down. He had placed the sword atop a chest, his hands careful.
“It was an accident. Magnus, are they all safe? The men of the host, I mean? There was a . . . they seemed to . . .”
His mouth formed a grim smile. “We’ve had an account of it; there’s been no reason to doubt that story. Safe? If you mean, has anyone died twice over, I don’t think that’s possible. As for the fire, that was an odd thing, very odd. Some of your documents sustained a bit of damage from the smoke, but nothing was burned.The whole thing seemed . . . conjured; not quite real.”
“The smoke was perfectly real,” I said, my skin prickling with unease. “What are you suggesting, Magnus? That it was all just . . .” I couldn’t bring myself to say it.
“I’m not suggesting anything,” he said, but he was avoiding my eye. “Caitrin, this has shocked Anluan badly. Both of us, to tell the truth.When Olcan called out to us from the barrier, and we came out and saw the smoke, it was . . . It brought back some very unwelcome memories. I’ve never run so fast.”
I scrutinized my companion more closely, seeing what I had not taken in before: the pallor of his strong features, the frown between the bushy gray brows, the set of his shoulders, not as square as was customary. “Fianchu raised the alarm?”
“He raced down to where Olcan was on guard, and Olcan came to fetch us. We ran back up the hill. Anluan couldn’t keep up; he made me go on ahead. God, Caitrin, I expected to find the same thing as last time, the very same, the house half burned away and you lying dead in the embers.”
“What are you saying?” My voice was a whisper.
“Emer died in a fire.The circumstances were much the same. Perhaps you’ve thought Anluan weak or cowardly for his reluctance to leave the hill, especially when there was such a need.You might have wondered why I didn’t encourage him to try it earlier.”
“I never thought him weak, Magnus. Will you tell me the whole story?”
He got up and began to pace, as if the chamber were too small to contain what he was feeling. “It was in the time when Emer’s brother was chieftain. As I told you before, he had a low opinion of Irial; couldn’t forgive his sister for marrying Nechtan’s kin. Irial recognized the need to forge new links, since Whiteshore was no longer the ally it had been. We discussed it at length, and when he got an unexpected invitation to attend a council at Silverlake, to the southeast, he decided to risk going. I went with him, since he had to have a personal guard. Emer was expecting another child; she didn’t want to undertake a long ride. She insisted she’d be safe here with Olcan and Fianchu and the small number of other folk we had working at Whistling Tor in those days. It was a sort of test. If the visit went well, Irial planned to hold a council of his own involving a much wider group of local chieftains. He had hopes that Whistling Tor could regain the status it had before Nechtan’s time. An ambitious plan. Risky, of course, but the host had been quiet in Irial’s time, and like you he was prepared to trust them. Emer was so proud of him, Caitrin. It shone in her eyes as she bid us farewell.
“The council went well. Irial spoke with conviction; folk listened to him. We rode home with high hearts. What we found was the great hall blackened and burned, Emer dead, young Anluan shrunk to a little shadow with his eyes full of death and terror. He wouldn’t say exactly what he’d seen, and none of the others had witnessed it— everyone had been elsewhere, busy, only realizing that there was a fire and that she was trapped when it was far too late to save her. Anluan wasn’t hurt, not physically, but . . . he wasn’t the same.There was some damage in him, deep down.”
The woman in the mirror, screaming . . . Oh, God . . . No wonder Anluan had struggled so hard with the decision to risk going off the hill. No wonder he’d had that look on his face this morning.
“When we saw the smoke today, both of us expected the same thing,” Magnus said. “That run up the hill was . . . I’ve never seen him so angry with himself, cursing his lame leg, cursing his own poor judgment, cursing the host . . . We were sure we’d find you dead. Me, I was looking ahead, seeing him the way his father was when he gathered up what was left of Emer . . . Sitting on the ground, cradling her poor burned body to him, specks of ash floating around them like dark snow . . .I’ve seen a lot, Caitrin, and I’ve heard a lot.War is my calling, and a warrior gets his fair share of blood and sorrow. I’d never heard a man make the sort of sounds Irial made that day. I took Anluan away; tended to him in my own quarters. Olcan looked after the farm.The others helped with what had to be done. Muirne was the only one Irial would take any heed of. He had nothing left for his son. He was consumed by grief and guilt. Such a loss can make a person selfish. Don’t get me wrong, I loved the man like a brother. But Anluan had sorrow of his own to bear, and so did I.”
“You never found out who was responsible for that fire?”
He shook his head. “There were no witnesses, save possibly Anluan, and he wouldn’t talk, or couldn’t. I found no clues. But Irial was convinced the host was responsible; that by leaving the Tor, he had brought down this fate on Emer. It seemed to me that fire might just as likely have started with a draft and a candle. After today, I’m not so sure.”
“Why would the host, or anyone else for that matter, want to harm me? I’m nobody.”
“You’re somebody to us,” Magnus said quietly.“Caitrin, I’ve talked too long.You’re not well, you should be resting.”
A tap at the open door.There stood Cathair, holding a laden tray. Beside him, her hair turned to a pale nimbus by the sunlight behind her, was the ghost child, clasping a little jug in careful hands.
“Bring it in,” Magnus said, but Cathair did not move beyond the doorway. The child came in, stepping over to set the jug on the storage chest. She crept to the foot of my bed and stood there, eyes downcast, fingers pleating little folds in the blanket. There was something in her stance, and in that of Cathair, that troubled me greatly.
“How long was I unconscious?” I asked as Magnus retrieved the tray. The moment he took it from Cathair, the young warrior backed off and vanished along the gallery.
“A while. Don’t trouble yourself with all this now, Caitrin. Eat and rest. We’ll keep you safe.”
I drank the broth in cautious sips. My throat felt as if it had been scraped bare. It hurt to breathe, but the warm liquid was soothing.“Where is everyone?” I asked.“Rioghan and Eichri? Olcan and Fianchu?” I realized that I had forgotten the most important question of all. “The Normans! What happened down at the settlement?”
“Funny the way things play out sometimes. It went well. The host stayed within the boundaries of the hill.Anluan made his speech, the Normans listened, they said their piece, he stood up to them. They were just getting into the next part, about how foolish we’d be to build this into an armed conflict, since they’d be sure to make mincemeat of us all, when we heard Olcan bellowing from beyond the barrier, and the fellows they’d left on
