singing plainchant.
I stood there awhile, surprised into stillness by the calm beauty of it.When the song came to a halt, I went in. I had not expected to find a chapel at Whistling Tor. But here it was: a plain stone chamber with a narrow glazed window, its altar an unadorned slab supporting a rough-hewn cross of oak wood. A subtle light touched the faces of the five brethren who knelt there, silent now, hands together in prayer. Those hands—so thin, so transparent, pointing to heaven—told their own story. These holy brethren belonged, not to the community of Saint Criodan’s or another monastic foundation, but to the host.
The sixth monk was not in pose of penitence. Eichri stood at the back, arms folded. Not a participant, an observer. I was accustomed to the expressions of his bony countenance: cynical, amused, inquisitive, malicious. In the moment before he saw me, I caught something new there. It was a look I had sometimes seen on the ghost child’s wan features: the yearning for a home that no longer existed.
“Eichri,” I whispered, moving closer. “May I talk with you?”
“Shh!” hissed one of the praying monks without turning his head.
Eichri took my arm and we walked out together, pausing by the door. “It’s rather wet,” he observed.
“Oh dear.” Eichri raised his brows. “Shall we make a run for the kitchen?”
“This needs to be in private.” An idea came to me. “Could you escort me up to the chamber where the spare clothing is kept, at the top of the north tower? There may be a pair of boots there, something that will keep my feet dry.”
“With pleasure, dear lady.”
We sprinted through the rain, then made a damp progress up the winding stair to the tower room.The key was in the pouch at my belt; the door did not stick. I eased off my sodden boots and used them to prop it open. “Those monks,” I said. “They were a surprise.”
“Because they still pray? Because they have retained their faith?”
I struggled for an acceptable way to put this.“In Whistling Tor’s history the host is identified as evil. Demonic. Demons don’t sing psalms.”
He shrugged.
“Is this another thing Anluan has ordered you not to talk about? Eichri, I can’t bear this! How are we to help him if he won’t even discuss the problem? I care about him, I care about all of you! I can’t stand by and see everything lost!”
Eichri had settled on the floor, his back against the wall, his legs outstretched. He crossed his sandaled feet. There was no spark of dangerous red in his eyes now, no fearsome grin on his gaunt features. “Do you have a plan?” he asked.
At last, someone was prepared to listen.“Not exactly. An idea, that’s all. You could help by answering a question or two.”
“I will if I can, Caitrin. I’m bound to Anluan’s will, just like the rest of the host.Touch on a topic he’s forbidden me to speak of, and I will be unable to answer, even if I’m inclined to do so.You shouldn’t lose sight of the fact that I am not an ordinary man. I’ve learned to pretend, as Rioghan and Muirne have. We play at life so well that we sometimes delude ourselves into believing we are still part of it.That’s dangerous. Our nature limits our capacity to act.”
“And yet you are able to travel beyond the Tor without ...”
“Without running amok? That is true.We’ve worked on that skill over the years, Rioghan and I. It hasn’t been easy.”
I considered this as I took the embroidered slippers from the bigger chest and set them to one side.
“I always liked those,” Eichri said. “They were Emer’s.”
“Unsuitable for the rain. Besides, last time I wore Emer’s clothing, someone came into my chamber and slashed it. Perhaps I should leave her things here.”
There was an odd silence. I looked across at the monk. He was frowning. “Slashed? When was this?”
“A while ago. Other things have happened more recently.Warnings.At least, that’s what they seem to be.”
“You should have spoken to Anluan about this, Caitrin.”
“That’s what Rioghan said. I do have a guard.”
“One of the host.”
There were no boots in the large chest. I opened the smaller one and began to sort through its contents.
“Caitrin?”
“I trust Cathair. As I trust you, Eichri.That brings me to my question. When I first saw the host surging out of the forest to terrify Cillian, you were leading the others. If I had not already known you to be a friend, I would have been frightened out of my wits. In life, were you some kind of warrior monk?”
He grinned disarmingly.“I grew up on a farm. I could ride by the time I was two years old.The other trappings are only for show.The overall effect does strike terror into the enemy.”
“So you wouldn’t actually have run anyone through? Made your horse rear up and strike a fatal blow with its hooves?”
“Run a man through?” He sounded deeply shocked. “Hardly. I can’t speak for the horse. I found the creature wandering in the forest some years ago and we took a fancy to each other.What he chooses to do is his business.”
“The host followed you.You led them into battle.”
