“Not now,” said Anluan. After helping me to my feet he had backed off, as if wary of touching me. “Take it slowly, Caitrin. You’ve had a bad shock. Magnus, go on ahead and brew a restorative for Caitrin, will you? We will follow.”
I was crying so hard I couldn’t even frame a thank-you. It had been so close. What if Anluan hadn’t come out? I might even now be on my way back to Market Cross. How in the name of God had Cillian found me? Had the villagers betrayed me, when only yesterday they had been all sympathy? And how had Cillian managed to get up the hill? Now that it seemed to be over, I had begun to shake. As we headed for the front entry, Anluan moved closer, half lifting his arm as if to put it around my shoulders. I edged away, fighting for self-control, and he did not complete the gesture. “I never even saw Cillian coming,” I sobbed. “I was stupid to go out there on my own, stupid!”
“This was no fault of yours,” Anluan said quietly as we went into the house. “I am sorry I was slow to reach you. I heard you cry out and I ran. But I could not run fast enough.”
“You got there in time, that’s all that matters.” I paused to wipe my face on my sleeve. “Anluan, those beings . . . and Eichri . . . I don’t understand any of it.” One thing was glaringly apparent: Eichri was no ordinary monk, nor even an ordinary man. “How did you do that? That . . . summoning? They were there so quickly. Olcan appeared from nowhere.”
“It is a thing I can do.” He seemed reluctant to say more.
“Was that the . . . the host? Nechtan’s host?” I had hardly thought to be afraid of them. Mind and body had been possessed by the old fear, the fear that had driven me from Market Cross to seek safe haven here.That terror still trembled through me: the knowledge that if I were taken back home, I would lose myself forever.
“It is the same force you have seen mentioned in the documents,” Anluan said.“Nechtan’s army, such as it is. Sometimes biddable, sometimes unruly. Stone is no barrier to them. I thought it better that you did not know . . .” As we walked into the kitchen he swayed, and after seating me on a bench he sank down beside me and put his head in his hands.
“Anluan, what’s wrong?” His sudden collapse frightened me.
“He’ll be better soon,” Magnus said, spooning powders into a jug.“It’s a natural reaction: the exercise of power can be draining.”
“I can answer for myself, Magnus.” Anluan’s voice was not much more than a whisper. “Caitrin, it is past time for an explanation, I know.”
“You’re not well,” I said.
“It’s nothing. I cannot give you answers to everything, for there are some questions here that have none.Those entities you saw just now—we don’t quite know what they are, only that they’re wayward and difficult to govern. There is a passage in Conan’s records that you may have read, in which my grandfather attempted to ride forth with them to fight a battle.”
“He lost control,” I murmured. “And they ran riot.”
“There are many such descriptions in the documents. These beings have been on the hill since Nechtan’s time.The common belief is that he summoned them by an act of dark magic. They are not monsters, despite the impression they gave just now.That was simply trickery, an illusion that can be used to strike fear into an adversary.” He did not clarify who created this illusion, himself or the host, and I did not ask.Touch too closely on his own astonishing role in this, and the flow of words would likely dry up.
“The host is bound to the chieftain of Whistling Tor, whoever he may be,” Anluan said. “I can exercise a certain control over their actions. It is done by . . . by thoughts, by concentration . . . Not sorcery, a knack.When I do this, it weakens me. As you see.”
“Don’t try to talk,” I murmured. “There’s no need to tell me all this now.”
