“He’s more than an old man or even a simple ragpicker. I sensed something strange about him the moment we met. He’s something more than he seems and nothing good. He’s found a way to make Skeal Eile his own, a willing tool in his plans, whatever they are. Now Eile claims to have spoken to the ghost of the Hawk. He says the boy has returned and wants everyone to march out of the valley so they can be taken to some new, faraway place to live. Madness.”

“Out of the valley! We have to stop this!”

“A fine sentiment, but devoid of anything resembling common sense. What we have to do, Aislinne, is get away from here and find help somewhere else. I have news of another sort that suggests a further reason we can’t stay. Esselline isn’t coming. Apparently, he had second thoughts about the advisability of getting involved in our struggle. That’s the way he sees it, I am told—as our struggle. He’s a proud man with a modicum of courage, but he’s a fool for public opinion, as well. With Sider dead, he feels he is released from his promise. He thinks it best to stay home and defend his own ground rather than to rush to our aid. He doesn’t see us as worth saving, I guess. I had thought better of him once, as I suppose Sider had. We were both mistaken.”

Aislinne was stunned. “He’s just abandoning us? He’s not even sending some of his soldiers?”

Brickey shook his head. “Time to go. We need to get out of here before the new and improved Skeal Eile thinks to send someone to dispose of you. He has no reason to keep you alive now. The people are with him, howling at the moon like wild animals, infused with the spirit of their new leader’s words. With Pogue dead, he commands them all, and you haven’t much protection against whatever he might decide to do with you. Come.”

He took her arm and steered her toward the door. She did not speak against what he was doing or resist the pull in his hand. She could barely make herself think straight in the face of this latest news—Pogue dead, Esselline not coming, the people of her village—people she had known all her life—driven to a desperation and madness that could only end badly for everyone involved.

And Skeal Eile—that hateful, venomous snake, feeding the resultant frenzy with his poisonous words—was at the forefront of it all.

“Hurry, Aislinne,” Brickey urged, pulling open the door.

She was right behind him as he went through the opening and came face-to-face with Skeal Eile.

Chapter Twenty-six