Heart's Blood

chapter eight

Seven days until full moon. I was sorely tempted to march over to Anluan’s quarters in the south tower, bang on his door and insist that he come out and talk to me. Of course I did nothing of the kind. His difficulties went far beyond any in my own experience, and I would not help him by losing control myself.

The oak-framed mirror hung on my wall now. The child loved it, examining her reflection with eager interest, making faces at herself, even uttering a hesitant laugh at the unaccustomed sight. For her this mirror seemed to function in quite the ordinary way. As for the mirror voice, I had not heard it again, but the artifact felt like a companion, and I was glad I had brought it down to my chamber. It seemed to me that the lonely shades of the departed women were no longer prisoners in the tower, but shared my own space, as if we were sisters.

I encountered Muirne in the kitchen as I was returning from a trip to the privy.

“I hear you have taken a mirror from the tower room, Caitrin.”

“That’s right,” I said, keeping my manner polite. Would it be worth trying to enlist her help? She was closer to Anluan than anyone, though of recent times it seemed he was shutting her out as well; on the rare occasions when I had seen her, she had been drifting about the gardens alone. “I hope you have no objections.”

“You are not free to help yourself to anything you want. That runs perilously close to stealing.”

The look in her eye worried me. In the light of the current crisis, this seemed a trivial matter.“My boots were leaking,” I said.“I needed another pair. That was what took me up to the tower. And you did say nobody wanted those old things.”

“Boots were not all you brought away.” She looked me up and down. I had dressed for courage today, in the new skirt I’d made by combining Emer’s shredded gown with Líoch’s rose pink garment. It was not an outfit I could have worn in the streets of Market Cross, but I felt I was carrying the other women with me, and that seemed right.

“You’ll remember how badly damaged the violet gown was, Muirne. I think I’ve made good use of materials that would otherwise have moldered away in the tower. As for the mirror, a woman needs one in her chamber.”

“These are not ordinary mirrors. They are ...” She gestured vaguely, as if there were no words adequate to describe the power of Nechtan’s creations.

“I know that, but this one seems benign. It will be helpful in the mornings when I’m getting dressed.”

“Why would your appearance matter?” She lifted her brows.

“You take a certain pride in yours.” My gaze traveled over the neatly pressed gown, the perfectly folded veil.

“Yes, but ...” She gave a delicate shrug. Yes, but you are only a scribe.

“What I borrowed was taken in a spirit of respect,” I told her. “Those things in the tower are memories of the women of Whistling Tor. I don’t want those women to be forgotten.”

She looked baffled. “You are not one of the women of Whistling Tor, Caitrin.You’re going home at the end of the summer.”

“By the end of the summer we could all be gone,” I said.“Muirne, the Normans are coming in just a few days to talk to Anluan. I know you’re very close to him. Could you ask him if he’s prepared to listen to an idea I have?”

“An idea.What idea?”

“An idea for how he might handle this ... visit. A way it might be safe for him to go.”

“You think to tell Lord Anluan how he should conduct himself?”

I bit back my first response. “Of course not. He is the chieftain; he must make the decision. It’s a suggestion, that’s all. A good one, which he should listen to. Will you ask him, please? This threat is real, Muirne. It’s not going away.”

She seemed to shrink inside herself, her eyes narrowing, her lips tightening. Maybe she really did understand and was so afraid she denied the truth even to herself. “You’re wrong,” she said. “Push Anluan into this and you will bring down disaster on him and on all of us at Whistling Tor.”

“Muirne, I do know a little about the Normans, having lived in the outside world before I came here. Further east, they already rule wide stretches of territory.They’ve built strongholds and moved their own people in. And they have a different way of fighting, a way that is hard for our leaders to combat.They will come to Whistling Tor, and if Anluan doesn’t go down and speak to them, they’ll be back with an army. Then he really will lose everything.You can’t want that to happen.”

She looked me straight in the eye, and I knew I had miscalculated, for the expression I saw was the one that had frosted her features the very first time I met her, when she had tried to dismiss me before I was even hired. “You are not interested in these Normans, Caitrin. You care only about your own needs. Thanks to your interference, Anluan is exhausted, troubled, racked by doubt.Thanks to your foolish words of hope, he dreams of a future he cannot have.You have wrought untold damage here through sheer ignorance.You must not ask more of him. He has been wise to set himself apart, so he cannot be tempted by your voice, your foolish arguments, your ... Caitrin, I have lived here for a long time. I know Anluan. I know Whistling Tor. The chieftain must not step off the hill. That is the simple truth. As for your suggestions, he is better off without them, believe me. He bears sufficient burdens already.” She turned to go.

“Muirne, wait!”

“Yes, Caitrin?”

“I want the best for him,” I said quietly.“We all do. I don’t believe I’m being selfish.”

She smiled; her eyes remained cool.“Don’t let me keep you from your work,” she said, and walked away.

My work. Just as well she did not know the reason I had worn the motley garment made from women’s magic. Just as well she did not know what work awaited me in the library this morning. I needed answers, and time was short.Today I would use the obsidian mirror.

My heart raced. A clammy sweat of dread made my hand slip on the latch as I closed the inner door of the library. Which document to use? Did I really want to see the host unleashed, the bloody mayhem of that attack on Farannán’s household, with its rending and devouring? Try that, and I would no doubt learn once and for all that there was no taming the host. If there had been an account of the experiment itself, that would have been my choice, but thus far I had discovered no record of it, only accounts of the time leading up to that fateful All Hallows, the breathless anticipation and tense preparations, then Nechtan’s flat observations, set down considerably later, on the aftermath of his failure.

I walked across and shut the other door, the one that opened onto Irial’s garden. I stood at the window awhile looking out and trying to steady my breathing. I wanted to stay right where I was, gazing on the lovely place that Irial had made in the center of his dark world. But there was no time.

Back at the work table, I crouched to open the chest. There was only one item in it: the cloth-wrapped bundle that was Nechtan’s mirror. I lifted it out. It did not feel like a dead weight, but alive, vibrant, dangerous. I set it on the table beside me, still shrouded. My fingers refused to choose a document. I closed my eyes, took a leaf and turned it face up before me. I drew back the covering that concealed the dark mirror. In the light from the window, the creatures wrought on its rim blinked and stretched, waking to another revelation.

Something rouses him from his reverie. Not a sound, not a movement. He’s alone in the workroom with only the wretched grimoires for company. Nonetheless, his hackles rise; he’s alert suddenly, not to danger, to ... what? Something’s wrong; something’s happening that he must stop. He’s gone, a voice whispers in his ear. She’s taken him away.

