Wolf in the Fold by Simon R. Green
"I'm afraid we're all the send-off you're going to get," said Brennan. "The others have all managed to be very busy just at the moment. Holly and Lord Arthur are comforting each other, as best they can. For the moment they both miss David too much to think of anything else, but I wouldn't be surprised if they ended up staying together. I think they'd be good for each other. Who knows? Maybe she'll even stop him drinking."
Hawk smiled. "It's possible, I suppose. Stranger things have happened."
"Aunt Katrina is upstairs packing," said Jamie. "I told her she was still welcome to stay as long as she wished, but it would appear she can't wait to leave. She says she doesn't feel safe here anymore. I can understand that. I've lived all my life in the Tower, and I don't feel the same about it now. It's as though an old and trusted friend had suddenly revealed a dark and violent side to his nature, something you'd never even suspected before. I'll probably get over it, but I don't think I'll ever really trust the Tower again."
"Where's she going?" said Hawk.
Jamie shrugged. "Back to the city. I don't think she herself knows where she's going yet."
"Maybe she'll go back to her husband," said Fisher.
"I hope not," said Brennan. "For his sake. I wouldn't wish Katrina on my worst enemy. At least not unless I was in a really nasty mood."
"What about Alistair?" said Hawk. "He spent most of yesterday evening trying to avoid us."
"He's around somewhere," said Jamie. "Hiding his face. I think he still feels guilty about accusing you of being the freak. No doubt he'll turn up again, once you're safely gone."
There was another pause as they ran out of polite, unimportant things to say.
"I'm sorry about David," said Hawk finally. "He wasn't a bad sort. We would have taken him alive, if we could."
"I know that," said Jamie. "I've no doubt it happened just the way you described. David was many things, but he was never a coward. He knew there was only one thing he could do to protect his Family, and he did it. I don't know what I'm going to tell them. Some of the truth is bound to come out, eventually. I can't even bring his body home to them. The tides have already taken it out to sea. I still feel guilty about him, you know. I was his friend. I should have realized something was wrong. If I had, maybe I could have found a way to help him, before he got mixed up with the wrong people…"
"Stop that," said Brennan firmly. "If David had wanted you to know, he would have told you. He had enough opportunities. But his pride wouldn't let him. Or perhaps he just didn't want to drag his friends down with him. Whatever happened is his responsibility, no one else's. You're the MacNeil now, Jamie. You must learn not to worry about things that can't be changed."
Jamie nodded slowly, but still looked unconvinced. Hawk decided this might be a good time to change the subject, and cleared his throat loudly. "What about you, Robbie? What are you going to do with yourself, now that Duncan's left you such a sizeable windfall?"
Robbie grinned. "Damned if I know, to be honest. But I might just do a little traveling. It's a long time since I was out in the world. There's bound to have been a lot of changes, and I think I'd like to see some of them while I still can. Not that I haven't been happy here, Jamie, but it's not the same with Duncan gone. I'll look back from time to time, see how you're getting on; sing you any new songs I've picked up."
"Yes, of course," said Jamie. "That would be nice."
Brennan laughed. "You're not fooling anyone, Jamie. You never did appreciate my singing."
"It's an acquired taste," said Jamie solemnly. "And I've only been listening to you for about twenty years."
They all smiled genuinely, and Hawk put out his hand to Jamie. The MacNeil shook it firmly. There was a quick burst of handshaking all round, and Hawk led Fisher away, before the goodbyes could become awkward again. They set off down the trail that led to the city, and didn't look back.
"Well," said Hawk finally, "how did you like being one of the Quality, Isobel?"
Fisher snorted. "The food was good and the wines were splendid, but the company sucked and I hate their idea of fashion. The corset pinches me every time I breathe, having my hair piled up like this makes my head ache, and these shoes are killing me."
Hawk smiled. "Just be grateful we didn't have to mix with a dozen or more Families in High Society."
"I am grateful," said Fisher. "Believe me."
"I don't think we did too badly. We didn't hit anyone." Fisher shook her head. "You don't have the right attitude for High Society, Hawk."
"Hark who's talking."
They laughed quietly together, and made their way back down towards Haven.
Alistair stood alone in the drawing room, looking up at the portrait of the Family Guardian hanging over the fireplace. The room was very quiet, the only sound the soft crackling of the fire. He knew he didn't have much time before the others would come looking for him, but still he hesitated, torn with indecision. It was such a long time since he'd last walked the corridors of the Tower. He hadn't realized he'd miss it so much.
He looked round the drawing room, deliberately not hurrying himself, taking in all the details. They'd made a lot of changes since his day. He didn't care for most of them, but then, fashions change. He walked slowly round the room, smelling the flowers and admiring the paintings and tapestries, and letting his fingers drift over the polished surfaces of the furniture. He couldn't stay. It was his home, but he couldn't stay. He didn't belong here anymore. The young girl Holly had begged for him to come, and so he had, but he wasn't needed anymore. The freak was dead at last, finally at peace.
He turned back to face the portrait again. It was time to go, before the others realized he wasn't really Alistair MacNeil after all. He wanted so much to stay, to walk in the real world, to see the sun rise and fall and feel the wind on his face… but he still had his penance to fulfill. The penance he'd taken on so many years ago, for the terrible things he'd done to his son, the freak.
The MacNeil Family Guardian held his head high and disappeared back into the portrait hanging over the fireplace, waiting to be called again, in time of need.
Whenever they might need him.
Simon R. Green, Wolf in the Fold