Anluan’s.
Three days passed in a blur. I read my way through page after crumbling page of unlikely sounding spells and incantations, while beyond the library doors Anluan and the others put in place their arrangements for the eve of full moon. I read until my back ached; until my eyes hurt; until my neck felt like a stick of dried-up firewood. I saw nothing of Anluan in the library, but several times when I went outside to stretch my cramped limbs I observed him in somber-faced conversation with Magnus and Rioghan. Once or twice it seemed to me their talk hushed as I came closer, as if what they were discussing must be kept from my ears, and that surprised me. But the need to get through the grimoires drove me hard, and I did not trouble the men with questions.
I learned how to put a spell on a rival that would make her hair fall out overnight, leaving her as bald as an onion. I discovered the means to turn a perfectly ordinary garment into one that would burn and torment anyone unfortunate enough to put it on. I read three different ways to find out if a person was lying and five theories on turning base metals into gold. I ploughed through a dissertation on the distinction between leprechauns and clurichauns. There were guides for the use of scrying vessels. There were instructions for making fire without smoke and smoke without fire. There were incantations to assist with the transfer of special qualities to mirrors of bronze or silver or obsidian—I did not read those in full, for it chilled me to be so close to the heart of Nechtan’s power. I stayed at my desk until I was almost weeping with exhaustion, but I found no charm for the release of unquiet spirits.
On the second day, I waylaid Eichri in the courtyard as dusk was falling. Since the council, much had changed at Whistling Tor. Warriors of the host patrolled the high walkways atop the fortress walls, in plain sight. Torches burned in iron sockets; I saw here a spear point, there an axe blade glinting in the uneven light. Down in the courtyard, knots of spectral folk gathered, muttering among themselves. A nervous anticipation filled the air, the scent of change.
“Caitrin,” Eichri said, halting as I put a hand on his sleeve. “You look tired.”
“Too long at the books. I have a question for you, Eichri.”
“Ask it, then. These days, everything’s questions. Pity there aren’t more answers.”
“I understand you can go in and out of the monastery at Saint Crio dan’s without anyone noticing.”
The monk nodded. “You need more supplies?”
“I don’t need you to steal for me. Not exactly. Can you go into any part of that building, even if there’s a locked door? I’m thinking of the secret part of the library, the place where it seems Nechtan obtained his incantation to summon the host.”
“Perhaps.”
“If the counterspell is to be found in writing anywhere, it might perhaps be there, alongside the original charm. I thought maybe you could . . .”
“Slip in, find it, memorize it, come quietly back? If only it were so simple, Caitrin.You forget one critical detail. I cannot read. Even if I were to take a little sharp knife with which to sever a page from a book and slip it under my habit, how would I know which page to choose?”
I felt more than a little foolish. “Can any of your brethren here at Whistling Tor read?”
“Never asked. I will if you like. It’s immaterial, really—they can’t go off the hill.”
“Wouldn’t it be safe, provided you went too? Those monks seem so peaceable.” But then, Eichri himself had been in that mob that came to Nechtan’s call, the day Mella died.
“We’re none of us safe.” He fiddled with his peculiar necklace, moving the little bones along the cord that held them. “The greatest fear for all of us, holy brothers included, is that we’ll be let off the hill and perform some deed there’s no forgiving, not if we wait an eternity of years. You heard what that woman said, the night of the council. Memories fade in time, and that makes it possible to bear each day as it comes. But some memories linger; some you can’t wipe away completely. We’ve all got our share of those, and we’re not keen to make new ones.”
I wanted to ask him what his own sin was, what deed had condemned him to become part of the host, but I couldn’t get the words out. It felt like asking a man to whip himself for my entertainment. If Eichri decided to tell me his story one day, as Rioghan had his, I would listen without judgment.
“I’m a sinner unrepentant,” Eichri said, shrewd eyes fixed on me. “What I did, I did purely for my own gain. I can’t in all sincerity say I’m sorry. If I’m not sorry, I can’t atone for my sins, supposing that’s why I find myself back in this world. If there’s no atonement, what choice have I but a return to that nothing place I was in before Nechtan performed his cursed experiment? I can’t face that, Caitrin. I want to stay here; I want to go on living the life I have at Whistling Tor. It’d suit me very well if you never found a counterspell.”
“A sinner unrepentant?” I echoed.“But you seem such a good person.”
“Ah, but you see good in everyone.”
After a moment, I said, “There
“Even in that fellow who trussed you up and tried to haul you away off down the hill?”
I grimaced. “It may be a long time before I learn to see the good in Cillian,” I told him. “If it’s there, it’s buried deep.”
The eve of full moon, and a chill morning. Atop the wall, men-at-arms from the host moved through shreds of mist, dark figures appearing and disappearing as they kept their watch. If this was summer, Whistling Tor must be a bitter place when winter sank its teeth into the land. I walked to the pump huddled in shawl and cloak, and instead of carrying a bucket upstairs in my usual fashion, I made do with a brief splash of face and hands before heading for the warmth of the kitchen fire. Fianchu went off into the garden on business of his own.
A sound of voices as I approached the kitchen door. I was not the only one up early.
“If it’ll set his mind at ease, I’ll stay up here with her.” Olcan’s voice. “Me and Fianchu both.”
“You’re needed down on the boundary.” Rioghan this time. I hesitated at the foot of the steps. “If anything goes wrong, you must be in position to call Anluan and Magnus back.”
“Maybe so,” Olcan said, “but if he doesn’t think Gearrog can do the job on his own, Anluan’s going to insist on one of us staying. If it’s not me, it has to be Magnus. And if Magnus stays, Anluan goes down there on his own.That’s not right.”
I walked up the steps and through the doorway.“If you’re talking about who’s supposed to watch over me this morning,” I said, “I don’t see why anyone need do so. I’ll do what I usually do, sit in the library and work.The inner door can be bolted and Gearrog can guard the other.”