He strides across the dim chamber to the door, wrenches uselessly at the handle, remembers the bolt, slams it open, takes the steps three at a time.Along the hallway, out the tower door, across the garden in the gloom of a wet autumn afternoon, slipping on fallen leaves, yelling for his serving people as he goes.

Down the hill, whispers the voice. Down the path.You may yet stop them.

He’s quick on his feet, fit and strong despite all those years hunched over his books. It helps him now. He spots Mella from a vantage point halfway down. She’s moving slowly; she has the boy by the hand, and her maidservant walks in front with a bundle under her arm. Conan is hanging back, dawdling.

“Make haste, Conan! Quickly!” Mella’s voice trembles with fear.“Come, I’ll carry you.”

As she stoops to lift the boy, Nechtan gives a little cough. Mella turns, looks back up the hill. Her face blanches; her eyes go wide.

“Not another step,” says Nechtan. “Release my son’s hand. Do it, wife.”

As he hastens towards her down the winding track he clicks his fingers, and in his mind he summons what he needs.The dark forest darkens further. Swirling forms manifest beneath the trees.

Mella’s running, the child in her arms. The maidservant is almost out of sight, further down the path.

“Halt!” Nechtan roars, and Conan starts a thin wailing.Why hasn’t the boy’s mother taught him self-discipline? This is a future chieftain of Whistling Tor. “I said halt!”

Mella trips; she and Conan go sprawling on the wet path. The cries become shrieks. In a few long strides Nechtan is beside them. He reaches down, seizes his son by one arm, hauls him to his feet. “Be silent!” he orders, and when Conan does not seem to understand, he gives the child a shake. Conan clenches his jaw; the screams turn to stifled whimpers. The boy has some backbone, after all.

Mella rises to her knees. She clutches her son around the waist, holding on grimly. “Let him go, Nechtan!”

Nechtan’s grip tightens on the child’s shoulder. He eyes his wife with displeasure. Now she, too, is crying, ugly red eyes against skin pasty with fear.

“Where were you going?” he inquires.

“Away. Away from this cursed place! Nechtan, let Conan go!”

She seems unaware of the things that are gathering around them, the rustling, shadowy beings that people the woods on either side of the track.

“Answer me, Mella.Were you leaving me? Did you intend to quit your responsibility as lady of Whistling Tor without a backwards glance?”

Her lips tighten. “I’m taking my son to my mother’s home in the north. That such a visit seems impossible to you is an indication of how much is wrong here.”

“Ten days’ journey.With a single maidservant. On foot.”

Silence from Mella.

“This is no visit,” Nechtan says.“You’re leaving me.You have no intention of coming back. Confess it! Don’t lie to me!”

His wife lifts her chin, foolishly defiant.“No woman in her right mind would come back to this foul place, or to such a husband. God knows, I’ve done my best to stand by you, to keep things going while you let loose an evil you had no idea how to control, while you left your people and your lands to fall into ruin and made your neighbors one by one into enemies. I won’t see my son’s future blighted as well.”

“On one point you are correct,” he tells her, exerting considerable effort to make his tone cool.“You’ve outlived your usefulness here at Whistling Tor. Go, if that is your wish. I need no wife.” It’s been years since he took her to bed, and there are few servants left for her to manage. He’ll be glad to see the last of her dreary figure around the place. She can go to her mother’s and be done with it. He won’t set the host on her. He owes her something; she did give him his son.“As for Conan,” he adds, wanting to be quite sure she understands,“he’ll do perfectly well without you. It’s time I took a hand in his upbringing.”

“No!” Mella breathes.While it’s clear she expected him to try to stop her, she has not seen this coming.“I’m not leaving him here with you! You are not fit to raise a child. Let him go!” Her arms are locked around the boy; she tries to drag him bodily from Nechtan’s grasp.

“Take your hands off my son, you’re hurting him. He’s the future chieftain of Whistling Tor. He’s not going anywhere.” Nechtan wrenches the child from her, lifts him to his hip and steps back. “How could you travel so far with the boy anyway? Where would you lodge? Who would take you in?”

There is a moment’s silence; then Mella says, “Today we go only as far as Silverlake.”

He can’t have heard correctly. “What did you say? You cannot believe that Maenach—Maenach—would shelter you.”

Mella gets to her feet.“I know he will. I’m not the one who is reviled and despised by all our neighbors, Nechtan. Maenach and Téide have offered refuge for me and my son any time we need it. We’re leaving now. Give Conan to me.”

He sees it in a flash. His wife is part of the whole thing, the whole outrageous plot to undermine him, to turn his life to ashes and his dreams to darkest nightmares. Somehow she’s exchanged messages with accursed Maenach or that mealy-mouthed wife of his. His neighbor, not content with damning Nechtan’s name throughout all Connacht, intends to steal his only son.

The fury rises in his heart, a red tide engulfing him. His arm clamps tight around Conan. He backs away, raising his free hand.

“Conan!” Mella’s voice is wild now, the harsh call of a crow.

“Mama!”The child starts to struggle. “I want Mama!”

Nechtan sees only darkness, defiance, betrayal. He gestures, and in his mind he gives the order: Now. The host comes forth.

To give her due credit, Mella faces them with courage, stepping away from Nechtan so that her son cannot be caught up in her punishment. She holds the boy’s gaze and mouths something to him, perhaps I love you. Be strong. The host moves in, rending, tearing, biting, consuming utterly.

Nechtan uses his free hand to shield Conan’s eyes as he carries the boy up the hill. “You’ll be chieftain of Whistling Tor one day,” he murmurs to his son. “Believe me, you’ll endure far worse than this.You’ll learn how it feels to be alone. All, all alone.”

A little creak from the garden door. I started violently, tearing my gaze from the mirror, where the hideous images were already fading to nothing. Anluan was standing very still just inside the doorway.

“You’re using the mirror.” His tone was wounded, incredulous.“You’re using it without me.”

I couldn’t stop shaking. “They killed her,” I whispered. “Nechtan’s wife, Mella. He made them kill her.When she tried to leave with Conan, he . . .” I put my head in my hands.

Footsteps; Anluan came to stand beside me. A faint rustle as he drew the cloth back over the mirror.“I can’t believe you tried this on your own,” he said. “Why?”

Hysterical laughter welled up in me and turned on an instant to tears. I could not answer. I felt him sit down on the bench beside me.A moment later his good arm came tentatively around my shoulders. In a heartbeat I turned, wrapped my arms around him and buried my head against his chest. I felt a shock run through him, but I was past caring. He lifted his weaker arm to complete the circle. The warmth of his embrace soaked into me, a powerful charm against the dark things. I could have held on forever.

