Heart's Blood

Magnus’s eyes widened.

“As you see, I got here safely,” I added.

“Mm. No fear of dogs, then. Well, I’ve been ordered to take you indoors, and I imagine he’ll want a sample of your writing.This way.”

“I’m not sure I want to stay.That was him in the garden, wasn’t it? Lord Anluan? He scared me. He was so angry.”

“You look cold,” Magnus said. “My name’s Magnus. I do everything here, more or less. Steward, guard, farmer, cook, cleaner . . . You may as well come in and have something to drink, since you’ve got this far. Don’t let Anluan upset you. He’s not used to folk, that’s all. We’re a bit out of practice.”

I drew a deep, unsteady breath. His manner was reassuring: blunt but kind. He seemed the sort of man who would be truthful.“All right,” I said. “If you’re sure it’s safe. There are some very odd-looking folk here. Not that looks should matter, but . . .”

“I’ll take that for you,” said Magnus, pointing to my bag. I passed it to him and we headed along the path.“If you’re planning on staying to do the job, you’ll need to learn not to let appearances upset you,” my companion added. “We’re all oddities here.”

“The folk in the settlement said you were the most ordinary person on the hill.”

Magnus gave a short, mirthless laugh. “Ordinary, what’s that?” he said grimly. “As it is, you may not be here long enough to meet us all. Once you see the job he wants doing, you’ll very likely change your mind. Anyway, you may not be up to the standard he requires.”

“I was trained by the best.”

“Then you’ve nothing to worry about, have you?” Now he sounded amused. “There’s one thing you need to remember.”

“Oh?” I fully expected the kind of instructions people got in dark tales;Whistling Tor seemed just the place for them. Don’t touch the little key third from the right. Don’t go into the chamber at the top of the tower. “What is that?”

“Stay out of Irial’s garden,” Magnus said. “Nobody goes in without Anluan’s invitation.You broke that rule.You upset him. He’s had enough people take one look at him and run off in disgust, without you adding yourself to the number.”

“I wasn’t disgusted, just scared. He came out of nowhere and he shouted at me. I’d already seen Olcan and the dog, and a scarecrow that walked around and showed me the way. And there were voices. And hands. They were all around me in the forest, trying to entice me off the path.”

“If you’re so easily frightened,” Magnus observed,“you won’t last here more than a day or two. Might be kinder to leave without getting his hopes up too much. I don’t want you to get started on the work, then bolt because you can’t cope. I’m surprised you plucked up the courage to come at all.”

“I can cope,” I said, stung by the criticism. “I didn’t know I was trespassing. I walked up intending to find you and ask you about the job.The folk in the village had plenty to say about this place, but I dismissed most of it as wild exaggeration. After Fianchu, and those voices, I realize I may have been wrong.”

“Ah. No doubt Tomas regaled you with stories about Anluan’s disfigurement and his general ineptitude as a leader?”

“More or less.” I was ashamed now. My parents had taught me not to judge on appearances. “They implied his—condition—was part of a family curse.”

“Make your own judgments—that’s always been my philosophy.” Magnus’s mouth was set in a tight line now. “Maybe that’s why I’m still here and nobody else is.”

When I had looked at Anluan’s curiously unbalanced features, had my own face shown a revulsion that was all too familiar to him? What must he have thought of me? “I heard that the scribing work will take the whole summer,” I said. “I know you experience some difficulty in getting people to stay here. I am available to work right through until autumn if that’s what is required. Provided you can assure me that I will be safe here, I won’t bolt. I’ll stay until the task is completed.”

“Mm-hm.” Magnus ushered me up some steps and into what was evidently the living area. I followed him along a dark hallway and then through a series of chambers of austere appearance.There were no rushes on the floor and the rooms were almost bare of furniture.The stone walls had a damp look about them. I spotted a tall bronze mirror propped in a corner, its surface partly covered by a cloth. Images moved in it, things that most certainly did not exist in this near-empty chamber. I hesitated, my gaze drawn towards it, my flesh crawling with unease. “We’ll go to the kitchen,” Magnus said. “You’ll be wanting to get warm.”

The kitchen was down another hallway and through a heavy oak door. A meager fire struggled on the hearth. On a well-scrubbed table lay the bundle of supplies Magnus had carried up from the village, its contents as yet unpacked. My companion hung a kettle from an iron support over the hearth and added wood to the fire. I watched him, my head full of awkward questions.

Magnus rummaged on a shelf, produced a little box and spooned something from it into an earthenware cup. As he worked I looked about me, noticing that this chamber, too, had its mirror, a three-sided, polished piece of some dark metal I could not identify. It seemed an ordinary one, the reflection showing a section of wall and roof, but the light was odd, as if the image within the metal showed the room at a different time of day or in a different season. It was hard not to stare at it.

“This is a restorative mix,” Magnus said, stirring. “Should put a bit of heart back into you.You look as if you need it.” When the kettle was steaming, he filled the cup and put it on the table beside me. “It’s safe to drink,” he added. “By the way, you might want to avoid looking in the mirrors for a while.They can be confusing.You’ll get used to them in time. If you stay, that is.”

“I see.” It was troubling how strongly the polished surface drew the eye, as if it might have enticing secrets to yield. I changed the subject.“Are you the one who tends the herb garden, Magnus?” I asked. “Irial’s garden, is that what it’s called? I noticed it’s quite well kept compared with . . .” My voice trailed away as I realized the implied insult in my words.

“That garden’s his domain,” Magnus said. “But I do everything else.” He glanced around the kitchen, plainly seeing it through my eyes. It was clean but remarkably bare, the shelves near empty, the cooking pans, platters and cups lined up neatly. My sister’s kitchen, at home in Market Cross, had been a place of warmth and light, savory