“He’s got kin,” Magnus said. “But things are complicated. Maybe one day he’ll trust you enough to tell you. He was very sick. We got him through it. It was a grim time. He regained the power of speech, though that was a slow process. He was left with his weakness. It’s a hard thing for a boy of thirteen to come to terms with, that he’ll never be an able-bodied man. Still weighs heavily on him, as no doubt you’ve seen. I did my best.”
“I know, Magnus.” After a moment I asked, “What kin?”
“At the time of Anluan’s illness, Emer’s brother was chieftain of Whiteshore—that’s our neighboring territory to the northeast. If you went up the north tower you’d have seen it. The fellow had never approved of Emer’s marriage to Irial. He’d cut off all contact between the two territories. We sent a lad from the settlement with a message, when Anluan was hanging between life and death.They wouldn’t let him through the gates.” He glanced at me, his strong features set. “Ask the folk down the hill why these things happen, and they’ll tell you Whistling Tor is cursed. It’s near enough to the truth. Fear kept folk away then, and it keeps them away now. Emer’s brother is gone; his son, Brión, is chieftain of Whiteshore now. A better man than his father, from what I’ve heard. But that gap’s never been bridged. Fear keeps Anluan a prisoner.”
“And you with him,” I said softly.
“Couldn’t leave the boy on his own, could I?”
We walked on. I pondered the fear that made the Tor an island cut off from the outside world. It was, no doubt, based on the supposed presence of an eldritch host in these woods, a host that had once been real, unless the written records of both Nechtan and Conan had been the ravings of madmen. And yet here we were, halfway down the hill, with not a single monster to be seen. The forest was peaceful under the morning sun; birds exchanged eloquent calls up in the canopy. Certainly, this was a melancholy place. But there were no-
“Magnus?” My voice had gone small and shaky.
“Mm?”
“There’s a man under the trees, over there—in a dark cloak—” Even as I pointed, the figure I had seen became no more than a shadow.
“Just keep your eyes on the path,” Magnus said. “Nothing to worry about.”
Something rustled, and I whipped around the other way.A woman this time, half glimpsed amid ferns, white face, staring eyes, enveloping hood. Even as I looked, she was gone. A phantasm, perhaps conjured by my fearful imagination out of the glancing of light on stones or the dance of leaves in the wind.
“Take my arm, Caitrin.” Magnus’s voice was steady as a rock. “Look ahead. Remember what I told you.You’re one of Anluan’s folk now, and you’re safe with me.”
And by the time we were twenty paces further down the hill, there was nothing to be seen. I knew better than to ask questions. We covered the rest of the distance to the settlement in silence, and the bristling barricade was opened to let us in.
My arrival in the settlement was greeted with expressions of astonishment. Clearly, nobody had expected that I would survive my trip up the hill in one piece, let alone return apparently none the worse for wear. Tomas, it emerged, had taken the risk of accepting Duald’s wager that I would reach the top alive, and now stood to collect his winnings.
“I had my doubts,” he told me as Magnus and I waited outside the inn while folk went off to pack up the supplies we needed.“I won’t deny that. But you seemed so set on getting there, I thought, if anyone can do it, she can.”
“Thank you for your faith in me,” I said. “Might I go inside and talk to Orna awhile? We’re in no rush to get back.” Judging by what I’d seen of Magnus’s last visit here, we were likely to be handed our provisions and seen swiftly back out through the barrier. Now that we were here, I found that I did, in fact, want some female conversation, even if it was full of dire warnings about uncanny warriors and giant dogs.
“Why not?” said Tomas, glancing sideways at Magnus. I sensed it was not usual for my companion to be invited in; I had not forgotten how fearful Orna had appeared in his presence last time, as if Magnus had brought the taint of the Tor into the settlement with him.
“Take your time, Caitrin,” Magnus said. “I’ll be out here if you need me.”
Inside the inn, Orna was scrubbing the floor, while a red-haired woman worked energetically with a long-handled brush, cleaning away cobwebs. Both stopped work to stare at me as I came in.
“By all the saints and crawly creatures,” Orna said, sitting back on her heels. “You’re back.”
“I am, and hoping you may have time to sit down and talk awhile. Maybe some ale? Magnus has funds.”
“Of course.” Perhaps aware that I must have an interesting tale to tell, at the very least, Orna got up and fetched the ale jug, introducing her friend, Sionnach, as she set three cups on the freshly scoured table. “Now tell us,” she said. “What did you think of Lord Anluan? What’s it really like up there?”