“You weren’t here,” I said. “But I wouldn’t have asked you anyway—you said yourself how dangerous it is for you to be close to Nechtan’s thoughts. Oh, God . . . Anluan, he tore Conan out of Mella’s arms. He ordered them to kill her.That little boy was no bigger than my ghost child, five years old at most.”

“Shh,” said Anluan. His arms had tightened around me; his mouth was against my hair. “Shh, Caitrin.There’s no need to tell it now.”

“I have to tell it, I have to say it. It wasn’t just what happened to Mella. I saw them, amongst the host, before they attacked her . . . Anluan, Eichri was there. Rioghan too. Our friends, our trusted friends.”The two of them had stood there with the rest, waiting for Nechtan to give the word, their faces impassive. Waiting to kill. It made a mockery of my hope for the future.

“It was long ago, Caitrin. Nearly a hundred years. Didn’t you say they were obeying Nechtan’s order? If I ordered them to kill, they would do it. That is the nature of their bond with the chieftain of Whistling Tor.” His fingers were against my neck, under my hair, which had escaped its ribbon and was hanging down my back and over my shoulders. I could feel his heart thumping under my cheek. “They are not evil men. They are good men trapped by the curse.”

I took a deep breath, then made myself draw back. I could feel how dangerous this embrace was, how wonderful and perilous. Despite my distress, I felt his touch all through my body. “I’ve missed you,” I said. “I needed to talk to you. I want to help you.”

“I’ve been much occupied.” He too had withdrawn, edging along the bench away from me, but our hands were still clasped. He was avoiding my eyes. “Not good company. I didn’t want you drawn into this, Caitrin.You came here to do a skilled job, and you’ve done it well. I didn’t want you involved in this situation with the Normans.”

“I am involved,” I said, fishing out my handkerchief and wiping my eyes. “It’s all the same thing, the host, the documents, the household at Whistling Tor, the Norman threat. I may only be hired for the summer, but I’ve made friends here, Anluan. I care about what happens. And . . . well, I suppose you can guess that I’ve been using the mirror in the hope it may lead me to a counterspell.”

“Been using? You’ve done this more than once since that first day?”

“Only one other time, and it didn’t help much. I’ve been through almost all the documents and I can’t find anything about the experiment itself. I’ll keep looking, of course. I promised the host, and . . . Anluan, will you tell me what you’re planning to do? Can we talk about it?”

He released my hand and got up, moving to stand by the window with his back to me.“A man isn’t supposed to admit to being afraid. I am afraid—afraid for my household, for my people, for all who dwell on the hill and in my wider territories.Afraid for you, Caitrin.There, I’ve said it. From the day you wrote that you wanted to help me, I’ve watched you try to do just that. I’ve seen how hard you work, and I’ve seen you look for the good in everyone, no matter what their flaws and weaknesses. Even in me. If I speak to you of my fear, I know you will not think ill of me.” He drew a deep breath. “I owe you an apology. I shouldn’t have shut you out. But . . . you’d been hurt when you came here. I hoped the summer would allow you to heal, to become that person you said you’d lost.” He turned; what I saw on his face made my heart turn over.“I can’t let you be hurt again,”Anluan said.“I can’t be responsible for that. I thought, if I dealt with this crisis alone, perhaps . . . But I was wrong, I knew it from the moment I opened that door and saw you with Nechtan’s mirror. The look on your face filled me with . . . with feelings I have no names for. So yes, I will talk. But first I want to show you something.” He reached out a hand.“Will you come?”

“Of course.Where?”

“Not far.”

He led me out through Irial’s garden and across the grounds to the south tower. I was shaky on my feet, the mirror vision still clinging close. I sensed the presence of the host, watching, waiting. I gripped Anluan’s hand tightly and tried to pretend that the ghostly presences of the hill were not all around us. If Rioghan had taken part in that act of slaughter, if Eichri had turned against a woman who wanted nothing for Whistling Tor but a return to peace and rightness, what hope had I that the whole host might change its nature?

“I should never have come here,” I muttered as we reached the steps up to the tower door. At exactly the same time, Anluan said, “I should never have let you stay here.”

We stopped walking. Our hands still clung.

“I didn’t mean that,” I said.

“This is no place for you.”

But you are here, and I want to be with you.

“I and my past are not fit company for anyone,” Anluan said, as if he had read my mind.

“I don’t share your opinion,” I told him shakily. “You are my friend, Anluan. I have nothing but admiration for your strength and the way you have faced your difficulties.You know I wouldn’t lie to you.Your past is full of sorrow, yes, but perhaps it’s time to change that.” He had said something about change himself—that much changes in a hundred years. Perhaps what I had seen in the mirror did not negate my theory about the nature of the host, but reinforced it.

“I didn’t like to see you using the mirror, Caitrin. Promise me you won’t do it alone again.”

“I promise.” I did not ask for a promise in return, though I dearly wanted one. After this, after the delight of his tender words, the sheer bliss of his touch, I would find it unbearable if he closed himself off again.

“This way,” Anluan said, and led me into the south tower. I hesitated on the threshold, realizing the outer door led straight into his sleeping quarters. In the world of Market Cross it was unthinkable for a young woman and an unrelated man to be alone in a private chamber together. There was a bed against the back wall, its covers neatly folded, and a table and bench to one side. The floor was of bare flagstones, swept clean. A tall, narrow window pierced the thick wall to let in light, and winding steps curved up to lose themselves above. I imagined a monk’s cell might look somewhat like this, though the assortment of garments flung untidily across the top of a storage chest would not have earned an abbot’s approval.A pile of bound books teetered on a corner of the table.The books were old, their covers stained from handling, their binding worn to fragility. I had seen them before.

“Please, sit down.” Anluan released my hand and motioned to the bench, then went back to close the door.

“Nechtan’s grimoires,” I whispered, sitting down before them. “You had them here all the time.”There was a pot of ink on the table, and a jar with quills. His little notebook lay beside them, its covers closed. An extinguished candle had dripped a complex cascade all down its iron holder. The chamber was cold. “Why didn’t you show me these before?”

“I know you’re looking for a counterspell.” Anluan stood before me with his arms folded. There was a hardness, a determination in his stance now. “I know you believe I can banish the host if such a charm is found. These books—I’ve been aware of their existence for some time.This problem has taxed me since long before I made the decision to hire a scribe. I did not bring them into the light of day until you came to Whistling Tor and I saw that you truly intended to stay. You planted the seed of hope; you know I was afraid of that, afraid of accepting it, then finding it was a lie. I had grave doubts about delving into these books.” For the first time he hesitated.“I fear that opening my mind to Nechtan’s sorcery may awaken a part of me best left sleeping. Reading these seems as perilous as looking into the obsidian mirror. At the very touch of these pages, I hear a voice in my mind, a voice I believe is his.What if my spirit were turned to his will?”

