Heart's Blood

chapter five

I fought. I had not known I could fight so hard, clawing, biting, kicking like a wild creature in a trap. Cillian, it was Cillian, I knew his voice, the voice of my worst nightmare. “Get a gag on her!” he ordered someone sharply. I twisted and wrenched one way and another, but there was no escaping the strong arms holding me, the cruel hands biting into me.

I got one scream out before a cloth went over my mouth and was knotted so tight it made my gorge rise. Cillian had four others with him, all familiar to me from Market Cross, big men with knives, clubs and wooden stakes. He held me while one of his cronies bound my hands behind my back and another tied my ankles together. I kept struggling until Cillian hit me over the ear, making my teeth rattle. My body was tight with terror.

“Stop fighting, stupid fool,” Cillian hissed. “You’ve led us on enough of a dance.” He slung me bodily over his shoulder, with my head hanging down behind, and strode off towards the gap in the wall. My heart hammering, my flesh clammy with cold sweat, I willed someone to come, anyone. Help me! I can’t go back, I can’t, I can’t . . . There was a swaying view of boots tramping and the stones of the pathway. Please, oh please . . .

“How dare you! Release her immediately or face the consequences!” A commanding roar: Anluan’s voice.

Cillian halted. Around him, his men did the same. He turned. Upside down, I saw the chieftain of Whistling Tor standing in the archway of Irial’s garden. Anluan’s face was ashen pale, his eyes incandescent with rage. Nobody else was in sight; he was confronting them alone. A rush of warmth ran through me, and with it a new fear.

“I said, release her!”

Cillian put me down but kept a punishing grip on my arm. My eyes met Anluan’s as he limped towards us, head high, gaze fierce, cloak swirling around him.

They laughed, Cillian first, then the others.

“You planning to fight all of us at once, cripple?” My captor’s tone was mocking. “From what I heard down the hill there, you’ve about as much strength as a wet piece of string. Cursed, they said. Only takes one look at you to see what the curse is, freak. Come on, then, fight me! Let’s see what sort of a man you are!” A roar of appreciation from his cronies.

Anluan had halted ten paces from us. Now he took one step forward. His tone was level.“This is your last warning. Untie Caitrin’s bonds and set her free immediately, or pay the price for trespass.”

More sniggering. “He’s got the manner of it, surely,” Cillian drawled, “but not the manhood to carry it out.You’ve got the wrong end of the stick, my lord. Caitrin here is my close kin. No doubt she’s told you some wild story, but the truth is, she had a loss and it sent her right out of her wits. The silly girl ran away. I’m here to take her home where she can be looked after.”

He made to pick me up again and for a moment his attention left Anluan. Mine did not.The chieftain of Whistling Tor advanced no further. Briefly, the blue eyes went distant. He raised his left hand and clicked his fingers.

“Whaa—!” shouted one of the men, and another cursed explosively. Olcan had appeared from nowhere and was standing in front of us, a sturdy, short-legged figure. His face was not genial now but wore a fearsome grimace, and in his fist was a big shiny axe. A rope leash was wound around his other hand. The leash was taut—Fianchu was straining towards the intruders, teeth bared, tongue slavering, little eyes full of murderous intent. Cillian turned, taking me with him, and there was a general scramble for weapons until the men’s eyes fell on what was behind. A tall horse stood there, a horse all bones beneath a pale translucent skin. Its eyes glowed red. The rider was in the habit and cape of a monk.Within the shadow of the hood his face was skeletal; his eyes glinted with an eldritch light.

“Don’t be afraid, Caitrin,” Eichri said, then showed his teeth in a ghostly rictus of a grin. The horse did likewise, uttering a sound that was more rattle than neigh, and reared up. Cillian’s party scattered, shouting.

“Release her.” Anluan’s voice was quieter now, but it cut through the general mayhem like a knife through butter, and this time Cillian obeyed, gesturing for one of the others to untie the rope around my ankles. The spectral horse was circling, its progress audible as a clatter of bones, and I saw that Eichri was carrying a long, pale sword.

