I recalled that Nechtan had referred to a book hidden away in the monastery’s secret collection, containing a particular form of words he needed for his experiment. A book of magic: a grimoire. If spells really existed for calling forth eldritch forces such as those Conan referred to, then one had to suppose there were also counterspells, charms for banishing them. Maybe there was a Latin grimoire here in the library somewhere; could that be what Anluan was hoping I would find? It seemed unlikely. If the family had possessed a book with such a charm in it, surely as soon as Nechtan discovered that he could not control the army he had conjured, he would have sent it straight back where it came from.
The documents chronicled Conan’s continuing struggle with what he had been bequeathed.
Many days of rain. They say the river will flood soon. A losing battle to persuade the villagers up onto the hill where they will be safe. I sent Enda down again, since he at least can make the trip without an unwelcome retinue.The people barred their doors against him.There will be drownings.
An unwelcome retinue—the host again? Surely they hadn’t followed Conan wherever he went? Reading further, I found references to a great flood, and also to Conan’s wife:
Three children of the settlement were swept away in the rising waters. Líoch wept and upbraided me for not doing more. I bade her be glad our son is here in the fortress and safe, and not to chide me for the burden my wretched father laid on all of us.What does she expect: that I should loose the host to wreak havoc where it will, as he did? I asked these folk to come to my house; I bade them come, and they would not. If their children drown, be it on their own heads.
The books reveal no answers. If my father ever had what I need, he hid it from me. Such an act does not surprise me. The man was riddled with hatred.
News from the southeast: a new incursion. I do not know how I can bring myself to lead the host out again. But they are all I have. Irial is young yet.What if I am slain?
Night after night a whispering in my ear. It tempts me to despair; it holds out the reward of oblivion. I will not heed it. My son needs his father.Yes, even such a father as I. For me there is no hope. But I can hope for him.
There was so much sadness in these records. The more I read, the more I thought of the current chieftain, a man whose moods seemed to span a narrow range—at one end, sorrow, at the other, fury.Yet his father had been the peaceable, orderly maker of those botanical notes, creator of the lovely garden in which I had seen Anluan sitting as if enchanted into a forlorn shadow of a man.
I worked until it was too dark to read. I would not have a lamp in the library; it was much too dangerous with the documents there. As I left, I slipped one of Irial’s notebooks into my pouch. I would read it later, in my chamber, by candlelight.
I was last to supper, and tonight of all nights Anluan had decided to make an appearance. He sat at the head of the table, Muirne at the foot, though she was seldom in her chair—it became clear that in her presence nobody else would serve his lordship. She ladled his food, filled and refilled his cup, cut his bread and sliced his meat. I watched with some fascination, wondering how long it would be before he lost his temper and told her to stop fussing. In fact, she might have been invisible for all the attention he paid her. Had the memory of our trip to the tower not been so fresh, I could almost have felt sorry for her.The chieftain of Whistling Tor had not changed for supper. His red hair was unkempt, his chin rough with stubble, and he wore the same clothing he had had on in the library earlier. His shirt had a fraying cuff and needed laundering. Muirne’s outfit was spotless, as always.
“How’s the work progressing, Caitrin?” Magnus asked with a smile. “You look a little tired.”
“I’m perfectly well,” I replied, before Anluan could seize the opportunity to suggest I was not up to the task. Honesty compelled me to add, “I had a little problem this morning; one of the doors stuck, and it meant I started work late.”
Muirne spoke up, surprising me.“I heard about that, Caitrin. I’m sorry I left you there on your own—if I’d realized . . .”
“It’s all right,” I said. Of course she hadn’t shut me in. It was this place, with its secrets and oddities. It was enough to make the sanest person think mad thoughts. “I managed to open the door eventually; I found a key.”
Anluan’s attention was on me instantly.“A key? I thought you said the door stuck.Where was this?”
