“Peallaidh says that if you kill him he will not allow you a sword.” She sounded almost amused. “Shall I give him your reply?”
The hairy creature continued to glare at me, but the mouth gaped wider and I realised that it was trying to smile. If it was prepared to be friendly, then so could I, a Scott of Eildon, and I sheathed my sword with what I hoped was a dramatic flourish. Now, I thought, it can leap on me and tear me apart with those long fangs. “Tell it … him … that I am pleased to meet him. If he is a friend of yours, then he has no reason to be afraid of me.” I swallowed my own fear as I spoke, and Seonaid gave a gentle curtsey.
“Why, Fergus, that almost sounds as if you like me.” Her laugh was more mocking than friendly as she turned her full attention to the thing and spoke in