“Oh God, oh God!” someone screamed, as behind the rider a swirling mass flowed out from under the trees around the courtyard, not mist, not smoke, but something full of gaping mouths and clutching hands, something with a hundred shrieking, moaning voices and a hundred creeping, pattering feet. Cillian’s men struck out wildly with their weapons, but the blanket of ill-defined forms continued to advance until it was close to swallowing all of us. The uncanny sound reverberated through my head, blotting out reason.With my heart pounding fit to leap out of my chest, I kept my eyes on Anluan’s. If he was not afraid, I told myself, then I would not be afraid. I belonged to his household now, and he had told me I would be safe.

A parting shove, and I found myself sprawling on the ground as Cillian and his men fled through the gap in the fortress wall and down the hill, pursued by Eichri at full gallop with the amorphous host following behind. Unleashed, Fianchu pelted off in their wake, baying. Olcan marched at the rear. As Anluan hurried to my side, his limp more pronounced than usual, Magnus appeared from the general direction of the farm, striding towards us.

Anluan had knelt to lift me to a sitting position, his touch gentle. “You’re safe, Caitrin,” he murmured. “The host will not harm you; they obey my commands.There is nothing to fear.”

With his good hand he managed to unfasten the gag while Magnus untied my wrists. Down the hill, a cacophony of shouting, barking and metallic clashing had broken out.The two men helped me to my feet. My breath was coming in gasps; the tears I had held back so that Cillian would not see me defeated were flowing in earnest now.

“Inside,” Magnus said.“We can rely on the others to see off our unwelcome guests. Did I hear that fellow say he was your kinsman, Caitrin?”

“Not now,” said Anluan. After helping me to my feet he had backed off, as if wary of touching me. “Take it slowly, Caitrin. You’ve had a bad shock. Magnus, go on ahead and brew a restorative for Caitrin, will you? We will follow.”

I was crying so hard I couldn’t even frame a thank-you. It had been so close. What if Anluan hadn’t come out? I might even now be on my way back to Market Cross. How in the name of God had Cillian found me? Had the villagers betrayed me, when only yesterday they had been all sympathy? And how had Cillian managed to get up the hill? Now that it seemed to be over, I had begun to shake. As we headed for the front entry, Anluan moved closer, half lifting his arm as if to put it around my shoulders. I edged away, fighting for self-control, and he did not complete the gesture. “I never even saw Cillian coming,” I sobbed. “I was stupid to go out there on my own, stupid!”

“This was no fault of yours,” Anluan said quietly as we went into the house. “I am sorry I was slow to reach you. I heard you cry out and I ran. But I could not run fast enough.”

“You got there in time, that’s all that matters.” I paused to wipe my face on my sleeve. “Anluan, those beings . . . and Eichri . . . I don’t understand any of it.” One thing was glaringly apparent: Eichri was no ordinary monk, nor even an ordinary man. “How did you do that? That . . . summoning? They were there so quickly. Olcan appeared from nowhere.”

“It is a thing I can do.” He seemed reluctant to say more.

“Was that the . . . the host? Nechtan’s host?” I had hardly thought to be afraid of them. Mind and body had been possessed by the old fear, the fear that had driven me from Market Cross to seek safe haven here.That terror still trembled through me: the knowledge that if I were taken back home, I would lose myself forever.

“It is the same force you have seen mentioned in the documents,” Anluan said.“Nechtan’s army, such as it is. Sometimes biddable, sometimes unruly. Stone is no barrier to them. I thought it better that you did not know . . .” As we walked into the kitchen he swayed, and after seating me on a bench he sank down beside me and put his head in his hands.

“Anluan, what’s wrong?” His sudden collapse frightened me.

“He’ll be better soon,” Magnus said, spooning powders into a jug.“It’s a natural reaction: the exercise of power can be draining.”

“I can answer for myself, Magnus.” Anluan’s voice was not much more than a whisper. “Caitrin, it is past time for an explanation, I know.”

“You’re not well,” I said.

“It’s nothing. I cannot give you answers to everything, for there are some questions here that have none.Those entities you saw just now—we don’t quite know what they are, only that they’re wayward and difficult to govern. There is a passage in Conan’s records that you may have read, in which my grandfather attempted to ride forth with them to fight a battle.”

