Outclassed, I gave up at last, and tucked the money safely away in the recesses of my own costume. At Jenny's insistence, I took also the small sgian dhu she pressed upon me.
"It's Ian's, but he has another," she said. "Put it into your stocking top, and hold it with your garter. Don't leave it off, even when ye sleep."
She paused a moment, as though there were something else she meant to say. Apparently there was.
"Jamie said," she said carefully, "that ye might… tell me things sometimes. And he said that if ye did, I was to do as ye said. Is there… anything ye wish to tell me?"
Jamie and I had discussed the necessity for preparing Lallybroch and its inhabitants against the coming disasters of the Rising. But we had thought then that there was time. Now I had no time, or most a few minutes, in which to give this new sister I held dear enough information to guard Lallybroch against the coming storm.
Being a prophet was a very uncomfortable occupation, I thought, not for the first time. I felt considerable sympathy with Jeremiah and his Lamentations. I also realized exactly why Cassandra was so unpopular. Still, there was no help for it. On the crest of a Scottish hill, the night wind of an autumn storm whipping my hair and skirts like the sheets of a banshee, I turned my face to the shadowed skies and prepared to prophesy.
"Plant potatoes," I said.
Jenny's mouth dropped slightly open, then she firmed her jaw and nodded briskly. "Potatoes. Aye. There's none closer than Edinburgh, but I'll send for them. How many?"
"As many as you can. They're not planted in the Highlands now, but they will be. They're a root crop that will keep for a long time, and the yield is better than wheat. Put as much ground as you can into crops that can be stored. There's going to be a famine, a bad one, in two years. If there's land or property that's not productive now, sell it, for gold. There's going to be war, and slaughter. Men will be hunted, here and everywhere through the Highlands." I thought for a moment. "Is there a priest-hole in the house?"
"No, it was built well after the Protector's time."
"Make one then, or some safe place to hide. I hope Jamie won't need it," I swallowed hard at the thought, "but someone may."
"All right. Is that all?" Her face was serious and intent in the half-light. I blessed Jamie for his forethought in warning her, and her for her trust in her brother. She didn't ask me how, or why, but only took careful note of what I said, and I knew my hasty instructions would be followed.
"That's all. All I can think of just now, anyway." I tried to smile, but the effort seemed unconvincing, even to me.
Hers was better. She touched my cheek briefly in farewell.
"God go wi' ye, Claire. We'll meet again—when ye bring my brother home."
* * *
Part Six – The Search
Chapter 34 - Dougal's Story"
* * *
34
Dougal's Story
Whatever the disadvantages of civilization, I reflected grimly, the benefits were undeniable. Take telephones, for example. For that matter, take newspapers, which were popular in such metropolitan centers as Edinburgh or even Perth, but completely unknown in the wilderness of the Scottish Highlands.
With no such methods of mass communication, news spread from one person to the next at the speed of a man's stride. People generally found out what they needed to know, but with a delay of several weeks. Consequently, faced with the problem of finding exactly where Jamie was, there was little to rely on except the possibility of someone encountering him and sending word back to Lallybroch. That was a process that might take weeks. And the winter would set in shortly, making travel to Beauly impossible. I sat feeding sticks to the fire, pondering the possibilities.
Which way would Jamie have gone from the point of his escape? Not back to Lallybroch, to be sure, and almost certainly not north, into the MacKenzie lands. South to the Border lands, where he might meet again with Hugh Munro or some of his earlier rough companions? No, most likely northeast, toward Beauly. But if I could figure that out, so could the men of the Watch.
Murtagh returned from his gathering, dumping an armload of sticks on the ground. He sat down cross-legged on a fold of his plaid, wrapping the rest around himself to keep out the chill. He cast an eye toward the sky, where the moon glowed behind racing clouds.
"It wilna snow just yet," he said, frowning. "Another week, maybe two. We might reach Beauly before then." Well, nice to have confirmation of my deductions, I supposed.
"You think he'll be there?"