Tower of Thorns (11 page)

Grim

“Y
ou've what
?
” I'm shocked. Too shocked to hide it.

“I've changed my mind,” Blackthorn says, calm as calm, though she's set my head spinning. “I'm going to Bann to deal with Lady Geiléis's monster.”

It's late, after supper, and we're in our chamber. Haven't talked to her since the afternoon, when I passed on Flannan's message. Been busy with the lads in the practice yard, then talking to some other folk at supper, and haven't had the chance. She was looking pale at supper time and she still is. On edge about something. That makes two of us now.

“But . . .” I can't get the right words out. There aren't any right words. “But you said . . .”

“I've spoken to Flidais. She's given me permission to go provided I come back straight after midsummer, and Lady Geiléis has agreed to that. The baby's not due until autumn; Flidais will do perfectly well under the care of Master Caillín.”

Plenty I could say. Thought she'd decided, thought
we'd
decided going to Bann was too risky, right on the border and all. Thought she
wanted to stay with Lady Flidais right through, and Lady Flidais wanted her. Thought she was counting the days till we could head home, same as me. Seems I was wrong. Bonehead. Only . . . that's what she
said
, before. Why would she change her mind so quick?

“Mm-hm,” I say, trying to be calm like her though I'm a jumble inside. “Made up your mind, then.”

“I have.” Sounds like she doesn't want questions. Got no answers, maybe.

“When do we leave?”

Blackthorn's been fussing with some things on the bed, taking a long time to fold them. Now she turns and looks at me properly. “Grim,” she says in a voice I don't like much, “you don't have to come. Not if you don't want to. Not if you think I'm doing the wrong thing.”

I look straight back at her. “You saying you don't want me to come?” Had to happen sometime. But I'd started thinking it wouldn't, stupid me.

She folds her arms, looks at the floor now. “No. Just that Flannan's coming with me, so I won't be on my own.”

Nothing to say to that. So it's him—he's what changed her mind for her.

“He's going to this monastery, St. Olcan's,” she says. “There's some work he can do there. And since it's right next to Lady Geiléis's holdings, it makes sense to travel together. Besides, Lady Geiléis came with an escort. There'll be plenty of protection.”

“So, no need for me.”

“Not as a bodyguard. Grim, don't look like that. I want you to have the opportunity to make up your own mind about it, that's all. If you think it's a bad idea, and I can see you do, you shouldn't feel obliged to come. You could go home to Winterfalls, wait for me there.”

“Mm-hm.” Me at the cottage, on my own, and her at Bann with this monster. Ha! She's crazy if she thinks I'm going along with that.

“You won't, though, will you?” she says. Not so crazy after all.

No need to answer that. She knows I'll follow unless she orders me
not to, and maybe even if she does. It's my job, looking after her. It's what keeps me moving from one day to the next. So I'll go even if I think it's the worst idea she's ever had. “What about him?” I ask. “Flannan. Planning to help you kill the monster, is he?”

She heaves a big sigh. “I imagine he'll be with the monks at St. Olcan's, studying their famous collection of manuscripts and consulting their esteemed scholars. Nothing to do with Lady Geiléis and her creature in the tower.”

Monks. For a bit I'd forgotten them. “Where would you be staying?” I ask her.

“Not at the monastery. That'll be men only. I think Lady Geiléis can accommodate me. Us. That's if you're coming.”

“Looks like I am,” I say. “Better pack up, then. Not sure what a fellow needs to deal with a monster.”

“Courage,” says Blackthorn. “Sharp wits. Imagination.”

“Mm-hm.” Courage, I might be able to find, though if I have to visit this monastery that could get hard. Not strong on sharp wits and imagination. But then, she's got more than enough for two.

Geiléis

B
y all the gods! She hardly dared believe it true. So late, when hope had seemed all but lost, Mistress Blackthorn had suddenly changed her mind. Of her own volition, she was coming to Bann.

Geiléis pushed down the wild excitement that was rising in her, threatening to undo the whole enterprise. She must be cool, calm, every bit the lady, even when her inner voice was shouting,
Yes! This time it's really going to happen! This woman is clever, she's brave, she's open to the strange and uncanny. She's not like the others. This time, this time . . .
There must be none of that. The very strengths that could help Blackthorn complete the task could also be the quest's undoing. A clever woman could solve puzzles. A fearless woman might ask difficult questions, seek answers in places others would shun. A woman who understood magic might see what an ordinary person was blind to.

This must be carefully controlled, every step of the way. She must feed the information to Blackthorn drop by drop, giving her enough to hold her interest, but not so much that the healer would balk at the task ahead of her, or question Geiléis's sanity as others before her had done. This must be calculated perfectly.