“He lost control,” I murmured. “And they ran riot.”

“There are many such descriptions in the documents. These beings have been on the hill since Nechtan’s time.The common belief is that he summoned them by an act of dark magic. They are not monsters, despite the impression they gave just now.That was simply trickery, an illusion that can be used to strike fear into an adversary.” He did not clarify who created this illusion, himself or the host, and I did not ask.Touch too closely on his own astonishing role in this, and the flow of words would likely dry up.

“The host is bound to the chieftain of Whistling Tor, whoever he may be,” Anluan said. “I can exercise a certain control over their actions. It is done by . . . by thoughts, by concentration . . . Not sorcery, a knack.When I do this, it weakens me. As you see.”

“Don’t try to talk,” I murmured. “There’s no need to tell me all this now.”

“I will tell it.” His tone had sharpened. I felt the considerable effort he exerted to make himself sit upright, straight-backed on the bench. “Caitrin, you have seen that I can command these forces. I can call them to my aid. But this . . . relationship . . . does not end with the occasional deployment of Nechtan’s host to rescue a friend in trouble or to keep out unwelcome visitors.You know that in the past the host has run amok and caused unspeakable harm. There is an evil amongst them, something that has the capacity to rule them if allowed to go unchecked. Its exact nature, we have never known—my theory is that Nechtan’s original experiment went wrong somehow, and that instead of the mighty and biddable army he desired, he got a force that was more burden than asset.There is a constant need for me to maintain order on the hill. I can never afford to relax my control completely.You have observed, no doubt, that I am often tired. I have been ashamed of this.When I look at myself through your eyes, I see a weak man, a lazy man, one who spends much of his day inactive.There is a reason for it, beyond my physical affliction. Every moment of every day, a part of my mind must be fixed on Nechtan’s host. If I ever lost control of them, their minds would be influenced by the evil that dwells somewhere amongst them.They might leave the Tor and run riot in the fields and villages beyond. Should I let that happen, the region would be doomed.”

Throughout Anluan’s extraordinary speech, Magnus had calmly mixed his powders, added hot water from the kettle on the fire, poured the result into a pair of cups and set them on the table. Now he was getting out a jug of ale.

I tried not to show how horrified I was. “Why didn’t you tell me this before? And what about Eichri? He was . . . he is . . .”

“He’s one of them,” Magnus said. “Rioghan as well. Those in the house, the inner circle, are different from the rest.They’re friends and allies. They were in the forest with the others at first, but over time they attached themselves to the chieftain’s household.Their resistance to the evil I spoke of is strong. In will and intent, in loyalty, they are not so different from human retainers.There’s no need to be afraid of them.”

“Olcan, too? Muirne?” I had lived among them without realizing they were . . . what, exactly? Ghosts? Demons? I thought about Rioghan’s unusual pallor, Eichri’s gaunt appearance and Muirne’s gift for moving about without a sound, and realized I’d been blind. No wonder the villagers had started throwing stones at me—it was not the young female traveler who had scared them, but her uncanny companions.

“Not Olcan,” Magnus said. “He’s something different. Old as the hill itself. And this was a strange place even before Nechtan did whatever it was he did.”

“It’s . . . it’s hard to believe,” I said, shivering. I thought of the meals Magnus served, hardly more than a mouthful for Rioghan, Eichri or Muirne, and that never actually eaten. Had that pretense been all for my benefit, to stop me from learning the truth about Anluan’s strange household? Or had it been played out nightly for years and years? “Hard to accept.” I glanced at Anluan. “I don’t know what to say.”

There was a silence as Magnus pushed the cups towards us and fixed Anluan with a particular look. “Drink it,” he said. “You too, Caitrin. First the draft, then the ale.You need food as well.”

“Why didn’t you tell me earlier?” I asked.

Anluan picked up his cup and drained it, then jerked his head towards the door. To my surprise, Magnus went out and closed the door behind him, leaving the two of us alone at the table.

“If I’d told you, you would have gone away,” Anluan said simply. “I forbade the others to tell you for the same reason.”

I sat there for a little, saying nothing.