“You are strong enough to withstand that, Anluan.” I trembled as I spoke; I had felt the same malign presence as I gazed into the mirror.

“Perhaps. In fact, I doubted from the first that the counterspell would be here. Nechtan had the grimoires at hand. If such a spell existed, wouldn’t he have used it? Conan knew Latin. Where Nechtan might perhaps have held back out of a belief that he could still gain full control of the host and employ it as a tool against his enemies, Conan most certainly would have banished the host if he’d had the means. He was no duplicate of his father.”

“You say you brought them into the light of day . . . but I don’t understand why you’ve waited so long to show me. I could have been working on them all this time. I might have found something by now, something that would help us.” I swallowed, struggling for calm. “I mean, help you and everyone at Whistling Tor. I know that I am only—I mean—” It wasn’t possible to go on. In the silence that followed, I lifted the top book from the pile and placed it on the desk before me. A malign, grimacing face had been worked on the dark leather of the cover. I left the book closed.

Anluan was looking down at the floor. A flush had appeared on his wan cheeks. “I don’t know how to say this,” he murmured. “I fear I will offend you.”

“Say it, please.”

“What made me bring the grimoires out in the first place also made me reluctant to share them.Your coming here has changed everything, Caitrin. You have opened my mind to possibilities beyond any I had dreamed of. So I fetched the books. I knew you could translate them, but . . . Caitrin, the idea of any action of mine causing you hurt is . . . it’s unbearable.You are . . . you’re like a beating heart. A glowing lamp. I’ve never met anyone like you before.”

The words fell into my heart like drops of healing balm. My whole body warmed. Despite everything, I was filled with happiness.“Nor I you,” I whispered, clasping my hands together lest I do something foolish like jump up and throw my arms around him. His tall form was tense, his features grim; there was more to come.

“I couldn’t expose you to these books.They are harmful. Nechtan left his descendants a dark legacy. The key to ending this may well lie in the use of sorcery. I can’t ask you to deal with that. The obsidian mirror dis tresses you; I saw the look on your face today.”

“But—”

“I do know a few words of Latin. My father had begun to teach me. I hoped my scant knowledge of the language would be sufficient for me to recognize the spell if it were within these covers. I’ve been working on the grimoires since Magnus brought back the bad news about Stephen de Courcy. I’ve worked long hours, as you have; your candle has burned late into the night. I’ve watched you growing thinner and paler, Caitrin, and it troubles me deeply.”

A silence.

“But you haven’t found a counterspell,” I said eventually. “And nor have I. And we only have a few days left. Let me borrow these, Anluan. I can work on them in the library.”

“You look exhausted. I have wondered if you should be here at all, with this new threat. If you’re harmed I will never forgive myself.”

My heart skipped a beat. “I want to stay,” I said. The compulsion to reach out and touch him was more powerful with every breath. I wrapped my arms around myself.“Please let me work on these books. I gave an undertaking to the host. Maybe that was foolish. Maybe I overreached myself. But I want to do the best I can.”

“I don’t understand why you would want to stay. I have nothing to offer you, Caitrin. Nothing but shadows and secrets.”

“That isn’t true,Anluan.” My voice was not quite steady.“You’ve given me a home, and friendship, and work that I love.You’ve given me . . .” You’ve made me look outside myself. You’ve taught me that I can be strong. You’ve . . . “You’ve given me more than you know,” I said. “Let me help. Please.”

He drew a deep breath and released it, then moved to sit on the edge of the bed.“You understand, I imagine, where my dilemma lies,” he said.“I have no skills whatever as a leader of fighting men. I have no experience in councils and strategies. If I defy the Normans I risk not only your safety, but also that of Magnus, oldest and most stalwart of friends, and Olcan, who should stand outside all this. I risk all who dwell on the hill. Yes, I include the host—it came to me, that day when you offered them your apology, that they are as much my people as the folk of the settlements are. I may not hold them dear, but I am responsible for their wellbeing. A two-edged sword, since they present the immediate risk, but may also prove the long-term solution if this comes to war.To go ahead with this will require a great deal of faith. It will require the quality you taught me, Caitrin.” He gave his lopsided smile, twisting my heart. “The quality of persistent hope, hope against the odds. Magnus believes it’s time to make a stand. Rioghan agrees that we should act. In their opinion, we must do so or perish. And yet . . .Caitrin, there’s no trusting the host. One cannot disregard so many years of violence, so many acts of barbarism here on the hill. Nechtan’s shadow still hangs heavy over this place.”

“I have a theory,” I said.“Eichri and I were talking about the mirrors in this house and what each of them could do. He said perhaps artifacts like those are not good or bad in their own right, but work according to the character of the person who is using them. Mightn’t the same theory be applied to the host? All accounts tell us Nechtan was a deeply flawed man, a man with no sense of right and wrong, obsessed by the need for power, cruel to his family, deluded in that he believed everyone was against him. As I understand it, the host is tied to the chieftain of Whistling Tor, whoever that is at any time. Its members are obedient to his will, at least while he remains on the hill.”

“That is true, Caitrin.”

“In the vision I saw today, Nechtan was going to let his wife leave. He was tired of Mella; he didn’t want her at Whistling Tor any longer. I know this because the obsidian mirror doesn’t only show the vision, it draws me into Nechtan’s thoughts.”The memory of it was in my bones, like the deepest frost of winter. “But Mella made a mistake. She told her husband that Maenach was prepared to take her in; she implied that she had made an escape plan with his arch rival, the man he blamed for all his woes. I felt the change in him, Anluan. There was a boiling, uncontrollable surge of anger, then the command to the host, issued in a moment when all reason was swept away. Kill her, he told them. So Mella died.”

“I wish you had not seen that.”

“I hope I never have to witness such a sight again. But I learned something. If Nechtan had not suddenly lost his temper, if Mella had not mentioned Maenach, she would have left the hill, gone to her family and lived the rest of her life in peace. It was not an innate evil in the host that caused her to die so cruelly. All they did was obey Nechtan’s order. They had to; they were bound to his will.

