Free Drums of Autumn by Diana Gabaldon Page A

his enemies’ hands who escapes. They say an asgina ageli has one foot on the earth and the other in the spirit world. He can talk to the spirits, and see the Nunnahee—the Little People.”
    “Little People? Will that be like the faeries?” Jamie sounded surprised.
    “Something of the kind.” Bonnet shifted his weight and the seat creaked as he stretched. “The Indians do say that the Nunnahee live inside the rocks of the mountains, and come out to help their people in time of war or other evil.”
    “Is that so? It will be something like the tales they tell in the Highlands of Scotland, then—of the Auld Folk.”
    “Indeed.” Bonnet sounded amused. “Well, from what I have heard of the Scotch Highlanders, there is little to choose between them and the red men for barbarous conduct.”
    “Nonsense,” said Jamie, sounding not the least offended. “The red savages eat the hearts of their enemies, or so I have heard. I prefer a good dish of oatmeal parritch, myself.”
    Bonnet made a noise, hastily stifled.
    “You are a Highlander? Well, I will say that for a barbarian, I have found ye passing civil, sir,” he assured Jamie, the laughter quivering in his voice.
    “I am exceedingly obliged for your kind opinion, sir,” Jamie replied, with equal politeness.
    Their voices faded into the rhythmic squeaking of the wheels, and I was asleep again before I could hear more.
----
    The moon hung low over the trees by the time we came to a halt. I was roused by the movements of Young Ian, clambering sleepily over the wagon’s edge to help Jamie tend to the horses. I poked my head up to see a broad stretch of water flowing past shelving banks of clay and silt, the stream a shiny black glittering with silver where riffles purled on the rocks near shore. Bonnet, with customary New World understatement, might call it a creek, but it would pass for a decent river among most boatmen, I thought.
    The men moved to and fro in the shadows, carrying out their tasks with no more than an occasional muttered word. They moved with unaccustomed slowness, seeming to fade into the night, made insubstantial by fatigue.
    “Do ye go and find a place to sleep, Sassenach,” Jamie said, pausing to steady me as I dropped down from the wagon. “I must just see our guest provisioned and set on his way, and the beasts wiped down and put to grass.”
    The temperature had dropped scarcely at all since nightfall, but the air seemed fresher here near the water, and I found myself reviving somewhat.
    “I can’t sleep until I’ve bathed,” I said, pulling the soaked bodice of my gown away from my breasts. “I feel terrible.” My hair was pasted to my temples with sweat, and my flesh felt grimed and itchy. The dark water looked cool and inviting. Jamie cast a longing look at it, plucking at his crumpled stock.
    “I canna say I blame ye. Go careful, though; Bonnet says the channel in midstream is deep enough to float a ketch, and it’s a tide-creek; there’ll be a strong current.”
    “I’ll stay near the shore.” I pointed downstream, where a small point of land marked a bend in the river, its willows shining dusky silver in the moonlight. “See that little point? There should be an eddy pool there.”
    “Aye. Go careful, then,” he said again, and squeezed my elbow in farewell. As I turned to go, a large pale shape loomed up before me; our erstwhile guest, one leg of his breeches stained dark with dried blood.
    “Your servant, ma’am,” he said, making me a creditable bow, despite the injured leg. “Do I bid you now adieu?” He was standing a bit closer to me than I quite liked, and I repressed the urge to step backward.
    “You do,” I said, and nodded to him, brushing back a dangling lock of hair. “Good luck, Mr. Bonnet.”
    “I thank ye for your kind wishes, ma’am,” he answered softly. “But I have found that a man most often makes his own luck. Good night to ye, ma’am.” He bowed once more and turned away, limping