“Finish your drink, Caitrin,” he said. “And answer me a question.Was that the man who put those bruises on you, before you first came here?”

“Yes. He is a kinsman, that part of what he said is true. But his assurances that he would look after me were lies. They never did that, him and his mother, they only . . .” My tears were closer than I had realized; I floundered to a halt, blinded.

We sat in silence for a little, and I made myself sip the herbal draft. It was strong and tasted of peppermint.

“You have surprised me,” Anluan said quietly. “I thought you might turn tail and run, the moment we freed you. Of course, with your abusive kinsman heading down the hill, you would not wish to follow. The thought of this Cillian makes your face turn pale, your tears spill, your hands shake.”

I set down the cup and clutched my hands together.

“And yet, when you ask me about the host,” he went on in tones of wonder, “you are your capable self. How can this fellow and his supporters be more frightening to you than that force you saw manifest from nothing?”

“I knew you would keep me safe,” I said simply.

A tide of red flooded his pale cheeks. He fixed his gaze on the tabletop.

“I know it must seem odd that I am so afraid of him, of Cillian, I mean.” My hands were twisting into the fabric of my skirt. I made myself fold them in my lap and drew a deep, unsteady breath. I had never told anyone this; I had not thought I ever would. “It’s not only him, it’s the whole thing. Just thinking about that time, before I came here, turns me into . . . into a different person. A person I hate to be, a person I’m ashamed to be. That other Caitrin is powerless. She’s always afraid. She has no words.” The moment I’d heard Cillian’s voice, I’d been back there, crouched in a corner, folded up on myself, eyes screwed tight, pressing Róise to my heart, willing the world away. Praying with every fiber of my being to be taken back to the past, before Father died, before they came. “When you and I first met in the garden and you were so angry, for a little I felt like that again. And then today, as soon as I heard Cillian speak, I . . .”

“I hardly know what to say.” Anluan spoke with some awkwardness, as if he thought his words might offend me. “Your kinsman was right when he called me a cripple. I cannot ride, I cannot run, I cannot lead an army into battle. Not an army made up of earthly warriors of Magnus’s kind, anyway. But this force I can command. On Whistling Tor, the host is obedient to my will. While you stay here, I can keep you safe. I hope you will stay, Caitrin, now that you know the truth. We want you here. We need you.”

There was a lump in my throat. “I did say I’d stay for the summer,” I told him.“Nothing’s happened to change my mind. I’m planning on winning our wager.”

“Wager? Oh, heart’s blood ink. Then I must allow you to be in Irial’s garden, so you can observe the plant’s progress. You spoke of trust. That is my proof of trust.You may wander there freely. I do not think we will disturb each other.”

At that moment the door opened and there was Muirne. She halted abruptly when she saw the two of us sitting side by side at the table; then she moved forward, eyes on Anluan, brow creased in concern.

“You’re unwell.” She was by his side, leaning over, assessing him without touching. “You need rest.” The limpid eyes turned towards me. “Perhaps it’s best that you go, Caitrin.”

I rose to my feet, despite myself. He did look exhausted, his skin a waxy white, his eyes shadowed.

“No,” Anluan said. “Stay, Caitrin,” and he put out his hand to touch my arm, holding me back. In the moment before he withdrew his fingers, it felt as if he had put his hand around my heart.“I don’t need you at present, Muirne.”

She opened her mouth as if to argue the point, then shut it. “Very well,” she said, and headed towards the inner doorway.

“Close the door behind you,” said Anluan without looking at her.

From the doorway she gazed back at him, her expression one of sorrowful reproach. It was completely wasted. Anluan’s gaze was on me, and I saw in his eyes that whatever it was that had just happened, it had changed things between us forever. Muirne gathered her skirts and left the chamber without a word.

“Maybe she’s right,” I said shakily. “You do look very tired.”

“I’m fine.” His voice was no steadier than mine. “You’d better drink the rest of that draft. Magnus won’t be best pleased to find it only half finished.” As I obeyed, he added, “You could practice being brave a little at a time.”

“What do you mean?”

“Choose a small fear, show yourself you can face it.Then a bigger one.”