“Conan was brought up by Nechtan from an early age. As chieftain he made grievous errors, certainly. Like Nechtan, he tried to make use of the host for war. He neglected his lands and his people as his father had done. But he was not Nechtan all over again. What about his wife and son? We know from Conan’s writings that Líoch was concerned about the welfare of the community in time of flood; we know that her husband did make some attempts to help them, though the people’s fear of the host made those efforts fruitless. I cannot believe that Irial grew up without love and care; he was such a loving man himself. Anluan, how and when did your grandmother die?” I prayed that he would not tell me that Líoch, too, had been slain by the host. My theory was fragile already; that would shred its last credibility.

In the dim light of the bedchamber, Anluan’s eyes did not seem blue now, but stony gray. “She fell from one of the towers,” he said. “An accident. She and Conan both lived until my father was a grown man. They died within a season of each other.”

It felt wrong to be delving into such sad memories, but I had no choice. “So they held on, Conan and Líoch, despite their difficulties.They stayed strong while Irial grew up. They cared about him. And about each other, I would guess, since Líoch did not try to run away as poor Mella did. Conan probably changed somewhat in those later years. Once it became plain that the host could not be led into battle without terrible consequences, he ceased trying to use them in that way. Perhaps the host quieted as a result.”

“There is a flaw in this theory, Caitrin.” Anluan was frowning.

“Please,” I said, “let me finish before you judge. We know that Irial, as chieftain, followed a completely different path. He had no intention of using the host as an army. He was a peaceable scholar who loved his wife and child. His household retainers worshiped him. Irial was a good man through and through. If my theory is correct, that inner goodness in your father would have meant that in his time the host would have felt no desire to kill, to maim, to perform ill deeds.”

“I wish I could believe this, but I cannot.”

“Didn’t your father fight against the family curse? Magnus told me he held a council at Whistling Tor. He let your mother take you to Whiteshore to visit her family. He sent Magnus out to talk to the other chieftains. He tried to make peace. I know how he died, Anluan, and I’m terribly sorry, not only because it is so sad for you, but also because he seems to have been such a lovely man. That’s the point. Irial was good. In his time, the host reflected his inner nature. As now they do yours.You want peace; they feel no desire for conflict.You feel burdened by your situation; they despair of ever being released from theirs. If you are able to summon hope, they, too, will see the possibility of a brighter future.”

There was a deep silence.After a long time,Anluan said,“Can the dead have a future?”

“They can still hope.What they want is rest. A sleep without dreams.”

“It is not within my power to bestow such a precious gift. I cannot even command it for myself.”

I considered this, remembering the nightmares that had plagued me so long: the visions of reaching hands and scratching claws, the images of the dank cell and a monster with Cillian’s face. “Anluan, I know there is a certain power amongst the host that is anything but good. But I believe the rest of them are just like any other group of people, good, bad, in between, with their own aspirations, their own sorrows, their own hopes and fears. Most of them want nothing more than to go back to wherever they came from. Nechtan’s spell binds them to you as chieftain.They know that only you can give them what they want. And until that happens, they follow you. That means you control their actions, keeping them in check. It also means they think and act in the way you think and act.You are a good man like your father. Under your leadership, they too can be good.”

“And if I need to fight, they will fight for me.” He was looking at me now; brows up, eyes intent. “You know, don’t you, that once I refuse de Courcy’s demands I must follow this through to the end, even if it means leading a ragtag army into battle against a force of ironclad Norman men-at-arms?”

The scene he had described painted itself instantly in my mind:Anluan falling to the ground, his clothing all over blood; Magnus fighting a last, lone battle over his chieftain’s corpse. I shuddered at the thought. If that came true, it would be partly my doing. “I don’t know anything about fighting. I don’t know what the next step should be. I just thought my theory might be helpful.”

“I wish I could believe it true,” Anluan said. “That would make it possible to carry out my plan with some measure of confidence. I could go down to the settlement and leave the host under the supervision of Rioghan and Eichri, secure in the knowledge that they would not follow me and wreak havoc beyond the hill. There are many warriors in their number.Work to do, meaningful work, might give their long time of waiting some purpose.”

“But?”

“There are parts of this story you don’t know, Caitrin, parts I don’t talk about, past events my household does not discuss. It isn’t true that the host was peaceable and benign throughout Irial’s chieftaincy. The last time my father left the hill, he came home to find my mother dead.”

I could find nothing to say. It had been there in Irial’s notebook, but I hadn’t understood. Why did I leave them? A wave of bitter disappointment flowed through me. No doubt my feelings were plain on my face.

“It was not clear whether her death was the work of a malign force or an unfortunate accident,” Anluan said. “I won’t speak of it further. If you wonder why it has taken me so long to make my decision, if you were surprised that I could not speak of this to you earlier, this was the most powerful reason. I could step boldly forth, issue a challenge to Stephen de Courcy, use the host as my personal army. If the old pattern were repeated, I could become instrumental in destroying what I hold most dear.Then I would be Nechtan all over again.”

After a little, I said,“But you will do it anyway.You said you had made your decision.”

Anluan rose to his feet. I saw him gathering himself. I saw his gaze sharpen, his back straighten, his mouth become resolute. “The first part of it, at least. I know little of strategy, diplomacy, the conduct of war. My father died before he could teach me how to be a leader. If it were not for Magnus, I would be still more ignorant. But it seems to me that I must hold a council before the Normans come: my own council. I heard how you addressed the host, and I saw how they listened. I learned, that day, that if one speaks to them with respect they will respond as living men and women might. I have delayed this almost too long, thinking I might find a counterspell—that would have changed everything.”

“A council,” I breathed. He really was going to do this.

“The folk of the settlement must also be invited, unthinkable as that seems. If we are all agreed, then I must risk leaving the hill to speak to de Courcy’s emissaries. I cannot think much beyond that. I have not yet mastered the art of being brave in large steps. This still frightens me, Caitrin. I must learn not to let it show. I suppose that is part of being a chieftain.” His mouth twisted. Beneath the new Anluan, the one with bright eyes and determined jaw, the uncertain boy still lingered.

“I have faith, Anluan,” I said quietly. “Faith that this will be for the good. Faith in you.”

He reached out a hand in my direction, not meeting my eye. I got up and slipped my hand in his. “I hope you’re right, Caitrin,” he said. “Because, from this point on, I must set aside all my doubts.A leader cannot be seen to have misgivings. As for this council, I do have Rioghan. Let us go and speak to him.” For a moment, just a moment, he put his arm around my shoulders. “Thank you,” he said, and touched his lips awkwardly to my temple. It was the boy who did that; but it was the man whose body brushed against me, setting my pulse racing and sending the blood to my face. “Without you, I would not have found the courage.”

