Heart's Blood

“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 He too had withdrawn, edging along the bench away from me, but our hands were still clasped.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.”