“It’s not so easy.” I could not fight Cillian; he was twice my size. I could not fight Ita. I could not fight death.

“No. I don’t suppose it is easy. Not for anyone.”

“Will you do it too?” It felt odd to be talking to him thus, as if we were friends; odd but somehow right.

He hesitated. “I don’t know.” A wayward lock of hair had fallen over his brow; he used his good hand to push it back in an impatient gesture. The blue eyes seemed turned inwards, as if he could see a long list of impossible challenges: Stop covering up your right hand. Learn to control your temper. Go down to the settlement and meet your people. Be a leader.

“We should eat something,” I said, trying for a lighter tone. “I don’t know about you, but I didn’t have any breakfast.” Magnus had left freshly baked bread to cool. I fetched a platter, a jar of honey, a sharp knife.Anluan poured the ale, sat down, looked at me.

“The bread smells good,” I said.

I saw on Anluan’s face that he recognized a challenge when one was offered. Narrowing his eyes, he took up the knife in his left hand.

I had not thought how infuriating, how humiliating it must be to attempt such a task when one has little strength in the fingers of one hand. He struggled to hold the loaf steady as he cut. A flush of mortification rose to his cheeks. I had to clutch my hands together on my lap, so badly did I want to reach out and help him. When he was done, he picked up my share on the blade of the knife and passed it to me like a trophy of battle. I accepted it without fuss and busied myself spooning on honey.The kitchen was full of a deep quiet.

I slid the pot of honey across the table to my companion. I took a bite of my bread. “Thank you,” I said, and smiled.

Anluan dropped his gaze. “I would fail at the first real challenge, Caitrin. You heard how they ridiculed me out in the courtyard.Without help, I could not have rescued you.What the villagers said about me was accurate. As a man, I am useless.”

“You walked out to face those men on your own, with no weapons. I didn’t see the least fear in your eyes.”

“I was not afraid for my own safety. I did fear for you. Caitrin, what the outside world believes of me is true.Without the host, I have no power at all. I am a cripple, a weakling and a freak.” He did not speak in self-pity but as a flat statement of fact.

“You should take your own advice,” I said, struggling to sound calm and practical. “Practice courage in small steps. You’ve just achieved one. The next might be to do something about your writing.”

“Oh, no,” said Anluan. “Your turn next. But not now. Let’s enjoy our meal in peace.”

Suddenly I was not quite so hungry. If I could think of a list of challenges for Anluan, I could surely imagine a list for myself: Make friends with Muirne.Talk about your father. Use the obsidian mirror again. I looked across the table into Anluan’s eyes, and he gazed back.The odd little smile broke forth on his lips, and the blue of his eyes was like the sky on a warm summer’s day.

“All right,” I said. “If you can, I can.”

As we were finishing our belated breakfast there was a scratching on the door that led out to the yard. When Anluan went to open it Fianchu barreled into the chamber looking mightily pleased with himself. He came straight to me and stood with tongue lolling while I gave him a congratulatory scratch under the chin. On the step stood Olcan with his axe over his shoulder.

“All done,” he said.“They won’t be troubling you again, Caitrin.” Then, seeing my expression, he added, “Oh, we haven’t killed anyone. A bruise here, a scratch there, that’s the extent of it. I’m sorry you had a fright.”

“Thank you, Olcan,” said Anluan. “I must confess to experiencing a strong desire to kill, not so long ago. If that man ever crosses my path again, I may give a different set of orders.Where is Eichri?”

“Settling that uncanny steed of his, I expect. Caitrin, you’re still looking peaky.You should go up to your bedchamber and have a good rest.”

“I don’t think I could rest.” The prospect of being alone with my thoughts was not at all appealing, but I was in no fit state to work.

“There is something I should show you, Caitrin,”Anluan said, rising to his feet. “Can you manage a walk?”

I had not expected to find myself heading down the track through the forest again.The knowledge that I was walking in Cillian’s footsteps made me cold to the marrow. He and his friends couldn’t be far away. If they saw me out in the open, mightn’t they make another attempt to grab me, despite what had happened earlier? To speak of this was to admit how little courage I had. It was to seem to doubt Anluan’s capacity to protect me.

