The Spirit Walker

Chapter Eighteen: The Ride

I methodically butter a piece of four-seed bread, studiously staring down at my plate.

Don't think about it, don't think about it, don't think about it...

The wood grain of the dining table is impossible to ignore, and so is Calum's grinning, all-too knowing face on the other side of it.

"It is a lovely table, is it not?" He asks as soon as I've taken a bite. "Very sturdy."

I choke on my toast.

The sidelong look Ness tosses Arran and the responding roll of the man's eyes, as well as the way Elder Diyani masks a smile with her teacup, say that Calum isn't quite as subtle as he thinks he is.

I gulp down a glass of water to wash away my humiliation.

"So- we're meeting with your grandmother today?" I ask, changing the subject while primly wiping my hands off on my cloth napkin with the sort of manners that would do Emily Post proud.

Calum spears a seasoned potato and nods, the mischief gone from his eyes and suddenly all business. "The ceremonial transfer of power. She'll be acting as Righ in my stead until our return."

I reach for my tea, and wish it was coffee. It doesn't seem to be a very popular drink here. I wonder if I could convince Calum to pursue trade negotiations with South America so we can have a stockpile of good, Colombian coffee.

I wonder if Columbia even exists.

"Is there anything I should know about the ceremony?" I ask, and Calum shrugs.

"The Grandmothers of The Council and Clan Murray will be present- you will need to wear something on the dressier side for appearance's sake. Photographs are generally involved."

"The same grandmothers I met in the ritual?" I ask, and Calum inclines his head.

"And more."

"Remember- The Council of Grandmothers you met is comprised of the grandmother of each laird. But each patriarchal clan has their own panel of Grandmothers- one from each matriarchal clan- who serve as advisors and have the authority to veto the laird." Elder Diyani says.

My wish for coffee suddenly turns to longing,

"She's a simpleton," Ness grouses. "Big powerful men send their grannies to advise Calum so the decisions he makes are based on what all the clans want. But each powerful man has seven old ladies of his own that he has to explain all his decisions to. If Big Guy wants to do something bad, the old ladies get to shoot him down, or even send him to jail."

Elder Diyani scowls. "The Grandmothers are the pillars of our civilization. Show some respect," she snaps.

"I have to put it in a way dum-dum can wrap her head around." Ness shrugs unapologetically and loudly chomps on her bacon.

"Know your place," Calum growls. His voice sends a shiver down my spine- and not in the way I have come to expect. It is unnerving; the hairs at the back of my neck stand on end with a prickle of danger.

Ness looks intimidated for a moment, but then tosses down her napkin and levels a glare so fierce on Calum that if looks could kill, he'd already be six feet under.

"You and I served in the war together. We've been at each other's sides since we were eighteen years old. She isn't Bhanrigh yet. She hasn't even decided whether or not she's going to put you through the agony of rejection!"

"She is mine," Calum roars, and I freeze, my face paling, my eyes wide at his outburst. He glances towards me, and his expression gentles. "As I am hers. Whether she agrees to claim me or not is irrelevant, as you should well know," he adds, with a pointed glance toward Arran.