We met Rioghan in the courtyard; it was not necessary to summon him. He was quick to comprehend the situation. Almost before I had finished explaining my theory to him, he and Anluan were putting plans into place.

“How soon?” Rioghan asked. “We’ve only a few days until this delegation from Lord Stephen comes to the settlement.Would tomorrow suit you, my lord?”

Anluan let the formality pass without comment. “I don’t expect anyone will come up from the settlement,” he said, “no matter how carefully the invitation is worded.We must offer them the opportunity, but we need not allow them a great deal of time.As for the host, they won’t be comfortable with a daytime council.We should meet this evening after supper. Can you have everything ready by then?”

If Rioghan thought that not quite long enough for adequate preparation, his doubt showed only momentarily. “Yes, my lord, if Magnus can be spared to take a message down the hill this morning.You’re right, the folk of the settlement will want to be kept abreast of things.They may be afraid of us, but I’d wager they fear the Normans far more. As for the trappings required, you can leave those to me.”

“Trappings?” I asked, thinking that perhaps I should return to the library to work, leaving this to the men.The change in Anluan was startling; I saw it reflected in his councillor. Perhaps my theory really was correct. Perhaps all it took to turn things around was hope.

“This and that,” Rioghan said. He was almost smiling; his eyes had a glint in them.“I’ll deal with it. Someone needs to tell the host. I won’t have time for that, and neither will Eichri. I’ll be using him as my assistant.”

“Since this is an exercise in trust,” I said,“what about my guard, Cathaír? So far he’s been very willing to help me. I could ask him to let all the folk of the Tor know about this. If you agree, Anluan.”

Anluan frowned. “I know little about this Cathaír. And who would guard your chamber in his absence?”

“I know the young man.” A memory of past sorrow echoed in Rioghan’s tone. “He is trustworthy, my lord. A warrior who could have been a future leader, a fine one, had his life not been cut brutally short.”

Anluan and I looked at him. Neither of us asked for further explanations.

“Very well,” Anluan said. “Caitrin, please ask Cathaír if he will help us. Perhaps he will also find you another guard—by all the saints, this requires act after act of blind faith.We can’t have the entire host present at our council. That could quickly turn to chaos.What we need are representatives.”

“A sound idea, my lord.” I could almost see Rioghan making a list in his mind and crossing off items one by one. “Eight or ten would be a good number. They should be aware that they’ll be putting forwards the opinions of the others.There will be a need for some consultation before this evening.The unpalatable fact is that if this comes to war, the host is the only army Whistling Tor has.”

“We’d best get to work,” Anluan said.

“Of course.” Rioghan’s tone was level, controlled.“Just one more question, my lord.Where should we hold this? The great hall? The library?”

“Out of doors.” I had the impression that Anluan had already made these decisions, perhaps some time ago. “The host won’t be comfortable within four walls. We’ll gather in the courtyard. I’ll leave the practical arrangements to you, Rioghan. I doubt if they will be taxing to a man of your experience.”

Cathaír responded to the challenge, listening intently as I explained what was planned, though he could not still the restless movement of his eyes. He strode off into the forest, and very shortly afterwards a strapping, shaven-headed warrior appeared on the gallery outside my bedchamber to announce that he would take on Cathaír’s duties as guard while the younger man addressed the folk out in the woods.

“Not much of a thinker myself,” the warrior said, planting his legs apart and leaning on his spear. “The lad can speak for me, and I’ll do this job for him. Nobody will get past while Gearróg’s on guard, my lady.”

“Thank you, Gearróg. I’m not a lady, I’m a craftswoman. Please call me Caitrin.”

“You’re a lady to us.” The big warrior sounded a little awkward, but his tone was warm. “Young fellow says maybe his lordship’s going to take things in hand at last.That true?”

His eyes held the same desperate hope I had seen in Cathaír’s when first he came to speak with me. It was important not to lie. “Anluan will do his best. This is difficult for him. He can’t easily shake off the shadows of the past.”

“What about us? They’re saying maybe there’s something can be found that will let us go. Let us sleep at last. Something to silence that voice, the one that puts bad things in our heads. I’d give anything to make that happen, my lady.”

“Voice? What voice?”

“We don’t talk about it.” Gearróg’s eyes darted nervously from side to side, as if this entity might appear from nowhere to punish him if he said more. “It turns us wrong way up and inside out. When it’s there we don’t know what we’re doing. You never know when it’ll come.” Then, after a moment,“I don’t suppose it’s true, what they’re saying. Stands to reason. It’s our punishment, being here. If there was a way to stop it, someone would have done it before.”

“There might be a counterspell,” I said cautiously. “I’m looking for it in the old books. If there is one, Anluan can use it to let you all go. But I can’t make any promises about that, only that I’ll try my hardest to find it before the end of summer.”

“End of summer? Why then?”

“I was hired for the summer. I assume that when it’s over I will . . . leave.” Go home did not sound right. Increasingly, I was feeling as if this odd place, the place no person in her right mind wanted to come near, was my real home, and Market Cross an alien place, the stuff of nightmare.

“Leave? You’d leave, just like that?”

The warrior’s tone, shocked, sad, perfectly reflected my own feelings on the matter. “I can’t say. It depends on what Anluan does; on the Normans; on all sorts of things.” No matter what happened, I wanted to stay. Even if there was war; even if something went wrong and chaos descended on Whistling Tor. I wanted to be here with my friends. I wanted to stand by Anluan’s side as he faced this challenge. “I hope I won’t have to go,” I said. “But don’t tell anyone I said that.”

Gearróg grinned, showing a mouthful of broken teeth, and made a gesture as if he were sealing his lips.“Best go and find his lordship, my lady. He’ll be needing you. Oh, and I’ll keep an eye on the wee girl. Cathaír says that’s part of the job up here. She’ll be safe with me.”

I had not even noticed the ghost girl crouched in a corner of the gallery, rocking Róise in her arms.

“I’m good with little ones,” Gearróg said.“Had a brood of my own once, I seem to remember. Gone. Long gone. Can’t quite recall their names.”

“I hope one day you’ll see them again.” I blinked back sudden tears.

His smile was sad now. “Me, go where they’ve gone? That’s not going to happen, my lady. Best I can hope for is the long night of no dreams. Never mind that. Off you go now. I’ll keep things safe for you.”

Anluan explained the plan to the rest of his household, with my help and Rioghan’s. Magnus’s broad features were transformed first with surprise, then with relief that at long last his chieftain had made the decision to act. Olcan listened intently. Muirne came in late. She did not speak until the discussion was finished, and then she said quietly, “This is insanity.You must know what will happen. Are you all fools, that you give credence to Caitrin’s misguided theories? The chieftain of Whistling Tor does not leave the hill. He cannot.”

