Callan lingered for a moment at the edge of the clearing, watching as Janet's silhouette became smaller and smaller. A chill wind whispered through the trees, rustling the leaves like whispers of doubt. He struggled to gather his thoughts, to be honest with himself. In the last few days, he had acted completely contrary to his main principle, his usual, self-serving logic – 'take care of others only as much as it benefits you'. When he met Malcolm, who treated him with respect, as an equal adult, a man amongst men, consulted with him about everything, completely trusted him – all of which made Callan a lot to think about. He began to yearn for his father's friendship and involvement in his problems, even though he had felt contempt and envy mixed with indifference to his father.
Malcolm's influence had begun to shift Callan's perception of himself as well. Callan wanted to embrace the more masculine, resolute spirit of the McLaughlins, rather than being able to enjoy the role of an spoiled brat he had chosen for himself for all his life. Callan had always taken his parents' generosity for granted, assuming their love and support were an inherent right, a constant he could exploit without giving anything in return. Now the boy realized that this case also has its minuses. His father had never seen him as an equal, never discussed anything truly meaningful, never confided in him. It was a stark contrast to the bond between Conan and Malcolm.
Conan and Malcolm had a completely different relationship – they knew everything about each other, trusted each other. In any society they would be recognized as leaders, moreover, loved and worthy of imitation, because they adhered to the three principles that are most useful to the ruler – firmness without anger, perseverance without quarrel, modesty without puffery.
Callan sighed. If Etine kept her promise and took Malcolm with her, then he would have managed to do something for his kinsman. Callan himself had never been in love, never felt this way about anyone, let alone with a woman, to live only from memories of what he had once and in the hope of a new, albeit brief, meeting. Callan, like the vast majority of young men, when he met a girl he liked, longed only for sex, seeking momentary pleasure before moving on, treating love like a disposable toy.
Malcolm wasn't like that. He loved faithfully and gently, also when not being with his beloved. Callan wasn't sure if his ancestor himself wasn't using Gledis's services from time to time, but it didn't matter in principle, as there was no room for any other woman in Sir Malcolm's life.
Callan remembered Janet and grinned. This witchy woman, as it turned out, was able to be quite captivating and gentle. Janet's peculiar beauty and captivating charm, her fiery temper, her fits of rage, interspersed with quite childish resentment, all had Callan both fascinated and terrified by her. He was drawn to her, yet also wary of her unpredictable nature. But for now, he pushed her out of his mind, the coldness of the night and the gnawing hunger in his stomach were more immediate concerns. He had used the stolen ham for other purposes, leaving him with an empty stomach and a growing sense of unease.
After emptying the wine blazer he had taken with him, Callan wanted to get to Danvegen. Sir Malcolm greeted him with a furrowed brow, worry etched on his face. At the first opportunity, when no one was around, he said.
"The priests are not satisfied with the fact that you showed up to Campbell the night before. They may change their plan of the attack to another day or change their battle plans, so you have to go there again tonight and must try to turn things around, for good."
Callan shook his head. "How can I do that? If they see me again, they'll doubt even more!"
"You don't have to show yourself. But if it's still necessary, then do it that way, so they wouldn't have any doubt that you're a ghost."