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nodded at his words. “She wasn’t a snow witch,” she said, tucking her long, brown hair behind her ears. “
They
are beautiful, but this one was really ugly; she had a hooked nose and her clothes were black.”
    “She was an Earth Witch, then,” Jaikie said knowledgeably. “The Earth Witches wear black and the Wind Witches wear grey.”
    Grey! Neil and Clara eyed one another in quick understanding . It must have been Wind Witches that they had seen searching the trees near their house.
    “Really?” Janet MacLean said, looking over at him in surprise. “I didn’t know there were different kinds of witches.”
    Archie nodded. “They’re a jealous lot,” he remarked, “alwayssquabbling.”
    The MacArthur nodded. “They don’t get on with one another at all,” he agreed. “We knew you’d be having problems with them the minute Merial died.”
    “You mean Muriel,” the Ranger corrected him with a smile, “my sister-in-law.”
    “No, I don’t,” the MacArthur said with a sidelong glance at Archie, Hamish and Jaikie. He paused momentarily, well aware of the consternation he was about to cause. “I mean Lady Merial, daughter of Lord Jezail of Ashgar, one of the greatest magicians in Europe.”
    There was a blank silence as the MacLeans gawped, open-mouthed at this disclosure.
    “You’re … you’re not having us on, are you?” John MacLean said eventually in a voice that was little more than a whisper.
    The MacArthur shook his head.
    Neil and Clara glanced at one another; but while Neil looked as amazed as his parents, Clara became suddenly thoughtful. She had always been close to her aunt. They’d got on well together and if she really
was
a magician’s daughter then that would explain quite a lot; for their conversations had often been about magic. It must have been about a year ago, she thought, when they’d been on a picnic. The others had gone for a walk but she had stayed behind to help clear up and her aunt had quizzed her about her firestone pendant. She remembered how she’d blushed when her aunt had called it a magic stone and then smiled at her in a most peculiar way as though she’d guessed at all her adventures with the MacArthurs. And there were the odd comments she sometimes made as well. “Did you know that witches,” she’d once remarked, “can’t cross running water. They have to use bridges.” Yes, she thought, it was quite possible thatAuntie Muriel had been a magician’s daughter.
    Still looking stunned, the Ranger searched his memory for details. “David met Muriel in Austria when he was on a skiing holiday,” he said, running his hands through his hair. “I don’t remember him ever calling her Merial, though,” he added, a frown creasing his brow as he looked at the MacArthur. “According to him, her father disapproved of their marriage and more or less cut Merial off, there and then.”
    “Now we know why,” his wife interrupted.
    “Well, yes,” John continued, “but having said that, it didn’t seem to worry her. They came back to Scotland, settled in at Craiglaw House and were perfectly happy.”
    “She was lovely,” added Janet, still sounding flabbergasted, “a thoroughly nice woman. I can’t believe she had anything to do with witches or magic.”
    “Why did you say that we’d be having problems the minute she died?” Neil queried, remembering the MacArthur’s opening remark.
    “Ah,” the MacArthur said, “that’s where things start to get complicated. You see, Merial’s father, Lord Jezail, doted on his daughter and when she was young, he gave her a magic talisman as a gift.”
    “What’s a talisman?” Clara asked.
    “It’s a magic token. In this case, an engraved silver clasp that’s worn round the arm. It not only protected Merial from hexes and spells but gave her control over the witches. They’re spiteful, you see, and left to themselves they’d delight in calling up storms and the like — especially at harvest time when