“You’d best not be present for the council if you’re fixed in that opinion,” Rioghan told her.“Anluan will make a strong statement of his intention. As his household, we must be seen to stand behind him. If you can’t do that, it’s best if those present don’t hear from you.”

She turned her chilliest look on him. “You think to exclude me?” she asked. “You, the man whose wise advice sent his leader and all his fellow warriors straight to a bloody slaughter? Are you so carried away with this ridiculous plan that you have forgotten your beloved Breacán?”

Rioghan flinched visibly. Eichri got to his feet, putting a skeletal arm around his friend.“That was a low blow,” the monk said.“Let us not argue amongst ourselves, or we’ll never be ready in time.We’re not going to war tonight, only to a council.”

Anluan was seated at the head of the table. Now he got to his feet, his eyes on Muirne, who was in her usual place opposite him. “If you belong to my household, if you are loyal to me, then you are part of the plan.We do it all together. And we support one another. There are precious few of us.We must work as one.”

In answer, Muirne rose to her feet and left the room. It was the first time I had seen her treat Anluan with anything other than fawning adoration, and I found the change unsettling. The men, however, seemed to think little of it. Magnus was quizzing Anluan about exactly what he should be saying to Tomas and the other villagers during the brief visit that was all he had time for. Eichri was making an effort to divert Rioghan’s mind from the unthinkable words Muirne had hurled at him by offering a crew of monks to set things up for the council. I tried not to consider the possibility that Muirne was right, and that we were heading straight into disaster.

Anluan had said the council should take place after supper. With Magnus gone down the hill,there would be no supper unless someone else attempted to cook. Anluan and Rioghan paced together outside, working out exactly what should be said to this evening’s gathering. Olcan had gone down to the farm to tend to the animals. I put together a simple repast, vegetables and herbs in a kind of pie with a crust made from stale bread.

Eichri came into the kitchen in search of a cloth to drape over the bare wood of the council table.“Rioghan tells me this calls for a certain degree of ceremony. I wouldn’t know. It’s been a long time since there was a council held at Whistling Tor. More years than any of us can remember.”

“Not as long as that, surely.” I lifted the lid of the pie dish to examine my creation. It smelled surprisingly good. “There was the council where Irial met Emer.Twenty-seven years, thirty; a long while ago, but well within your memory and those of all who were part of Irial’s household. Eichri, don’t go yet, I need to ask you something.”

The monk hesitated on the threshold, his expression suddenly wary.

“Do you believe it’s true, the theory we spoke of earlier?” I wanted to ask him whether he could remember the time of blood, Nechtan’s time, and the terrible things the host had done. I wanted to know if he had felt a change in himself with the coming of each new chieftain. But how could I ask something so outrageously personal?

“Maybe.” It was clear this was not the question he had expected.

“Eichri, there’s an older warrior, Gearróg, guarding my bedchamber today. He spoke of a voice. A voice that whispers in the ears of the host all the time, speaking evil, tormenting them. Can you tell me what this voice is? Is it the same force Anluan fears so much, the dark entity that exists within the host?”

Eichri’s face closed up before my eyes.“I know nothing of that,” he said.

“Really?” It was obvious that he was lying to me.

“This fellow you mention should keep his mouth shut.”

“More secrets,” I said.

“Not secrets. Just things best left unsaid. I must go.” Eichri forced a smile. “That smells good.You’ll be taking over Magnus’s job next.”

“Nobody could ever do that,” I said as my companion went out. Magnus was the real heart of Whistling Tor. He held everything together.What if there was a battle and he was killed? No, I would not think of such things. I seized an onion, stripped off the skin and began to chop with more force than was really necessary.

“Smells tasty.” Olcan was at the door, Fianchu behind him.“I won’t come in, I’m all over dirt. Brought some greens for supper.” He held out a bunch of glossy dark leaves. “Everything all right? I thought you’d be holding Anluan’s hand, advising him about tonight, not in here slaving over the fire.”

“Olcan, may I ask you something?”

He waited, arms folded, bright eyes watchful. Fianchu had come in, his feet leaving a muddy pattern on the floor, and was busily cleaning up the breadcrumbs under the table.

“You were here in Nechtan’s time, weren’t you? Even before that.”

A wary nod.

As with Eichri, a question came out that was not the one I had intended to ask. “How did he die? Nechtan?”

“Peacefully in his bed. He outlived his wife by some years. Funny how things turn out.”

“Olcan, I know you are not part of the host, but something much older. Are there others like you on the Tor?”

A strange smile then, sad, accepting, proud.“I’m the last of my kind in these parts, Caitrin. I’ve heard tell of others far to the south, but that might only be a story.”

“That’s sad for you. Haven’t you been tempted to travel there, to seek them out?” I did not ask if he had ever had a wife and children, a family, or whether he had wanted one.There were so many stories in this place, and most of them sorrowful.

“You’d like to make things right for all of us, wouldn’t you, lass? I’m content enough here on the Tor; it’s my place, has been for far longer than you can imagine.The host, Nechtan’s spell, the whole sorry business, that’s only a bump in the road for me. Still, I’d like to see the lad happy. I’d like to see him make something good out of all this.”

“The lad—you mean Anluan?”

“He’s got a lot to contend with.We all need to stand by him, help him see this through.”

“I plan to do that, Olcan. Let me ask you—” But there was no asking about the voice Gearróg had mentioned, or about Muirne’s strange attitude to the current crisis, or about a number of other things that were exercising my mind, because Anluan was in the inner doorway, leaning against the frame, looking too weary to do so much as sit down at the table, let alone address a formal council in just a few hours.

“Caitrin?”

“I’ll be off,” muttered Olcan, and clicked his fingers. Fianchu snatched up a last crust and was away out the door after his master.

Anluan and I gazed at each other across the kitchen. Don’t tell him how tired he looks. And don’t tell him one glance brings back the feeling of being in his arms, the lovely, safe feeling, the throbbing, delicious feeling . . . “Finished with Rioghan?” I asked as calmly as I could, lifting one of Magnus’s herb jars down from its shelf and putting a pair of cups on the table.

“Finished for now, yes.” He came over and sat down on the bench, then put his elbow on the table and rested his brow on his hand. “He believes I can do this. But hope is such a tenuous quality.To feel it and then to be denied what one most longs for . . .Better, surely, not to hope at all, than to open the heart to a hope that is impossible.”