First things first. She bade Prince Oran and Lady Flidais farewell in
the privacy of the royal council chamber. She thanked them for their hospitality and for lending her their valued wise woman. She promised to ensure that Mistress Blackthorn returned to court straight after Midsummer Eve, whether or not she was successful in banishing the monster.

The healer was bringing both the hulking bodyguard and the scholar with her to Bann. Neither was required for purposes of safety; Geiléis's own escort was more than adequate. But Blackthorn had simply stated that both men would be accompanying her. Since Blackthorn's cooperation was essential, Geiléis had agreed without demur. A little inconvenience could be endured in order to keep the woman content.

The guard, Grim, was all muscle and no wits. Loyal to his mistress, certainly. But lacking in intellect and subtlety, and therefore no real threat. The scholar would be quickly absorbed at St. Olcan's, as others of his kind were. He would become enmeshed in his studies; blind and deaf to the outside world. The illuminated manuscripts in the monastic collection were considered the finest in all Erin. Provided Master Flannan stuck to what he knew best, he would not present a problem. She might send one of her guards ahead to have a word with Father Tomas. Best if the fellow was accommodated in the monastery guesthouse, safely out of the way.

They rode out in the early morning. Cahercorcan had provided horses for Blackthorn and her two men.

“I should have explained, perhaps,” Geiléis said to the healer, “that when we stop along the way—the journey takes almost five days—we do not seek out the hospitality of chieftains or princes. My men carry rudimentary supplies for camping. We sleep under the trees. We wait until the horses can go on.”

“That's fine with Grim and me,” Blackthorn said. “What about
you, Flannan? You may be more accustomed to sleeping with a roof over your head.”

“Not at all,” said the scholar, who was riding close to Blackthorn. “A great deal of my life is spent traveling. Provided I can keep my writing materials dry—and they are well wrapped against possible damage—I have no objection to a few nights in the open, Lady Geiléis.”

“Call me Geiléis, please, Master Flannan.” She favored him with a smile. “You must do the same, Mistress Blackthorn. On the road we may dispense with convention, surely.”

“If you say so.” Blackthorn glanced over her shoulder. The men-at-arms were in their usual formation, three at the head of the group, three at the rear, one on either flank and one free to move about as required. The healer's man, Grim, was riding with those at the back of the party. “That goes for Grim too, I take it?”

“If you wish.” What was the fellow to her? Not a lover, surely—there seemed nothing of passion or tenderness in either of them. Indeed, they appeared singularly ill-suited to each other. Even a beaten-about sort of woman like Blackthorn could surely do better than that slow-witted lump of a man. But perhaps she liked her pleasure quick and rough, with no sentiment attached. “We'll ride as far as Cormac's Crossing today, all being well. My men will set up shelters, cook a meal, provide all that is required.”

“Mm-hm.”

“A long ride for you,” Geiléis said.

“We'll cope. And as for the camping, we're used to managing with very little. No need to apologize for the lack of amenities. Cormac's Crossing. Who is, or was, Cormac?”

“It's an old name; I know nothing of its origins. You'll find the spot perfectly suitable for an overnight camp. I thank you again, from the bottom of my heart, for agreeing to do this. Your courage is exemplary.”

“More curiosity than courage. Grim and I like a mystery. Yours is particularly challenging.”

Geiléis would have said more; would, perhaps, have ventured a question or two about where Blackthorn had been before she came to Dalriada. But the healer let her horse drop back and the opportunity was lost. There was a story behind the woman's combative eyes and sharp manner. There was a story behind her unlikely friendship with her hulking protector. Not that it mattered, unless it got in the way of the task ahead. She'd watch them carefully, and set others to do so when she could not. Make sure her guests saw what she needed them to and nothing else. Make sure they heard only what was required to ensure the fulfillment of the task.

“Question for you.” Blackthorn had come up beside her again, jolting her out of her thoughts. “You still want a cleansing ritual, yes? That should be the first thing I do when we get there. But you've spoken of these monks as if you're on friendly terms with them. Since you're happy to have my assistance with your problem, I assume you're not of the Christian faith.”

“That is not a question, Blackthorn.”

“What is your own spiritual path?”

Geiléis felt her mouth twist into a bitter smile. “You think Father Tomas and the brethren might object to a ritual of the old faith conducted so close to their house of Christian prayer?”

“One might expect that.”

“We are all desperate for answers, Blackthorn. The creature's screaming is enough to send the sanest of folk witless. Father Tomas may not be best pleased by your arrival, but I am chieftain of Bann, and what happens on my land is my business. As for my faith, ill fortune has all but snuffed it out.”

“But not entirely?”

“If it was quite gone,” Geiléis said, “I would not have waited so long for the druid. As it is, I am prepared to try anything. When we reach Bann, you will understand why.”