The Blizzard

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  ALEX Malloch was used to the intermittent rainfall. The veil of water was fine, sometimes heavy, but ever-present. Someone in the pub had once tried to explain why the mountains drew such weather. The story had involved high bands, low bands and air streams. Alex had not understood but was glad there existed a good and proper reason for the way of things.

  The tarmac had long since worn away. They had forgotten about this road, people said. But from decades of experience of riding, Alex and his horses knew every dint and chink on the track. A few hardy enthusiasts, most from Edinburgh, would sometimes venture out in the hillside to stalk deer or shoot birds. Alex didn’t care for the hills or those who went up them, although he liked their money. Those who still kept livestock as a concern had to brave the weather – beasts had to be fed no matter the time of year. But people who chose to go out in the hills for pleasure? They needed their heads looking at!

  He could tell the couple sat in his carriage below were destined to get in difficulty. City people who believed heat suits worth thousands of credits would compensate for their lack of mountaincraft. Those with money could make arrangements for the police to come looking if they failed to return, but there was no such insurance for those without ready credits. Public spirit had been another casualty of the energy crash.

  He flashed a glance in his mirror at the faces in the window of his cab. The tall youth was no more than a boy but with an unusual, serious expression. Although his skin was marked by the sun, his complexion would naturally be pale and ill-fitting clothes were loose and creased. The woman was dark skinned with fine features and brilliant green eyes. She too was clad in light, summery clothes, which seemed to taunt the rainfall outside. To Alex’s ears both spoke in the clipped tones of the English upper classes.

  They had asked to be dropped at Ben Wyvis when he had picked them from the railstation. When Alex had tried to elicit specific directions – did they intend to head for Braemore or follow the trail as far as Ulla – he was met with uncertainty. Just take them to the mountain, anywhere was fine.