Hugging my shawl around me, I kept pace with my taller companion. Anluan was attempting to minimize his limp; I could see his effort in every step he took. I tried to concentrate on the warmth of the sun and the beauty of the trees in their raiment of myriad greens. I brought my wayward thoughts under control by considering how to make an ink the precise shade of beech leaves soon after their first unfurling.

“That pathway leads to caves,” said Anluan, pointing along a barely discernible track overgrown with brambles. “Some extend deep underground. The tale goes that Olcan’s kind once dwelt there. If you ask him, he will give you an answer that is neither yes nor no. There are no others like him here now, only those folk you saw before. They will not show themselves to you unless they choose to do so.”

“Or unless you summon them.”

“What happened this morning was unusual.When I saw you captive, it became necessary to call them.” He hesitated. “Do not imagine that I ever relish the exercise of such power.That I do not fully understand the nature of my control over them must be a peril in itself.Yet I must do it, Caitrin. Every day I impose my will on them, as I told you, so that they will not fall under the influence of the evil amongst them.As chieftain of Whistling Tor, I have no choice.”

We walked on. Above us, sunlight filtered down through the branches of willow and elder; a stream gurgled somewhere nearby. The warbling song of a thrush spilled through the air. “I don’t want to trouble you with too many questions,” I said. “But there’s one that seems important. When you spoke of this before, you implied that you cannot step outside the tight boundary of the fortress and its land or the host will escape your control. When your grandfather tried to lead them into battle the result was catastrophic. You spoke once of being trapped. Is that true? Is that the reason you can’t—” I fell silent.

Anluan kept walking. “The reason I cannot be a leader? The reason I must let my territory and my people fall prey to flood, fire and invaders? Come, we are almost at the foot of the hill: the margin between a safe place and a place of peril. I will show you.”

“But—” I could see the settlement across the open ground ahead, the view framed by a pair of sentinel oaks. Smoke was rising from hearth fires; men stood guard behind the fortifications.

“You believe your Cillian might still be there?” Anluan’s voice was calm.

“It’s the obvious place to run to. He must have been there this morning. They must have let him in and told him I was up here. Otherwise how could he have known where to find me?” I had halted on the path. My feet were refusing to carry me a step further. “I’m sorry,” I said as panic rose in me, threatening to blot out reason. My skin was clammy, my throat tight.“I don’t think I can go on. I’m—this is—Anluan, I can’t do it.”

“Come, Caitrin. One step at a time, as we agreed.” He reached out his hand. I took it and was drawn on down the path, towards the edge of the woods. If we stood in that gap we would be in full view of anyone who might pass between the forest and the settlement. I clung to his hand, my stomach churning.

“You may be right about your attackers,”Anluan went on.“Perhaps they went to speak to the innkeeper. Maybe he told them you’d been there and had headed up to the fortress. But it’s clear Tomas didn’t pass on the warning he’s so ready to give to other travelers: that these woods are dangerous; that few who attempt to reach my house alone arrive there unscathed. It seems to me the villagers do not want you hurt any more than I do.As they would see it, they were directing Cillian and his mob straight into the path of the host.” He halted abruptly between the marker oaks.“I cannot go beyond this point where we stand. Imagine a line encircling the hill at this level.The chieftain of Whistling Tor must not cross that line. Each of my forebears, from Nechtan forward, attempted to do so, and each time the result was disastrous. No wonder our own people revile us. When my father . . . when he . . .” There was a note in his voice that turned my heart cold. His hand had tightened on mine; he was hurting me.“It can’t be done,” he said flatly.

“This is the curse,” I breathed. “Not being able to leave; being forever tied to these beings. Giving up your whole life to them.That is . . .” I could not find a word for it. Terrible, cruel, tragic: none seemed sufficient.

“Unfortunate?”

“Unfortunate indeed,” I said, “if there really is no remedy for it.”

“Remedy?”The word burst out of him, scornful, furious. He dropped my hand as if it might burn him. “What remedy could exist for this?”

I said nothing. I had hoped that after what had just unfolded, he would spare me his sudden bursts of anger. It had been too much to expect.

