knew she would never forget her
strange encounter with the master of Somerled. The intrigue and excitement she
felt when recalling his actions were foreign emotions, and yet she knew it was
the furthest thing from what she should have felt. How could she hold her head
up in front of the minister on Sunday, knowing that she had sought out persons
who were considered evil—no better than vermin—by good, God-fearing folk?
    By her side, Jean was making observations on the chaos of the
market.
    Chloris nodded. “I do not recall Market Street being as busy as
this. It appears Saint Andrews flourishes under the union with England?”
    “You would do better to ask Tamhas, for he speaks a lot on the
subject and comments frequently that we would do well to look at ways in which
Scotland might prosper from the union, instead of raving about independence and
civil war.” She leaned in and whispered to Chloris conspiratorially, linking her
arm. “The truth of the matter is that the burgh is not what it was,” she added,
“but Tamhas works with the council to bring more trade here.”
    “It seems their efforts are proving fruitful.”
    Jean nodded. “I must confess, I find such talk of politics and
trade tedious, but do not tell Tamhas I’ve said that.”
    “I promise your secret is safe with me.” Chloris smiled, but
she secretly wished her own husband would talk with her about such matters. As a
landlord in Edinburgh, Gavin was much ingratiated with politicians and men of
commerce, but he refused to discuss any such matters with her because she was a
woman. Tamhas did share those things with Jean, but apparently Jean only feigned
interest to please him.
    The shared confidence bonded them somewhat and as they wended
their way through the busy market, Jean continued to link arms with Chloris. The
coachman was always ten paces away, in case they needed assistance. Jean
chattered busily at Chloris’s side. They passed that way happily for half the
length of Market Street, then Jean grasped