I had stilled in the middle of putting the herbal mixture into the cups. I set the spoon down. Surely he wouldn’t turn back now, change his mind about this, after showing such strength? “No, Anluan,” I said, my heart thumping.“That is quite wrong.You must let hope in, then instead of simply waiting for good things to happen, work as hard as you can to achieve them.The goal someone hopes for can be anything: writing a line of perfect script, or baking a pie, or . . . or raising a child well, despite the odds. Or standing up for what is right.”

He had lifted his head. In this light, his eyes were the hue of ultramarine, an ink that rivalled heart’s blood for rarity. I could not read his expression. I only knew that from now on I would not look at him without wanting to touch. I wondered whether he could see this on my face. “I thought I’d make Magnus’s favorite restorative draft,” I said, feeling my cheeks flush. “This seems an appropriate time for it.”

Anluan watched me as I finished preparing the drink.“Raising a child well,” he mused after a while. “You mean Magnus?”

“I was thinking of him, yes. He did a good job with you, against quite extreme odds. At least, that’s how it seems to me. And my parents raised me and Maraid well, first the two of them together, and later Father on his own. I was luckier than you. I didn’t lose him until I was already grown.” I felt my throat close up, reluctant to let the words out. I heard the familiar trembling in my voice, but this time I was determined to say it. “He collapsed in the workroom one morning. By the time I went down to join him, he was lying on the floor dead. He hadn’t even been ill. After that, I . . . I was not myself for some time.”

“Come, sit by me.”

It was easy, then, to move to the bench beside him; natural to sit close enough so that from time to time, not quite accidentally, his thigh touched mine. We sat thus awhile, watching the steam rise from the two cups and listening to the sounds from outside: Eichri arguing amicably with one of his brethren, Rioghan issuing orders, Fianchu barking.

“About hope,” Anluan said.“There is no point in hoping for what can never be.”

“That’s true. But sometimes we do that anyway. I know about impossible hope, Anluan. After Father died, I prayed that time would go backwards. I prayed that I would wake up and find that it had all been a bad dream. I longed for him to be alive again and the others gone.”

“Others?”

“Cillian and his mother.They came to take charge of everything when Father died. Ita—Cillian’s mother—told everyone I was out of my wits. Perhaps it was true. It was a mad kind of grief, it took up every part of me. I wanted the whole world to go away. If I could have crawled into a shell and hidden for the rest of my life, that’s what I would have done.”

Anluan reached out to lay his fingers against my wrist for a moment. It was the most tentative of caresses, and yet my pulse raced at his touch.“But you are the bravest person I’ve ever met, Caitrin,” he said.

“I wasn’t brave then. I had to make myself face up to my fears. The hardest step was the first: deciding to run away from Market Cross. The most frightening thing was not my father’s death, not Cillian and Ita, but the . . .”

“Tell me,” Anluan said.

I took a deep breath. “It was me, the way I shrank down after it happened, the way I lost myself . . . Like falling deep into a well.” I had dreamed of that, over and over: the yawning hole, the clutching hands, the long, long way down . . .“I started believing what they said about me, that I was useless, hopeless, crazy . . . I even believed that when Cillian beat me, it was because I deserved it . . . If people say those things often enough, it starts to feel true.”

“You’re shivering,” Anluan said.

“I’m all right.”

“Tell me, what was it made you decide to run away? What made you brave enough to take that step after so long?”

“I got up one morning and looked out my window, and I heard a lark singing. I picked up the little doll my sister had made for me, and I looked at the treasures I had kept from my mother and father, and I found a very small spark of courage. I knew my parents were looking down on me. I didn’t want them to be ashamed of me.” I brushed away tears. “They taught us to stand up for ourselves, Maraid and me. For a while I forgot that.”

“Where was your sister when you were lost in this grief, Caitrin?” Anluan’s tone was level.

“Gone. She went away with her sweetheart, Shea. He’s a traveling musician.”

“She left you on your own.”

“Don’t judge Maraid,” I snapped, though he was only echoing my own thoughts on the matter.“She loves Shea. And she did offer to take me with her, but they had no money; it was going to be hard enough for them without me to support as well. Besides, Ita said she’d look after me, see that I got the attention of a physician and so on.”

Anluan turned a quizzical look on me, but said nothing.

“I don’t suppose you can understand,” I added miserably. “I was not myself. I was a . . . a husk, a shell. A thing beset by shadows and fears. Father and I . . . He trained me in my craft. We worked side by side, every day. And then, with no warning at all, he was gone. Gone forever. It was as if the center of my world had collapsed. When Ita and Cillian came, I had no strength to stand up to them. Ita was right, in a way. For a while, I was mad.”

“Where did your sister go with her musician?”

“North. I can’t remember the name of the place. His band moves around.They play in the halls of noblemen as well as performing for village dances and weddings.There was no place for me in that kind of life.” Gods, I was crying again. “I’m sorry, I had no intention of burdening you with this now. I wanted to help you prepare for your council, not talk about my difficulties.”

“Ah,” said Anluan, reaching up as if to wipe away my tears. He drew his fingers back before they touched my face.“But you have helped.You’ve demonstrated, again, how to practice courage in small steps. Have you forgotten that I challenged you to speak of this before and that you could not bring yourself to do it? So you have taken a step, and tonight I will take one. I have a favor to ask you, Caitrin.”

“What favor?”

“I want you to stay with me until it’s time. I am afraid that if you are not here I will fall back into the old way of thinking. I am so accustomed to that. It’s almost as if an inner voice tells me, over and over, that there is no point in trying, that the patterns of the past must inevitably repeat themselves, that because I am not a . . . a real man, I cannot do what is needed here.”

“You are a real man, Anluan.”

“A real man can be a warrior. He can ride out at the head of his troop. He can wield sword or spear in defense of his own. He can summon folk to support him; he can care for those in his responsibility. A real man has a proper home, a calling, a family . . . He can . . .”

What had brought about this sudden waning of confidence? It was as if the voice of despair itself had been whispering in his ear.

“My father was not a warrior, Anluan. He was a real man who loved his family and was dedicated to his craft. Maraid’s husband, Shea, would hardly know one end of a sword from the other. My sister loves him; she trusts him to look after her. He, too, is a real man, a man with a calling. It’s not any particular ability that makes you a man, it’s what is inside.” I laid my hand over his heart.“You are a leader,” I told him.“You are a good person. You are the chieftain of Whistling Tor and you’re going to change things for the better. If you speak from the heart tonight, these folk will follow you to the death. I know it.”

“To the death,” echoed Anluan, putting his hand over mine. “It seems likely that is exactly where I will take them. I fear for those who are dear to me, Caitrin. I fear for all my people.”