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 fa
ce 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 sa
id, “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.”