I sat a long while staring at the wall after reading this passage, one of the few Nechtan had written after he called forth the host. I asked myself why it was that in the face of such evidence I still believed there must be a way for Anluan to cross that invisible line at the foot of the hill without unleashing complete havoc on the district.Then I left the library and went in search of Eichri.
Today the green-faced scarecrow was in the garden with summer rain dripping off the dark hood of his cloak. I approached him. “I’m looking for Brother Eichri.”
The being pointed towards the east tower, then made his thin hands into the shape of a cross.
“Thank you for your help.”
The rain was growing heavier; the pond had broken its banks to form a spreading lake in the rank grass. The ducks huddled under a bush. I ran across to the tower, holding up my skirt in a vain attempt to keep the hem dry. My boots were leaking. I squelched up to the tower door, which was ajar, and came to a halt as I heard the singing.
Deep, mellow, like the tolling of a heavy bell or the hum of creatures deep in the sea; that was how it came to my ears. Men’s voices in perfect unison, carrying an ebbing, flowing line of melody.The words were Latin. They were singing plainchant.
I stood there awhile, surprised into stillness by the calm beauty of it.When the song came to a halt, I went in. I had not expected to find a chapel at Whistling Tor. But here it was: a plain stone chamber with a narrow glazed window, its altar an unadorned slab supporting a rough-hewn cross of oak wood. A subtle light touched the faces of the five brethren who knelt there, silent now, hands together in prayer. Those hands—so thin, so transparent, pointing to heaven—told their own story. These holy brethren belonged, not to the community of Saint Criodan’s or another monastic foundation, but to the host.
The sixth monk was not in pose of penitence. Eichri stood at the back, arms folded. Not a participant, an observer. I was accustomed to the expressions of his bony countenance: cynical, amused, inquisitive, malicious. In the moment before he saw me, I caught something new there. It was a look I had sometimes seen on the ghost child’s wan features: the yearning for a home that no longer existed.
“Eichri,” I whispered, moving closer. “May I talk with you?”
“Shh!” hissed one of the praying monks without turning his head.
Eichri took my arm and we walked out together, pausing by the door. “It’s rather wet,” he observed.
“Oh dear.” Eichri raised his brows. “Shall we make a run for the kitchen?”
“This needs to be in private.” An idea came to me. “Could you escort me up to the chamber where the spare clothing is kept, at the top of the north tower? There may be a pair of boots there, something that will keep my feet dry.”
“With pleasure, dear lady.”
We sprinted through the rain, then made a damp progress up the winding stair to the tower room.The key was in the pouch at my belt; the door did not stick. I eased off my sodden boots and used them to prop it open. “Those monks,” I said. “They were a surprise.”
“Because they still pray? Because they have retained their faith?”
I struggled for an acceptable way to put this.“In Whistling Tor’s history the host is identified as evil. Demonic. Demons don’t sing psalms.”
He shrugged.
“Is this another thing Anluan has ordered you not to talk about? Eichri, I can’t bear this! How are we to help him if he won’t even discuss the problem? I care about him, I care about all of you! I can’t stand by and see everything lost!”
Eichri had settled on the floor, his back against the wall, his legs outstretched. He crossed his sandaled feet. There was no spark of dangerous red in his eyes now, no fearsome grin on his gaunt features. “Do you have a plan?” he asked.
At last, someone was prepared to listen.“Not exactly. An idea, that’s all. You could help by answering a question or two.”
“I will if I can, Caitrin. I’m bound to Anluan’s will, just like the rest of the host.Touch on a topic he’s forbidden me to speak of, and I will be unable to answer, even if I’m inclined to do so.You shouldn’t lose sight of the fact that I am not an ordinary man. I’ve learned to pretend, as Rioghan and Muirne have. We play at life so well that we sometimes delude ourselves into believing we are still part of it.That’s dangerous. Our nature limits our capacity to act.”
“And yet you are able to travel beyond the Tor without ...”
“Without running amok? That is true.We’ve worked on that skill over the years, Rioghan and I. It hasn’t been easy.”
I considered this as I took the embroidered slippers from the bigger chest and set them to one side.
“I always liked those,” Eichri said. “They were Emer’s.”
“Unsuitable for the rain. Besides, last time I wore Emer’s clothing, someone came into my chamber and slashed it. Perhaps I should leave her things here.”
There was an odd silence. I looked across at the monk. He was frowning. “Slashed? When was this?”