“Hope is dangerous, Caitrin,” he said after a little, his voice calmer.“To allow hope into the heart is to open oneself to bitter disappointment.”

That shocked me into a response.“You don’t believe that,” I said.“You can’t.”

“The curse condemns the chieftains of Whistling Tor to lives of sorrow. If there were a way out of this, don’t you think my father, or his father, or Nechtan himself would have found it? If we could run this household as other chieftains do theirs, sending emissaries, receiving visitors, employing stewards and factors to help us fulfill our responsibilities, matters might be different. But you’ve seen how it is. Nobody stays. Since Nechtan’s time, fear and loathing have kept them away. I don’t need false hope from you, Caitrin, only neat script and accurate translation.You can’t understand this. Nobody from outside can.”

He was wrong, of course. I knew exactly how it felt to be hopeless and alone. I knew about sorrow and loss. But Anluan was in no state of mind to hear it, nor was I prepared to lay my heart bare before a man whose mood could turn so abruptly from sun to storm. “If you think your situation is beyond remedy,” I said quietly, “why bother with translating the Latin? Why trouble yourself, or me, with reading the documents at all?”

He made no answer, simply stood there gazing towards the settlement as if it were a far-off, unattainable land of legend.

“There might be a description of what Nechtan did,” I went on.“There could be a key to undoing it.You have your life ahead of you, Anluan.You mustn’t spend it as a slave to your ancestor’s ill deed.”

“Come,” he said, as if I had not spoken. “You’ll be tired. We should return to the house.”

We walked some way in silence, save for the songs of birds in the trees around us and the soft thud of our footfalls on the forest path.About halfway up the hill I stopped to catch my breath.

“It’s so quiet,” I said. “So peaceful. If I hadn’t seen the host with my own eyes, I’d find it hard to believe there was anything living in these woods beyond birds and a squirrel or two.”

“They are here.”

An idea came to me, perhaps a very foolish one. “Are you able to—to bring them out and talk to them? They came to my rescue. I should thank them.”

Anluan’s eyes narrowed. “Thank them?” he echoed. “It would be the first thanks they had ever received, I imagine. Curses and imprecations have been more common over the years. Besides, they acted at my bidding. Without my control the host might just as easily have set upon you.”

Very likely this was correct, but a stubborn part of me refused to accept it. If everyone at Whistling Tor, from its chieftain down, kept acting in accordance with the fears and restrictions built up over a hundred years, then Anluan’s gloomy predictions must come true and he would be the very last of his line. He would indeed be trapped, and his household with him. If there was any way to prevent that, we should surely do our best to find it.

“I’d like to try it, if you agree,” I said. “Can you make them come out again?”

Anluan gave me an odd look, mingling disbelief and admiration. He raised his left hand and clicked his fingers.

They did not flow forth in a mistlike mass this time, but appeared one by one, standing under the trees, as if they had been there all along if only I had known how to see them. When Anluan had brought them rushing to my aid they had screamed, wailed, assaulted the ears. Now they were utterly silent. Not creatures of ancient legend; not devils or demons. All the same, my skin prickled as I looked at them: here a woman carrying an injured child, there an old man with a heavy bag over his shoulder, his back bent, his limbs shaking; under an oak, a younger man whose fingers clutched feverishly onto an amulet strung around his neck. There were warriors and priests here, little girls and old women. The more I gazed at them, turning to look on all sides, the more of them appeared, until the forest was full of them. Ghosts? Spirits? Eichri and Rioghan could lift cups and platters, open doors, help around the house and farm. I had touched both of them, and Muirne, and found their forms solid, if unusually cold. This host was somewhere between flesh and spirit, I thought. Not specters, not living human folk, but ... something in between. Whatever had gone wrong when Nechtan performed his rite of summoning, this sad throng was the result.

My mind showed me Rioghan endlessly pacing the garden as he sought a way to atone for his terrible error. I looked on the forlorn faces, the stricken eyes, the damaged bodies, and a profound unease came over me. I sensed their sorrows, their burdens, their years of waiting for an end that never came. If they were ghosts, or something similar, they were unquiet ones, still on their journey to a place of peace.

