When you visit our website, if you give your consent, we will use cookies to allow us to collect data for aggregated statistics to improve our service and remember your choice for future visits. Cookie Policy & Privacy Policy
Dear Reader, we use the permissions associated with cookies to keep our website running smoothly and to provide you with personalized content that better meets your needs and ensure the best reading experience. At any time, you can change your permissions for the cookie settings below.
If you would like to learn more about our Cookie, you can click on Privacy Policy.
I felt Seonaid tremble at my back and knew I had to think quickly. There are two things that distinguish Borderers from other people; one is their constant readiness for war, a state necessitated both by the nearness of a national enemy and by the constant feuding of the border clans; the other is guile. Borderers are often called upon to fight against odds; that is the nature of defending a very bloody frontier, and so we have learned tricks to equalise the situation. Now I called upon that border guile to survive this situation. “Alastair Mor Mac an Righ? Alastair, the son of the king?” I tried to inject surprise and delight into my voice in place of the horror I felt. I was not yet ready to face the Wolf of Badenoch, but it seemed that fate had decided my life for me. “The very man,”