There was nothing formal about it, but people began disappearing from their jobs and appearing out of doors or in the pubs.
“What say you, Angus? You recognize that one?”
The larger man, who had just entered, ordered a pint and seated himself beside the one who had just spoken. He shook his head. “I dinna know that one nor the dozen or so before it,” he replied. “The last I knew was The Sound of Waves Against the Castle of Dontroon.’ “
“Ah, then I did hear that one,” said the first, who was a Duncan. “And ‘In Praise of Morage’ was back there somehow.”
“Aye,” said Angus.
“Would you be knowin’ the occasion for all the merriment?” asked the Duncan. “I’d passed people dancin’ in the streets on the way over.”
” Tain’t a weddin’. I’d guess from some of the things people have said that it’s a birthin’.”
“Whose?”
“The new laird of Eilean a’Teampull Dubh, I believe.”
“Donnerjack. I think they call him ‘Donnerjack.’”
“Boy or girl?”
“Dunno,” said the Duncan. “Shall we go out on the street and ask around?”
“Yes. A man should know who he’s drinking to.”
They finished their pints and walked outside. The last of the color had settled into a few bright isles above the western horizon and the sea breeze came more cool. People strolled up and down the cobbled streets, calling greetings, pausing to exchange words.
They headed toward a small group of acquaintances beneath a streetlight which had just come on.
“Johnny,” said Angus, “Neil, Ross.” They nodded and repeated his name and Duncan’s as they approached.
“…And the fishin’?” Duncan said.
Neil shrugged and shook his head.
“The bairn whose health we’re drinkin’…” Angus inquired. “Someone left money at all the pubs to celebrate this.”
“‘Twas my sister Jinny,” said Ross. “She’s been workin’ up at the new castle, you know. The new laird, Donnerjack, gave her the money and told her to spread it around town for drinks and snacks.”
“Snacks, too?”
“Hm. Perhaps we’d better be gettin’ back inside.”
“Was it a lad or a missy?” Angus asked.
“A lad. John D’Arcy Donnerjack, Junior.”
“Should be easy to remember. We’d best see as he’s well feted.”
Ross headed back to the pub. Duncan and Angus followed him.
“Your sister been workin’ there long?” Duncan asked.
“A few months,” Ross replied.
“She say what they’re like?”
“He’s some kinda perfesser. She seems more the artsy type.”
“Any other jobs opened up there, do you think?”
“None I’ve heard of. But with a new bairn, who knows?” said Ross.
“True. Maybe we ought to go up there and ask,” said Duncan.
“The fishin’s not been good,” said Angus, “and I’m a pretty good carpenter.”
“Let’s have a few more and go up there after breakfast tomorrow.”
“And not mention it to anyone else.”
“Aye.”
“How early?”
“Let’s meet here at eight and walk up.”
They moved on up the street and into a different pub.
The following morning, they made their way up the main street, then mounted the trail to the castle. They presented themselves at the service door. A robot opened it.
“Yes? What may I do for you gentlemen?” it asked.
“Lookin’ for work,” said Duncan. “Thought there might be a few things around here that you fellows might not be programmed to handle. Might we speak to the laird about it?”
The robot opened the door all the way.
“Come in and have a cup of tea while I see whether he’s available. Sometimes his work is so intense that he can’t be interrupted. He hangs a small sign on his door if that is the case.”
“Perfectly understandable,” said Duncan, “and if he has no time for us, give him our congratulations on the bairn.”
“I will do that, sir. Your tea will be ready in a moment. I am preparing it by means of a remote. Please have a seat.”
He placed cups, cream, lemon, and sugar before them.
“What might we be callin’ you?” asked Duncan. “You bein’ so hospitable and all?”
He poured their tea and found bread, butter, and biscuits.
“Call me Dack,” he said. “Tell me before I trouble the master, what are your skills?”
“He could count on us for anything involving boats,” said Angus with a laugh. “Either of us will plaster or paint, though Duncan’s better than I am at that. He does some masonry, too, and we’ll both mess with mechanical things up to the point where we have the sense to tell him to get someone better.”
The robot made a chuckling sound. They tasted their tea.
“Good tea,” said Duncan.
“Yes,” said Angus, “and the bread and butter, too. Uh, will you be checkin’ now with the laird?”
Dack chuckled again. “Forgive me my little joke, gentlemen,” he said. “I am John D’Arcy Donnerjack. Dack reported your visit and I took over his sensory apparatus to conduct the interview. I like your qualifications. Do any of you do groundskeeping work as well?”
“Aye.”
“Aye.”
“I will turn this body back to Dack then, when I have given Dack a list of indoor and outdoor work for you. I’ll be hiring you. You can discuss wages with Dack. I’ll confirm what’s finally been settled on afterwards. Can you start tomorrow?”
“Why, yes,” said Duncan.
“Certainly.”
“Then I’ll be back to my work now.”
“Not before we congratulate you, sir, hoping the missus is all right.”
“Why, thank you. Dack will have plenty for you to do; you may never even see me about. He will also forward any messages you have for me.”
“Very good, sir,” said Angus. “What time tomorrow would you like?”
“Say eight. Well make it eight to five. Three weeks off with pay, however you’d have them.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“Indeed.”
“One question, if I may,” said Duncan, sipping.
“And what is that?”
“Is the place really haunted? I’ve heard stories…”
“Yes, Duncan. It is.”
Donnerjack did not elaborate.
“Well, uh—guess we should be going,” Duncan said, standing.
Angus finished his tea and rose, also.
“Very well. I will see you gentlemen around, though you will probably not see me.”
Dack dealt with them on small matters such as wages and equipment, then saw them to the door and out, with a pleasant, “Good morning, gentlemen,” thus beginning a long and rewarding relationship for all parties concerned.
The following night Donnerjack was awakened sometime during the small hours by the sound of a banshee wail. Quietly, he rose, donning robe and slippers, and went to investigate. It seemed to be coming from the third floor, west wing. As he moved in that direction, the wailing seemed to increase in volume.
“A howl isn’t enough!” he cried. “I want the full message! What’s coming?”
The howling ceased and a dark form fluttered by him.
“God damn it!” he cried. “Don’t you ever stop and chat?”
“‘Tis not in the nature of their kind,” came a croaking voice from the left.
Casting his gaze in that direction, Donnerjack saw a wavering, glowing outline and heard a gentle rattling of chains.
“Ghost! Can you help me?” he asked. “Do you understand what the wailing is all about?”
“I think you’ve been diverted, mlaird,” it replied. “I’d say to go back—immediately.”