The silence was broken by a rustling, a slight, restless movement. The host was waiting. I cleared my throat, not sure if I was afraid or not, only feeling the deep strangeness of it all. I glanced at Anluan. He was watching me intently, just as the others were.

“You’re safe with me,” he said, then lifted his voice to address the crowd. “This is Caitrin, daughter of Berach. She came to Whistling Tor as my scribe. She has something to say to you.”

An ancient man-at-arms put down his club and leaned on it. The woman with the hurt child sank to the ground and settled there, cradling it in her arms.A young warrior with a stain of red all across his shirt leaned against a willow, watching me with restless eyes.

I trusted to instinct and let the words form of themselves.“You helped me just now when I was in trouble,” I told the assembled host. “You did a good thing. I suppose each of you has a story, and I think some of them must be sad and terrible. I’m here at Whistling Tor to help Lord Anluan find out about his family’s past, and about what has happened here on the hill since”—something stopped me before I spoke Nechtan’s name—“since you first came here. I hope that a way can be found to help you. I hope that before the end of summer it will be possible to repay the good deed you did for me today.”

None of them spoke, but there was a universal sigh, soft and sorrowful, and then they dispersed.They did not walk away or wink instantly out of sight, but faded gradually until their forms were no longer discernible against the dark trunks of the trees or the green of the foliage.

“You speak to them of hope?” Anluan sounded both astonished and displeased, and my heart sank.

“There’s always hope,” I said. “There’s always a reason for going on.” Once, when she was called to the door, Ita had left a carving knife unguarded on the table. I could have done it. I could have plunged the blade into my chest. My hand had itched to seize the weapon.To end the pain ... to set myself free ... But I had not done it. Even in that time of utter darkness, somewhere deep inside me the memory of love and goodness had stayed alive. “There is hope for everyone.”

“Doesn’t the presence of these beings on the hill convince you that for some, life is without hope and the place beyond death still darker?”

“You believe they are spirits of the unquiet dead?”

“Speak to Eichri or Rioghan.They are something of that kind, but their forms are more substantial than one would imagine ghosts or spirits to be. They do not eat; they do not sleep.Yet they can touch; they can laugh; they can plan and debate and trade insults—at least, those who dwell in the house can, and I suppose it is true for the rest as well.They can feel sorrow, guilt, regret. It seems all were once ordinary men or women who dwelled in these parts.”

“That’s ... astonishing.And sad.A hundred years of waiting in the forest for ... for what? Is there no way to release them?”

“Come, let’s walk back,”Anluan said.“Don’t be so swayed by sympathy that you convince yourself these folk are harmless.They can attack, as you have already seen; they can kill, maim, destroy. Some of them were good people, perhaps, when they were alive in the world. But they are subject to influences more evil than you could imagine. It takes all my strength, all my will, to combat that. The situation is beyond remedy, Caitrin. Even your persistent hope cannot stretch so far.”

After we had climbed in silence for a while, I said, “Rioghan and Eichri are good people. Funny, kind, clever. I cannot imagine either committing evil acts. And Muirne ... while she and I are not exactly friends, I’ve seen how she looks after you, cares for you.”

“They’ve made a choice to be part of the household, perhaps because of some particular strength of will. Rioghan and Eichri clutch at life with all they have. Muirne has a long history of tending to the chieftains of Whistling Tor; she is a kindly soul, if wary of outsiders. You should not make the error of thinking the rest of them are the same.”

We emerged from the forest just below the fortress wall. Anluan sank down on a stone, suddenly fighting to catch his breath.

“I shouldn’t have made you do it again so soon,” I said, crouching beside him. “Call them forth, I mean. It’s too much for you.”

“I hate this,” Anluan muttered. “This weakness, this ... Why can’t I ...”

I caught myself about to behave as I had seen Muirne do under similar circumstances, fussing over him, offering support and sympathy. I made myself step back and, instead, settled cross-legged on the ground nearby. I would wait quietly until he was ready to move on. And while I waited, I would think about the words I had just addressed to the host, and whether they had implied a promise I had no capacity to keep.